Unrest

by Wendy Higgins

  Rylen was staring at me, frozen. When I stared back, he abruptly looked down, then to the side, and grabbed his ear, rubbing the lobe. He stayed like that, so still, staring at the floor deep in thought. Oh, God. He was trying to figure out how to let me down easily. This was why I’d never had the nerve to tell him the truth.

  I braced myself. “Just say it,” I said. “Just fuckin’ say it.”

  “Say, what?” He finally looked at me, but his face was fiercely serious. “You probably won’t even remember this—”

  I opened my mouth and he pinched my lips together, shocking me.

  “You hush; it’s my turn.”

  I released the huff of air and felt my eyes glistening. He was going to say the words I’d been dreading for years. It would finally be over with. I had to take it like a big girl. He took my chin and I looked up at him.

  “I learned a long time ago that alcohol is only a truth serum to a certain point, and then people say all kinds of shit they don’t mean. So, you drink this bottle of water—” he picked something up from the dresser and pressed it into my hands “—and if you’ve got something to say to me, you say it to me in the morning when you’re sober. Got it?”

  My jaw dropped open. Fury ensnared me like fire. Dismissed again.

  “Tha’s it?” I threw my arms out. “Tha’s all you’re gonna say? After everythin’ I jus’ . . . you know what, Ry? Fuck tha’!”

  He sucked air through his teeth. “Keep talking, Jack.”

  My words came out all linked together, dragging out. “It’s not Jack talking. You never take me seriously. I’m sick o’ you.”

  I shoved him. In a blink I was over his shoulder and tossed onto the bed with a bounce. I shrieked in frustration, my hands in fists.

  “I hate you!” I yelled.

  “Like I said, tell me tomorrow.” His face was hard, guarded.

  He opened the door to leave and I shouted, “Stay away from that bitch Linette!” The door slammed and I fell back hard into the pillow, flinging an arm over my eyes. Before a single emotion could register, the bed started to move sideways, then spun like a carnival ride. I pried my eyes open, but everything was blurry from the fast movement. The contents of my stomach were being pushed up by the gravity of the spin. I rolled until I fell out of bed, and stumbled my way to the bathroom just in time to say hello to all of the Jack and rum again.

  When I was done being sick, I crawled into the room but couldn’t even climb back onto the bed. I passed out on the floor beside it, curled up in a ball.

  I woke hours later with a sour pit in my stomach and a rancid taste in my dry mouth. I felt around until my hands landed on the water bottle. With much effort I twisted open the cap and chugged every drop. Then I crawled to the bathroom, pulled myself up at the sink and brushed my teeth to get rid of the horrid taste.

  I made it back to the bed and fell asleep on top of the blankets, my face smashed into a pillow.

  A pounding pain inside my forehead woke me. I kept my eyes closed, assessing the damage. Definite headache and queasy stomach. What had happened last night? Too much whiskey and rum, that was for sure. Just the thought of it made me roll over to my back, just in case I had to dash to the bathroom again. I looked over and saw Remy’s small form curled on the other side of the bed, her back to me. She never slept that far away.

  We lay there in silence as last night’s events slowly unfolded in my memory. Dancing with Josh. Remy and Linette arguing. Being carried back to my room, and . . . oh, my God. I covered my face with my hands. I’d called him a clit tease. Of all the idiotic things to say. I don’t think I’d ever used that word before in my life.

  But it got worse. I’d said more things to Rylen. I rummaged through the unclear memories and dragged pieces to the forefront to examine them. And then it hit me in the chest with the force of a bullet.

  I’d told him I loved him as more than a sister. I’d told him I wanted him, even after he was married. I let out a whimper and Remy rolled over, sitting up to peer down at me. Her eyes traveled over me, and seeing that I was okay, she turned and rolled away from me again.

  “Rem?” I whispered.

  Something had happened. I tried to pinpoint my time with Remy last night, and then an aching chasm split deep inside of me. I’d told everyone I wasn’t a virgin. Something I’d never disclosed to before. I pressed a hand over my mouth, feeling sick again.

  Remy deserved so much better than a best friend who kept all of her feelings and experiences bottled up inside.

  “Remy,” I whispered, forcing each sound from my throat. “I’m sorry.”

  For a long time, she said nothing, and didn’t move. I wondered if she’d heard me. And then she spoke.

  “Why don’t you trust me? I wouldn’t have told a soul.”

  “I know that,” I said, and I did. “I do trust you. I’m just . . . I’m not like you.”

  She sat up and turned in a rush, her hair wild around her face. “Not a slut like me?”

  “What?” I felt the blood drain from my head. “No! You know I don’t think that! I just meant . . . I’m not good at saying things.” I struggled, wanting so badly for this conversation to be over, for Remy to just know my heart and not need the spoken words. But that wasn’t going to happen. She crossed her arms, waiting. I had to earn her forgiveness. So I pressed on.

  “You’re so good. You always have the right words. You always care. You put yourself out there. And I’m like this dried up little clam that keeps it all hidden. It’s really hard for me, really uncomfortable for me, to verbalize.”

  God, even now I was sweating and short of breath.

  She pushed her waves behind her ears, frowning. “Amber, you weren’t . . . raped, were you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Nothing like that. It was consensual, I just regret it. It’s embarrassing.”

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I know you’re a private person.” She chewed her lip, and it was clear that she didn’t want to press but couldn’t help herself. “How long ago was it?”

  I rubbed my face, not looking forward to rehashing that awful night of my life.

  “Remember last summer when I went on that date with Ken?”

  Her eyes rounded. “Oh, my gosh, that hot Japanese fire fighter? Yes! It was him?” I nodded, and she couldn’t hold back a smile. “So what happened? I mean, never mind. I know you don’t want to talk about it.” But her eyes were alight with interest.

  “It wasn’t anything special,” I said, much to her disappointment. “We didn’t even finish because I freaked out and stopped us.” My face heated and I felt dizzy just thinking about it.

  Remy pulled a yikes face. “Sorry. I know I kinda pressured you to go out with him.”

  “Not your fault. He was great. It was me. I’m the mess.” I fell back on the bed and closed my eyes. Everything from last night was sitting on my chest like a sumo wrestler. “I’m still a mess. Last night . . .”

  She practically pounced. “Yes, what happened last night? Rylen came and got me and told me he put you to bed.”

  “More like he threw me on the bed.”

  She was clearly trying not to smile. She wanted the details I so badly wanted to forget. I covered my face and spoke against the heels of my hands.

  “I tried to kiss him, Remy. And when he denied me . . . I called him a clit tease.”

  She slapped a hand to her mouth, stunned, then fell to her side and erupted in laughter. I sat up and glowered down at her, although, to be honest, getting it all out was kind of therapeutic.

  “Shut up,” she sputtered. “You did not.”

  “Oh, it gets better. I told him I loved him as more than a sister, and that I’d always loved him, even when he was married.”

  She stared at me hard, as if to gauge if I was serious, and then she stood up and started jumping on the bed, air boxing, kicking her feet up like a cheerleader as she tried to keep her squeals as quiet as possible. Then she crashed into a heap n
ext to me, right in my face. “What did he say?!”

  “He said ‘Tell me when you’re sober,’ and then he threw me on the bed and left.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. Her eyes were still glistening with joy. “That’s good. You know that’s good, right?”

  I looked down at my hands. I didn’t know that at all.

  “He’s a gentleman, Amber. Do you know how rare that is? Any guy I ever tried to kiss when I was drunk was like hell yeah!—not about to turn me down. He respects you.” Her voice took on a sort of envious awe.

  “I know,” I whispered. I did know he respected me, but my mind wasn’t so sure about his reasons for turning me down and not giving me any feedback about what I’d divulged. Rylen was a gentleman, which meant he’d want to let me down when I was sober, too.

  “You’re totally going to talk yourself out of telling him, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I said defensively. I couldn’t look at her.

  “Amber, the world is ending.” She growled, exasperated. “Let yourself have some happiness before it’s too late. Tell him.”

  She didn’t wait for me to respond. She got up and daintily stomped to the bathroom to take her shower.

  I laid in bed most of the day feeling like crap in all ways. Remy took pity and brought my lunch to me. While I was relieved she and I had made up so quickly, the Rylen thing was going to take a lot more courage. Remy was right—I couldn’t let it drag out. Tomorrow was not guaranteed. But God, I’d never been more nervous or humiliated.

  I showered when Remy went to help prep for dinner. I didn’t know yet if I’d have the guts to go. I was leaning toward heading straight to my night watch shift without eating, but rations were small and snacks were a no-no. I couldn’t really afford to skip a meal.

  Still, when it came time to go down I was pacing the room, biting my thumb nail, my stomach in tight, twisted knots. I shook my hands out, reached for the doorknob, felt a surge of panic, then backed away and paced until dinner time was over and my shift was about to begin.

  I really hated myself.

  The second I left the safety of my room, my nerves skyrocketed, leaving my skin prickling and my eyes darting for signs of Rylen. My empty stomach, still recovering from its abuse last night, was angry as hell. This was going to be a very long night.

  I kept my head down in the hall, stairwell, and down the tunnel. I responded robotically to everyone who greeted me along the way.

  “Hey.” Tater’s voice hit me as I spilled out of the tunnel. I immediately searched the vicinity for Rylen, heart pounding, but he was nowhere.

  “Hey,” I said. He’d let his curly hair grow longer than the Army would have allowed before. It was like he was a teen again, except his taut face and adult scowl.

  “You missed dinner,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah, and I’m about to be late for my shift.”

  “What’s going on with you?” He eyed me. “You look . . . tired.” In other words, I looked like shit.

  “Nothing,” I lied. “Everything’s fine. I gotta go.” I gave his arm a squeeze and jogged away.

  Nothing was fine, and my shift was going to suck.

  I spent far too many hours being ribbed by the guys in the watch tower—everything from my so-called highly seductive dances, to my stomach growling every time it got quiet. How nice that my misery entertained them.

  “For real,” Mark said. “Every time you danced the guys were taking mental videos for monkey spanking later.”

  Who says that?! Only Mark Mahalchick. The other two guys laughed uproariously, though they tried very hard to do it quietly.

  “Would you shut up already?” I mumbled, earning more laughter.

  On our way back inside after the shift, Mark draped his arm over my shoulders as we walked down the long hall.

  “You know I’m just messing with you, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I patted his hand and stopped at Texas Harry’s door. “I’m going to check on him.”

  “I visited earlier,” he said. “Told him all about your dancing skills.”

  Oh, great. Just what I needed. I cracked open the door and saw that Tex was sleeping soundly, so I closed it again. I’d be back in seven hours for my med shift.

  Mark and I walked quietly through the deserted common area and down the long tunnel together. When we came up the steps and into our hall of the hotel, Rylen’s door opened and my heart stopped as Linette walked out. My entire world tilted.

  Her hair was mussed and her clothes rumpled. She halted when she saw us, and then a wicked glean filled her eyes as she focused on me. I literally could not breathe or school my face out of its frozen state of shock.

  “First Lieutenant,” Mark greeted politely, albeit carefully.

  “Mahalchick.” She squared her shoulders and walked past us.

  It wasn’t until she was down the hall around the corner that I inhaled shakily and found my body could not move.

  “Uh, that was . . . unexpected,” Mark said. I couldn’t respond. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ll see you later.” I walked as stiff as a mannequin to my door, but didn’t open it. I waited until Mark disappeared into his room. Then I stood there in the silent hallway for what felt like an hour before I moved robotically to the door where Rylen, Tater, Devon, and Matt shared a room. I lifted a weak hand and knocked.

  After a long moment, the door opened a crack, and a gorgeous face peered out. Rylen’s face.

  My heart. When I saw those eyes, gray as smoke, and his shirtless state, that chili pepper tattoo, something huge that lived inside me died, leaving a dangerous hole—a hole that acted as a vacuum sucking everything into it. It happened so fast. All hope I’d had vanished into the depths of that hole. Any positive feelings, gone.

  He must have seen it on my face, because he suddenly opened the door further, revealing the small towel wrapped around himself. Oh, God.

  “You saw her come out, didn’t you?” He held the towel with one hand and used his other palm to rub his face. He chuckled darkly. “And you think . . .”

  “I don’t think anything,” I lied. Horribly. I felt confused, and my chest was tight. “I don’t know why I’m here. I need sleep.” I turned, but his voice wrapped around me.

  “Get in here.”

  I turned. His eyes were everything, a beam that caught me and saw too much of me. He opened the door all the way and I peered into where Linette had been. My head gave a stubborn shake. I wanted to dissolve.

  “Pepper.” His voice dropped an octave. “Get. Your ass. Inside.”

  I crossed my arms and hurried past him, into the warm space that smelled of men. I stood awkwardly at the end of the first bed while Rylen went in the bathroom and came back out in shorts. I was shaking so hard. This was the part where he’d break me. After all these years, I just wanted him to get it over with.

  He faced me, his arms crossed over his chest to mirror me. “I’m not fucking Linette, okay? D was with her roommate last night, so she needed a place to crash.”

  My heart dropped and reared back up like an untamed animal released from its cage, relieved and alive again. I looked away. “Not my business.”

  “Isn’t it? Then why are you here?”

  “I . . .” My arms tightened over my chest. “I wanted to say I’m sorry you had to deal with me last night.”

  My heart pounded and embarrassment heated through me like a hot blade. I wished I could read his mind. Every ounce of trepidation and nervousness I’d ever felt around Rylen pummeled me harder than ever as my words from last night hung between us. It was all out there, and I had to deal with it.

  “And to thank you for getting me back to my room.” My brain hurt and I was so nervous that my words came out raspy.

  He watched me, arms still crossed, eyebrows up in expectation. He was not going to throw me a bone here.

  “What do you want me to say, Ry? I feel really stupid.”

  His jaw worked, sid
e to side, like he was getting angry. “You remember me taking you back to your room?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. My heart thumped rapidly, mixing with the white noise in my mind. Rylen and I were on the cusp of something. Something there would be no coming back from. Things between us would change today, for better or worse.

  “Do you remember anything you said?” he asked, his voice husky.

  A single word shook its way from my throat. “Yes.”

  He wanted something from me, I could feel it, but my head was such a disaster. Years’ worth of self-consciousness rose up to block my path. I could take the leap into the dark precipice, and be done with these feelings once and for all. Or I could let myself slide back into the nothingness of the supposed safety of silence I’d lived in for so long. Miserable safety.

  “And you’ve been avoiding me ever since,” he said.

  “No.” Big fat lie. “I was tired, and I didn’t feel good.”

  When time stretched on and passed in silence, Rylen nodded, stone-faced.

  “Well,” he said. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

  He moved for the door, as if to kick me out, and panic clutched my chest. “Wait!”

  He halted with his hand on the doorknob. I watched him slowly turn his head to meet my eyes. The tension that zinged between us at that moment made me fight to breathe. I’d never been more nervous.

  “I’m sober now,” I said. He completely froze, eyes still locked on mine. A tremble coursed through my system. Deep breath.

  Rylen let go of the doorknob and took several slow, prowling steps toward me until we were mere feet apart. “And?” He wanted the words. I was bad at words. Plus, his eyes seriously looked like they could summon a storm at that moment. I felt it all around me—the whoosh of wind on my skin and in my ears.

  “And I . . .”

  “You what?” His voice was deeper than usual, filled with something I’d never heard from him before, something he’d held back from me until this moment: power, strength, and something that sounded unmistakably like . . . lust. He stared at me so hard I could scarcely make myself continue.