“All is forgiven,” Felix interrupts his wife's rant. “Maybe it knocked some sense into him.”
Doubt it. “Maybe. If you'll both excuse me, I have another couple of bags to deliver.”
“What do we owe you?” Anna nods her head to the supply.
I give a sarcastic look. She knows that's not how this system works. That's not why Sir and I do the things we do. The neighbors are family to us, even if Sir and I are only related through genetics now. They've taken care of us. They take care of us. We take care of them. A village helps each other. Maybe that's the reason I love being in the Marines so much. The bond and vow to always be there for each other are the same ones I was raised with.
After leaving Anna and Felix's, I drop off the last two bags in Mindy's backyard. Anna grows the flowers. Mindy grows the food. Both require constant, oversized bags of dirt.
Hustling in through her unlocked back door, I shuffle into the living room, which gives me a view of two hardworking women in the luxurious kitchen. Nothing less than the best for his wife is Doug's motto.
Apparently, I’ve arrived just in time to hear the tail end of a conversation I know wasn't meant for me to hear.
“How does he make you feel?”
“A little scared at times. I mean, how can anyone be that protective of someone he just met? How can anyone be willing to die for someone he barely knows? And is it because you care about them, or does it have to do with fear? Or both?”
“I see.” There's a long pause. “And the other times?”
Her voice changes tone, “Oh, Mindy . . . Excited! He looks at me like I'm perfect, like I'm the only girl in the world, like nothing is wrong with me. Like I'm not broken. And then there's the way he laughs—it's soft and sweet. Then there's the way he loves to sing Frank Sinatra when we're in the car. He’s a little off key, but it's adorable. He's so full of life and determination. It's endearing, amazing really.” And then her delivery turns again, “I wanna be normal. God, I wanna be a normal girl who's thrilled to have a guy like that on her side. And I wanna be able to give back something when it's given to me, you know?”
“I do.” Mindy pauses.
“I think I want what he wants, but I don't know. It's all just . . . so hard. ”
There's a twinge in my chest, a familiar sting in my brain. The two seem to be in disagreement. My brain is screaming at me that she’s right. I shouldn't be on her the way I have been, not with what she’s been through. She can’t be ready. It isn’t right. My heart says don’t give up. Give her time to sort it all out. Stay calm and keep at it. Keep proving to her you're worthy of her when she's ready. That's she's already worthy of you. She just said she thinks she wants what I want. She told Mindy all the things she loves about me. Even if she didn't use the word, it's there. I know it is.
Mindy’s voice interrupts my internal debate. “It'll get easier. All of it. All of this will one day be normal, your feelings for Slugger included. Wanna hear about how me and Doug got together? I think you’ll see that Slugger certainly doesn’t have the market cornered on determination.”
I smile at the thought of the story I've come to know by heart.
“I was in charge of a catering company. Head chef. There was a fund-raiser with the mayor. I went to oversee everything. After all, my name was on the line, and while making my rounds, I caught his eye.” She takes a slow blink. “He switched his champagne flute from one hand to the other, readjusted the bobbed redhead who was on his arm, and couldn't break eye contact with me. About a week after the event, I got a phone call requesting my company to cater his law firm's impromptu party. Turns out the only reason he threw the party was to get a way to talk to me. Wanted me to know that the woman the night of the party was an expensive escort. Said guys like him didn't have time to find ladies like me.” Mindy smirks, getting lost in the memory. “But when he saw me, he knew he'd find time for me, as long as I’d give it.”
That story is always told the same way. The same nostalgia waves ride her face, never wavering. If you ask Doug, the story seeps through his mouth the exact same way, too, from words to motions. It's as if it’s been rehearsed, even though I know it's not. I like to think the two of them were made for each other the same way my Mom swore Sir was made for her. Come to think of it, to this day, I still have no idea how my they met. In fact, other than the few memories I have stored somewhere deep in my head, I don't know much about either of them outside of their marriage. Mom I never got the chance to—Sir, never had the desire to.
Interrupting, I say, “Mindy, I finished loading the bags of soil onto the back patio.”
My eyes settle on Haven, whose back is turned to me as she decorates cupcakes like artwork. Even from just a glimpse of the side of her face, I instantly smile. She's gorgeous.
“Thanks, Slugger,” Mindy brings herself back to the present.
I take a long whiff of the air, scents reminding me of my childhood. “Smells like heaven. Working on dinner?”
“No,” Mindy licks loose frosting off of her fingers. “I helped Haven get everything ready to make pasta at your own home tonight. Figured she could give you men a break.”
“Wanted to maybe make a special meal for you and Whiskey.”
“He's, um, working late.”
She stutters, “So, just us?”
I hope that doesn't worry her too much. I mean, I'm excited this will be the first meal for the two of us to have together, not interrupted by neighbors or had with them. I nod.
Mindy considers, “Regardless if Whiskey gets to eat it hot or cold, it will be delicious. How about a little help in here, Slugger? She can't carry dinner and dessert.”
Quickly, I realize that I'm staring longingly at Haven like she's the first slice in a pie-eating contest . Damn it. I'm getting worse about it. Shaking it off, I say, “Of course.” I relocate to wash my hands in the sink, doing everything I can to not attempt to steal another glance of Haven. Failing. Miserably.
The minute we head out of Mindy's kitchen, my stomach grumbles, reminding I skipped lunch today and there's fresh, warm food in my hands. I ask, “Can I have dessert now?”
“No.”
Playfully, I ask, “Please.”
“No.”
“But, I said please.”
She fights the urge to laugh, “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I'm sure.”
With a soft chuckle, I ask again, “Please?”
“No.”
“Just a bite.”
“No,” she finally giggles, feeding the other appetite of mine that comes from elsewhere—the simple need to see her smile.
“How about a taste of frosting?”
Placing the only piece of Tupperware she had been carrying on top of my pile, she relents, “One taste.”
I win! She moves her body in toward mine, and my heart starts thumping. With a swift removal of the lid, she touches one of the cupcakes with her index finger in the sexiest motion I've ever seen in my life. Her hips shift toward me, her legs straddling mine, my heart now beating down the wall of my chest so hard I hear echoes. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's not like we haven't been close before. Hell, we sleep in the same bed every night. There's something about this movement that looks sexual, that feels sexual, that radiates sexual, and I have to do everything in my power not to pop wood right now. She places her finger on my lips softly. Yeah, there it is. I lick the frosting off, realizing in this very moment, I've never licked anything off of someone else before. The fact she is my first is exhilarating. It makes my dick stiffen against the jean barrier. She removes her finger, and I feel myself straining to have control.
“Good?”
Hoarsely, I utter, “God, yes.”
“Clint.” It’s not Haven. My name rings out from a pair of lips I would staple shut if I could. Just as quickly as the moment comes, it’s over. My body automatically goes back to factory default mode, frigid and stern.
Without turning, I gre
et the owner of the new voice, “Le Le.”
She shifts her body around in ways to grab my attention. I disappoint her when she doesn't. You'd think she'd be used to that by now.
Annoyed, I snap, “What?”
“I called you earlier. Left you a voice mail. A couple of texts.”
“I saw.”
“And you don't think you should get back to me?”
“Been a little busy.” I lift up my arms to display plastic proof of my efforts. “What'd you need?”
“I was just checking to see if we are still on for Saturday night?” Not receiving a verbal response from me, she clarifies, “The concert.”
“Right.” The information sinks back into my brain. I knew I never should've agreed to go. Nothing good ever comes from making plans with her. I know better. I guess that's my lesson for trying to take the easy way out. “You know, I don't think–”
“You can't cancel on me,” her voice whines.
“Times were . . .” I give Haven, the only person I want to spend my free time with, a glance, “different.”
“I'm sure she'll be fine for a few hours,” Le Le’s jealous tone seeps. Wow. And she was worried I hadn't put the issue of us behind me.
“It's OK, Clint,” Haven tries to lie to me. She's not very good at lying. I'm grateful. There are enough deceptive and misleading people that I already have to cross paths with. I don't need to come home to it. “I don't need a babysitter.”
“Could've fooled me.”
The comment clearly hurts Haven's feelings. She buries her head down, and I can see insecurity appear. She doesn't deserve the attitude from Le Le. Haven doesn't even know that we've got history, which is the real reason for the harsh tone. No one reserves the right to hurt Haven. No one.
“Enough.” I demand her to knock it off. Le Le complies, knowing my disapproving tones all too well.
“What is it you always say? 'A Marine is only as good as his word'?”
“And I'm a damn good Marine.” The words bite me in the ass as I finish the sentence like a robot programmed to say it immediately.
Le Le touches my elbow, strokes it with her nail. God I, wish she wouldn't touch me. There's not enough soap in the house to get rid of the stench of tramp. “So are you going to be a damn good Marine and go with me?”
No. Just say no. Break your word. Break your code. If there's ever been an all-right time not to stick with your honor, this is it. I close my eyes for a moment, still hesitating. There's no reason to break my word short of death, even if I wish I would've never agreed to go.
My angel speaks up, “I'm going to take this inside.”
“Haven–”
“It's OK, really,” she whispers, taking the dessert Tupperware away from me and quickly disappearing into the house.
The moment the door shuts, I rumble, “Let's get a couple things straight, Leighyani. First off, I'll go because I keep my word. Second, if you expect us to be friends, then you show those who matter most to me more respect. And last, do not ever speak to her like that again. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” The word barely slips out of her mouth before I'm heading in the house.
“Haven,” I call out as I go through the door.
She turns her back to me as I place down the remaining dishes on the bar. Her body language is screaming at me that she's upset, uncomfortable, angry. Is she angry at me? She's livid at me. Disgusted with me. Did I just change from protector to traitor? The only good news I can pull from this is finally seeing her having emotions aside from fear and sadness.
“I can explain.”
“No need,” she insists, struggling to light the gas burner. “You don't owe me an explanation.”
She keeps punching at the stove, faster and more futile, unable to get the burner to cooperate. I can't stand to see her so upset. It's my fault she's a wreck. I'm going to fix it—right now. I place my hand on top of hers and whisper in her ear, “Alpha.” Together, we push the burner button in and turn, unleashing the fire from under the pot. For a moment, it feels like she's at ease.
I turn her so she's facing me, lift her chin to meet my eyes, and adjust my tags, which are tucked into her shirt. “You deserve an explanation.”
“I–”
“I want to give you an explanation.”
Retreating backward, I lean against the counter space across from her. She seems so upset. I don't want her to think I'm trying to keep her here against her will. I would never do anything against her will. After a moment, I realize she wants to hear what I have to say and am glad.
“Le Le.” The nickname alone brings out a brief flicker of fire in Haven’s eyes. Quickly, I restart, “Leighyani and I grew up together more or less. Obviously, there weren't many kids in this neighborhood, and believe it or not, it wasn't easy for me to make friends after my mom died. In middle school, she was more like having a little sister to watch over and most of high school too. Our senior year, she started dating this guy named Jeff. Oversized, kicked off the football team, in and out of juvy. One day, she got mouthy, and he got handsy. The next day, Jeff was in the ER with a broken arm and a minor concussion. Gave his parents, the ER nurse, and the doctor some sob story on missing his footing and falling.”
“You hit him?”
“I almost put him in a body bag. She thanked me for what I had done, even though she hadn't asked. Told me she wished I’d just ask her out already so she could stop dealing with jerks like him. I told her that would be a bad idea. I told her I was more of a one hit, two if it was the good sort. I told her I didn't want a girlfriend. I didn't need a girlfriend. I told her I wasn't much better than the assholes she was associating with, other than I wouldn't put my hands on her unless she asked me to. She continued to push at me and tell me it was OK. She said she didn't mind if we would just get together for a bit. Promised that she wouldn't get attached. So I gave in. We started having sex.”
That was the beginning of my trial-and-error approach to emotions. I had never had steady sex with the same person before. I had never really been on dates before either. There were good times between us, sneaking out to go on late-night car rides, skipping school to see the first showing of movies, hanging out downtown by the skate parks. We shared moments that meant more to her than me. I took each getaway for what it was, a moment away from Sir, a second away from the jail I had put my mind in. That wasn't enough for her. What I should've known before I gave into her was that nothing is ever enough for a girl like her.
“I was already enrolled to join the Marines upon graduating. The day after I graduated, it was time for me to leave. She begged for us to be together. She complained that I was no better than the other guys who had come along and just slept with her to fill a notch on their belts. I tried to tell her that I warned her. I told her I was leaving for training and didn't know when I would return. She said she'd wait for me. Promised to be faithful, prove to me that she was different than all the others. Twenty-two weeks I was gone. We exchanged many phone calls and texts in the beginning. A little bit of Skype. It didn't matter, though. It all started to dwindle. She said it wasn't that she didn't want us to be together. It was just that she was getting busy with school. I honestly didn't care. I knew the idea of us as a couple was unrealistic, not only because I wasn't interested in her like that, but I believed to be a damn good soldier meant leaving everything that could hold you behind. Leighyani was trying to hold me back. So when I got home . . .” The retelling of this story removes another brick from the wall in my mind. That was the last time I ever felt like a human before Haven. I don't want to relive the anger or the fact I let myself be exposed like that, yet I can't help but let her in. I want to let Haven see behind the curtain, even if I don't I wanna look.
Flopping back onto my bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Exhausted. Thankful. At unexplainable ease.
Knock.
Sir's face appears in the doorway. Wasn't it enough he picked me up from the airport with Mindy (who was in hyste
rics)? I figured that was the only reason he made the trip anyway. Then again, he also made the trip to San Diego to see me graduate. Mindy probably guilted him into that too.
“Go see Leighyani. She's been waiting for you.”
I don't move. Going to see her seems like a bad call but a necessary one. Things need to be over. The sooner I get this over with, the better. A Marine should be focused on his mission. His duty. Nothing less.
“Marine, did you hear me?”
My head strains to look at him, “Yes. Sir.”
As he leaves, I hop to my feet. It'll be just like a Band-Aid. Quick rip off, and I'm done. Taking the stairs quickly, a melon smell stings my nose. Must be the scent of his latest girlfriend.
I head two doors over. She must be home visiting her parents. Two knocks and she answers the door in a pair of red shorts with her university’s name and a black top, her bra strap peeking from underneath it.
“Baby, you're home!” Her squeal is high pitched. Didn't miss that. “I missed you so much!”
A lie. If she was as devoted and in love with me as she keeps claiming, she would have at least shown up to see me graduate. She was invited.
Her recently glossed lips land on mine and search for acceptance. I engage as little as I can, and she pulls away, eyes bulging like I have something different in mind. I do, just not screwing her.
“I know what's on your mind . . .” she purrs.
Always sex with this girl. Apparently, that must be the only thing I can think of. I should introduce her to Glove. She yanks me by the hand and whips us around the corner, up the stairs, and to her bedroom at the end of the hall.
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