by S. M. Butler
“You didn’t. I’m fine.” Misery and relief clawed their way through me at the same time. It felt like, at times, he hadn’t come back yet, that part of him still existed wherever he’d been. And then I saw him, as he was in the doorway, and I couldn’t quite come to terms that he’d ever left. It was confusing and scary.
Brody had been quiet at dinner, mostly just watching me as I fed the girls. He seemed lost when it came to them. It felt more than a little awkward. We used to joke around a lot, going back and forth like an episode of the Gilmore Girls.
Maybe he didn’t know how to act with children. I’d had time to grow and learn with the twins, but he hadn’t. He’d had two years of fighting, and secret missions, and death and war. And here were representations of life, two identical ones, that came from him.
“Mind if I watch?”
“With the bedtime stuff?”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
“They… they won’t mind?” He nodded to the girls, who were already in their cribs, but weren’t laying down yet. They were too busy watching their father. He was the novelty in the house today.
“They won’t mind. You could say goodnight to them, too.” I turned to the girls. “Riley, Jackie. Say goodnight to Daddy.”
Jackie was already on her feet, holding out her arms. I think that eased Brody’s hesitance. She’d been hesitant earlier, but it seemed now that Jackie knew he was staying, she was all about asking for love. Brody gently squeezed the kid, and kissed her forehead. “Nite, cutie.”
“Nini.” Jackie singsonged.
Brody turned to Riley, who was more cautious as usual. But she allowed a hug after only a slight hesitance.
Riley whispered a short “nini” to him, and then Brody backed away from them and let me tuck them in. I couldn’t see Brody from where I was, but his presence filled every inch of my body. I flipped off the bedroom switch when I left, and found Brody waiting in the hallway. He had a smile on his face, a radiant, burning beam that warmed my insides just by proximity. God, how I’d missed that smile.
Reintegrating Brody back into our lives wasn’t going to be easy. I’d talked to the base psychologist at length over what to expect when Brody was finally home. It didn’t seem like nearly enough preparation. But seeing that smile… It suddenly was worth the effort.
In the hallway, his shirt stretched over his shoulders. His muscles flexed and contracted beneath the fabric. Loose jeans hung low on his hips. How had I not noticed how his shirt was slightly too small and rode up, and gave me a glimpse of the muscled planes that led downward, out of sight under his jeans? Had he gotten more muscle mass since he’d left? Or was I just imagining things? Maybe he’d already had it and I just didn’t remember.
My heart fluttered in ways that it hadn’t even thought about fluttering in two years as his intense gaze zeroed in on me. “It’s a little early for grown-up bedtime, but I could be convinced.”
The half-grin on his face made me smile. His dark hair was cropped so close to his head, almost like a black halo. My sinning angel.
“I have to clean the kitchen,” I said. It was a lame excuse. I wanted nothing better than to go to bed with Brody, especially with that sexy smirk across his face. Two years of being chaste was unnerving when you were finally presented with the real deal.
“I could help you?” His voice rose in a soft, questioning lilt.
“Nah, I’m good. It’ll just be a minute. You look tired. You should get some rest.”
Brody’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You sure?”
I nodded. He didn’t look convinced, so I stepped up on my toes and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure.”
“All right. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Like the SEAL he was, he strode down the hall to our bedroom, confidence emanating from him like a pulsing light. How was it he remembered just where it was? He was all confidence, and poise. Nerves pricked at me, making me nauseous. It was his first night home in two years.
And here I was, scrubbing dishes in the kitchen. This was ridiculous to be nervous, right? That was Brody, my husband up there. He was the same person he was two years ago. The same guy who let me know he was alive with little things, like the addition of a picture or a profile status change, or he’d click a like on one of my posts.
But he felt like a stranger now. Two years was a long time… and I hadn’t spoken to him until he called for me to pick him up. All our plans had been through email before that.
So was I the same person? Was he the same? I finished the dish and started back up the stairs, each step getting harder and harder to make. What if we were too different now? That couple who married each other three years ago might not exist anymore. Navy marriages tended to end in divorce fifty percent of the time. SEAL marriages ended in divorce ninety percent of the time. I’d fight it tooth and nail, with every breath of my body, but what would happen to us when Brody decided not to fight anymore?
Devyn
Walking into the bedroom, I very nearly lost every sense of myself there was. Brody stood by the bed, his shirt in his hand. He had a few new scars on his body since I’d last seen him. There was a pink shiny scar on his shoulder, where the indention beneath his collarbone was and a long thin scar along his ribs on the same side. Here and there, his body had small knicks, but those were the two biggest additions I’d seen to his skin.
I wanted to ask about them, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure that he’d tell me anyway. There was so much he couldn’t tell me about his job. It was frustrating.
He tilted his head, his bottomless amber eyes piercing right through me. He moved closer, the spicy scent of his aftershave wafting into my nostrils. I careened backwards, the sexy aroma permeating my immediate consciousness.
God, he smelled amazing.
“You took a long time.” His low timbre broke the silence of the room. He took another step toward me. He was so sexy. Why did he have to be so sexy? Magnificent and handsome, chiseled features, and a body that looked way too good half-naked like he was.
He was the best-looking guy I’d ever known. Hell, he was the only guy I’d ever felt like that with. We were each other’s firsts. Maybe we’d been stupid to marry without dating anyone else, but really… it never occurred to us that anyone else would have us.
“I was just cleaning up,” I replied, sliding over to the bed. I’d hoped to put some distance there, but he wasn’t having any of that. I turned away from it.
He crowded me, making me backpedal from the bed until my back hit the wall behind me. “Why are you afraid of me?”
“I’m not,” I whispered weakly.
He didn’t answer for a while, his amber eyes just boring into me like he was trying to set me on fire. Then when he did answer, he didn’t do it with words. He grasped my chin, and then his mouth covered mine.
Even if I wanted to fight it—and my nervousness had vanished as soon as he’d touched me—I was helpless to. His kiss sent a relentless ache through straight to my core. His hot mouth slid over mine in a slow kiss, his lips deliciously firm and warm against me. His fingers danced along my neck.
Just then, Riley’s operatic scream filled the house. I broke the kiss, but Brody didn’t move away. He hung his head to the side of mine, so his forehead rested against the crook of my neck. My traitorous hands slid over his body, passing over the pink scar on his shoulder. It wasn’t more than a raised bump now, though I imagined originally it was bad.
“That’s Riley…. She has bad dreams sometimes,” I told him. Neither of us moved for a second. “I should see what’s wrong.” He still didn’t move.
Finally, he lifted his head. “We’re not done.”
I swallowed the anxiety inside my throat but it settled in my chest, restricting the way my heart pumped. Slowly, I placed my palms on his chest, ignoring how firm and strong it felt, and pushed him away. He let me do it, taking two steps back and allowing me enough room to maneuver around him.
“Devyn?” I faced
him straight on, my back to the bedroom door. “Do you want me? Right now, do you want me?”
“The moment’s gone, Brody. I have to check on Riley.” I turned to leave, desperate to make an escape.
“We shouldn’t have to have a moment to love each other.”
I froze. I looked back at Brody, sadness weighing on my chest and making it hard to breathe. “No. No, we shouldn’t.” Then I turned away again, and left the room. Because I was a big, fat chicken.
~*~*~
Brody
Gun fire rained down around us, echoing through my world. I ducked behind the abandoned Hummer. My team was down. The chopper was down.
I was trapped. Alone. This was just a stupid dream, damn it. But I couldn’t break loose of it. I knew my team was alive and yet, I couldn’t stop the dream from happening, from watching my team die.
I swallowed and changed out the magazine on my gun. I was going to have to make a run for it. I didn’t like the idea, but I didn’t have much choice.
I peered around the corner of the building. It wasn’t far. Just about ten steps to safety. If the snipers up top were any good, those ten steps would never happen. If I was quick enough, I could survive it.
I wasn’t a sniper. I’d never trained for it, but I wasn’t a bad shot. The trick was… I didn’t want to get shot.
The gun fire stopped, but I recognized the silence for what it was. Reloading. But with reloading came not-shooting. It was a chance. Who knew when they would stop again?
I stood up quickly and ran. Shots rang out around me, too close to have missed, but nothing hit me. I jumped, flying in through the newly opened door in front of me.
My landing turned into a summersault and I rolled to a stop… in my living room? I stared around the place. Beige carpets. Leather couches. Chestnut coffee table. Toys in the floor. It was my house but there was no one around.
I glanced down. I was still in my gear. Still dirty and bloodied from being too near my team when they were all shot. And I had my gun. What the hell. I was home. A quick perusal of the kitchen showed no one there. Or outside on the back porch. And it was quiet. Too quiet. Even for a dream. I raised my gun up and proceeded to the stairs.
Blood soaked the carpeted steps, so thick and crimson.
“Hello?”
No answer. This was my house. Why was the enemy here? Was it because they’d seen my face all those months ago? Had they returned for retribution? A lump stuck in my throat. Where was Devyn? Where were the girls? Were they safe? Were they upstairs? Panic seized hold of me, squeezing so tightly it was difficult to breathe.
Then through the silence, the piercing cry of a toddler reached my ears. Was that Riley or Jackie? Were they hurt? I raced up the stairs, the blood squelching and bubbling around the sole of my shoes. My breath echoed in the silence, and I wondered if the whole world could hear it.
I kept my gun parallel with the angle of the stairs, watching, waiting for something to jump out at me. At the top of the stairs, I heard a woman cry out, followed by babies giggling. And then more giggling.
What was going on here?
“Devyn?” I called out, though it probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done. Wasn’t this how horror movies went? Guy walks in, follows a weird trail of blood, finds his wife on the floor, and gets his head chopped off buy a creepy doll while he’s not looking.
I shuddered. “Devyn!” My voice was louder this time. I was getting desperate. This was my house. And there was blood on the stairs. And there was no sign of my family.
I glanced up and down the hall the stairs opened out into. Nothing. And it was dark.
The strangled cry came again, this time from the bedroom. My bedroom.
Rushing down the hall, waiting for a silent moment before I threw open the door with my gun at the ready. That’s when I saw her. Devyn. My Devyn. My love. My wife. She wore a pastel blue sundress, but it was soaked with dark red blood. Her eyes were listless, vacant. Her slender fingers were covered in blood.
I fell to my knees beside her, not caring that her warm, sticky blood soaked through my uniform trousers. Rage and sorrow spun inside my heart, squeezing it so tight, it was sure to pop. I pulled her into my arms, my hands sliding along her slippery skin.
“Devyn!” My voice cracked midway through her name. I tried to pull her into my arms. Her head lolled back, lifeless, limp. Tears built behind my eyelids, blurring my vision. She couldn’t be dead. Not my Devyn. She wasn’t even supposed to be there. I wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Devyn!” I screamed it at her again and again, but nothing happened. She didn’t wake up.
I sobbed, like a fucking baby, touching my forehead to hers, my thumbs on her cheeks and my fingers tangled in her once brilliant auburn tresses. Her name left my lips over and over, and still she didn’t move. She wouldn’t ever move.
The click of the safety moving caught my ear. Where was my gun? I’d had it beside me. I never set it down out of my sight. Yet, it had vanished. I turned my head, and there was Riley. With impossible strength for a toddler, she held my gun in her tiny hands. The gun was as big as she was. Her face was as vacant as Devyn’s when she leveled it at me.
“Riley?” I set Devyn down and reached for my daughter. Her mouth opened in a wail that made my ears hurt and then she fired that gun. Light exploded around me, and then there was darkness.
Brody
I shot up in my bed, my body quaking and a layer of cold sweat coating my skin. I gasped for breath. My entire body ached with the strain of tensed muscles.
A fucking dream.
“Brody?” Devyn’s sleepy voice relieved me more than I thought possible. I whirled around, cupping her face when she sat up. “What’s wrong?”
I scanned her face, checking every little feature for any kind of injury. She was here. She was alive. Her warmth filled my hands, which were freezing against her skin. I ran my hands down her neck, across her shoulders and down her arms. I needed to know she was okay. “You’re here. You’re okay.” The words were more for me than her.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Her brow furrowed. She worried her lower lip between her teeth. Her eyes scanned me, carefully.
I’d been prepared for nightmares, but this… this was worse than I’d ever thought dreams could be. Seeing my wife dead and bloody? My two-year-old daughter holding a gun that was bigger than she was? It was too much.
I shuddered out a breath. I was too hot now, even though I’d woken up cold. I tossed off the comforter and got out of bed.
“Brody… Are you okay?” Her voice was unsure and quiet.
I scrubbed my hand down my face. “I’m okay. It was… it was a bad dream. That’s all. I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay. You’re shaking.”
Was I? I glanced down at my hands, the tremble impossible to hide. I swallowed, my throat aching and dry. “I’ll be okay. I’m just… gonna get a drink.”
“Want me to come with?”
I shook his head. “No. You should get some sleep. Kids will be up early. I’m just going to get a drink, and I’ll be back, okay?”
She nodded, but she didn’t look so sure. I’d worried her again. I didn’t blame her. I was feeling a little batshit crazy.
“Seriously, Devyn. I’m okay.” I walked back to her side and sat down on the edge of the bed. I cupped her cheek, the ghosts of her life’s blood beneath my fingertips. I blinked away the image. It wasn’t real. She was there. She was alive. She was safe. Her skin was still warm, smooth.
I gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. “Sleep, sweetness.”
“You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?” She laid back against the pillow. Her eyes were intense, and focused on me. I was left on the spot, so isolated.
I nodded, but I didn’t have the strength or the words to reply. She didn’t look completely convinced. She curled up on her side, her eyes still boring into me. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Getting up,
I focused on reaching the door, my knees still shaky from the nightmare. I hoped I didn’t look like I was shaky, or Devyn would be on my ass in a hot second for lying to her. I just didn’t want to worry her.
I shut the door quietly behind me and silently stepped down the stairs, trying to ignore the remnants of blood from my memory. But no matter what, it wouldn’t leave me. I was barefoot, and there was no blood on the stairs, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Panic turned my stomach over. It had been too real.
But Devyn was alive. She was safe. The girls were asleep. They were safe and warm. My team was at home, alive. I was not alone.
Except I was.
If anything in that dream ever came true, I’d never forgive myself. Not ever.
I grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and stuck it under the water dispenser on the fridge until it was full. I drank the entire thing in one long gulp and then filled it again. The panic seized my gut. Flashes of dream me as I’d come into the house hit me like a snow shovel. I sunk down to the couch putting the cup on the end table. Burying my head into my hands, my body began to shake again, my chest tight and constricted. I breathed through it, counting silently through each breath until the constriction passed and I dragged in a deep breath again. The shaking was the last thing to go, and I wasn’t sure how long I’d stayed there before it stopped.
Panic attacks. Nightmares. The guys said it happened sometimes. Some of the older guys said it never stopped. That after every mission, they got the dreams. Being a SEAL was all I’d wanted growing up.
Oak Creek left a boy with nothing to do but shoot things and get drunk. The Navy offered me that same opportunity, and a chance to get out of Oak Creek.
But I was seriously second guessing that SEAL assignment now, even after spending two years of training to get there. It was crazy. I’d spent months getting ready for boot camp and BUD/S. I’d pushed myself through training, never ringing that damn bell. I’d been so focused on the goal. Devyn had supported that goal, and I’d put a ring on her finger when I’d shipped out.