I pull my hand away and see the hurt in his eyes. Can he see the betrayal in mine?
He’s searching, constantly searching, and I’m forced to look away.
“Katy, just tell me what you need.”
Sighing, I pull down the visor and open the mirror. It’s the first time I’ve studied myself since we were rescued; I was too afraid of what I’d see. My hair is straw, my cheeks are still gaunt from the weight loss, and I can see a little more age around my eyes.
“I’ll scare them.”
“Noah was the biggest test,” he offers. “He didn’t flinch.”
Gavin grips his door handle when I hesitate. “Fuck this, I’ll clear them out.”
“No,” I whisper, and it’s enough to stop him. “No, I’ll try. I want to try.”
“Are you sure?” I’m not used to this from Gavin. He’s usually far more assertive, but today he’s walking on eggshells. I hate it.
“I’m sure,” I say.
“Okay, give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
I draw my brows. “What for?”
“Trust me?” he asks timidly, and my heart shatters as I’m brought back to memories of him, of us.
“Always,” I swear.
“Still love me?”
“Forever.”
He hesitates before leaning in and pressing his forehead to mine. We sit there for a silent moment as his breath tickles my lips, and then he’s out of the Jeep, and I’m left alone with my thoughts.
Icicles lay heavy on the trees surrounding the side of the house, and I sit, transfixed, as a dog barks in the distance. I’m comforted by the isolation, by the silence. Reclining my seat, I stare at the clouds in a comfortable haze and jolt when my door suddenly opens.
Gavin hangs his head when he reads my horrified expression. “Christ, Katy, I know better. I’m sorry.”
“And I knew you were coming, Gavin. It’s o-kay.”
“Hummingbird,” he whispers. “Just say it when it becomes too much.”
“All right,” I promise as I take his hand. I step into the house, gazing at the sea of faces in my living room. My eyes drift from my sister, Sammy, to my mother, who’s fidgeting next to my dad. “Momma,” I whisper as she slowly makes her way toward me. Once I’m in her arms, I feel the strength she possesses as she whispers words of comfort, of how she missed me. She presses her lips to my forehead and runs gentle fingers through my hair. She smells of mint and flowery perfume, and I bask in the comfort of her scent. She hasn’t held me this way in years, but her arms are just as familiar to me. I can’t speak. I just stand there, cradled, and let her soothe some of the ache. When I start to pull away, she pulls me closer and whispers an old World War I tune she’s sang to me since I was a little girl. “K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy, you’re the only g-g-girl that I adore. When the m-m-moon shines o-over the cowshed, I’ll be waiting at the k-k-kitchen door.” It’s the fear in her voice that breaks me. She smiles down at me, tears lining her cheeks as she murmurs more comfort. “When you’re in pieces, I’m in pieces too, remember that.”
“I’m okay, Momma.”
Neither of us believes me. “I’m here for whatever you need.”
“I know.”
My father is next in line, and he pulls me into his arms, squeezing me tight. I glance over his shoulder to see Gavin looking on with mixed emotions. Everyone is here: my husband; Sammy, who’s holding Noah; my parents…and they all wear varying looks of concern that I’m all too eager to erase.
Home.
This is what I need. Everything will click into place here. They’ll be a reminder of who I was before I left, who I need to become again for them.
This is how I’ll get back to her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Briggs
Thirty-day mandatory convalescent leave.
And it might as well be the fucking kiss of death. It’s not enough my chest is caving in, but I get the luxury of reliving every second of the last four months of my life ‘for the record.’ I’ve managed to escape therapy, but I knew my request to go immediately back to work stateside was a red flag. I asked for special consideration on the mandatory part and was abruptly scrutinized and forced to back down. I should’ve kept my damned mouth shut. Either way, I’m fucked, on base or off.
I have no clue what to do with myself.
I’m a soldier in an army that can’t use me.
At least for now.
Tilting the whiskey glass in my hand, I swirl the liquid around and suck the residue off my lips. It’s not the answer—it’s stupidity in liquid form—but I need a sip to take the edge off. And another to numb the parts that sting. My mother was an addict, and I’m determined to ensure that if I have that gene, it will remain dormant. But I’m reeling where I sit, the images of the past few months threatening to break loose in my mind. I’ll deal with it the way I always have, one image at a time. Some of them I’ll carry with me because I’ll have no choice.
Jones and Morrero have already been laid to rest with proper funerals. I don’t even have the fucking moral support of the aftermath to look forward to. I know soon I’ll have to face Jones’s widow. She’ll need to hear the words from me. My cell buzzes in my pocket, and I don’t even have to look at the screen to know it’s my Gran. I was supposed to have shown up hours ago, but I can’t bring myself to get there, and with the way I’m drinking, I won’t. Tossing some liquid back, I revel in the burn as the bar begins to fill. I’m twenty miles outside Chappell Hill in a bar I’ve never been to. Rap blares from the speakers, and typically that’s my cue to leave, but instead, I watch two girls get out on the dance floor. It’s their movement that draws my interest—so carefree, like their world could never come to the same fucking halt as mine has.
I lift the rest of my drink toward them as they squeal and sway their hips then swallow it back.
“Another?” the bartender asks, and I shake my head.
“Katy!” Someone yells from behind me, and my whole body tenses. Looking over my shoulder, I see a woman rising to her feet at a cocktail table as she calls out toward the door, “Patty! Over here!”
I repeatedly rub my palms in frustration over my forehead as the ache threatens to break through.
“I won’t regret it,” I mumble out to whatever the fuck it is that’s torturing me. “Give it your best shot, but I won’t fucking regret it.”
“What’s that?” A man pulling up a stool next to me asks as I stand and reach for my wallet.
“Nothing,” I mumble as I sort through the bills.
“Don’t leave, man. I was just about to offer you a drink.”
“It’s appreciated, but I’ve had enough.” I don’t bother to look up as I’m stopped by his voice.
“Come on, Soldier. It’s early.”
It’s not hard to miss the tags hanging around my neck. He wins no awards for his guess. I look up, see his cut, and know instantly—he’s retired.
“Nam?”
He nods. “Two tours, and you can handle another drink.”
“I’m not drinking here.”
“I know a place up the road and a motel nearby.” Just by looking at him, I know he’s not offering a shoulder to cry on but an ear, if I need one. It’s a brotherhood that stretches beyond familial bond and past decades. I’m not interested in his ear, but his experiences—and I know it’s a ticket out of my own head, at least for the night.
Pulling on my jacket, I nod toward the door, and he follows. “Let’s do it.”
He pipes up behind me. “I’ve got to be home by midnight, or my wife will have my dick in a sling.”
I chuckle as we escape the noise into the cool air. “That bad?”
“I’d rather relive Nam than deal with it.”
I can’t help my laughter as he starts up his truck and I follow, lagging behind as he drives like a bat out of hell. I decide whatever motel is close by is my safest bet.
Who in the fuck you playing it safe for, Briggs?
&nb
sp; Out of nowhere, I let defiance win and gun the gas.
Remote in hand, I thumb through the news stations on the motel bed as the clock at my bedside table flips to 3:00 a.m. My search is fruitless; it’s not the news I need. My fingers itch to dial a number I don’t have, while my whiskey-induced heartbeat speeds in my ears. I toss the remote aside and pace the room.
She’s at home, in her bed, with him.
Jealousy consumes me at the idea of him holding her—the constant reminder that it’s his place isn’t helping shit.
I need her.
I need to lay eyes on her.
My fists clench at my sides as I walk the ancient green carpet with bare feet and a matching soul.
Skin burning with need, I stumble to the shower, turn it on, and leave the temperature cold. Freezing water rolls down my back as I’m burned alive with the memory of her lips, her touch.
I need her.
My cock rises, and I fitfully clutch it in my fist, stroking hard. Eyes burning, I bite my lip until I taste copper. Despair leeches on as I come, long and hard, without feeling an ounce of relief. Stepping out of the shower, I barely towel off before I study my reflection. My tags hang just above my new burn scar. Anger breaches next, and I react, my fist connecting with the mirror. I swing until my knuckles bleed, until the room resembles what’s inside. The shards lying on the floor mirror what’s left of me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gavin
She pushes the food her mother spent all day cooking around on her plate as she sits at the head of the table. It’s all I can do to keep up a conversation with her father. There’s an edge to her that wasn’t there before, in her posture, as if she’s coiled up and about to bust loose at any moment. It’s expected after all she’s survived, and by the looks of her, I use the term “survived” lightly. She forces a smile as her family talks animatedly around her. It’s the last thing she needs. I served four tours, and I know how comfortable the silence can be, but it’s also dangerous.
It’s a fine line I’m willing to walk with her until she can get her footing, but even the rattling of the dishware has her on edge. Noah rushes through the events of the past few months as she takes her first bite and nods. I try not to stare at her frame, the ill fit of her clothes. And I can’t help but notice the way her eyes dart around the table for our approval.
I’m cutting this night short, even if it pisses them off. They can’t understand what she’s feeling, and I refuse to let the woman who left us four months ago, so vitally alive, turn into a spoil of war. She’s my heart’s home, and all I want to do at the moment is protect her from her own family. Katy’s always been patient with me when I returned home from a tour a little lost inside myself, and I’ll be that same partner for her, no matter how fucking long it takes. As if she’s reading my thoughts, she glances my way, and I take a sip of my beer.
Noah pats her leg to get her attention, and she jerks at the touch. The whole table sounds with the shift of the plates as Noah jumps back, horrified.
“Oh, baby, it’s okay, you just surprised me,” Katy says with regret. He frowns, a tell that he doesn’t believe her and doesn’t know what to make of it. His face falls, and hers follows suit.
And that’s the moment I call hummingbird.
“We should call it a night. I think we can all agree it’s been a long day.” In minutes, the table is cleared off, and Katy’s at our front door hugging Sammy, who looks back at me with silent orders. Nodding, I wish her a good night. Once the door is shut, I see visible relief with the sag of Katy’s shoulders as she turns to me for guidance.
“How about a bath?”
Apprehension crosses her features, but she answers. “Sounds perfect.”
“I’ll get that started, if you want to tuck Noah in.”
She nods, and I can feel her watching my back as I climb the stairs. I feel like I’m fucking it up already, and she’s only been home a few hours. Guilt wracks me as I realize I should’ve refused the company today, regardless of their rights to her. I run the bath and pour in the fresh salts I bought as Noah lists off all the things he has planned for the two of them tomorrow. I’m at a loss as to how to explain to him that she might not be up for it. But I have to leave it up to her.
It’s the finest of lines.
All the questions I’m dying to ask will have to wait.
She came to me once before, and I have to believe she’ll do it again.
Lifting the back of her T-shirt as the fireworks explode above us, I kiss the small of her back. Breathless, she whispers my name as I press my lips to her delicate skin. I love that spot on a woman, and this woman has been driving me out of my fucking mind since the minute she picked me up at the bar. By our third date, I was a fucking fool in love. Where she led, I would follow, but not without just cause. It was the way she kissed me—not only with her lips, but with her whole being. I’d never felt so much strength in a kiss. She branded me with the first, and I’ve been stealing them ever since. For the last month of my life, I’ve done nothing but dream of her lips, her smile, her skin, her touch.
Wide eyes meet mine over her shoulder as I continue to rain kisses on my sweet spot.
“There are people around.”
“I don’t see anyone but you, baby,” I whisper as I part my lips, tasting her skin.
“Gavin,” she whimpers. The sound has my cock throbbing in my shorts. “That’s the cheesiest line yet.”
Red and blue explode in a glittery fire above us as I pull her back to my front and cover our laps with the blanket. My lips are a breath away from the shell of her ear as I lean down, and she tilts her head so I have better access to her slender neck.
“Like the show?”
“Mmm,” she murmurs before I latch my lips on her pulse point. My eager fingers circle her waist as I unhook the button to her shorts and drag the zipper down. She freezes where she sits in my arms, and I halt all movement until she sinks into me. Dipping my fingers into her panties, I find her soaked as she turns her head to watch my reaction.
“I’m so fucking hard for you.” Our lips are touching as I speak, but I can’t bring myself to kiss her and miss the heat in her eyes. She wants it as much as I do, and without a fuck to give, I do my best to make her come while surrounded by a lawn full of patriots whose eyes are trained on the sky. We’re safe enough, under the cover of a tree, but it’s risky enough to make it so much fucking better. I dip my fingers in her warmth and bring them up to circle her clit. She hisses through her teeth as she stares back at me, entranced.
“You want to come, baby?”
“Never have, but it sounds nice.”
“What?”
She presses a gentle kiss to my lips before she answers. “You’re the first man to touch me this way.”
I freeze, my head in the clouds as I realize she’s telling the truth. I’m the man in her life. This is an honor she’s giving me, and I’m fucking it up by letting my dick lead. I move to pull my hand away, and she stops me. “I’m going to need you to keep doing that.”
I can’t help my smirk.
“There’s not a damn thing funny about this, Captain.”
This time I chuckle as she captures my lips between her teeth and sinks them in. Sparks above filter down below as I kiss her like a man possessed. My fingers resume their pace as she pants against my lips.
“God, Jesus, oh—”
“Shhh,” I whisper, glancing around us.
When she braces against my frame and bucks her hips, gaining her friction, I damn near lose my shit. She’s perfect in every way. As soon as I feel her body start to quake, I capture her moan with my mouth. Her body shudders with sweet release as I kiss her in the way she kisses me, with everything I have. Her eyes are closed as she lays slack against me, her breath evening out.
“I think I might just be in love with you.”
My heart soars as I look down to see her watching me.
“You just love my talented fingers.”
“No,” she whispers. “No. It’s you, Gavin.”
I’m the man she chose, for whatever reason, and I’ve never taken it for granted, not once. When she enters the bedroom, she finds me darkening the doorway of the bathroom. I immediately step out.
“It’s all yours.”
She’s hesitating. She knows I’d give anything to bridge the gap, but I refuse to make her feel guilty for it. She walks over to our chest of drawers and retrieves a long T-shirt and some boy shorts as I pull back the covers and pick up my book. I hear her whisper when she sees the set up I left for her, right before the door clicks.
“Thank you.”
More pleasantries.
I grip the top of the headboard to keep myself idle. I want her back with everything inside me, and I’ll wait, for as long as it takes. I’ll wait.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Katy
Gavin sleeps next to me on his stomach, his fingers curled around my hip as I stare out the window next to our bed.
Did he lock the front door?
Sliding off the mattress, I tiptoe across the carpet and look back to find him undisturbed. My eyes trail along his form, to the sheet wrapped around his waist. His muscular back lays lax, and his bare feet hang off the edge of the bed. He’s bulked up since I left, a sign of the stress he’s endured. I know he’s sleeping better than he has in months, and I envy him. I haven’t slept a second, trying to draw comfort in the subtle way he’s holding me without pressuring me for more.
Does he know?
Dismissing the thought, I make my way downstairs to check the windows and doors before curling up on the bench in front of my bay window. Our neighborhood is only a couple of miles away from Fort Hood. Gavin and I moved a few years ago to claim a little independence from the army. In my haze of getting through my first day home, I hadn’t even noticed the Christmas lights stapled to the roof of the neighboring houses.
My son doesn’t have a stocking up.
Tears threaten as I scramble off the bench and crack open the garage door. Plastic bins full of decorations I’ve kept over the years sit stacked neatly in the corner. This is something I can do for Noah. I won’t miss this.
Heartbreak Warfare Page 12