Free Flesh: A Romance Novel

by Daya Daniels

  I smile.

  “They’re good people, though—a good family. They have three boys. The oldest two—the twins, are Kira’s age. She’ll be back here in a few weeks.”

  “I haven’t seen her since she was a kid.” I smile.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  A cool breeze floats in through the open doors across the room and for the first time today, I feel myself growing tired. I take a deep breath. “I think I’m going to pack it in.”

  He looks at the fancy Rolex on his wrist when he pulls up the left sleeve of his robe. “Yeah, it’s getting late. I should get to bed before Ivy comes looking for me.”

  “We wouldn’t want her coming here,” I say softly, lifting my brows.

  Greg smirks. “Good night, Austen.”

  “Good night, big brother,” I mumble.

  Greg heads toward the door and gives me once last glance over his shoulder before he’s gone.

  When I’m certain I’m alone, I walk across the room and lean against the open double doors, reveling in the salty breeze that washes over me. The rough ocean pounds into the shoreline as it rolls in and the wind whips over the dunes covered in marram grass. The sounds of crickets chirping and owls hooting remind me of how much nature surrounds this cottage.

  I need a shower and I must be up early in the morning. Taking a few steps, I walk out onto the deck. The breeze picks up a lot more and the roar of the ocean is soothing.

  Looking to my left, it warms me that a few miles up the beach is Callie’s house. I wonder if she’s standing outside looking at the water just like me, unable to pack it in for the night.

  I wonder if she’ll see me again after I pissed her off last night. Probably not.

  But I want to see her, fucking desperately.

  I shut the doors, lock up, and head for the shower. Once I’m done, I head into my bedroom, which is only furnished with two stacked mattresses on the floor covered up by a girlish pink sheet. I plop right down in the middle of the bed with the towel still wrapped around me and sprawl out.

  This entire life now is just different. All this space, silence, and freedom. And I pray I adjust.

  I stare at my phone that’s in the middle of the bed and snatch it up. I scroll through all the messages. The list of names is endless: Candace, Melissa, Polly, Tamika, Amanda, Teresa, Betty, Hannah.

  And I feel myself searching, hoping there’s something here from Callie, even if they’re angry words—I’ll take anything—but there’s nothing. Still hoping, I keep scrolling.

  My eyes narrow and a scowl paints my features when I spot a date request and the name: Raymond. “What-the-fuck?” A shiver runs through me. I immediately delete all the messages, exhale, and stare up at the ceiling.

  Against my better judgment and sanity, I decide I’ll send Callie a message.

  Callie

  “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL me Greg has a brother?”

  Ivy exhales before she answers me through the phone. “Half-brother—stand corrected.”

  “Okay, half-brother.”

  After packing away the dishes and tidying up the kitchen after dinner, I retreated to the back porch with the cordless phone. Trav and Noah had already gone to bed and once again I was left alone with my thoughts, until the phone rang. And I knew when I left school earlier today that Ivy was the only one who could answer my questions. So I called her first, but she didn’t answer. Now, she’s calling me back.

  Lady Antebellum’s “Somewhere Love Remains” plays on the stereo in the den.

  “I don’t know, Callie. Greg doesn’t really talk about him and neither do I. The last time Austen Lennox was in Mount Pleasant was years ago, for his cousin’s wedding. Anyways, while he was here Austen bumped up Raine Forrester, who was really young—but legal—at the time with a kid...”

  Brandon.

  “And then he disappeared,” she adds. “Do you know how many problems we’ve had with the Forrester family over the years because of Austen? Jesus Christ. Those people hate us. But none of this is our fault. The Forrester family never even wanted to accept any of the money Greg insisted we give them just to help out. I mean, I can’t blame them, right? We can’t clean up Austen’s mess. Only Austen can do that.”

  “Yeah, for sure.”

  “Raine barely talks about Austen herself, but you can tell she still has a thing for him whenever she does mention him. Isn’t that unbelievable? A man impregnates her and disappears and she’s still on his heels like a thirsty dog for water. God, how pathetic.”

  “Yeah,” I say, listening to her.

  Ivy’s voice turns hard. “So, yeah, he’s a fucking deadbeat dad and a criminal.”

  I stiffen. “What?”

  “Yeah,” Ivy goes on. “He’s been serving time in Huntsville Penitentiary in Texas for the past five years for assault and battery. He almost killed a man. And he’s been in and out of jail before that for all sorts of shit. And remember, Greg is a lawyer, Callie. He has a reputation to uphold. So, I guess he doesn’t want people to know he has a little brother who is a habitual law-breaking loser.”

  “Oh.”

  The sound of clattering dishes in the background through the phone tell me Ivy is doing exactly what I was doing an hour ago in my own kitchen.

  “What’s it to you anyways, Callie? Why do you seem so upset about this?”

  “I’m not. I’m-I’m-I’m not upset,” I stammer out. “I guess I just feel in the dark about all of this. I don’t know. I’m just surprised.” I force a fake laugh. “I was confused when he came to pick up Brandon today, that’s all, but I get it now, I suppose. Raine had always said Brandon’s dad just wasn’t in the picture.”

  “Well, you didn’t let Brandon go with a stranger if that’s what you’re worried about.” She laughs. “But I guess you sort of did.”

  I shift where I’m sitting and lean against the wooden railing, shutting my eyes when the salty wind rushes through my hair.

  It’s quiet for a while as Ivy must be moving around her kitchen. I can hear the television and the sound of Greg’s voice occasionally. Then the sound of barking dogs. I almost drift off to sleep.

  “How are you, Callie?” Ivy asks, causing my eyes to fly open.

  “I’m okay.”

  “You aren’t. I can hear it in your voice, honey. You’re not okay.”

  “I am. I’m fine. I guess I’m just sad about Noah leaving.”

  “Yeah, I can see how you’d be upset about that. You should’ve seen me the day Kira left. I nearly passed out.” She giggles. “I was so upset—our only child leaving us to head across state to college. I didn’t know what Greg and I would do with ourselves, but we adjusted.”

  “At least you have Greg,” I say, not realizing what I’ve said until it slipped out.

  “Callie,” she says breathlessly.

  “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m just...I don’t know...I guess.”

  “How is Trav?” she asks.

  “He’s okay. He’s okay. I’m okay. Everything is okay.”

  Ivy hums. “You sound like a robot, not a human being, Callie. That’s the same bullshit answer you’ve been giving me for the past four years. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay. I’m okay. Everything is okay,’” she mocks.

  I exhale loudly. “I keep in touch with a few of the wives of the SEALs Trav had been close with.”

  “Okay.”

  I stare out at the ocean and up at the stars decorating the sky. It’s so beautiful out here, but right now all I feel is anger and resentment about my life. “Well, one of the guys lost a leg and a hand in Iraq. They’ve been married for ten years and have three little boys.”

  “Okay, and...” she urges me to go on.

  “A year after he was injured, he was in recovery. They fit him with a prosthetic leg and a hand. And now he’s walking. He drives. He does things with his kids. He participates in a support group for wounded SEALs. He goes places. As husband and wife, they still have their lives even though everything i
s different. But their lives went on. And now the couple are expecting another baby.” So, obviously they still fuck. I begin to sob, unsure of where it’s coming from.

  “Oh, honey. Do you want me to come over?”

  I sniffle. “No, no. I’m going to bed in a little while anyways.”

  “Are you sure?” Her voice cracks and I can tell she’s about to cry too.

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine. I guess I’m jealous.” I force a laugh and wipe my tears with the sleeve of my sweater. “I just don’t understand why it couldn’t be that way for us, Ivy.”

  “People are different.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And things take time.”

  Everyone’s been saying that for the past five years!

  “Yeah, I suppose they do. Trav will come around.”

  I huff and bite my lip. Ivy is a good friend, but I know bullshit when I hear it even if she doesn’t intentionally mean to lie to me. I know Ivy doesn’t believe a word she’s saying and that she’s only saying it to make me feel better, but it doesn’t work anymore.

  This is my sad reality.

  “I’m going to go.” I take a deep breath.

  “Oh-oh-okay, honey. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “Sure, yes. That sounds good.”

  “Sleep tight, okay?”

  “Yes, you too.” I hang up the cordless phone just around the time my cell phone buzzes with a message.

  I pick up my cell phone and stare at the screen, feeling a wave of anger roll through me. But after a few seconds the intensity of it eases when I read the words on the screen.

  Austen: I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

  I stare at the message for what feels like an hour before I decide to respond.

  Me: Why didn’t you tell me you have a kid?

  Austen: I tried to tell you A LOT of things yesterday, but you ran off after you called me a “prostitute.”

  Me: I’m sorry.

  Austen: You really hurt my feelings. In fact, after you left, I cried.

  I giggle. There’s no way he cried.

  Me: Very funny.

  Austen: It wasn’t a joke.

  Me: I have some questions.

  Austen: So do I.

  Me: You owe me some answers.

  Austen: I think you owe me some answers too.

  Me: Maybe, but some things are off-limits.

  Austen: Fair enough. Can I see you?

  Me: Yes, but not like that anymore.

  He doesn’t answer for a long time then a reply comes.

  Austen: Then how? I’ll take anything.

  ~

  After showering, I emerge from the glass stall and wrap myself in a towel. The steam from the bathroom floats out into the bedroom, carrying a clean herbal scent through the door I’d left slightly ajar. I move to stand in front of the mirror.

  I take a good look at myself and let out a loud exhale.

  I’d like to think I’m attractive, but over the past few years I haven’t given myself much credit. I’ve become too consumed in Trav’s world to remember I am a living, breathing human being who has needs too, next to his own because his needs always trumped mine.

  I scrub my face with my hands and accept how sad my blue eyes look tonight.

  And that’s how I feel, just fucking sad.

  I’m exhausted and my nerves are frayed from today and the conversation I’ve had with Ivy a few hours ago.

  I’ve stared at Austen’s last message for a while, but I didn’t reply.

  I don’t know what he wants from me. But whatever it is, I can’t give it to him.

  There’s no way I can talk to him about my life. I barely admit some things even to myself. Often, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror when I accept I’m cheating on my husband—that I’ve lain down with Austen and shared an intimacy with him that should only be reserved for Trav, even though Trav doesn’t want it anymore.

  But who do I talk to? No one would understand.

  No one talks about things like this...

  I’m cheating on my husband and that’s the only way people would see it. They’d hate me. They’d judge me. But how can you judge someone if you’ve never walked in their shoes?

  Trav had served this country. He’d laid down his life to keep us all safe and here I am running around the coast like a whore, getting naked once a week with a man I barely know—who apparently is not just a deadbeat father but also a criminal.

  Snatching up a towel from the vanity, I dry my wet hair as best I can, then place it next to the sink and comb my wet locks out. When I’m done, I head back into the bedroom. My damp feet hit the creaky wooden floors as I make my way over to the large four-poster bed that’s to my left.

  I jump, startled when I spot Trav there, comfortably resting in his wheelchair next to the bed on the other side.

  I slow my gait. My eyes narrow as I crane my neck forward. “Trav,” I say, stunned.

  He never comes in here—not anymore.

  “Callie,” he says in his deep voice. “Yeah, it’s me.” He takes off his hat, revealing his thick dark hair.

  Gripping the top of my towel where it’s pressed against my breasts, I walk over to him. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?” I reach a hand out and touch his cheek, realizing he’s overdue for a shave.

  He squeezes his eyes shut, lowers his head, and exhales as I drop down to the floor on my knees. I caress his warm cheek and look up at him, searching his face. I run my hand over where his hair covers the deep scar that extends from the back of his ear and down his neck. He’s still handsome even though he doesn’t want to believe it.

  “Trav,” I whisper as he shudders a few times. On a choked gasp, a tear dribbles from his left eye, then from the right one and down his cheeks, until he lets out a sob. “Trav,” I repeat, pulling him in for a hug.

  He wraps his right arm around me and leans his head on my shoulder, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I’m sorry I’ve been so horrible,” he rattles out.

  I stare up into his silvery eyes beneath the moonlight, admiring how beautiful they look. “It’s okay,” I tell him, dragging my fingers along the middle of his back, attempting to soothe him. “It’s okay, Trav.”

  He shakes his head and sniffles a few times into my skin.

  We stay like that for a while, just embracing as a soft breeze moves through the room and over us. He pulls me tighter and runs his fingers along my back, visibly breathing me in.

  I don’t get this often, only once in a while, so when I do get it I want to do nothing more than to hang onto it for as long as I can as if I’m a child hell-bent on not letting go of my favorite toy, terrified it’ll be ripped away from me in a flash.

  “Do you want to sleep in here with me tonight?” I ask, backing away to look into his face, my expression twisted in a desperate plea.

  “Yeah, yes. I would.” He bobs his head a few times and smiles.

  “Okay.” I stand straight.

  Trav hits a button and the chair wheels to the side of the bed, where I follow. With a few strenuous grunts, I help him out of the chair and drop his dead weight onto the bed and help him under the covers. When he’s comfortable, he looks up at me and laughs a little. “I’m getting fat,” he jokes.

  “You aren’t.” I giggle and walk over to the other side of the bed, still with the towel wrapped around me. Easing under the covers I scoot over to him and find a comfortable spot tucked against his chest, inhaling the fresh scent of his skin and rubbing my cheek into the fabric of his T-shirt.

  “You smell good,” I compliment.

  He lifts his arm and runs his fingers through my damp hair. “Noah gave me a bath earlier.” He laughs. “I hated it,” he grumbles.

  “He’s a good kid.”

  “I know,” Trav whispers.

  “Do you think he’s dating?”

  A laugh rumbles his chest. “I’d assume so, but he never talks about it.”

  I keep my gaze down, but my brows knot
at his statement.

  Trav’s chest rises and falls with each light breath he lets out. I press my ear to his pec and listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat. He always did have a slow heartbeat—the true sign of a conditioned athlete. Trav shifts a little against the sheets to look down at me. “How are your students?” he asks.

  I smile, happy for the general conversation that I wish we could have most mornings. I crane my neck up to look at him. “They’re wonderful, so full of light. I love them, Trav.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy to be back to work, Callie. I really am.”

  “Me too.”

  He lets out a long breath as I place my open palm in the middle of his chest, just resting it there. I meet his eyes and we stare at each other for a long time before either of us speaks. Only the sound of the ocean outside fills the room. I don’t know what’s in the depths of his eyes or what thoughts are swimming around in his handsome head when he’s like this.

  “I love you,” he says out of nowhere.

  “I love you too,” I tell him softly.

  “I know you’re angry that I won’t use the prosthetics,” he murmurs, his expression annoyed.

  I could never get him to talk about this, so it surprises me that he brings it up tonight.

  “But it’s just too much pain, Callie.” He sucks his teeth. “I’ve never told you before, but it’s just too much pain.”

  I’m confused, annoyed, but I don’t let it show. I shift to an almost-sitting position. “We can try something else then. Maybe get you fitted—”

  “No,” he growls.

  My hope deflates.

  “No, Callie.” He looks away from me.

  “Okay,” I say in a hushed tone, easing back down to lie on his chest, but when I do my towel comes away from me, exposing my left breast.

  Trav’s eyes land on my bare skin, dart away quickly, then meet my eyes in a curious boyish expression.

  I don’t question any of this. I don’t think about Austen. I don’t think about not having sex with my husband at this moment if he wants to. It doesn’t even cross my mind.