Physically, I may not be there with you, but know that I’m always a part of you and you’re always a part of me. We may have only had a few short months together—all of which were spent at war—but in those months, I loved you a lifetime’s worth. And I know you loved me the same.
Please make it your mission to continue loving like that. You’re a kind man, a warm, passionate, loving one who deserves to be loved in spades. I wish it could be me loving you forever. And I will. I just have to do it from Heaven now.
I love you. And I want you to be happy.
I’ll be there shining down on you, keeping you as safe as I can.
Enjoy your life as if I were by your side. I know I’ll spend eternity wishing you were by mine.
Love,
Delaney
The light touch of fingertips on my back startles me. “What’s that?” Beck’s gravelly voice sounds as if it’s been fighting back tears.
“Uh, nothing. Just a letter.” Mine sounds the same.
Dropping into the chair next to me, he shakes his head. “Stop dancing around me.” His eyes—red and puffy, strained from his own tears—lock onto mine. “You’re hurting from this.” With a quick flick of his thumb and forefinger, he taps Delaney’s letter. “And I’m—fucking, I don’t even know what I am,” he exhales deeply, trying but failing to push away his frustration. “We’re both hurting and we’re both too fucking proud to let each other hear it.” A single tear streaks down his cheek.
“It’s from Delaney,” I whisper, sliding the letter over to Beck. “His sister sent it,” I explain, watching his eyes work furiously over the words of the man who I once loved. Who I still love, but in a completely different way to how I love Beck.
It’s not a long letter so it doesn’t take him long to finish it and slide it back to me. His face is struck dumb, mouth agape, eyes wide. “Dax, I . . . wow . . . that’s just. . . .”
“Unreal, right?” I fill in the blanks of his stuttering, shooting up from my chair and facing the small window above the sink.
His strong arms wrap around me from behind. His beard scratches my back through the thin material of my T-shirt. Relaxing into his embrace, I relish the feel of the strong, warm body supporting me. He’s real and here, a source of love and support like I’ve never known.
The calm, even movement of his breathing relaxes me, grounds me. When I turn in his arms, he rests his cheek up against my chest. The scent of his freshly washed hair billows around me. Cupping his face, I trace my thumbs along his jawline.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice is roughened by his emotional fallout.
“Because you’re everything to me. And you’re hurting and I want to make you better.”
“You make me better simply by being here.” He leans into my hand before nibbling the pad of my thumb.
Caressing his lips with my thumb, his warm breath bathes over my skin. Twining our fingers together, he leads me to the bedroom. When the door closes behind us, the energy in the room changes. Need, desire, lust, and love swirl together in a dangerous vortex, spinning wildly around us.
“I won’t lie. I want you. I want you so badly I can feel it in my bones.” His body melts into mine, pressing me up against the door. Seconds later, we’re nothing but a tangle of tongues and lips.
“I need you,” I breathe against the skin of his neck. Pushing his T-shirt up over his head, I toss it to the floor. Mine follows his as his hands roam over my body.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His words are a whisper, mimicking the softest touch of his fingers across the bandage on my shoulder. With painstaking slowness, the tips of his fingers trail down my chest, curving around the small bandage at my side. “I know I couldn’t handle it to see you hurt any more than you already are.” There’s pain in his voice. It’s warring with need, making him both broken and human in the same breath.
Covering his hand with mine, I spin us around, switching positions. Capturing Beck between my body and the door behind him, he gasps in shock at the quickness of my movement. “I’m not hurt. I know it might not seem like it, but I am stronger than I appear.” Shaking my head, I wash away thoughts of my anxiety and my frailty. “And I want you, too.” Grinding my body against his, I emphasize the place in which I feel my need the most. His mouth falls open, gasping in pleasure.
In a rush of need, we strip out of the rest of our clothes, careful not to trip over them as we tumble to the bed. Beck sprawls on top of me, attacking my mouth with his.
Reaching between our writhing bodies, he circles my dick with his nimble fingers. Stroking me slowly, his eyes hold mine. My head lolls to the side, my body limp as desire flows through my veins. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I lock him against my body. “Take me?”
He deliberates for the briefest of moments, before nodding subtly. His cock pulses and grows between us, pressing hot and heavy against my stomach. As he reaches across me to get the lube out of the nightstand, I lick his chest, lightly biting his nipple. He groans, rolling his hips against mine. With an impatience I wouldn’t have imagined, I watch him drizzle the clear liquid on his fingers.
Dropping one hand to the side of my head, he leans against me, letting his other hand fall to my ass. With a few gentle strokes, he coats me with the lube before easing his finger into me. “You’re so fucking tight. So hot.” His words spill from his mouth, matching the rhythm of his finger, moving slowly in and out of my body.
Pushing my leg up, he holds it to my chest, adding another finger. “Oh, fuck, Beck . . . my God.”
He moves carefully, with loving precision, scissoring his fingers, stretching me, preparing me. Kneeling between my legs, he continues fingering my ass as he strokes his cock. His thumb swirls over his tip, moving over the steel barbell. “Ready?”
“Fuck yeah. Fuck me already.”
His lip curls up in amusement at my need-laden reaction.
The broad head of his cock nudges against my ass. Pressing forward, he eases into me. “Beck,” I growl. When he pushes past the tight ring of muscle, my body explodes in a fiery spark of pain. Knowing what I must be feeling, he wraps his hand around my dick, caressing it from root to tip, stoking the flames of pleasure as the flash of pain soothes itself away. “You good?” he asks, nuzzling his face against my neck.
Nodding, I’m incapable of speech. Every ounce of my entire body is focused on the connection between us. “I’m going to move now, okay.” Beck looks down at me, his eyes searching for the permission I could never deny him. It would be pointless anyway, because I need him to move as much as I need my next breath.
When he moves, it’s inexplicable. The fullness—it overflows, spills over, drowns me in the most delicious way. We’re consumed by each other, lost to the desire controlling our bodies. “My God, Dax. You’re so fucking good.” His hand drops to my chest, his thumb flicking over my nipple. Trailing down the center of my stomach, he grips my dick once again. With tender slowness, his dick plunges in and out of me, taking everything it wants and needs. His hand moves over me, torturing me with a beautiful mixture of give and take.
“Fuck,” he groans, watching the white, hot jets of my orgasm fly in ropes across my stomach. “Dax . . .” my name falls from his lips like a curse.
His face twists in knots of passion, before falling slack as he comes wildly. Winded and exhausted, he holds himself above my body, his arms shaking, barely able to keep him up. Slipping an arm underneath him, I catch him as he falls to the mattress, pulling him to my side.
Facing each other, our breath mingles before calming. “That was nothing like you said it would be.”
His face falls, mistaking my words of awe for ones of anger. “I . . . fuck, I’m sorry. I was too–”
“It was more. So much more than you said it would be. It was . . .” pausing, I try to find a word that could come close to even being remotely accurate in describing how it felt to have Beck inside my body. “You were everything I needed.”
&nb
sp; “You’re my everything, too.”
Despite the dread of our collective losses waiting for us on the other side of the door, we bask in the afterglow of our everything, knowing that nothing could ever take it away from us.
“Thanks for coming with me today.” I almost ruffle her hair, but then I remember what a pain in the ass French braid pigtails are. Thinking better of it, I simply pinch her cheek, loving the way her face lights up when I look down at her.
Skipping next to me, she helps me hold Tonka’s leash, excitement flowing all around her. The months since Nikki’s death haven’t been easy. No one expected them to be. What has made them a little easier for Violet, is having a group of people who love her to the ends of the Earth surround her every day.
Knowing Beck and Violet needed a new place to live, Chloe volunteered to move in with Devon—though I don’t think that was much of a sacrifice on her part. Not wanting to push things in our relationship too quickly, I offered to find a place of my own, letting Beck and Violet have the apartment all to themselves. Acting on what he thought were Violet’s best interests, he agreed. But when Violet caught wind of the idea of me moving out, she wouldn’t hear of it. The tears she cried over being afraid to fall asleep without me in the next room were all Beck and I needed to make the decision to move in together.
As we walk into the VA center, the room collectively lights up when they see Violet. She’s become a regular around these parts and everyone here loves her as much as I do. Lauren walks over to us, smiling proudly at the progress I’ve made since my first visit. “Hey, you two. Looking good today, Miss Vi.”
Violet does the requisite twirl of her skirt, finishing with an overly dramatic curtsy. “Hi, Lauren.” Leaning in, I pop a kiss on Lauren’s cheek, over which she blushes and sighs theatrically.
Squatting before Violet, Lauren goes on and on about the arts and crafts hour she has planned. “Would you like to help out this morning? I could really use an extra set of hands.” Lauren’s offer is met with lots of jumping up and down. Before I can even say goodbye, Violet is racing off to the rec room where she already knows the arts and crafts will take place.
“Thanks, Lauren. She really loves being here.”
“We love having her.” Lauren smiles, gently patting me on the shoulder. “We love having you, too. Go on now,” she shoos me away. “Before Morris comes out here looking for you.”
Stepping into the therapy room after the attack was no easier than it had been my first time. But the advice and support the men offered helped me open up. Shocked and concerned, no one could believe what had happened. Morris even offered his apologies for mailing me the schedule as a reminder. He even called himself rude for not calling and checking up on me when I hadn’t shown up for a few weeks.
The sense of belonging I feel here has made me freer with my time. Volunteering a few hours a week has brought me a purpose. Between spending my time here, pitching in at Beck’s shop—where business is booming—and taking care of Violet full-time, my days are no longer empty.
“Dax!” Franco looks up from his wheelchair. “Good to see you, man.”
“You, too.” I bump his outstretched fist.
Slowly everyone else fills up the circle while we wait for Morris to join us. Right on cue, he marches into the room, taking attendance as he walks toward us.
“Gentlemen,” he addresses us collectively. “Before we get started with our usual routine, Dax and Franco have something to tell us about.” Referring to my latest volunteering project, Morris actually cracks a smile.
Extending my hand to my side, I give Franco the floor. “Before I started coming to these meetings, I wanted to kill myself.” A sentence that would normally silence a crowd is met with kind understanding here. “A veteran commits suicide nearly every sixty-five minutes. So sadly, I know I’m not alone.” Pausing, he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking down into his lap.
“I felt the same,” speaking up, I fill the silence his pause created. “We’ve all lost comrades, brothers, and the guilt that consumed me over surviving was almost too much to bear. Until I came here.”
Morris looks over at me, pride brightening his normally serious features. “So, we were thinking,” Franco continues. “We’re going to plan a wheelchair Olympics. It would be an event that the community could get involved in and we could really have fun with it.”
The group reacts exactly as we had planned—with excitement and enthusiasm. We spend a few more minutes discussing some initial details. Beck’s tattoo shop has offered to be a sponsor and is willing to work with other small businesses in the community to sponsor as well. “All right then, moving on,” Morris changes the subject when we have the first mini-agenda for the charity event planned out. “Dax,” he looks at me pointedly, “any other new developments?”
“No, Sir. But maybe after today,” I respond somewhat cryptically. “I’ll keep you informed.”
“Very well.” He nods before opening up the floor to anyone else.
After the session, Franco and I pick up Violet from arts and crafts. She’s covered in glitter and tissue paper, but she looks happier than ever. Lauren tries her best to clean Violet up, but it’s really a lost cause. We live in a constant state of glitter with her anyway.
With Tonka loyally at my side, we walk out front and wait for Franco’s van to pick him up. As we talk about the charity event, Violet’s interest grows. “Can I play, too?” She bounces in front of Franco. He’s really taken to her, letting her soften up his rough edges. It’s her super power.
“Sure thing, princess.” He lifts her up on his lap. “Your feet might not be able to reach the bottom, I doubt that’ll be a problem.” Securing her to his lap with one hand, he spins the chair around with the other, smiling brightly as she laughs and giggles.
The van pulls up seconds later and Violet jumps down, taking Tonka’s leash from me as I help Franco onto the lift. “Good luck with the lawyer. Let me know how it all works out.” He keeps his voice low, making sure Violet doesn’t overhear us.
“Sure thing.” He spins around on the lift, rolling himself backward into place. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I know anything,” I reassure him. Violet and I wave goodbye to Franco as he pulls away.
“I like him.” Violet says randomly. “Even if he doesn’t have any feet.”
We laugh the whole way home.
But when we walk into the parking lot, a shiny, black Mercedes Benz sparkles in the sunlight. Parked in the “guest” spot, I have a feeling Beck’s meeting with the lawyer ran a bit long.
“Hey,” I kneel before Violet. “You want to grab some ice cream?” I try my best at distracting her, wanting to give Beck the extra time he obviously needs.
“No,” she whines. Doing the telltale signs of the ‘I need to go to the bathroom right now’ dance, I have no choice but to abandon the ice cream plan. Violet races up the stairs before me, screeching to a halt when our door opens without her even having to touch it.
A finely polished woman greets her. Though Allison, our lawyer, is about as tall as I am, she’s not overbearing or intimidating. Violet has never seen her before, so all she can manage is to look up at Allison, awestruck and silent.
Allison lowers herself to Violet’s level, cradling Violet’s chin in her hands. “You’re one lucky girl.” Desperately in need of the little girl’s room, Violet doesn’t pay much attention to the interchange, racing past Allison and Beck into the waiting apartment. Allison shakes my hand as she greets me. “Beck will fill you in on everything, but essentially we’re good to go.”
Hope like I’ve never known fills my entire body. Allison and I shake hands one last time before she walks to her car. It takes all my effort not to sprint into our home, and tackle Beck to the floor in excitement.
Closing the door behind me, I drop Tonka’s leash on the table. Beck is sitting on the couch, head cradled in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Sinking into the soft cushions at his side, I grab his hand. �
��What’s wrong? I just saw Allison. She said everything was good.” Confusion colors my words and suddenly that hope I’d felt seconds ago washes away, making room for the impending despair. “Is everything all right?”
When Beck cranes his head up, his eyes are bright, filled with life and happy tears. “Yes,” he croaks. “Everything is perfect. All of the adoption paperwork is lined up. All we need is her approval.”
As if on cue, Violet struts out of the bathroom. She walks over to us, completely unaware of what we’re about to ask her. Of course Beck and I have talked about it—about us becoming a family—until we’re blue in the face. But what we want pales in comparison to what she wants.
“Come here, sugar pop.” Beck pats the cushion and Violet wiggles in between us. “Dax and I have something important to ask you.”
Picking up on the seriousness of his tone, Violet sits upright, primly folding her hands on her lap. Anxiously, she looks at each of us, waiting for one of us to say something. With all our discussions, we never finalized all the details about how we would actually ask her. She sighs dramatically. “Well, what is it?”
Her impatience cuts the tension, helping both Beck and I relax. Beck walks into the kitchen. Stretching up, he pulls down a small jewelry box from on top of the fridge. “Dax and I want to give you this.” He places the small, purple velvet box in her hand. Excitedly, she pops it open and gasps.
“It’s so pretty,” she announces, pulling the small charm bracelet out from the box. “Thank you . . . thank you . . . thank you.” She kisses each of us on the cheek.
“This bracelet is really important.” Holding out my wrist, I show her my newest tattoo. Beck mimics me, holding out his wrist where a heart matching mine is freshly inked.
Violet recognizes their similarities as she works her fingers over the single red heart pendant on her bracelet. “We all have the same thing.”
On Solid Ground Page 25