RECYCLED MEMORY

  I wanted it all to end. Once and for all where it all began.

  Marcus arrived as I knew he would, silent as the grave yet thunderous with his appearance. I made no pretense of being surprised; in fact, I welcomed it with eagerness. This place was the starting point for our ill-fated puppy love. Fitting it should be our culmination as well. I needed it gone, the past mistakes, the feelings of hatred and emptiness, all the self-fucking-blame. Years ago, Buck Calhoun had said it was up to me to find something in life worth fighting for. He never said it would be this fucking hard.

  “The night before you left for boot camp, I sat in this very same spot for hours just… thinking,” I recalled. “You told me you were leaving right after you made love to me. You said you were going to meet up with a girl who had a golden pussy and that I wasn’t the only girl you ever brought here. This was our special place, and I couldn’t wrap my head around that fact.”

  “I’m sorry, Pocket, I just—” He exhaled before taking a seat in the corner.

  “Don’t.” I held up my hand to stop his unwanted apology. “You know…I still tried to stop you from leaving? I thought somehow that it was all just a big mistake, some sort of hoax. How stupid was that? I ran through the junkyard screaming your name, calling for you to come back to me, but it was too late, and now here we are eight years later.”

  “I was never far away from you that night, Maribel, and no other girl ever had my cock while we were together. I sat and watched from ten feet away right outside that door until I saw you run toward the junkyard.” He pointed toward the entrance to the cabin.

  I was shocked by his statement.

  He broke my fucking heart, then watched me crumble into tiny pieces?

  “I found Buck working out in the yard and begged him to go to you. To help you bounce back from all the fucked-up bullshit I’d spewed and the hurt I’d caused. I needed you to move on with your life and forget about me, Maribel. Don’t you see that?”

  “What are you saying, Marcus, that it was all a lie?” I pondered his confession.

  “I watched you from the window of the office. It fucking gutted me, but I had to stick to the agreement. You never told me about Harvard, Maribel. How could you do that to me?”

  Marcus jumped from his seat and stormed toward my line if sight.

  He was pissed, but fuck it, so was I.

  “I told you. Harvard only meant something when I had nothing else,” I challenged. “I could have gone to medical school anywhere, Marcus. It didn’t have to be there. I tried to tell you that before you so casually decided to rip out my fucking heart without a single thought to how that would crush my fucking soul,” I cried.

  “Casually decided?” Quiet. So fucking quiet he repeated my words.

  He spoke the words aloud, but I knew it wasn’t me he questioned. The look in his eyes, the sudden growl brought on by his outrage, this wasn’t the boy Marcus I’d known as a girl. No. This was the man Marcus I’d yet to experience as a woman.

  “I never casually decided shit, Maribel,” he fumed. “I went to fucking war for you, my choice, and I was fucking good at it. Killing came natural to someone like me, someone who was taught to defend his family, his brothers, even if it cost him his fucking life. I never cared about what it would do to you? What about me, Maribel? I went away, and I stayed away, FOR YOU!”

  Marcus took several moments to settle before he continued.

  “I told the boys that you were just a fling whose spark died out once I had your pussy and they needed to stay away from you, cut all ties; I thought it was better that way. You couldn’t move forward if you kept looking back, Maribel. I cared about you enough to make that sacrifice, to give you the chance to realize your dream. The only one who knew the truth was Buck, and he never betrayed my confidence.”

  “My dream,” I sobbed, “was to live a normal life filled with love and peace. I was tired of carrying the burden of perfection for the Laine family. It broke my fucking back, Marcus. There was a way for the two of us to have what we wanted, but you never even tried; you just left me all alone and never came back.”

  I couldn’t hold back the dam of tears as they flowed earnestly down my cheeks. I was a complete mess by the time I’d finished, and no amount of concealer was going to fix that.

  “I didn’t want you to regret us, to look back on your decision not to attend Harvard and resent me for being the one who stood in your way. You were barely sixteen years old, for fuck’s sake. You had a gift. I hadn’t even applied to college or decided if I even wanted to go yet. Don’t tell me we could have had what we wanted. We were both too young to know what the fuck that meant, and you damn well know it.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you made it without getting your head blown off, tough guy. How long exactly had you been back before you saw me at the diner? A day? Two at the most? Admit it, Marcus, you had no intentions of ever seeing me again once you shook me off. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.” I waved my hand around for emphasis. Sure, I acted like a spiteful brat, but I didn’t give a shit; it was the truth.

  “I wasn’t ready,” he whispered. “I didn’t want you to see me again so soon after…”

  “So soon after what?” My tone was unyielding.

  “Killing’s not an easy thing to turn off once you’ve been doing it for as long as I had. The Marines taught me how to stay alive during combat, but that all meant jack shit when it came to dealing with civilian life once the war was over. I wasn’t fit to be around everyday people, not even my brothers at the junkyard. Hell, I almost shot the shit outa Range one day just for sneaking up on me. My mind was fucked up, Maribel, too fucked up to be around noncombatants. It’s why I moved out here instead of back to the main house.”

  Well, fuck. That explained the sleeping bag in the corner.

  “I didn’t know. They never said a word to me. I thought they were all in on it, laughing behind my back at what a stupid adolescent girl I was to have believed you really loved me. I thought they were my friends. I thought…”

  “I know what you thought, Maribel!” he shouted. “It’s what I wanted you to think.”

  “Why, Marcus? Why would you…” My sobs intensified.

  “I did what was necessary to keep you off my mind and out of my heart. The alternative could have gotten me killed. I took the deadliest missions, extra duty assignments, recon, anything that kept me sharp and focused until enough time had passed and it was safe to return to you. I come back to find you getting smacked around, working at a fuckin’ diner, sticking up for that piece of shit right in front of my face!” Marcus roared.

  His mouth twisted with disgust and self-righteous indignation. How fucking dare he question my means to support myself. He had no right to fucking judge me.

  “I should’ve killed that motherfucker when I had the chance. What the fuck were you doing with a cunt like that, Maribel?”

  Calm, Maribel. I willed my temper to subside.

  Don’t lose your shit.

  “Drew was there for me when no one else cared whether I lived or died, Marcus. He used me for money to support his gambling, it’s true, but no more than I used him when I needed comfort and understanding, something you made damn sure no one else was around to give me.”

  “Are you in love with that spineless prick?” he seethed.

  “Were you in love with the many women you fucked during the last eight years, Marcus?”

  Low blow, but I wouldn’t allow him to make me feel bad for my choice of seeing Drew. It was a mistake, a painful one that I’d always think back on and cringe, but it was my decision. Not his.

  “I wanna know about the fuckboy, Pocket. Are. You. In. Love. With. Him?”He repeated with a hint of desperation in his voice. Why was that so important to him?

  “He didn’t always…” I started to defend my relationship with Drew, then realized I really didn’t have to. I wasn’t ashamed of it, regardless of the outcome. “It was never about being in love, Marcus. Drew knew that that wa
s never part of the deal. He was my friend, at a time when those were hard to come by because everyone else I trusted was unavailable to me.”

  We’d each fought in our own separate wars over the past eight years; neither one of us emerged the victor. There was more than enough blame to dole out, but at the end of the day, the irrevocable damage had already been done. Marcus was now an unemployed government killing machine, and I was a former child genius turned bistro hostess extraordinaire. We were stronger for having experienced the realities of pain, loss, and grief, but our time had passed.Marcus would forever remain my one and only love, the other half of my soul. Despite our separation, I never got over him. As hard as I tried, I could never erase him completely from my heart.

  “I put you in that situation. If I’d known how…” Marcus’s voice was low and pained, so full of regret I felt it burning along my skin. “I fucked up, Pocket, shoulda fought harder for you. For us. Won’t make that same mistake. Swear that. On everything I love,” he vowed with conviction.

  “I want to believe you, Marcus. Maybe someday…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Hope was for suckers and dreamers, and I was neither anymore. We fell into an awkward silence, both of us lost in our own heads over everything we’d just confessed to one another.

  “I need to know, baby,” he uttered. “Why didn’t you go to Harvard when you had the chance? You earned that fucking scholarship, baby. Why didn’t you take it?”

  The playhouse had always been the place of truth for Marcus and me. Would he see me as weak once he finally learned all of mine? Glimpses of the boy I knew were overshadowed by the hardened gaze of the man in front of me. The things he must have seen fighting for our country weighed heavily in his beautiful eyes. I didn’t want to be the one to pile on more to his sorrow, yet hiding my tragic past would only add to his suffering. If he needed an excuse to pull up stakes and leave again, I had the perfect argument for him to do so. This time, I hoped he would at the very least kiss me goodbye and promise to think of me always with fondness.

  “I…” After a few deep breaths, I tried again. “My sister is a dirty whore but not a lying one, Marcus. After you left, I never quite learned to bounce back like everyone wanted. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I was a hot mess wrapped in the body of a basket case.” My sardonic laugh did little to ease the tension that surrounded the cabin.

  “Give me the rest of it, Pocket,” he growled.

  I turned my head, so I no longer had to look into his eyes. Marcus’s gaze was intense, a caged animal waiting for the keeper to open the gates, so he could pounce. I worried about his reaction, especially since he stood so closely to where I was sitting. I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me; I was more afraid of getting in the crossfire if he decided to hurt himself.

  “My parents tried everything in their power to help. Nothing worked. I just slipped further and further into nothingness. I can’t remember a lot of what happened after that, flashes of voices yelling or crying, bright white lights; a cold, sterile room devoid of color.”

  Breathe, Maribel, just breathe.

  Don’t break.

  Don’t break.

  “After I was diagnosed with situational depression, which morphed into something more…critical, my father ordered six treatments of electroconvulsive therapy followed by inpatient rehabilitation at one of the best mental health facilities in the world. I spent a year and a half learning alternative methods to coping with stressors along with constant monitoring while the doctors administered different combinations of psychotropic drugs. One week before my eighteenth birthday, I was released into my parents’ custody and allowed to go home. It wasn’t long after that I struck out on my own.”

  Marcus was eerily silent, stone still, and didn’t appear to be breathing. He took one step backwards, then another. The short distance he created between us felt enormous considering the size of the cabin. I’d seen that look before, the day he saw me at the diner with Drew. I waited for him to say something, to react to what he’d heard. Anything.

  I wasn’t prepared for when he finally did.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Marcus

  MENTAL HOSPITAL.

  Deeper into darkness.

  Two fucking years.

  Smoke and fire.

  The blast took out the entire structure, trapping us underneath the rubble and debris. The voice in my headset requested a status update: Ranger 257. Report. Report. Report. This was just supposed to be recon, a small four-man crew, no backup. One hour tops. The dust was so thick it burned the insides of my eyeballs. Everything was a fucking blur, but base camp needed to know what happened. “Ranger 257 requesting immediate EVAC. Multiple causalities. Pinpoint last known location. COPY?” My voice was harsh, like sandpaper. Add that to the ringing in my ears, and I wasn’t sure they heard a fucking word I said. Roger 257 hold tight for immediate EVAC.

  Thank Christ.

  My last mission was over. Eight years away from my girl, and I was finally going home. Back to claim the woman I loved with every fiber of my being. Maribel.

  SMACK

  “Open your eyes, Marcus, look at me. Breathe, tough guy. Breathe.”

  What the fuck’s going on? Why am I on my knees down on the floor?

  “Pocket? What the hell? Did I… Did I hurt you?”

  Maribel was in my arms pressed against my chest so hard there were lines on her face from the creases in my shirt. The last thing I remembered was her telling me about her time in the hospital. Everything felt so strange. My arms ached, my throat was raspy, and my cheeks were wet. Why the fuck am I crying?

  “No, you didn’t hurt me, Marcus. You were…” She paused for a moment. “You were clutching your chest and screaming that you wanted to go home… to your girl. You cried out for me to wait for you, that you promised to come back for me.”

  Maribel reached for my face with her tiny hand and palmed my wet cheek. I leaned into her touch and closed my eyes, savoring the sense of calm she bought to my heightened emotions. I loosened the death grip I had around her waist and gazed down into her watery eyes. She was so fucking beautiful. Everything about her was familiar yet unrecognizable at the same time. The longer we stayed like that, the harder it was for me to deny my need to consume all of her. Maribel felt the change, the hitch in her breath combined with the subtle wiggle of her hips as she tried to move closer to my center. We were runaway trains set to collide on the same track. Maribel stood from our spot on the floor. I thought I’d lost her to the sins of our past, her forgiveness denied. The fucked-up way I’d left her, my refusal to maintain contact, the broken-down man who kneeled before her wasn’t what she wanted anymore; or so I thought.

  In one fluid motion, she removed her shirt; a flick of her wrist, and her bra soon followed. Maribel was fucking fearless as she stared me down completely naked from the waist up, but she wasn’t mine to take. We weren’t kids anymore, sneaking around, hiding in the woods for a quick fuck. Once we crossed that line, there was no going back. She’d belong to me and only me. I’d never let another man come within ten feet of her without my nines trained on his forehead. I couldn’t take advantage of her that way, fooling her into believing the dream. It would be so easy playing the role of the man she thought she knew, the fumbling, inexperienced lover I used to be. I could take her slow and easy, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, then re-introduce the head of my dick to the inside her warm pussy, just enough to get her off. The truth was far less seductive and a hell of a lot more dangerous if she chose to accept.

  “Do you know what you’re asking for, Pocket?”

  I stood, slowly and with purpose. My voice rumbled from the pent-up desire I felt for the half-naked woman an arm’s length away. Her eyes said what her mouth refused. Fear, uncertainty, challenge. She reeked of all of it, and my hardened cock couldn’t get enough. At full height, I towered over her smaller frame, relishing the position of power it gave me. Maribel balked at my carnal perusal of her beautiful nipples, pink and puckered. I li
cked my lips with the anticipation of taking them inside my mouth.

  “Forget everything you remember about us fucking in this cabin, Maribel. The days of sweet and tame are over, baby. Once you take my cock again, I’ll fucking own you. You feel me?” She shuddered involuntarily at the suggestion, then nodded her head in agreement.

  “Need to hear you say the words, Pocket,” I growled with frustration as I waited for her to rethink her position. I was barely hanging on. “War made me a savage, Maribel, both on and off the battlefield. If you cry out, I’ll make you scream. Ask me to slow down, I’ll fuck you faster. Say you’ve had enough, and I’ll take more.”

  I palmed the head of my rock-hard cock, just to take the edge off before I exploded in my pants. I gave her this one and only chance to run, to save herself from what I planned on doing to not only her body but to her very essence. Maribel had never shied away from a challenge; the sassy smile she plastered on her face screamed ‘Fuck you, Marcus, I’m down for anything you could dish out.’

  That’s my girl.

  “I’ve waited eight years for a good, hard fuck, Marcus,” she sauced. “Why don’t you give it your best shot, tough guy? Oh, and by the way. Once you have my pussy again, I’ll fucking own YOU. You feel me?” Still a fucking smart mouth.

  I grabbed her behind the neck and drew her in closer. Her panicked little squeak filled me with satisfaction. I wanted more. Gone was her cute little smugness she boasted moments ago, replaced by powerlessness and surprise. She had no idea. I took a few deep breaths to settle the beast before I used a single finger to draw a line from her pouty lips to her taut nipple, then pinched the hardened flesh. She sucked in a huge gulp of air through clenched teeth and let out a guttural groan once the sharp bite of pain gave way to intense pleasure.