Love Survives: The BWWM Interracial Romance Collection (Volume 1)

by Dez Burke

  Time stood still as Jake watched the beautiful girl standing thirty feet away from him in shorts and a white top. What made his heart stop though was not the face that had haunted his dreams for months. It was her body, swollen around her midriff.

  Leona’s knees almost gave way and shook uncontrollably as she waited, waited for the man she loved to see her and know that she was carrying his child.

  Tears spilled from her eyes between choked sobs as Jake ran towards her and closed the distance between them in seconds, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground while she wept into his neck.

  “Oh my god! Oh my god!” Jake kept whispering, his heart beating wildly in the knowledge that he hadn’t been wrong about Leona. Leona hadn’t turned her back on him as soon as she left. She loved him. The words he had bottled up inside him in Colorado spilled out of him unashamedly.

  “I love you!” he hissed fiercely and Leona stilled as the words registered.

  She stared at his face in shock. She hadn’t expected Jake to say anything, but certainly not that. During the flight, she had known that this was just closure for her and Jake, for the wonderful days they had spent in each other’s arms. She couldn’t even hope that Jake would say those words.

  Jake clutched her face in both palms and crushed his lips onto hers, tasting her sweet, familiar taste and reveling in her response. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and pressed his body to hers, feeling her belly pressing against his stomach.

  His hands slid down, touching her small bump, and ran along it before clutching her to himself almost roughly.

  “I love you, Leona,” he whispered into her mouth. “I’ve loved you every second I was with you, and every second I was away. I love you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” he hissed and Leona clutched his arms for support as she fought to control her tears.

  “I love you Jake,” she said and a breathless chuckle escaped his lips.

  From the corner of his eye, he knew that they were creating a scene in full view of his staff and the African-American man in a suit who was standing behind Leona.

  He didn’t want to tear his eyes away from her green ones. He wanted to take her upstairs to his room and take her clothes off before feasting his eyes on her changing body, and then he wanted to drown in her scent.

  The man moved behind Leona and instinctively, Jake’s arm tightened around the girl he loved and would forever be terrified of losing again.

  “I’m Damon. Leona’s brother,” Damon began, tentatively extending is hand towards Jake. “We, ah, talked on the phone earlier.”

  Jake’s jaw clamped in hatred and Leona saw it. She lifted her hand to his cheek and made him turn his face towards her. “Damon brought me here. He told me this morning.”

  Jake gritted his teeth and for Leona’s sake, he knew that breaking Damon’s face with his fist was not a good idea. Instead, he swallowed his anger and took Damon’s hand, shaking it firmly.

  As long as Leona was with him he could forgive and forget anything, his past, even his horrors. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her against his solid length before walking her inside the house. Inside the hallway, he turned her face upward and gazed longingly into her eyes, his fingertips trailing the soft, ebony skin of her face.

  After years of humiliation and deprivation, and the terrible way he had lost Jessica, God had finally seen he had enough. This beautiful girl, who had chosen to keep his baby when he had no future, was his to keep.

  He clutched her tightly again and she clung to his waist. His arms wrapped around the back of her head as he kissed her hair. “I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice laced with his intense happiness.

  THE END

  ***

  Love Heals All

  Copyright 2013 Leona Jackson

  Chapter One: Alex

  It was just like my father to not show up at the airport to meet me. His life had always been about his job, and what he enjoyed. I hadn’t really expected him to be there when I stepped off the plane, but it pissed me off just the same.

  It was soldiers like me who were sacrificing years of our young lives so that men like him could ignore their families and earn their fortunes. Some of my buddies even gave their lives for it. The least my father could do was show up when I finally planted my feet back on American soil.

  I looked around the airport hoping to see a familiar face, but as usual disappointment settled in my gut. I was exhausted from the long flight and just wanted a warm shower and a clean bed. I thought about going to a hotel for the night, but knew my mother would never forgive me if I did.

  I headed outside and was about to hail a taxi when Riley waved me over. We had served two tours of Iraq together, and I could tell that he felt awkward around his family, even if he was happy to be home. Looking around at other members of my regiment I saw similar expressions on their faces. I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and walked over to him and the large group of relatives engulfing him in hugs.

  He introduced me to his family, but the words and names didn’t stick. I couldn’t force my mind to focus. The bright lights and noise of the airport made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It reminded me of moving through an Iraqi village. You never knew who the enemy was. The villagers would always welcome you, but you could never trust them.

  After turning down several offers to drive me home, in the end I accepted a ride home from Riley’s insistent younger sister, Jasalyn. During our time in Iraq she had written Riley several times a week. She was a committed military relative but I wondered how much she really knew about our experiences. Did Riley really tell his younger, innocent sister about the hell we went through? I doubted it. At least I hoped he hadn’t. She deserved her illusion of safety. After all, that’s what we were fighting for, or so we were told.

  I wasn’t sure what to talk about once I was alone in the car with her. I was afraid she’d ask questions about Iraq, or be one of those people gushing with gratitude. It might make some feel better, but those people made me feel uncomfortable. Yes, we were fighting for their freedom, but it felt wrong for them to thank me for what I went through.

  Jasalyn filled the empty space between us with talk about how happy she was that her brother was home, how much his Golden-Retriever, Sally, had missed him, and telling me about the nursing school she was attending.

  As Jasalyn spoke I found myself relaxing, allowing her soft voice to sooth me. For a moment I felt peace. I lost track of what she was saying as I studied her features. Her skin was a shade of dark chocolate and her honey colored eyes seemed to come more alive with every word she said. I wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder to make sure she was solid, real. After everything I had seen, it seemed impossible that someone could still be so happy. So alive.

  The drive to my house ended sooner that I would have liked, and I was left standing alone in front of my parent’s home. Jasalyn had offered to accompany me inside, but I declined. After facing the reality of war, facing my family was a matter of personal pride. I was no longer the teenager that my money-hungry father could shove around

  I was about to ring the bell when the door opened and my mother threw her arms around me. My anger at her for not meeting me at the airport faded. She had never learned to drive, preferring to be a stay at home mom for me and my two older brothers.

  There wasn’t much I could do as she took my bag and ushered me into the kitchen. I didn’t feel hungry until I saw the table covered with my favorite childhood dishes. My mother chattered away about how much she missed me, while I gorged myself on real food for the first time in years.

  The flavors of French toast and roast beef mingled in my mouth as I devoured everything in sight. I could tell my mother wanted to talk all night, but I was too fidgety to sit still and listen. After kissing her goodnight, I headed into my old bedroom. Looking around, I noticed not much had changed while I was gone. I took off my boots and polished them. The familiar ritual gave me a sense of calm.


  After I finished my boots, I took off my uniform and polished every button until they gleamed. I stood back looking at my uniform hanging on the wall and suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable. For the last eight years the uniform and what it represented decided who I was and what my mission in life would be. Tomorrow I would wake up and not put it on.

  Where did that leave me? The thought was very unsettling.

  Chapter 2: Jasalyn

  My heart pounded in my chest while I hung on my brother, Riley’s every word. I was so happy that he was finally home and safe. Growing up he had been my defender, and as a soldier he had continued that tradition. There were so many questions that I wanted to ask, but couldn’t. I knew in my heart that my brother and his fellow soldiers had been through hell. I wanted to do something to comfort Riley, but didn’t know how.

  I sighed in relief when the dinner table was cleared and Riley headed to bed. Things had been tense at my parent’s home these last few years. My mother had threatened my father with divorce several times, and had talked about filing the divorce papers for real. No one had told Riley, yet, and I didn’t have the heart to. Tears fell down my cheeks as I got into my car and drove to my apartment.

  It seemed so unfair for these men to return home to broken lives. They had given up so much. I’m sure that some of the men received get warm welcomes of the genuine sort, but I had seen two first hand cases today that made my chest tighten.

  My mind wandered back to Alex. Not a single person from his family had showed up to welcome him home. I made a mental note to tell Riley to invite him to the barbeque my parents were throwing the following weekend.

  That night as I lay in bed trying to sleep, Alex’s troubled blue eyes haunted me. Those sky blue eyes carried so much pain and sorrow that I had half-expected him to crumple at any second. Men were different than women, though. A man would hold in their pain, letting it harden their heart. When I was a teenager, I wondered many times why men couldn’t just sit down and have a good cry when they needed to.

  Now though, I had an answer. Men had been warriors since the dawn of time. Many of them couldn’t afford the luxury of emotion, or so they had been taught. A disturbing thought crossed my mind. What happens to the warriors when the wars have been won and peace returns? Do they ever heal? Or do they spend their lives wounded and scarred?

  I knew that Riley had left out many of the horror stories that had been his life in Iraq, but he had told me that Alex had saved his life on more than one occasion. I was grateful that he had a friend, a brother, to watch his back while he was in no-man’s-land. Now it was my turn to return the favor.

  I would be a friend to Alex. If he would let me…

  Chapter 3: Alex

  I didn’t sleep at all my first night home. The city was too noisy, and every sound made me jump up to look outside for danger. Sometime around sunrise I fell asleep on the floor by the window.

  I hadn’t been asleep long when my mother knocked on the door to wake me for breakfast. I dressed quickly, slipping back into my uniform. I hadn’t even thought about it. My uniform had become like a second skin to me.

  My father sat at the table reading the newspaper and didn’t look up when I walked into the room. I hadn’t expected a warm welcome since my father had never been the type of man to show appreciation for anyone. I didn’t need his gratitude for my time in the army, but I would have liked it if he at least acknowledged I had returned home. Then again, maybe I should be careful what I wished for.

  “This isn’t the army son,” he said, looking at me over his newspaper, “You don’t have to wear that uniform to breakfast.”

  “Oh, Stan, leave him alone!” my mother scolded. “He just got home. You can wear whatever you like, Alex, don’t listen to him.”

  I smiled at mom and my father glared back at me. Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, I ate my pancakes in silence. My father wasn’t a real threat. He was more like a yappie dog that snapped at the ankles of every passer-by. I was above his petty words.

  After breakfast my father left for work and my mother headed out to do grocery shopping. I had almost offered to go with her, but didn’t want to be forced down the tiny aisles, in close proximity with strangers.

  While my mother was gone I tried to change into civilian clothes, but felt awkward as I stood in my bedroom. My jeans and rock tees seemed to be artifacts from a kid who died centuries ago. I felt as if I was trying to step into the life of another person. I sighed and changed back into my uniform.

  The doorbell sounded and I caught myself reaching back for my gun. I felt naked and unarmed walking down the steps without it. Logic told me that it was most likely the postman or some other equally safe person, but instinct told me something else.

  Before approaching the door I looked out the kitchen window. I nearly sighed in relief when I recognized Jasalyn’s car. She was safe. Maybe. I argued with myself as I walked to the door. Jasalyn was my best friend’s little sister. She was not a threat. I squared my shoulders and opened the door.

  “Good morning, soldier.” Jasalyn grinned at me.

  “Alex. Call me Alex,” I said.

  It just seemed wrong for her to be calling me soldier. I didn’t want her to feel she owed me anything. I didn’t go into the army to put anyone into my debt, especially, not the bright-eyed, Jasalyn.

  “I made you some banana bread,” she said, holding out the loaf.

  I took it awkwardly from her. It was still warm. “Thank you,” I said not sure why she had brought me food. “Do you want to come in?”

  I mentally kicked myself for asking her to come in. If my racist father returned home from work to find an African-American beauty sitting in our living room he’d had a mouthful to say. I pushed the thought away. I served my country so that the civilians could be free. I was a civilian now, and therefore free to choose who I wanted to be around.

  Chapter 4: Jasalyn

  I could tell that Alex was trying to be nice, but he acted uncomfortable around me. I accepted his invitation to come in without acknowledging that his social skills were rusty. I was pretty sure that he was already aware of that, and didn’t need me to tell him so.

  Alex waved me into the kitchen in front of him and followed behind. I had noticed that last night with Riley too. They didn’t like people where they couldn’t see them. I sat at the table quietly while Alex poured coffee and got a couple of plates out. A smile played on my lips as I watched him do something normal. Perhaps, he was better off than I thought.

  I picked up the knife intending to cut the bread then froze in place when Alex’s head whipped around and he locked eyes with me.

  “I’ll do it!” he said, snatching the knife away from me.

  I let go of the knife and watched as he hacked into the bread. A pang of guilt slammed into my stomach. I had only meant to be helpful, but it seemed I caused more harm than good. After cutting the bread, Alex washed the knife and placed it back in the drawer, safely on the far side of the room.

  I ate slowly. My stomach was in knots, because Alex watched me so intently. I wondered what he was thinking, but wasn’t brave enough to ask.

  “I didn’t poison the bread,” I teased.

  “I know that,” Alex said with a guilty look.

  Damn! The thought had actually crossed his mind. Jesus, he was a having a hard time coping with civilian life. I had read quite a bit about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder but this was the first time I’d known anyone personally suffering from it.

  I felt bad for teasing him, especially since a blush was creeping up his white cheeks. It hadn’t been my intention to embarrass him. I was only trying to break the tension. I noticed a photo of a dog on the wall and thought perhaps the German Shepherd mix might be a conversation starter. I hadn’t seen the dog in the house, but the photo looked new enough.

  “Is that your dog?” I asked, pointing to the photograph.

  “It was. He died of kidney failure my second year in Iraq.” Alex answered my
questions without looking up from his plate.

  I bit my lip. Everything I did and said only seemed to make matters worse.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Alex told me, “He lived a long life. He was a happy dog.”

  I looked up to see that he was smiling.

  “What was his name?”

  “Robin,” he answered with a grin “And don’t you laugh at me! I named him when I was seven.”

  I giggled behind my hand, feeling like a school girl. “I think it’s cute.”

  Alex shrugged. “It was until I tied a cape to his back and one to my own and tried to jump off the garage roof. Robin chickened out, fortunately for him, but I broke my arm. That’s when I figured out that I wasn’t really Batman’s son.”

  I laughed again. “I think all little kids believe their dads are superheros at one time or the other.”

  “It wasn’t quite like that here,” Alex said, suddenly serious again. “I knew my dad wasn’t a superhero, unless Captain Greed was his secret identity. No, I thought my mother had an affair with Batman, and I wasn’t my father’s son at all.”

  “You had quite an imagination.”

  “Believe me, it’s something I’ve grown out of.”

  “That’s a shame. Sometimes the human imagination is a beautiful thing,” I said, smiling at him.

  His sky blue eyes looked deep into mine for a moment and my hands quivered, but not from fear. Alex’s intense gaze made me realize just how attracted to him I was. For a moment I wondered if I was on a self-serving mission, then decided it didn’t matter. My Mama had told me a million times that it didn’t matter why someone did a good deed, as long as everyone benefited from it.

  Alex reached out to touch my face, but pulled his hand away at the last second. Part of me wanted to grab his hand and hold it, but I feared what it may lead to. He needed a friend, not a one night stand. I hadn’t come here to seduce him, but to try to help him heal the invisible wounds Iraq had left on his soul.