I nod at Jason and some other trainees I’m sure will make it—
“And we hope that those of you who are deploying have a nice period of R&R before heading to Afghanistan. We will pray for your safety and strength while you’re there.”
“That’s it,” yells Harlow. “Everyone who wants to tie one on before sleeping should head over to Billy’s. The first round’s on Jensen, since his private ass makes more than any of us enlisted folk.”
“Very funny,” says Jensen.
“Stop making such loud announcements about where we’re going to drink,” someone else says. “We don’t want that girl pilot showing up to spoil our fun again.”
“Hey!” I yell, turning around to face him. “Watch yourself.”
“What? Geez! It was just a joke.”
It’s not worth it, I tell myself. I don’t want to arouse suspicions about Monica and me, and plus, it’s done. We’re over.
“Whatever, Pansy.” Luckily, the guy drops it. “See you at the bar.”
I turn around to leave, and notice that Monica is standing not too far off. I can feel my face redden. I don’t know what— if anything— she’s overheard.
I approach her and say, “Let me help you pack up,” and we walk over towards her aircraft.
“Thanks,” she says. “How was your training today?”
“Oh, it was fine. But I think I’m delirious from the lack of sleep. I was singing to Albuquerque, Chili Peppers style.
“Under the Bridge?” she guesses, which impresses me, but I don’t say so.
“You got it.”
As soon as we’re out of earshot from the guys, she grins and says, “Nice short- lived attempt to stand up for me there.”
“Ha. Anytime.”
I can’t think of what else to say, because I can’t believe I’m seeing her again, and I can’t believe this is the last time I’ll see her, and I don’t want to give voice to either pathetic thought.
I do say, “So when does your flight leave?” which already sounds pathetic enough.
“Tomorrow morning,” she says. “Too early.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause and then she says…
“But we could…?”
She stops.
But I’m glad she was the one to bring it up. I can take it from here.
“Extend our pact one more time?” I answer.
“Just for Two Nights?”
“Just for One Weekend would fit the song better,” I answer. “Although it’s technically kind of spread out.”
“Okay,” she says. “But too bad you already made plans to celebrate. And according to your friends, I’m not very welcome at the bar where the celebration is being held.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just tell them I’m too tired.”
“You don’t have to lie on my account. Even though you never did take me on a proper date, so now might be the time.”
“Who said it’s a lie?” I shrug. “Who isn’t tired? I certainly am.”
“Do you just want more of my cooking? Is that your big ploy?”
“Nah. I’ll at least treat you to some take- out.”
I’d tried calling my mom earlier during a break, but she didn’t answer. I have a sense of dread that she’s out looking for The Silver Fox.
I don’t want to take the chance that she’ll drunkenly stumble into the house while we’re eating, but we could eat in my bedroom. That’s where I want to end up, anyway, so I might as well shorten the path and the obstacles.
“Deal,” Monica says. “Just let me freshen up, and then I’ll meet you there.”
One more night.
I can’t believe it. One more night with this crazy, music- loving female fighter pilot who has taken up my head space for the last two days. I don’t know whether I should feel lucky, or scared. But at the moment I just feel tired, and horny, and happy.
Chapter 13
I can’t believe I just did that. Basically invited myself to Ramsey’s house. Although, it was rather pre-meditated. I did stalk him after the training ended, which isn’t like me, but I just couldn’t help myself.
When I arrive at Ramsey’s place, his mom isn’t around.
“I’m in here,” he says, from his bedroom.
I walk in, and there’s a candle burning, and some TV trays set up with Italian take- out. He’s wearing an Oxford shirt and a pair of khakis, and he looks so sexy.
“Wow,” I tell him. “Very nice.”
“Trombino’s was my dad’s favorite restaurant,” he says. “And their take- out is just as delicious as eating at the restaurant.”
I sit down and take a bite out of my linguini.
“You aren’t kidding.”
“I wanted to play some music,” he says. “But I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for.”
“On your guitar?” I ask, surprised and curious.
“No way,” he says, shaking his head adamantly. “I told you I’m not very good yet. I meant that I’d let the professional musicians handle the music playing. I’d just DJ, as usual.”
“Oh. Of course.”
I feel stupid for thinking he meant otherwise. How pathetic to think he might serenade me.
“So, what’ll it be?” he asks, seemingly unfazed.
I try to think of some calm, mellow music befitting tonight’s mood.
“Dylan?”
“I see. Your dad’s favorite crazy hippie music.”
I laugh. I’d forgotten that I’d told him that.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I like the choice.”
He starts a song, and I realize it’s “Make You Feel My Love.”
A romantic choice, which matches the mood, but still surprises me.
We’re supposed to have a pact. This is just a fling. Don’t get too close.
But despite myself, I can’t help feeling everything spin outside of my control. I just want this night to last and last. We continue to eat and listen to Bob Dylan, a comfortable silence settling around us.
“I’m worried about my mom,” Ramsey says, out of nowhere. “I told her I’d found an assisted living place for her, and she got really mad and left. I don’t know if she’s been back the whole time I’ve been at training. I know she has to be out drinking.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I tell him. “But it’s not your fault.”
“I know,” he says, but his obviously tense muscles betray that statement. “But I just can’t help feeling like it is.”
I’ve finished eating, so I get up and go sit behind Ramsey on the bed. I knead his shoulders, then spread my hands out along both of his triceps.
“That feels so good,” he says, as I firmly karate- chop his upper shoulder blades. “That’s amazing.”
“Why thank you,” I reply. “I took a massage course in college. At Sarah Lawrence, it counted as gym credit.”
“Wow!”
He laughs.
“I know, right? At least I put my parents’ tuition to good use.”
“You sure did.”
As I squeeze length- wise down the back of his arms, a new song starts playing.
“Oh my god. This is ‘Hallelujah.’”
“You like Leonard Cohen?” he asks.
“Like him? I think he’s one of the best poets who ever lived. He just happens to also be a musician.”
“Agreed. Except this song is just too much to take, sometimes. The way it shows how…”
I knead his shoulders, listening to the music and his words, but he trails off.
“Shows how what?” I prod.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Nothing.”
How love can leave a man so weak. He doesn’t want to be weak.
I kiss his shoulders.
“Well, I think this is what you need,” I tell him. “Some relaxation and a nice massage.”
“I think I need a little more than that,” he says suggestively, and we laugh.
“Seriously, Ramsey. You think so much abou
t other people, before yourself. You should just put yourself first sometimes.”
“You mean like this?”
He wraps his arms around me and kisses me. He pulls my hand towards the tent in his pants, and I grab hold of it, feeling how hard and ready it is. His desire feels so intense, so over- powering, that I shiver, thinking about how much he wants me, how all of this is for me.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he says, back to being his take- charge self, no longer almost talking about feeling weak.
He takes off his clothes and then moves me into a position in the middle of his bed where I’m on my hands and knees, animal- like for him. I wore a casual skirt to his house, and he lifts it up and pushes it to the side. He pulls my tank top down and my breasts out, rather roughly and possessively.
This time feels more urgent, more aggressive than last time. As if on cue, Nine Inch Nail’s “Closer” starts to play on his playlist.
He yanks my panties to the side and enters me from behind. His large cock fills me to the brim right away. With one hand on my breast and one hand on my ass, he fucks me stronger and deeper than anyone ever has.
“Whose pussy is this?” he asks, loudly and boldly, since no one is around to hear.
“It’s yours,” I say, already feeling the wetness from my pussy dripping onto his cock. Already so close to coming. “It’s Ramsey’s.”
“Whose pussy am I going to come in?” he asks.
“Mine. My pussy.”
“No, it’s my pussy,” he says, shoving his cock deep inside me, and causing my knees to tremble. “This is my naked, raw, soaking wet pussy.”
“I’m coming,” I gasp, not holding back my moans.
“Come on my cock. Come all over it.”
He pulls my hair, gently yet firmly, and gives my ass a little slap.
Although I never would have imagined I’d like it so much, his hand smacking my ass gives me a bolt of pleasure that causes me to come all over again.
“That feels so good,” I tell him. “Do it more.”
“You like when I smack your perfectly round ass?” he asks, as he smacks it again, just a little harder.
“Oh my god, I’m coming all over your big cock.”
“Keep coming for me, Monica,” he says, as he grabs my ass and rams his cock into my pussy. “I’m going to come in you too.”
He rides me hard from behind, reaching around to grab my clit. I didn’t think it was possible to feel any better, but as he plays with my clit while fucking me, I yell out, “Oh my god, I’m coming so much.”
“That’s my girl,” he says, as I feel his cock start to throb and pulse inside me. “Come on my cock while I shoot my cum into your pussy.”
And I feel him fill me up as I collapse my head into his pillow, writhing with pleasure.
We’re both out of breath, panting hard.
“That felt so fucking good,” he says, wrapping his arms around me while I lay my head on his strong, naked chest.
“I’m glad we extended our Just One Night, two more times.”
“We really are each other’s heroes,” he says, in a tone of voice that sounds distant and rather far away. “If only for just one weekend.”
Chapter 14
I wake up to find Monica hurrying around, getting her things ready to go to the airport.
“Morning, beautiful.”
“Hey there,” she says, kissing me. She bends over from her standing position, since I’m still lying in bed.
I grab hold of her and bring her closer to me, kissing her deeply. I immediately think of how hot last night was. How she let me get rough with her, and seemed to like it. How I felt like she was mine.
She returns my kiss, but then continues scurrying around my room.
“I gotta go, I’m going to be late.”
“Then you’d miss your plane and we’d have to extend our Just One Weekend even more.”
“Very funny,” she says.
It’s not exactly the response I was hoping for.
She pauses again, looking down at me with a smile.
“Seems like you got a good night sleep,” she says. “No night terrors.”
“Must have been the great sex,” I say, with a wink.
“Or the massage, or the cuddles.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “What am I ever gonna do without you?”
“Somehow I think you’ll manage just fine,” she says.
I throw on some clothes so that I can walk her to her car outside. I’m annoyed at myself for feeling disappointed at how our time together is ending. It has to end, and it didn’t mean anything, so what did I expect?
As we head out of the house, I see that my mom is sleeping on the living room couch. I’m not sure when she got home, and I’m mad at her for scaring me by staying away for so long, but I’m glad she’s safe.
At Monica’s car, I wrap my arms around her.
“Have a safe flight back,” I say, bending down to kiss her forehead.
It’s an almost paternalistic gesture, and I feel silly, but I also don’t want to be too forward, or put myself out there too much.
She stands on her tiptoes and looks up at me for a real kiss. Good.
I kiss her for a long, slow moment, savoring the last one I’ll have with her.
“Goodbye, Ramsey,” she says. “Thanks for an amazing Just For One Weekend.”
“Amazing indeed.”
I walk back into the house, determined not to look back. But she gives a little beep of her horn, and I turn around and wave, feeling as giddy as a school kid.
Well, that was that, I think, as I step back into the house.
“Ramsey Bradford, what do you think you’re doing, forgetting all about your ole ma to run around with that girl for three days straight?”
My mom is standing up and walking over to me, if one could call it walking. More like staggering.
“What are you talking about?” I ask her, annoyed.
This is not what I need right now.
“Gallivanting around town with your new lover instead of being here to take care of your mom.”
I walk closer to her, but when we reach each other she throws up her arms as if she wants to hit me. I catch them, easily, in my hands. She reeks of alcohol.
“Mom, I wasn’t gallivanting anywhere. I had training, remember? I was on base. And where were you?”
She glares at me, and it makes me sad to see confusion underneath her angry and empty stare— but I remember what Monica said— I need to think about what’s best for me. And Mom has made me really mad these past few days.
“Go lay back down, Mom,” I say, walking her back over to the couch.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she protests, but she flops back down onto the couch.
“Mom, I want you to stay here and sober up. I’m not leaving today, so you’re not either. But things have got to change. Once you’ve come to your senses, we’re going to have a long talk.”
“You can’t boss me around,” she says, glaring at me, but she quickly falls back asleep.
I get her a glass of water from the kitchen and place it on the coffee table for when she wakes up. Then I text Jensen and Harlow.
Found a place for Mom. Let’s meet later with her to let her know.
I sigh before I send it, because I really didn’t think it would come to this. But what other choice do I have? I can’t keep track of Mom from Afghanistan. I can’t even do a very good job of keeping track of her in my own house.
Her accusations about me gallivanting around town with my new girlfriend ring in my ears. Mom should know me better than that. Monica doesn’t live in this town. And, for better or worse, Monica isn’t my girlfriend.
I don’t do girlfriends.
I just have to remember to keep reminding myself of that, even though Monica is the closest I’ve ever come to falling for someone.
Chapter 15
“So, how was your trip?” asks Susan, nearly as soon as I walk in the door.
<
br /> Her daughter— my four- year- old niece, Becky, smothers me with hugs.
“Aunt Monica! You’re home! Play with me, play with me!”
But Susan seems to be just as excited to see me. She was obviously very lonely while I was gone.
I tickle Becky and then say, “Let me talk with Mommy for a while, then I’ll come up to your room and play with you.”
I land a soft kiss on my baby nephew Mason’s forehead, as he sleeps comfortably in his mother’s arms.
“Can we play princess tea party?” Becky asks.
“Sure, Love. I may have brought you back something for that very purpose.”
“Yay!” She jumps up and down in excitement. “A present! Can I have it? Can I have it! Where is it?”
“Becky, be polite and wait for your aunt to give you your gift.”
“Okay!” She skips upstairs to her room, saying, “I’ll set up the table and get our dresses out!”
“So anyway,” Susan says. “How was your trip?”
“It was great.”
I must be smiling more than I thought I was, because she says, “What’s his name?”
“What?”
I try to feign innocence.
“How did you…?” I start to ask her.
“Because it’s written all over your face,” she says. “Monica Carrington, I haven’t seen you this happy since… well I don’t even know when.”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up,” I tell her. “It was just a fling.”
“Uh huh.”
She arches her eyebrows and nods sarcastically.
“I’m serious. It didn’t mean anything, and even if we wanted it to, it couldn’t. He’s… enlisted. And he’s deploying very soon.”
“Awww, man.”
Susan seems genuinely disappointed.
“You don’t even know him!” I protest.
“I know, but I wanted to live vicariously through you.”
“Susan, you can still…”
I pause. I don’t want to go into unpleasant topics right now, so soon after returning. My brother died nearly a year ago, before Mason was even born.
I was going to say, “find love, find happiness again,” but we’ve been through all of this before. Susan is still young, and attractive when she takes care of herself, which she hasn’t done since my brother died.
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