by Natalie Dean
“You really didn’t have to do this,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
Seven hundred dollars.
Seven hundred freaking dollars at a minimum.
No one had ever done anything like this for her before. The closest she could remember was when her mother rented a bounce house for her fifth birthday. That had been quite the pretty penny then, but still…
“All right, get it together,” she whispered to herself. Bart had money, lots of money. Seven hundred dollars to him was like a drop in the bucket. It really wasn’t a big deal.
But as much as she told herself that, her heart didn’t want to believe it.
“What was that?” Bart asked, looking at her curiously, his gaze far too intense for her.
“Nothing,” she said, the words hardly getting past her throat as it tightened. She wondered if anyone ever told him how extraordinarily nice he was. “It’s perfect. Thank you, really.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he said, echoing her own thoughts. “Just wanted to show you that—” he cut himself off, fidgeting. “Hey, you brought a blanket. Wanna sit?”
Thank goodness he changed the subject. Missy wasn’t sure how much more of the strangeness between them she could endure. Her heart was thundering in her chest like she had just run a race, and her mind kept telling her that she was anticipating something, but she didn’t know what. Was this what it was like to have a panic attack? That would be some pretty unfortunate timing.
Luckily, the panic attack didn’t come, and instead, she spread out the blanket so she and Bart could sit down. On opposite ends, of course, with their legs crossed and facing each other.
“So…” she said, uncertain how to get this ball rolling. She’d already covered favorite colors, foods, movies, animations styles, and music. Those were really her go-tos whenever she was trying to distract someone from their thoughts. Usually, she used it on crying kids in the clinic who were scared about their furry friends, but she found it worked on adults just as well. “You wanna—”
“I feel like my family is scared of me sometimes. And I can’t really blame them because when I think about it, I’m pretty sure I’m scared of myself.”
Okay, they were leaping right out there with both feet. Good to know.
“Why are you scared of yourself?” Missy asked gently. She had her own theories as to why, but she figured if Bart was bringing up the issue, he wanted to say more about it.
His eyes flicked to hers before going back to the ground. “I mean, isn’t that obvious? I’m like a bomb, ready to go off at any moment. You experienced that firsthand.”
“I did. But it doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.”
He snorted. “You probably should be.”
She wanted to argue with him, but she realized that this was most definitely not the time. “Why do you feel like I should be?”
“I dunno, I thought maybe—”
“Seriously, if you mention that night right now, I will roll you down this hill and into the pond.”
There, a tiny little smirk at that. “Fine. I guess it’s because… I used to be so in control of things. I was funny. I could make anyone laugh on a dime. I knew how to read people like a book and could navigate any social situation like nobody’s business.
“But now, it feels like at any moment I can be ripped away to this dark, dark place where I don’t understand anybody and it feels like somebody else is in my body.”
“Somebody else?”
His tone grew quieter, but more bitter, a sharp edge to his words like they were bladed weapons ready to hurt him or anyone else who was in their path. “A soldier. Someone who’s meant to follow orders and hurt people.”
Missy knew it probably wasn’t her place to tell a veteran what his service was all about, but it was awful to hear the pain in his voice. “You know, soldiers do way more than just hurt people. They rescue people. They stop others from being hurt.”
“Who sold you that idea?” he said with a snort.
“My aunt.”
He narrowed his gaze and gave her a healthy amount of side-eye, so she continued.
“Before we moved out here, my mother was pretty close with my dad’s sister-in-law. She was a bit younger, but apparently wicked smart. Every now and then she would sit down and tell us about how she came to America.”
“She was an immigrant?”
“A refugee. You ever heard about the Kosovo Crisis?”
Bart nodded.
Missy continued, “I was a kid when it was happening. But apparently, US troops went in with NATO and made sure that things were safe enough for the people to return home.
“There’d been so much danger, so much loss, that she and her family couldn’t believe they were getting an escort back to their farm. But when they got there, they found it all burned to the ground.
“And you know what those soldiers did? They stayed. They protected her family. Even with phone calls going on between world leaders. They had nothing to gain, but they stayed. And that was what inspired her family to come to America. And guess what? Those same soldiers kept in touch. Helped them get their residency.
“So yeah, I know that your job isn’t easy. And that you’ve had to hurt a lot of people just to be here today. But let’s not pretend that you’re some agent of evil. You did your best to protect us.”
His eyes flicked to her once more, and even in the cover of night, she could see the red rim of his lids. “You think all that of me?”
“I think all that of almost any soldier I meet. I know a lot of people join up because they feel that have no choice, it is an amazing economic opportunity for them that they wouldn’t otherwise have. And I know others join because they want to be a part of something bigger than themselves. No matter how you shake it, putting your life at risk for your country takes a whole lot out of you.”
Silence again as he seemed to digest what she said, but she didn’t mind. It didn’t feel like he was locking her out or shutting down. Just that he was thinking.
“You know, you aren’t like anyone else I’ve ever met,” he said with a sigh.
“Thanks,” she shot back, winking. “I take that as a compliment.”
“Good. Because it is.” He smiled, and it seemed like they were right back to normal. Or at least what maybe could be their normal. She supposed that they hadn’t known each other long enough to have a routine thoroughly fleshed out yet. But still, even if it was only the fourth time that they’d been alone and conscious, it felt like she’d known him forever.
“You said your mom was close with your aunt until you moved out here. I thought technology was supposed to eliminate that familiar drifting and all.”
Missy shrugged, her go-to move. “I guess it’s probably the whole dying thing that killed that relationship.”
He stiffened at that.
Right. Sometimes Missy forgot that other people didn’t deal with their tragedy by trying to sound vaguely sardonic about the whole thing.
“I-I’m sorry,” Bart said.
“Don’t be.” Another shrug. She was probably going to end up with some sort of shoulder problem due to that. “It happened a long time ago. We all have our tragedies.”
“I—but…” He chuckled dryly. “I guess you’re right. At least you have your dad.”
She couldn’t help her snort. The poor guy was sticking his foot right down his throat and had no idea. “Nah, he’s dead too.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bart groaned, running one of his large hands through his hair.
Briefly, Missy wondered what those calloused fingers would feel like running through her own blond waves, but she quickly dismissed the thought.
Inappropriate.
“Was it some kind of accident that took both your parents?”
“Mom died of cancer. He couldn’t get over it and drank himself into an early grave. Leaving little old me all on my lonesome.”
“Really, so you’ve been alone for the past
few years?”
“I dunno. I’d hazard saying that I’ve been alone ever since Mom was gone. I mean, yeah, my dad’s body was there, but his soul checked out with hers. Besides, it’s not like drunkards are really up on their parenting one-on-one.”
“You’re incredible,” he said, still shaking his head.
She sat up, giving him a teasing look over her shoulder. “What? Just because my family’s cursed?”
“Just because I’ve never met a person who’s so fearlessly alive.”
“Say what now?” She was a lot of things, and she wasn’t a lot of things, but she’d never heard that term used to describe her before.
“I don’t know if I can explain it that well,” Bart said, looking down at her with far too much going on behind his gaze. “But these things that happen to you, things that some people would use to color their view of the world forever, you just keep moving past them. You won’t let anyone, or anything, take your life out of your hands.”
Well, that certainly wasn’t true. There was a whole host of things she didn’t do because of what other people said or thought about her. Bart’s compliment was nice, but she wouldn’t say it was entirely accurate.
“You’re just saying that because you don’t really know me. You’ve just seen all the nice, shiny parts. Just wait a month or two and then all the flaws start showing through.”
“What flaws? That you’re a great listener and funny?”
Funny, when most guys went to compliment her, it was always something about her body. It was strange to hear someone go off about her personality or… determination to live, whatever the heck that meant. But Missy almost wondered if she kinda liked it.
Boy, the world was really confusing at the moment.
“That I’m needy. And untrusting. And that I get along with animals better than humans. I’m cold and suspicious—”
“Stop with all of that now,” Bart said suddenly. “Are those your words, or are they someone else’s?”
“Why would that matter?”
“Because you just told me that your father was an alcoholic. I’ve got several friends at the VA who are struggling with substance abuse, and almost all of them agree the worst of it is how they cut down the people they love in order to feel like they aren’t such miserable wastes of men.”
“You’re not a—”
“Ah-ah, we’re talking about you now. Not me. We spend most of our time talking about me because you’re that selfless of a person.”
“Or it could be that you just talk a lot.”
He laughed at that, and she felt a bit of relief. She could do the serious stuff when it was about his PTSD or health. But about her? No thank you.
“Only for you,” he said.
“Oh, so I’m just that special?” She laughed with him. Goodness, she could see herself getting used to moments like this, looking up at the night sky with his face over hers, happiness and kindness written all over his expression.
“Yeah, you definitely are.”
Something in his tone made the smile melt from her mouth, and she found him leaning closer to her. Oh, her heart was thundering again, and her entire skin felt like it had just been shocked.
There was a tension in the air, but also coiled thick and tight in her belly. She could feel her cheeks flush while her breathing turned shallow.
“I think you might be the most special person I’ve ever met.” His gaze was serious.
“Careful with those kinds of compliments,” she rasped, her eyes darting all over his face. She wanted to drink him up in this moment, like it was something from her dreams. Goodness, he was pretty. “A girl could get a bi—”
And then, suddenly, her mouth wasn’t talking anymore.
But that was probably because Bart’s lips were pressed against hers, warm and soft and everything that she had imagined.
The world did one of those things again where it whirled away in a wash of color, and suddenly everything was so intense that she couldn’t perceive it all at once. Bart was so close, so warm, his breath on her face. The cool air brushed over the rest of her body, making her want to curl into his fire and never leave.
It was brilliant, it was electric. It was perfect.
She let out the tiniest little gasp. If she had known this was what kissing was like, then maybe she wouldn’t have been under the misunderstanding that she hated it. Her body was surging with elation and want and a whole lot of disbelief.
Bart seemed to take that as an invitation, and he deepened the kiss. It was thrilling, but she began to feel as if her heart was beating too hard and the pleasant heat was turning into a bit of a raging fire. Geez, when had it gotten so hot? She felt like she was in a sauna.
Her body seemed to move of its own accord, her arms reaching up to wrap about Bart’s broad, muscled shoulders. She could trust him. She liked his kiss. There was no need for the panic building up behind the giddy pleas—
One of his hands slipped into her hair, derailing her train of thought as his thick fingers wound into the tresses there, pressing her deeper into the kiss. The other landed on her hip, feather-light, before increasing in pressure as it glided up her form.
Wait.
Things were going too fast. But she just couldn’t think over the thrum of her own body and the excitement that was trying to short circuit every single part of her brain. She just needed to breathe for a second, to put everything in order and figure out what was what. She just… a second… just a second…
His hand continued, moving up her middle so softly, tentatively, until one of his knuckles ever so barely brushed against the underside of her heaving chest.
No.
Suddenly everyone’s words were in her head at once. Floozy. Easy. Homewrecker. Tramp. Tart. What kind of woman laid on a blanket in the middle of a field and let her boss’ son feel her up?
The change in her was sudden. She went from warm and pliant to stiff and radiating anger. Bart seemed to sense it, pulling away with a confused look on his face, but it wasn’t enough space for her.
“Get off!” she snapped, pushing him away.
In all reality, it probably would have taken a lot more force to remove him from her person, but at her angry shout, he whipped back as if he had been shocked.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes wide and face flushed as he looked everywhere for danger.
But stupid, stupid tears were already welling in Missy’s eyes. She was such a moron. She had thought that Bart was different from everyone else. That her body hadn’t mattered to him. That he either hadn’t heard or didn’t care about what people said about her.
Just another thing that she was wrong about.
She fought her way to her feet, head still spinning and lips tingling. Part of her wanted to throw herself back in his arms, not caring about her reputation. After all, since everyone was saying it anyway, would it be so bad to give herself over to the first man she might have actually wanted?
But then her pride came sweeping in. No. She hadn’t fought for twenty-three years to prove everyone wrong only to give in to some wounded guy with a strong jaw.
“I thought you were different,” she wheezed, her throat squeezing like it did every time she was on the verge of tears.
“What? I… did I read that wrong?” He was on his feet too, looking utterly distraught. “Missy, I’m sorry. I thought I—crap! I just—”
She held up her hands, backing away quickly. “Don’t.” She snapped, feelings threatening to overwhelm her. “Just don’t. And don’t follow me.”
He was looking at her with such confusion and heartache that now the tears were coming up in earnest. That wasn’t fair! He didn’t get to do that! He didn’t get to look at her like she’d just torn him in two when his lips, and his hands, and everything about him had called up what she had spent so many years shoving away.
Hastily she ran to her car, leaving her blanket behind. He could keep it. And the stupid telescope.
Stupid, stupi
d, stupid!
That was all she could repeat to herself as she started up the car and peeled out. She had thought that the Miller’s place was going to be a safe haven. Somewhere she could just be Missy and nobody else. Yet even here, it didn’t seem like she’d ever get away.
But she had to. Or otherwise what was the point of any it? She’d be just what her father, what everyone else always said she’d be.
Goodness, she was just so tired.
19
Bart
Bart stared up at the ceiling, sleep being as elusive and broken as usual. Or at least since Missy left. He had just gotten her back, and now he had ruined it all over again.
How exactly had that happened?
He went over everything in his head, trying to see where it first started going wrong. He had invited her back to their hill—was it silly to think of the knoll as theirs? Probably. And then he had given her the present.
She had seemed to like it, judging by her scratchy voice and flushed cheeks. He remembered standing there, wanting to make her always look that happy and surprised. He could easily see himself emptying his bank accounts to shower her with astronomy and pet-related things, and he wouldn’t miss a dime.
Then they had talked, and he told her some of the things that had haunted him. Some of the things that he didn’t even want to confess to himself. And like usual, she took them all in stride.
No, more than that, she excelled.
She had said a lot of nice things, as per usual, but none of it was usual. For some reason, bathed in the moonlight as they had been, everything had seemed so much more intense, more urgent. And after she peeled back enough of her outer walls for him to see a side of her that he hadn’t before, he was suddenly kissing her.
It had been… something else. That was for certain.
He hadn’t laid his mouth on anyone since before he left, when he had made some decisions as a twenty-two-year-old that his mother probably wouldn’t have been proud of. But after six long years, it was so incredibly easy to get pulled under by the want and desire.