“Visiting rights,” Nick teased. “We’ll draw up a custody agreement for you.”
“All right,” Vic laughed. “That eases my mind a bit.”
Claire handed the heaviest tray containing the teapot and mugs to Nick and the lighter one with the snacks to Vic. “Now remember, this is a secret until next week. Can you bring Angie out to the breeder? We’ll surprise her then, and let her pick out her puppy.”
“You know, this is the most fun news I’ve heard in weeks. You give me the date, time, and address, and we’ll be there.”
Claire stood on her toes and kissed Vic on the cheek. “Thanks, Vic. I’m so happy Angie found you.”
Me too, Vic thought, before amending it. I’m so glad we found each other.
* * *
Angie let Vic pick up the cardboard box from the front stoop, and a sigh of frustration escaped her. She hated others having to do everything for her, from helping her dress to making her meals. At least now she could manage her own showers.
“I know, champ,” Vic said, reading her mind. “But no heavy lifting for another five weeks. Besides, I’m not a little weakling in need of some studly butch opening her doors and carrying things for her.”
“No,” Angie grumbled. “But apparently I am.”
Vic shook her head, smiling, and set the box down on the foyer side table. She ripped open the tape binding it together and plucked out a note from inside. “Ooh, books from Julie and Shawna.” She pulled one out, then another. “Lesbian romances! A whole pile of them. How fun!”
Angie was less than thrilled. All those things did lately was remind her that she and Vic had gotten exactly nowhere since New Year’s Eve. Well, not nowhere exactly. They were warm toward one other, flirty even. Plus Vic had admitted she wasn’t going back to Karen. But that was it. There had been nothing solid that she could bank any sort of future on. “Any cowgirl ones in there?”
Vic dug through the box. “Not a single one, sorry. But there seems to be one about aliens. Oh, and another one featuring lesbian vampires.”
“Um, maybe you could put those ones on the bottom. Aren’t there any sexy ones about a doctor and an EMT?”
“Actually, I think there are a couple of medical romance novels in here. But a hot doctor and a super sexy EMT? I think that one’s waiting for you to write it.”
Angie hadn’t gone near her laptop since the attack. Not only did the energy for writing elude her at the moment, but so did the ability to concentrate for very long. Her pain medication was of the milder variety now, but this inability to concentrate was worrisome. It was partly why she had encouraged Vic to continue to read to her. That and because she loved listening to Vic’s voice. It was a lethal combination of soothing and sexy.
“All right, one of these days maybe I’ll try writing one.”
“Promise?”
Angie nodded. She was tired again, exhausted from the afternoon spent at her family’s. And while she loved getting out and seeing her family, she wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and close her eyes.
“Come on, let’s get you up to bed.”
“Only if you’ll join me.” They often bantered in this manner, and while it was fun, Angie found herself wishing the words meant something. That, for once, they led to something more. Like making out. Like confessing their love for one another.
“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.” Vic looked at her with those eyes that said she wanted to eat her up. Unfortunately, said desire never got any further than her eyes.
Vic scooched in bed beside Angie, leaving a few inches between them for decorum’s sake. “Want me to read to you?”
“I think I’m too tired for that right now.”
“Are you too tired to talk?”
“Depends what you have in mind?” Was this—finally—where they got to talk about the future?
“Your tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Were you afraid of dying over there?”
“Not really. I mean, it was in the backs of our minds, for all of us, but you couldn’t let it paralyze you. You had a job to do. Life had to go on.”
“What about that night in the ER, when the attack happened?”
“No. I was more worried about you. And the others.” She studied Vic, trying to understand why she was asking these questions. “What about you, were you afraid that night?”
“I was, yes. But not for me, for you. First when you got close to him to try to talk to him. And then when he grabbed you. I thought…” Vic’s voice trailed off. When her eyes misted over, something sharp tugged at Angie’s heart.
“Oh, sweetheart. Come here.” Angie pulled her against her shoulder, circling an arm around her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to be afraid of anything, especially on my behalf.” She kissed Vic’s temple, basked in the peace, the tranquil elation of having Vic in her arms. She swore that she could stay like this forever, just the two of them wrapped in their own cocoon with the outside world nothing but a gauzy memory.
She felt Vic’s lips on her neck, moving against her skin, tasting her, and Angie dipped her head to capture Vic’s mouth with her own. The kiss was soft, yet heavy with meaning. And all at once it was like circles closing and puzzles clicking into place as Angie’s world settled into an order she’d never known before. She deepened the kiss as arousal flamed slowly to life deep in her belly. And oh how she loved the way Vic was responding too, increasing the pressure with her mouth, pressing her body harder into Angie.
“Oh Vic,” Angie murmured. “So much I want to say, to do to you…”
And with that the spell was broken. Vic eased back, stood and straightened her clothes, as if to erase all evidence of what had transpired.
“Vic…I won’t break, you know. It’s okay.”
The soft click of the door closing was Vic’s only response.
Chapter Thirty
For the next couple of days Vic had been able to avoid getting snared into a discussion with Angie about the kiss. She knew Angie was dying to talk about it, but Vic kept her distance. There was laundry to do, the house to clean, groceries to buy, bills to pay, meals to cook, calls to return from friends and colleagues asking how Angie was doing. She wasn’t quite at the point of admitting to herself she was afraid of where the conversation might take them. Would they be on the same page? Feel the same way? And most of all, was it too soon? Were they ready for the next step?
By evening, after a simple dinner of chicken and rice (Angie was still on a bland diet), Angie’s fingers crept into Vic’s hand at the small kitchen table, the dirty plates in front of them. Vic had been just about to rise and take them to the sink when Angie’s hand tugged her back.
“Can we talk?” Angie said, the purposefulness in her eyes bringing Vic’s heart to a standstill. “Please? In the parlor?”
“It always sounds so formal when you say ‘parlor.’ Like we should have chaperones or something.”
Angie’s grin was sexy and provocative. “Maybe we should. Oh, wait. Chaperones would be a very, very bad thing.”
“Really?” Vic enjoyed playing along with these little games, although she knew it would not derail Angie from wanting to talk seriously. “That must mean you have something very bad in mind.”
Angie stood and, still holding Vic’s hand, led them to the front of the house. “Oh no, not bad. Something very, very good, actually.”
They sat down together on the sofa, and without preamble, Angie reached out and tilted Vic’s chin toward her. Her lips, soft and gentle, brushed Vic’s, and the sensation reminded her of butterfly wings. She closed her eyes so that she could more deeply feel Angie’s mouth on hers, feel the kiss that was tender yet bold, respectful yet framed with resolute insistence.
They fit so well together, their mouths moving in perfect synchronicity, and Vic couldn’t help but wonder what sex with Angie would be like. There would be dominance, but it would alternate, she felt. First one on top, then the other. And each would be bold in taking and doing what she w
anted, in demanding and claiming pleasure, in wringing everything physically and emotionally from the act. It would be thrilling but also lovely, exhilarating but fulfilling. It would be raw and complete, as though her body and mind would be occupied while she also did the occupying. She could almost feel now Angie’s naked skin pressing the length of her, the hard muscles turning her on, making her crave more. She felt a blush work its way up her neck, relieved that Angie was too busy to notice it.
“I missed this,” Angie murmured against her. “I’ve been dying to kiss you again since the other night.”
Me too, Vic thought though she refused to give voice to it. She had to keep a lid on this. Angie was still sore, still recovering, plus she didn’t want them getting ahead of themselves and letting sex define their relationship. But then Angie’s hand began moving up her side, spanning her stomach, crawling up to the underside of her breasts, and all rational thought beat a hasty retreat.
“You’re so sexy, Vic.” Angie’s mouth suckled the soft skin at the base of her throat, and her vocal chords instantly numbed at the pleasure.
“Angie…”
Then that exquisite mouth was kissing the underside of her jaw, began nibbling her earlobe, and dammit all, her resolve was soon burning off like a hot sun pulverizing a morning mist. Lips were on hers again, harder and hungrier this time, and Vic matched Angie’s intensity with her own. It was only when Angie’s hand cradled her breast, a thumb absently brushing her nipple, that Vic gasped and reared her head back, a moan of surprise and need escaping her. That one simple move had reached in and unraveled her.
“What…wait, Ange. What are you…we…doing?”
Angie’s hand wasn’t stopping its exploration. “I want you, Vic. I want you so much, I always have. And since you don’t want to talk about us, I figured action was called for.”
Vic reached down and stilled Angie’s wandering hand. “But you’re still weak. You’re still recovering.”
“I am, but I’m not dead. And I’d have to be dead not to want to do this to you.”
There was so much raw need filling Angie’s eyes, and Vic feared there was as much on display in her own eyes. They were two freight trains on a collision course, and, yes, she could slow it down, but she couldn’t stop it. She knew that.
“Ange, I don’t want to make love with you until we both know where we stand with each other. Until we’re both ready to make the kind of commitment to one another that I need and that I suspect you need as well. I want us to be ready for this. Sure about it. And not just physically.”
Angie sat back against the couch, letting her hand fall into her lap. “I went to the ER that night to tell you I’m in love with you, Vic. That I was stupid giving you ultimatums and not being patient with us. I was done with all that. I was ready to give you whatever time you needed.”
Vic’s breathing slowed. “Oh, honey. I didn’t know.”
“I thought…I thought you wanted Karen.” Angie’s face collapsed. “I was…am…willing to fight for you. That’s what I wanted to tell you that night. That even if Wonder Woman walked in and flung herself into your arms, I’d beat her off, dammit.”
Vic pulled Angie into her arms and held her, rocking her, massaging her back in delicate circles. “You don’t have to fight. I’m here. And I dream of the same kind of future for us that you do.”
“You do?”
“I do.” They held each other’s gaze, and Vic was shocked at the hesitation in Angie’s eyes. “But you…” She inhaled a calming breath, told herself that it was okay, that Angie hadn’t changed her mind. Their making out was evidence of that. “Talk to me, Ange.”
“No. I mean, I do want it too, Vic. But…”
Angie began softly crying, and Vic had never felt so helpless, so unsure. The ground she thought was firm had turned suddenly to sand. “What is it, darling?”
“I’m…damaged. I…don’t know if…I can do this. If I’m actually capable of any of this.” Angie’s voice went from halting to practically tripping over itself. “I want to, so much, you have no idea. But it might be too late for me, Vic. So much has happened to me, and I don’t know if…”
“Ah, so you think you’ve surpassed your Best Before date? Is that it?”
Angie coughed away her tears. “Something like that.”
“Well, it’s true you’ve crammed a lot of things, some not very nice things, into your thirty-seven years. But that does not mean it’s too late for you, Angela Cullen. It means you have some challenges, sure. We all do. But you deserve to be loved. Do you hear me? You deserve to be happy. We both do.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“No, I don’t, because it’s not easy. But I hope I make it sound right and true and doable. Because you can do anything you set your mind to, including this. You know that, right?”
Angie looked at her and Vic could instantly see the clouds part in her eyes. The old Angie was back. “You have a lot of confidence in me.”
“I do. And I’m right to.”
“You’re pretty special, do you know that? If someone like you can make me feel like I have a chance, then who am I to argue?”
Vic grinned. “Arguing with me is a very bad idea, in case you haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Hmm, I can see that.”
“And I’ll tell you something else.” Vic’s voice grew serious. “I haven’t exactly waltzed through life without a few scars of my own, in case you haven’t noticed. You’re not the only one who’s been damaged, my love.”
“‘My love’? Okay, wait, anything you said before that is gone because my love is all I can think about.”
“I’m trying to be serious here,” Vic scolded, but she was grinning.
Angie took her hands in hers. “I know. And you’re right. We both carry around a lot of pain, don’t we?”
“And doubt. And fear. And bravado and sometimes even denial to wallpaper over all that doubt and fear. I’ve come to realize these last few months that with age comes baggage. But so does wisdom.”
“Wow. I picked myself a smart woman, didn’t I?”
“You did. And so did I.”
“So I guess the million-dollar question is, what are we going to do about this?”
“Indeed.” Vic raised Angie’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “I don’t have all the answers, but I’ll tell you this. I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t want to throw away a future for us. Because I’m willing to do whatever it takes for us to stumble through this thing together. Are you?”
Angie’s smile nearly broke Vic’s heart, because it wasn’t quite confident, but it was a start. “I’m willing to as well. But Vic?”
“Yes?”
“I might lose my way once in a while. Screw up.”
“Good, because I might too. What do you say we go slow. As in s-l-o-o-o-w slow. And see what happens?”
“Yes, okay, but…does the slow part mean there’s still kissing involved?”
There was in her imploring eyes that joyful mix of curiosity and satisfaction that some part of Vic seemed to need like oxygen. “Oh, I think kissing is allowed.”
“Touching?”
“I see we’re into some hard negotiations now.”
“Just trying to learn the rules.” Angie shot Vic a sly wink that reignited her arousal.
“I think we’ll know where the forbidden zones are when we come to them.”
Angie snuggled closer, burying her head against Vic’s neck, her breath warm and ruffling Vic’s hair. “Oh good. That gives me lots of leverage to play with.”
Vic welcomed this new lightness in her heart. She reached over and switched off the Tiffany lamp, throwing the room into darkness. Nestled together, they stared at the large double windows and the falling snow that was like glitter illuminating the darkness.
* * *
The dryness in Angie’s throat, the slightly elevated heart rate, was not unexpected as she and Vic stepped into the waiting room for the ER. Angie k
new quite a lot about PTSD, partly from her training as an army medic, but mostly from firsthand experience working in military hospitals. Especially at Walter Reed in Bethesda, where some of the worst cases were treated. Her thoughts drifted to McIver, the former soldier who’d inadvertently stabbed her just feet from where she stood now. He hadn’t intended to harm her; she believed that. But he was sick, in need of serious treatment and was probably among hundreds, maybe thousands, of the walking wounded who continued to suffer after serving tours in war zones. War changed people. It was both that simple and that complicated.
Vic squeezed her hand. “You ready for this?”
Angie nodded, took a deep breath, held it. She’d been lucky. She had never suffered from anything more than mild depression and mild PTSD, but being here brought that night back again. Brought back how quickly things had happened. She hadn’t been scared, not really, because foolishly or not, she thought she had some control over the situation. Scared came later, after she realized she’d been hurt, after seeing the uncharacteristic panic in Vic’s face that she had tried—and failed—to contain.
Angie counted to ten, slowly. She wasn’t always in control of her surroundings, far from it. But she was in control of her feelings. She could control how she felt about something, how she responded, and right now she felt safe. She felt okay. Sad, but okay.
“What about you?” she asked Vic, knowing it had to be tough for her too.
Vic nodded once, cleared her throat roughly. “Yes. I’m all right.”
“I wish we could have helped him.”
“So do I. But I’m not sure we were equipped here to do so. I’m not sure he could have been helped that night.”
Yes, thought Angie. Thinking that way helped. The outcome was a tragedy but it wasn’t necessarily avoidable.
“I’m so sorry you got hurt, sweetie.”
“I’m just glad nobody else did.”
Vic smiled something unreadable. “You would say that.”
One by one, staff greeted them, welcomed them back, inquired about their well-being. They thanked Angie for trying to intervene that night, told them both they were anxious to see the two of them back at work.
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