I glanced over at her. “Do we have to talk about this?”
More than anything right then, I needed to feel normal. I needed to pretend like what had happened in Denver was just a bad TV drama.
She slipped her hand into mine and leaned her shoulder against my shoulder. I waited for the questions. The talk about PTSD and therapy and all that crap. But she didn’t say anything. She just sat there.
And I loved her for it.
Later, I took her to bed and showed her just how grateful I was. I kissed and licked until she was moaning and coming in my mouth, then I turned her over, slipped into her wetness, and made her come again.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms.
But somewhere in the night, I fell into darkness. Shadows of old memories surfaced. The sound of enemy fire. Men yelling into radios that crackled. A little girl covered in blood. Her mother screaming. A female medic wrapping the child in bloody blankets. Running. All of them running. More gunshots. Return shots. The smell of blood. Bodies. The flash of assault rifles. My eyes so focused, I could see incoming rounds. Someone yelling.
Me.
I was yelling.
I was covered in blood. I was dying.
But no sound was coming from my mouth. I was paralyzed.
I was silent.
I couldn’t breathe.
Breathless. I was suffocating.
I sat straight up. Gasped for breath. Drowning in darkness. Panicked. The lamp flashed on, and I was blinded by light.
I was in a room. My room. My bed.
I wasn’t covered in blood. I was drenched in sweat.
Hannah was there. Her face white. Her hands on my shoulders.
“You’re safe,” she said. “You were dreaming.”
I blinked at her. Two worlds colliding. Tectonic plates forming mountains. I was lost in the splintering, shattering mess.
“There are frogs outside. Can you hear them?”
Frogs? What the fuck was she talking about.
“The frogs,” she repeated. “Can you hear them?”
I listened. Sound poured in my open window. I looked at her. I heard them. Frogs.
“Let’s take a breath.” She nodded at me and took a long breath. I was panting. The sheets were tangled around my legs. I kicked them off.
“Water.” She handed me the glass beside her. “You’re safe,” she repeated. “It was a bad dream.”
I drank the water like a soldier, finishing the glass. She took the glass from my hand.
I took a long breath. I was in my room. Hannah was there. I was sitting up. I scrubbed my hands through my hair. My brain was the enemy.
I was my own fucking enemy.
Fuck.
She shouldn’t be there.
She shouldn’t be seeing this.
Her face was white. Her expression tight. She was going to cry.
I scrubbed my hands over my face again. A scream caught in my chest. When was this going to end? When did I get to move on?
Guilt punched me in the gut. Never forget.
“Fuck!” I yelled.
Hannah jumped. Sat back away from me. I’d scared her.
I pulled at my hair by the roots. The pain made my eyes water, but I needed to feel it. Feel anything else than the memories. The guilt.
One other girlfriend had seen me have a nightmare. She’d tried to help. She’d asked too many questions. I’d yelled at her. She’d left in tears.
I didn’t want to do that the Hannah.
I pulled at my hair harder.
Shut the fuck up. Don’t be an asshole.
But Hannah didn’t ask questions. Didn’t ask if I was hungry, or needed to call someone.
She just lay down beside me, put her head on my thigh, and hugged me around the waist.
I sat like that a long time, with Hannah lying at my side. Long enough for me to stop shaking. To get my shit together. Long enough I didn’t embarrass myself and act like a dick. Or, worse, cry.
She was doing her yoga breathing stuff. Her body pressed into mine every time she inhaled. Somehow, I started breathing with her. Long inhale, hold, long exhale, hold.
It brought me back to myself. Embarrassed. Naked. Ashamed. I needed to change the mood. Make a joke.
“What if we breathe like this when we fuck?” I asked.
“There is breathing in tantra.”
“You should teach me.”
She crawled up me, and I lay back on my pillow. We were both still breathing evenly. She tucked her head into the crook of my shoulder and threw a leg over mine. All that skin… I closed my eyes. I didn’t deserve her.
“Does it happen often?” she asked quietly. “The nightmares?”
“No,” I shook my head. “Not anymore.”
She pressed up and straddled me. My eyes flew open.
She was still pale. But she was kissing me. Touching me. She was still here.
Her hair spread out around her shoulders. Her gaze worried and gentle. Her mouth red and ripe.
She was lovely.
She was mine.
She brushed her pussy over my cock. I was hard just looking at her. Without preamble, without foreplay, I grabbed her hips and thrust into her. She was still wet. Or wet again. It didn’t matter. I slid into her, and it was heaven.
She caressed me and soothed me and whispered sweet words. And I poured it all into her, in the end. All of it.
All of me.
Chapter 29
Hannah
Damn, four thirty a.m. was brutally early. I was barely awake as I waited for Jake on my front step Saturday morning. My backpack was ready to go: water, snacks, lunch, jacket, sunscreen, hat, sunglasses, extra socks, first aid kit. I had another bag packed for after the hike, in case I wanted to change when we got in the car.
He wheeled up right on time, and I climbed in. Grinning and looking way too chipper for that early in the morning, he leaned over and kissed me.
“Morning, beautiful. It’s going to be a great day. Perfect weather.”
“Hmm.” I clicked on my seat belt, leaned the seat back, and closed my eyes.
“Tired?”
“Hmm.” I turned my head away.
He chuckled. “Want me to let you sleep?”
“Hmm.”
He turned the radio on quietly, and I half dozed up the canyon.
The sun was rising by the time we got up to the town of Estes Park. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and yawned. Settled on a plateau before the huge Rocky Mountains, Estes was a gorgeous western town that drew both locals and tourists all year round. We drove down Main Street to the entrance of Rocky Mountain National Park. Jake used his annual park pass to open the automatic gate.
It was gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. I’d only come up once since I’d moved to Boulder, and my breath caught at the beauty. The mountains were unlike anything I’d ever seen before, reaching to the endless blue sky, the peaks jagged and bright white with snow, dotted with the black rocks that gave them their name. We drove for a while, over Trail Ridge Road, the highest paved road in the US, then down the other side. I made a mental note to come back another time and explore more.
When Jake was gone and I had too much time on my hands, I’d come back here and remember.
Jake pulled into a parking lot by a small trailhead.
“Ready?” He smiled that half smile. His stubble was getting darker, sexier.
“Ready.” I leaned in and kissed the scar on his lip.
I slid out of the truck, still half-asleep, and did a funny little jog trying to get blood flow to my limbs.
He pulled out our packs and gear and lined everything up on the grass by the truck.
“Is your rain jacket waterproof and breathable?” he asked.
“Probably not.”
He picked up my jacket and examined the seams on my perhaps-breathable-definitely-not-waterproof jacket.
He threw my jacket down in disgust. “You need a new jacket.”
“I’m sure I do.”
I couldn’t afford one, though. I was already scrimping just to buy food. A few years ago, I would have sacrificed anything to be what I thought Jake wanted. I would have bought the best gear and got all decked out in hiker-cute clothes and put it all on credit.
“I have a friend at Wilderness Mountaineering. I can get you a deal. What color and what size?”
“It’s okay. But thanks.”
My hiking boots—bought second hand in town—passed the test. As did my simple backpack. He insisted on packing for me: food, water, sunscreen, first aid kit, and extra layers.
“You seem extra prepared today,” I said.
“Just remember how we met, sweetheart. I can’t be too prepared, taking you out into the mountains.” He winked at me.
“Do we need all that food?”
“We’ll be on the trail until three p.m. or so.”
I did the math in my head. He wanted to go for a nine-hour hike. I squared my shoulders and told myself to put on my big-girl panties. I was strong and in good shape. I could handle this.
He handed me my pack, and I slid it on my back and clicked the buckles in place.
He grabbed the front straps and pulled me toward him. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
I glanced at his lips. “I’m glad to be here. I love being with you in the mountains.”
He kissed me, hard. “I like spending time with you, Hannah.”
“I like spending time with you too, Jake.”
He took my hand, and we started toward the trailhead. “This trail is really moderate. Normally, I would jog it.”
I laughed. “Well, that makes me feel good. I’m so slow and all.”
He squeezed my hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just excited to get out into the woods with you again. Remember last time?” He waggled his brows.
He seemed so happy today. I wanted to ask him about his nightmare two nights ago. I didn’t know what had happened to him in Afghanistan, or how messed up he was. Most of all, I didn’t know how to help. And I wanted to help.
I wanted him to be happy.
I stopped in my tracks, stunned by my own thoughts.
I realized, as he turned around with a questioning smile on his face, that wanting to help and wanting him to be happy didn’t take anything away from me. I didn’t feel like I was losing myself, or giving too much of myself. I felt abundant, and like I had a lot to offer. The more I gave, the more I had to give.
I’d never experienced anything like it before. And it made me think of Crystal’s suggestion that day when we were fixing the lights, that the cure for pain is in the pain. I didn’t need to push Jake away to find myself. By being with him, and giving what was true, I found my own heart.
I shook my head, a smile blooming through me.
“I like that smile.” Jake stole a quick kiss.
This man, he gave so much back to me. He filled me up.
Hand in hand, we continued down the trail.
Wildflowers bloomed around us—yellow and purple in fields of emerald-green grass. The aspen trees were sprouting pale green young leaves. Birds chatted.
“This is my kind of trail,” I said. “Nice and flat.”
“It’s an old mining road. They use it for fire vehicles now.”
We turned uphill, and the real fun started.
The trail wasn’t steep, but it was a long, slow climb with enough rocky slopes that I was out of breath. And it didn’t seem to have an end. Were we walking to Wyoming?
Three hours later, we came to a large cairn. “Summit: two miles” the sign read.
Two more miles.
Uphill.
“Doing all right?” Jake asked, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.
“I’m great.” I forced the corners of my lips up. “What a beautiful trail.”
My legs were burning, my lungs hurt, my feet felt hot, I had a blister on my left heel, and a black fly had bitten me on the back of my neck. But I was tough, I would survive.
He was trying not to grin. Smart man. “Let’s stop here and have some food.”
He pointed to a sticky, bumpy log sitting at a slant under a stand of pines. I walked over and gratefully sat down, only to be poked in the butt by the sharp bark.
“Ow.”
“Want me to rub it for you?”
“Ha-ha.”
“You should eat something. We just burned a bunch of calories, and low blood sugar makes everything hurt.”
I took a long drink of water, grabbed a sandwich from my pack and ate it. I ate the granola bar too. And the cheese slices. “Good thing you packed enough food,” I said around a bite of apple.
He’d decimated half his food in what seemed like two bites. I wasn’t far behind. The calories did help.
He stood and stretched his long, hot body. And that helped even more.
“I know what else I need.” I crooked my finger at him. “Will you come kiss me better?”
His eyes darkened. “With pleasure.”
He pulled me to standing, tilted my chin up, and kissed me. His lips were soft and his hands were hard, and I was in heaven.
“Have you ever had sex in the woods without a tent?” he murmured against my mouth. His scruff was scratchy on my cheek and sent tingles running through me.
“No.” Have you?
“Well, let’s get ’er done,” he said, picking me up like he was going to carry me off into the trees.
I laughed and pounded lightly on his back. “There was a family behind us on the trail.”
“Shoot.” He grinned wide as he put me down. “I’ll let you off. This time.”
He swatted my ass as I pulled on my pack and sunhat. We set off again, and the final push to the summit was much easier after the break.
We crossed a good mile of jagged rocks to the top of the mountain. High above the tree line, there was nothing obstructing the view.
It was like standing on top of the world. Cliché, I know, but there was a reason that phrase was used so often. It was pretty accurate. Clouds were scattered in the valley below us, tall mountains spread off in the distance, and the sky was blue as far as the eye could see.
I did a little victory dance, and Jake grinned, his gaze on me.
“I like this view best,” he said, still looking at me.
I rolled my ankle on a rock because, well, I’m me. But the stiff hiking boots caught me.
Jake laughed.
“Oh, stop that,” I said, rubbing my ankle. “How’s your knee?”
“Getting better. Yoga is helping. I’m confident the ortho will give me the green light for Alaska next week.”
“Great.”
I was happy for him. I really was. Fully and completely.
But, ah, the irony.
I was helping him heal, only so he could leave me.
My chest hurt, and not from the lack of oxygen.
He pulled out his phone and slung his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s take a photo.”
I pressed up against him and smiled at his camera. In some future moment, I would look back at these pictures. I would remember the weight of his arm on my shoulder. I would remember the smell of his soap and the taste of his kiss. I would remember being happy.
He turned his phone around and glanced at the screen. “It’s getting late. We should head down.”
“Good idea.” Shoot. I’d kind of forgotten that I had to walk all the way back down again.
“Are you busy Sunday?” he asked as we crossed the rocky trail.
“Tomorrow?”
“Next Sunday. I have to go to this thing. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”
“Oh, a thing. How could a girl resist?” I bumped my shoulder into his.
He seemed so serious. I waited for him to speak. “My friend’s mom invited me over for family dinner.”
There had to be more than that.
“I haven’t been there in a while,” he continued.
I took his hand. Waited for him to say what
really was going on.
“My friend, Cody…” His voice trailed off, and he was quiet a long time, but he held onto my hand.
My heart hurt. I could feel the pain choking him.
“His mom, Cody’s mom, wants me to come to dinner. Will you come with me?”
“Of course.” I squeezed his hand. There was nowhere else I’d rather be.
“I don’t want to go. But I should.”
I nodded, not sure what to say. I didn’t understand the situation, so I just listened. Not that he was saying much. But his body was. His body was keyed up. Anxious. Angry. Sad. And I wanted to be there for him. To help him, however he needed.
We didn’t talk for a while, just followed the path down the mountain, back into the trees. There were still pockets of snow hiding in the shadows.
A while later, Jake stopped.
“If you’re up for it, there’s a gorgeous lake down this side trail about a quarter of a mile.” He pointed to his left. I couldn’t see much, just a narrow trail in the trees.
“Is it uphill?” Gorgeous lakes were nice, but I was done with uphill.
“It’s flat, I promise.”
“If it’s uphill, you’re carrying me,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
He turned toward me. “I’ll carry you now if you want.”
“Go on ahead, tough guy.” This time, I swatted his ass.
Then I fell in step behind him.
A short distance later, the trail opened to reveal a gorgeous scene. The alpine lake was breathtaking. Sapphire blue, rimmed by huge, ragged peaks.
Jake walked to the lake’s edge and stopped on the sandy shore. He scuffed his boot in the sand. “I used to camp up here with Cody.”
Surprised, I glanced over at him. He was looking out over the lake, his mouth set in a hard line. This was the first he’d volunteered anything about Cody.
“There’s good fishing up here,” he continued. “Mr. O’Donnell, Cody’s dad, brought us up one summer in middle school. It was the first time I went camping. We were certain we saw a UFO.”
I didn’t say anything, just slipped my hand into his.
He took a deep breath. Blew it out. “Sometimes I wonder if I should just go somewhere else.” He glanced at me. “For good. Not just for a trip.”
I spread open my free hand. “You have come to the expert on running away. What can I answer for you?”
Breathless (Yoga in the City Book 1) Page 23