Sit, Stay, Love

by Debbie Burns

  But not everything.

  He stopped two feet in front of her. The intensity in his brown eyes made her melt like coconut oil in a warm patch of sunlight.

  “Look, if you’re thinking of kissing me, you should do it, because I’m really close to sliding into panic mode, and if I do that, I’m going to sweat and—”

  Kurt held up a finger, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you remember what you said last night about our first picture together?”

  She swallowed and prayed her throat didn’t dry up. “Yes.”

  “This house. I had heard about people feeling like a place was made for them, but never understood it. That wasn’t the desert for me, or the jungle, or the post. But this house… When I’m here, I don’t feel like a puzzle piece that will never fit in. When I’m with you, that rings even more true.”

  Kelsey’s nervousness thundered away.

  “So,” he continued, “I’m hoping you’ll come upstairs with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

  He took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

  They passed Frankie’s room first. He was sitting by his stair gate and whined softly. Kurt stopped to rub him on top of his head. “Not tonight, boy.” Kelsey wondered what that meant, if they had some special evening routine when Kurt was here alone.

  Next was Pepper’s room. She was in her whelping box, and Mr. Longtail was sprawled atop the empty bed. He’d been eyeing the puppies with disdain half the day. Thankfully, Pepper didn’t seem to care. Several of the puppies were nursing, while others were curled into a tangled mess of noses, tails, and legs.

  The third room was Kurt’s. His door was closed, and he paused outside it.

  “To be clear, if you’re about to tell me you found another dog who’s about to go into all-night labor, I’ll probably start crying.”

  His forehead knotted together ever so slightly. “I’m not, but if you’re really that tired, we don’t have to open this door. Not tonight. Or we can open it and I can tuck you into bed and I can head to the couch—”

  Kelsey giggled and pressed a finger against his lips. “It was a bad joke. I’m sorry. I’m still a tad nervous.”

  He lifted her finger an inch or two away from his mouth and ran his thumbs over her palm. He pressed his lips against it, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Then he slid his mouth down her wrist and along her arm. Just before reaching her elbow, he moved to the hollow of her neck and up her chin. Her legs threatened to buckle underneath her before his lips met hers.

  The last of her nervousness melted away. She savored the sensation of his kiss, of his touch, of his body pressing against her.

  The temperature of her blood rose from nervous cool to toasty warm.

  He swung the door open, and the soft flicker of candlelight caught Kelsey’s attention. Kurt’s room was aglow with candles. Stunned, she stepped inside. She’d glimpsed this room several times before, and it was always as plain and ordinary as when the house had been donated to the shelter. Tonight, there was a strand of rope lighting along the rim of the headboard and half-a-dozen fluffy pillows and an inviting down comforter covering the bed. And petals.

  Kurt Crawford had sprinkled rose petals over the bed. There was a vase of flowers on the nightstand. Beside them, a bottle of champagne was chilling. There were also two delicate glasses and a plate of bakery-fresh chocolate chip cookies.

  “It’s perfect. When did you have time to do this?”

  “When you napped and in bits and pieces throughout the day.”

  “You didn’t have to, but I love it. It’s perfect. I’m glad last night didn’t happen. I was glad even before I saw this.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  She shook her head, taking it all in. “Everything’s so beautiful that I don’t want to mess it up.”

  “Trust me. I’m really looking forward to messing it up.”

  Kelsey lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his chest. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real.”

  He locked one arm around her waist and lifted her chin with his other hand. His kiss was soft, unhurried. She savored the feel of his lips, strong and soft at the same time, against hers. “I hope you believe me when I say I feel the same way. You’re everything I never thought I could have.”

  She slipped her hands underneath his shirt and ran the tips of her fingers along his torso, appreciating the individual muscles that lined his chest, back, and stomach. With her thumbs, she traced the V defining his lower abdomen until it disappeared into his jeans. As the kiss grew in intensity like a fire with fresh tinder and plenty of air, her blood flowed faster, tingling the tips of her fingers and toes.

  The last of her tension melted away. She stepped back and slipped out of her shirt, shoes, and jeans, feeling emboldened and beautiful in the flickering light and by the way he was looking at her.

  She loved him in every way a person could love another. A part of it was terrifying, knowing that he could be her everything, but there was a wonderful release in letting go and trusting. Trusting that she was worth his love. Trusting that they had staying power. And surrendering to the beauty that was all of it.

  When he closed his arms around her, Kelsey had a sense that she’d been traveling a long time and had finally made it home.

  * * *

  The second time their bodies joined together didn’t loosen the words stuck inside Kurt’s head any more than the first had. Being inside her while she climaxed was better than any stimulant he could imagine. He’d never tire of being with her physically, any more than he would emotionally. He’d known it before tonight. Known it in the little tastes that had only made him want more.

  He loved her. Unequivocally.

  More than he’d ever wanted anything, Kurt wanted to spend his life with her. And right now and for as much of the future as he could conceive, he wanted to spend it here in this house. He wanted to fill long-empty rooms with kids, and he wanted a dog for every kid. He wanted to revive the garden and make a workshop in the garage out back that William could putter about in whenever he wanted.

  But he didn’t know how to tell her any of this. The words were a bridge from that life to this one, and he couldn’t assemble it. He was stuck inside himself, loving her and wanting her and not able to say it.

  How could he when he’d kept so much from her? The recent stuff to start, but also the stuff that stretched back over years. She’d praised him for his skills at reviving and saving that puppy’s life. What he’d wanted to share was that doing so reminded him of losing Zara, of his not keeping her safe, of the helpless way his most favorite dog ever had looked at him as she bled out in front of him.

  He couldn’t tell Kelsey that, the same way he hadn’t told her half of his DNA didn’t have to be a forever mystery. Saying those things, building that bridge, was somehow more terrifying than heading out on a trail known to be laden with IEDs. He couldn’t control the world. He’d accepted that a long time ago. But he could control himself. He could manage his ADHD with tasks, and he could maintain the same distance from the world his grandfather had long ago mastered.

  Letting Kelsey in—or at least acknowledging that he’d done so—was letting in a world of unpredictability. And wanting to be ready for something and diving in were two different things.

  So instead of talking, he used his body, his hands, and his mouth to draw one climax for her into a string of them, until she clung to him, sweaty and exhausted, and he found the same release inside her.

  Afterward, he collapsed on the bed beside her, savoring his heightened blood flow, his body alive and awake. Their breathing slowed. Kurt heard the October winds rattling the leaves off branches and a soft, gentle sigh from the other side of his doorway. Knowing that sound and who had made it, he coul
dn’t help but chuckle.

  He got up and headed for the door. Frankie was curling up on the floor on the other side of it. Kurt shook his head. He’d already raised the stair gate to Frankie’s room once. The dog wasn’t jumping it during the day, only at night when Kurt wasn’t quick enough to offer him use of the floor beside his bed.

  Kelsey rose up on her elbow, tucking the covers under her arms. “Did he knock down his stair gate?”

  “He jumped it.”

  Kurt pointed to the rug at the bottom of the bed, but Frankie made for their pile of clothes, claiming them as a cozy spot, and Kurt decided to let it go.

  “Are you telling me he sleeps in here? With tougher-than-nails Military Dog Handler Staff Sergeant Kurt Crawford, or however you say it.”

  “You forgot the ex, and yes, recently anyway.”

  “That is so freaking sweet. I love your soft side, and that you work so hard not to let it show.”

  She cuddled next to him as he crawled in beside her again. He pressed his lips over her shoulder and tried to still the jumble of thoughts filling his head, as full of hope as they were doubt.

  “Champagne?”

  “No.” She locked her arms around his torso. “Later, please.” Her voice was thick and heavy. He knew how exhausted she had to be. He wasn’t far from it himself. “If I doze a few minutes, will you wake me?” she added. “I want to stay awake and savor all this, but now that my heartbeat’s slowing down, I don’t think I’d have the energy to run from a pack of wildebeests.”

  “Then it’s a good thing wildebeests aren’t running free in St. Louis.”

  She giggled and snuggled deeper against him, laying her head on his chest. Mr. Longtail joined them, seemingly having tired of eyeing the puppies with disdain and determined to fight for his choice of pillow.

  “So, this is you every night, snuggling with a cat, and the world’s best dog at the foot of your bed.” Her words ended in a deep yawn.

  He kissed the top of her head, savoring the feel of her long, silky hair against his skin. “I’d like to make one thing clear. I’ve never snuggled with that cat. We fight determinedly over who gets the best pillow.”

  “Is that so? Well, I love you anyway.”

  She was so close to sleep that he wondered if she was even paying attention to whether he would say it back. He opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he smoothed his hand along the soft skin of her back until her breathing was deep and even and her body was fully relaxed.

  Here it was, the world that he wanted so impossibly close. It would be easy to drift off next to her. Exhaustion beckoned him. He floated between sleep and consciousness, the flickering candles going in and out of focus. Mr. Longtail chose the pillow above Kelsey’s head, kneading it along with the top of her hair. Content on his pile of clothes, Frankie was snoring the soft, easy snore that had carried Kurt through the last several nights.

  The dreams started even before he was fully asleep. Candlelight burst into flame. The blood of this morning’s birth swept into the blood of death. Helplessness and loss encircled him. And somewhere, perhaps close by, perhaps impossibly far away, Nana, draped in a purple-and-gold shawl, reached a weathered hand in his direction, calling him to join her.

  He bolted upright, covered in sweat. How much time had passed? Not much, he suspected. Kelsey had turned onto her other side and was sleeping contentedly. Frankie lifted his head off the floor, eyeing Kurt cautiously. Mr. Longtail had obviously been disturbed the most. He’d rolled off the pillow onto the bed where Kurt had just been. With his ears back and low on his head, the cat began grooming himself as if making a statement that the movement had been intentional.

  Knowing that getting back to sleep now would be an impossibility, Kurt got out of bed and nudged Frankie off his pants. After dressing, he told Frankie to stay and headed downstairs in the darkened house as quietly as possible, not wanting to rouse the other dogs.

  Keeping the light off, he headed into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and drank two full glasses of water without pausing. He stared out the window into the night. His mind was turning in rapid-spin circles, and his body craved being thrown into movement. Aside from driving, physical labor was the only thing he’d found that could slow the racing in his mind.

  From his pants pocket, Kurt felt his phone buzz with a text message. Pulling it out, he looked at the screen. Sara.

  Never mind. Good night. We can talk tomorrow.

  It was hard to believe it was only ten fifteen. He and Kelsey had gone upstairs about eight, which put him falling asleep at around nine or nine thirty.

  Sara had tried calling twice while he’d been asleep or otherwise engaged.

  He pressed her number, returning the call as he strolled the length of the kitchen.

  “You awake?” he asked when she answered on the second ring.

  “Yes, but not for long.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine. Kelsey told William how you brought a stillborn puppy back to life this morning. He told me about it, which means he was impressed. I thought you might want to know.”

  “Thanks. The puppy is bigger than the others. A lot bigger. I wouldn’t be surprised if she turns out to be part Saint Bernard or Bernese mountain dog. How was your second date? I meant to call. It was a crazy day.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t expect this checking-in-with-Mom thing to come as natural as breathing, but we’ll get there. And it was great. The art museum was wonderful, and afterward, we walked around Forest Park. It’s beautiful there.”

  “Is there a date number three scheduled?”

  “Yes, a dinner one. That’s taking a step toward the serious, isn’t it? And I didn’t sleep with him, if you’re wondering.”

  “Trust me, I wasn’t.”

  Kurt returned to the sink. A glass sphere the size of a softball resting on the windowsill caught his attention. It was cool and smooth against his hand. He’d never seen it before. Though he couldn’t imagine why, something about it struck a strong chord in his memory. The bottom had a small lip of extra glass. He flipped on the small light over the sink and blinked as his eyes adjusted. The ball was translucent green and imperfect, obviously handblown.

  The hair on his neck and arms stood on end. Memory flooded in. He was a boy curled into bed, and Nana was sitting beside him in her pink nightgown and matching robe, running her fingers through wisps of his hair. There was a book on his lap about a boy and a beach and his grandmother. “Someday we’ll go. Just you and I. We’ll find a float of our own. And you’ll have it to remember your nana.”

  “Mom,” he said louder than he intended. She was going on about something, and he’d not been paying attention. “What was Nana buried in?”

  “Um, her good navy dress. The one she wore to weddings. Why?”

  Because in my dreams she’s always in purple and gold. But he couldn’t say that. “Did she…did she used to wear a shawl when I was a kid?”

  “Um, maybe. Probably. I remember I grew up embarrassed about how she was always in a dress like we were living in the fifties. I think she wore shawls to church instead of jackets when it was cool out. She stopped wearing them at some point or another. Her cousin brought her one from Mexico though. She loved it.”

  “What…” He closed his thumb and forefinger over the bridge of his nose and swallowed. He knew the answer but still needed to ask. “Can you describe it?”

  “It’s silk, I guess. Probably expensive. I have it, if you want to see it. It’s purple with little gold fleurs-de-lis.”

  Kurt released a shaky breath. “Do you ever dream about her?”

  “Sometimes. Not as much recently. At first, almost every night. You probably won’t believe me, but the reason I went to get a mammogram was because of a dream I had with her in it.”

  He closed his eyes and tilted his hea
d up to the ceiling. “You know, I do. I believe you.”

  He stuck through another few minutes of conversation, then said goodbye, hung up, and headed back upstairs. Frankie was lying at the top of the steps, waiting for him. He clambered into a sleepy stance, then dipped into a stretch as Kurt rounded the top.

  He followed Kurt into his room. Kurt slid the closet door open as quietly as possible and pulled out the box he’d tucked into a corner. Frankie sat at attention, watching. Using his phone for a light, Kurt sifted through the contents till he found the book. Why this? Why a beach over halfway across the continent?

  Knowing there was only one way he’d find the answer, he stood up and moved across the room, blowing out the candles that were still lit. Kelsey’s breathing was deep and even, inviting him to crawl in next to her again.

  Instead, he grabbed a hoodie and shoes from the closet, and his wallet and phone charger from the nightstand drawer. Everything else he could do without for a few days.

  He tapped his hand on his thigh, beckoning Frankie to follow him. He opened the stair gate to Frankie’s room and motioned him in. “Back to your room, guy. I’m sure your dreams are a bitch, but it’ll be morning before you know it.”

  Obediently, Frankie crossed the threshold but turned and sat at attention, whining softly as Kurt locked the gate closed, this time a few inches higher. Stocky as he was, Frankie wasn’t built for jumping. It was impressive he’d made it as high as he had.

  Kurt headed back into the kitchen and sifted through the junk drawer for a pen and a pad of paper. He crossed to the counter next to the sink and stared at the paper in the narrow beam of yellow light that lit the sink area.

  There was already so much unsaid. How could he possibly explain? He couldn’t. He only hoped she would trust him.

  After an eternity of searching for words that were too stubborn to present themselves, he filled the notepad with a few irritatingly insignificant ones.