His only response was to grunt and start walking down the hill. It didn't take long to get to my car and we hadn't exchanged more than two words on the hike back to the parking lot. When we were on the road, I ventured a thank you. "I had a good time today. Thanks for bringing me."
Gray sat in silence for most of the trip, but he obviously wanted to say something. He’d open his mouth, clear his throat, and then shut it again.
“What?” I asked, exasperated. “What is it that you want to say?”
He drummed the console between us with his finger tips for a moment and then gruffly asked, "Are you depressed? Do you need to see someone? There’s nothing wrong with that."
"No! Why do you ask?" Where did this come from? I was so embarrassed.
"Because you were…” he paused, clearly fighting some stronger emotion, but I didn’t let him finish. His unjust accusation fired my temper.
"I stood on the edge to see if you wanted to eat something. Clearly you have lingering guilt over the widow in your unit. Maybe you should see someone," I shot back.
"It's a platoon,” he said curtly.
"I don't really care, soldier," I replied sarcastically.
"I'm not a fucking soldier, and you know it."
"Don't curse at me."
"Don't call me a soldier."
"You Marines are neurotic about this, you know. You should see someone, just so you can get it through your head that not everyone is insulting you when they refer to you as a soldier."
"Only the Army has soldiers." Gray fumed.
The Rover came to a shuddering halt at the light at the top of the exit ramp. "See, neurotic." I pointed at him, not even paying attention to the lights. We were both breathing heavily, chests heaving. Quick as lightning, Gray reached across the console, and for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. Maybe he was going to and he changed his mind at the last second. Instead, he pressed his forehead against mine.
"I'm sorry," he said.
I should've still been angry with him but his apology, his fear, his resignation wiped it away. "Me too," I whispered back. We might have stayed like that forever if not for the cars honking their horns at me because the light had turned green. I pulled back reluctantly and took Gray home. I helped him unload the ropes, and he gave me a quick hug.
"See you around, Sam." And then he was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gray
I WANTED TO FIX THINGS with her but I wasn’t sure how. It occurred to me that I kind of sucked at interacting with women. When I wasn’t wearing the uniform, when I didn’t have the power of the Corps behind me, I was inept. The girls I’d been with didn’t hang out with me because I was funny or interesting to talk to. They fucked me and left me. I’d told myself for years that the only connection I ever wanted with a woman was a physical one.
The weird hiccups in my heartbeat when I watched my boys interact with their girlfriends made it clear that that statement was a lie. I’d shoved the desire for something more with a female down so deep I believed it didn’t exist, but here I was all worked up because I’d fucked up with a girl I barely knew. Although that was another lie.
I’d shared more meaningful conversation with Sam than anyone I could remember, in years. Her eyes held no judgment only understanding. Maybe it was because she’d been married to a soldier, but she knew me. She could see inside of me and that both scared the shit of me and excited me in a way that made me worried for my own sanity.
A wicked ugly sense of insecurity washed over me and suddenly I was angry. At myself in part but at Sam, too, for opening my eyes.
I’d never gone hiking with a girl before. I’d never just simply enjoyed hearing her wild laugh at the first step off the cliff. Shit, that was a sound of pure freaking joy and I’d ruined it. When she’d leaned over the edge, her arms out wide, the sound coming from her was enough to make the entire valley smile, but for me? Within me, the sound had turned sour, and I’d reacted without thinking. I needed her to stop laughing, and so I accused her of doing something I knew, deep down, wasn’t going to happen.
My actions came from the protective sense of self-preservation I’d cultivated since my girlfriend Carrie had cheated on me during my second deployment. I was getting shot at, my friends were fucking dying in the field, and I spent every night dreaming about being home with her, in her bed. But while I was creating fantasies to keep me from going insane, she had been shacking up with the local Marine recruiter.
Only in the Marines did you love your brothers one minute and then hate them the next for sleeping with your girl, rifling through your mail, and stealing anything of worth that wasn’t locked down. A true fucking dysfunctional family. I wasn’t sure why I loved it, but I did.
But it had been there for me when Carrie wasn’t. When I came home to find her shaking the tires off her car with the Marine officer, it had been my brothers who took me out and got me wasted. It was the Corps that had given me so much shit to do that I didn’t have time to think of Carrie. I had been too tired to even stroke my wood if I had the urge—which I didn’t for several months after I saw her pale ass bouncing in the window of the car. It had been the men in my platoon who found me hook up after hook up until I was lost in a sea of unfamiliar pussy and had forgotten my own name as well as Carrie’s. It had been Hamilton, my battle buddy, who’d recommended doing the friends-with-benefits thing with a local first responder. And one thing led to another until all I had in my life was my family, my brothers from the Corp, and a few women who I called up at ten at night to ease my physical ache. Then I left them, because lying in bed with a woman for the entire night was more than I could stomach.
I never spent time with woman just casually unless it was my mother. No wonder Sam confused me. But even as she scared me, I was drawn to her. We weren’t done yet. I just had to figure out how to convince her to give me another chance.
The next morning, I took Noah and Bo up on their offer to run around the neighborhood. I think I’d foolishly hoped I’d bump into Sam. At five in the morning. Hey, she’d fucked with my mind. What could I say?
“This is like physical training. You always were a gunner, Noah,” I panted as we came off a sprint. I’d made the stupid mistake of asking Noah how he was training for an upcoming fight he had on television. Come and see, he’d said, which was the same as saying that he didn’t think my post-deployment ass could make it more than a few miles. I couldn’t stand down from a challenge. I was regretting it now. Rather than a sustained run for eight or nine miles, Noah had decided that Bo and I should run interval sprints. For an hour. The good thing was that I was too tired to think about the shittastic ending to yesterday’s hike. My cheeks felt hot when I thought about the tantrum I’d pulled. Rivulets of sweat blurred my vision, and I grabbed the bottom of my shirt to wipe my eyes and cover my flush. "You two do this every morning?”
"Bo's too busy with AnnMarie to run every morning," Noah complained, before sucking down an electrolyte pack.
"Got one of those for me?"
Noah pulled out two more from the pocket of his running shorts and handed them out.
I pushed the entire contents of the pack in my mouth and slid the crumbled plastic into my pocket. "That true, Bo? You wimping out?”
"God didn't make a girl like AnnMarie so she could wake up alone," Bo replied, his mouth still around the opening of his energy supplement.
"So she's sleeping with some other guy this morning?"
"Fuck you. She's at the house, and I'll be showered and back in bed for some morning delight before she's even awake.”
"Or she and Grace will be making breakfast with Finn," Noah suggested.
"Man, I hope it’s peach French toast. That shit's the bomb." Bo and Noah knocked fists together.
“I’m surprised they allow you to eat French toast.” I ruffled Noah’s hair, which wasn’t easy to do given we were about the same height.
He knocked my arm away. “I can have one piece.”
"What am I? OKCupid? Close your own damn hook ups." Bo slapped his empty pack in my hand and ran off. Noah laughed like a loon and followed. Fisting the garbage, I gave chase and eventually ran Bo down close to the house and tackled him in the grass. I shoved the empty electrolyte pack down his shirt.
"I always knew you wanted me." He made kissy faces at me while I play-punched him in the face. Our fight was interrupted when the front door opened and Noah and Bo's girlfriends were standing there—awake far too early but dressed in tiny shorts and tank tops. Goddamn, summer was my favorite season. I must've stared too long because Bo slid a glancing blow across my chin.
"Stop staring at my girl, motherfucker."
"Can't. She's too hot,” I said just to screw with him. Noah had sprinted up the steps and spirited Grace inside rather than expose her to my lecherous gaze, I guess.
"You gotta learn some manners," Bo growled.
I swung to face him and put up my fists. "Yeah, wanna try to teach me some?"
He crouched into a fighting stance and we started circling each other.
"You coming in to have breakfast, or would you rather piss all over each other in a show of real animal dominance?" AnnMarie called from the door.
"I'm going to knock this fucker on his ass and then I'm coming in for breakfast," he called back.
"You get hit in the mouth, Bo, and we can't do those things we talked about last night!" She stood on the front stoop, hands on her hips. I made the mistake of turning to look at her and Bo took the opportunity to smack me right in the chin. I let him have the blow though, because I wouldn't want anyone looking at my girl either. But so he didn't think I was going to let him hit me any time he wanted, I kicked his Achilles heel and when he stumbled, I jumped over him and ran up to her.
"Leave him and run away with me, sunshine."
She just laughed and pushed me away so she could run over to him. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him and gave him a kiss so hot I felt the temperature rise about ten degrees. I frowned and turned to go inside because the sight of Bo and AnnMarie wrapped around each other turned on a different kind of hunger—one that French toast wasn’t going to satisfy.
After some damn good French toast, I cornered Adam before he could take off to his music studio above the garage.
“So man, about Sam Anderson,” I started.
Adam shook his head. “You outta be careful with her. She’s fragile.”
“Are you warning me off? Because I don’t poach. Ever.” Although for Sam—no, I didn’t. I’d step aside if Adam had a thing for her.
He fiddled with the headphones around his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I like her but I don’t think she’s a good person to get involved with.”
“Is that the nice way to say she’s a bunny boiler and I should stay away or my dick may end up on the roadside?”
He snorted at this and gave me a reluctant smile. “No, it’s a nice way of saying that I don’t think Sam knows there are other men in this world. Lost her husband in Afghanistan a couple of years ago. In the three years she’s worked at Gatsby’s, she’s never even looked twice at another guy. Not before Will died and not once after. Think she’s still in love with her dead husband. That kind of fragile.”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but then it also didn’t really match up with my experience with Sam. Aside from the fact she still had a metric ton of shit of her husband’s in the condo, she didn’t seem like the poor, grieving widow. She’d certainly done more than look at me. I could still feel her hot mouth on mine and the flutters of her tongue as it tasted and explored. Those weren’t the actions of a grieving widow. But Adam’s warning put me off from contacting Sam, so I allowed myself to be pulled into a day of drinking and lounging by the pool, trying to pay attention to AnnMarie and Grace’s girlfriends.
Later that evening, I settled at the far back lawn, trying to get away from the noise and crowd. Crickets chirped in the copse behind me and the sun had dropped down behind the horizon, reducing the heat of the day from muggy to slightly steamy. The crowd had thinned, and only a few hardcore folks were still drinking. One of the roommates had fired up a grill and Bo had directed me to sit on the opposite side of the pool, probably so he and Noah could lay into me. A little drowsy from the travel, sun, and liquor, I couldn't muster up any I care emotion at that point. A mosquito buzzed around my head and I nabbed it out of the air before it could settle on my skin for a snack.
"Nice move, Mr. Miyagi."
"That's Master Miyagi to you."
Bo dropped down in a chair next to me and handed me a hamburger hot off the grill. Noah followed with the beer.
"Not complaining, but are we having a private party because you're finally going to confess your love for me?" I took a bite of my hamburger. "Don't need to say it. I knew you had a thing for me since boot camp, when you kept staring at my shorts."
"You had a label on them."
"My mom did it to be a smart ass. How many times I gotta tell you that?" I cuffed Bo lightly across the back of the head.
"As many times as it still produces a rise, I'd guess." This pithy observation was from Noah.
“What happened to the Widow Sam? She drove up and you guys took off but you came home in a real snit. What gives?”
I just ate my burger and ignored the question.
Bo tried again. “Okay, Widow Sam is off limits. How about the real deal about you leaving the Corps?”
“Don’t call her that,” I said flatly.
“Huh?”
“Don’t call her Widow Sam. She’s a person, not a character.”
Bo raised his eyebrows at me and then turned to Noah and said in a stage whisper, “Another one bites the dust.”
Rather than rising to Bo’s bait, as Noah called it, I tried changing the subject. “You’ve a nice place here. Think this is where you'll stay?"
"Nope. AM wants to go to grad school at the University of Chicago."
"How about you, Noah?"
"Dunno. Go to Chicago too. More opportunity there."
"That's a first, you following Bo instead of the other way around."
The crickets made more noise than the three of us as Bo, Noah and I ate in silence. Finally, because he had less patience than a three-year-old at Christmas, Bo blurted out again, "Are you in trouble?"
“No," I sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind.” And I didn’t want to talk about it even with Bo and Noah, two of my oldest friends. I cast about for something to tell them, something that they would believe so I wouldn’t have to put into words feelings that I didn’t really understand myself. “My ex is sniffing around and I didn’t want to spend my entire leave dodging her.”
"Your ex isn't still with the LT?"
"No. They broke up after she had the syphilis scare."
"That was a janky thing to do." Bo reached for another burger from the stack Noah’d brought over. "You do know that she was an asshole, right, and not just for cheating?"
"Because she tried to pass on the syphilis without saying anything?" The talk of my cheating ex and her STI was making me lose my appetite. "What’re you eating, Jackson?"
"Pork chop." Noah waggled the pale meat at me.
Drawing back, I shook my head. "Looks delicious. Not. Aren't you allowed to eat real food when training?"
"Not really. Conditioning is different. I have to last five rounds instead of all day."
"Bet it feels like all day after you get a dozen elbows to the chin."
"So what's this all about anyway?" Noah asked. I could put Bo off. He was never serious about anything except his new girlfriend. But Noah wasn't a bullshitting type of guy.
&nb
sp; Stretching my legs out and tipping my chair, back, I sighed and gave in. "I'm twenty-five. I have an associate’s degree in business admin that took me four years to get. From what I hear of other Marines, present company excepted, without a degree on the outside I'm pretty much fucked. Infantry Marines are good at following orders and breaking stuff. Other than being a cop or going to private contracting, I'm pretty much SOL. If I get out now, I'm on the wrong side of my twenties and just entering the work force. Then there’s the whole female thing…" I trailed off. That was as much as I could get out without looking like I had a vagina.
"So this comes down to your philosophy that you can't have a serious relationship in the service because your girlfriend slept with the local recruiter while you were deployed," Noah surmised.
I shifted guiltily in my chair. "Not just. It’s about leading men, being responsible for their mental wellbeing and their physical health. It’s about having women like Sam waiting on tenterhooks to hear that their man is home safe and then, when they can’t bear it anymore, getting their fears dispelled by some guy at home. Nearly every guy I know has been cheated on or has cheated or is divorced or is on their second or third marriages, and those are just the guys enlisted underneath me. One thing just leads to another.” Noah opened his mouth but I didn't stop talking. "I get it, Noah. You wanted to slap a ring on Grace's finger when you guys finally got together. Instead you waited two whole years."
"Seemed like a motherfucking eternity," he grunted.
"Yeah, it was a miracle she waited for you. The immaculate conception was only slightly less amazing than that."
Bo coughed to cover a laugh and Noah looked like he wanted to reach across Bo and hit me—but only because I was right.
"So what are your options?" Noah asked.
"Go back to school. Get a full bachelor’s degree in something. Hell if I know what. My brothers say to come work for them. They've got a waiting list about two years long.” My older brothers run an auto body and custom chopper place in Orange County specializing in custom-made rides and 70s muscle cars. They were kind of famous for it and had always told me there was a wrench and a toolbox just waiting for me.
Unraveled (Woodlands) Page 10