From War to Forever

by Andria Large

  “Yes, I do want to pursue this. What about you?”

  I nod. “Definitely.”

  His smile grows wider. “I think we work really well together.”

  “I agree.” A little grin plays across my lips.

  Tucker reaches across the table and brushes his fingers over mine, making my heart skip a beat. It’s amazing how a simple gesture like that can evoke such a strong response. The waiter returns with our drinks and to take our order. I feel content with our decision to see where this goes, and we spend the rest of dinner joking and teasing each other like we always do.

  Chapter Seven

  TUCKER

  A FULL week goes by of Dennis and me just seeing each other in passing. Dennis ended up working double shifts on Saturday and Sunday to try to recoup some of the money he lost while he was out. I told him he didn’t have to, that I would cover his half of the utilities and such until he got back on track, but he was having none of that. So the most I got to see him this past week was when he was sleeping. His regular day off—Wednesday—rolls around, and I tell him I invited Lizette and Beau over for dinner, which I actually did, so he can’t go to work. I’m sure he was planning on going in, but I miss him, and I need to spend some time with him too. So I’ve taken the day off from work.

  I’m making lunch by the time Dennis wakes up. I don’t blame him; he’s been working seriously long hours and has been going on less sleep. I’m standing at the breakfast bar slapping together a sandwich when he shuffles into the living room from the hallway in just a pair of gym shorts. My mouth waters, and it has nothing to do with the sandwich I’m making. Dennis and I haven’t done anything sexual in almost two weeks now because of our schedules, and, fuck, seeing him half-naked has Little Tucker standing at attention, ready to go.

  His eyes are still half-closed, and he scratches his chest as he yawns. He walks around the breakfast bar and goes right for the coffeemaker. I glance over my shoulder to see him set it up to make a pot. He then turns around and plasters himself to my back, wrapping his arms around me, finding my neck with his mouth. I melt back against him as he roams his hands over my chest and stomach. I drop my head onto his shoulder and close my eyes. God, I’ve really missed him. My breathing picks up as he moves his hands down to rub me through my sweatpants. Fucking tease. I moan. Shit, it’s been too long. I turn in his arms and grab his face and kiss him hard. Heat envelops my whole body as Dennis and I ravage each other’s mouths. We stumble, with me going backward, until my back slams into the fridge. The cold surface of the stainless steel does nothing to cool my burning skin.

  Dennis drags his mouth along my jaw to my neck. I suck in a sharp breath when he lightly bites at the sensitive skin there. He slowly makes his way down my body. He lowers to his knees while he teases me with licks and sucks on my flushed skin. He yanks my sweats and underwear down to my knees, freeing my painfully hard and already leaking cock. Dennis glances up at me. I can see he’s hesitant but excited. I didn’t expect him to do this so soon, so I’m not going to rush him, and if he changes his mind, that’s fine with me too. But if he decides to do it, then—

  “Oh fuck!” I cry as Dennis’s hot mouth engulfs the head of my dick.

  He swirls his tongue around the head, and my knees nearly buckle. Wrapping his hands around the base, he takes more into his mouth. I look down and watch as half my cock disappears between his delicious lips.

  “Oh. My. Fucking. God,” I pant, unable to take my eyes off the erotic scene.

  I grip the fridge handle with one hand and shove the other into Dennis’s hair. He really gets into it, using his hand to pump while he sucks almost all of me. His mouth vibrates around me, making my knees shake. I can only assume that was a moan. Knowing he’s enjoying it as much as I am has my orgasm taking root in the pit of my stomach. I don’t want to be the only one coming, though. I shove his head away.

  “What’s wrong? Was I not doing good?” Dennis frowns up at me.

  “Fuck no. You were doing amazing. I just want you to come with me,” I say and help him to his feet.

  I kick out of my sweatpants, then kiss him as I shove at his shorts. He helps me out, pushing them down while still trying to kiss me. Once his shorts are out of the way, I step into him, pushing him back against the counter. I reach between us and fist both of our cocks. I pump my hand as we rock our hips. Dennis is gripping my hips tightly. My free hand is clasping the back of his neck while I continue to kiss and nip at his mouth. One of Dennis’s hands joins mine. He squeezes us tighter. I let out a strangled cry against his mouth, wishing I could hear him moaning and panting. I can feel it, but I just wish I could hear it. I would love to know how deep his voice is when he moans, or if it gets raspy at all.

  Dennis throws his head back as he comes hard, his whole body jerking. I follow, shouting as my come joins his between our bodies. His cock pulses against mine as we slow our hands to a stop. We sag against each other as our bodies slowly relax. After a moment of recuperation, we separate and clean ourselves. Dennis pulls his shorts back up, and I put my sweats back on. I then go to Dennis and kiss him softly.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whisper against his lips.

  He hugs me to him as he continues to kiss me languidly. He slowly pulls away, ending the kiss with a few pecks. He backs up slightly so I can see his face.

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  The rest of the afternoon is pretty chill. We watch some football to kill time before I have to make dinner. I might not be a chef, but I know my way around a kitchen. My mom taught me some classics for when I moved out on my own. I decide to make a pot of beef stew, which Dennis is very excited about.

  I’m standing at the stove, stirring everything together now that I have it all in the pot, when Dennis sidles up next to me. He knocks on my forehead with his knuckles. I slowly turn to give him a dry look.

  “Hey, I’m gonna go pick up some beer, okay?” he signs with a cute smirk on his face.

  “Yeah, this needs to cook for another hour or two.”

  “What time are Lizzie and Beau coming?”

  “About forty-five minutes.”

  Dennis kisses me on the cheek. “Okay, be back soon,” he signs before walking out the door.

  I shake my head. He’s really changed a lot since we’ve been “together.” He jokes and teases more. He smiles more. And I love it. I love the change in him. I love this more laid-back, happy Dennis. I love him. The realization smacks me square in the face. I don’t just love him as a friend anymore. I’m in love with him. Damn.

  I take my time cutting up some veggies for a salad to go along with the stew. After I put the salad together, I grab plates and silverware and set them on the table. I freeze for a second, because I could swear I heard some kind of booming sound, but it would have to be pretty loud for me to hear it. I listen intently for a moment before shrugging it off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I reach across the table to set a plate at each seat. I straighten—unable to shake the feeling I’m not alone—and turn to look over my shoulder. I catch a blur of motion before it’s lights out.

  DENNIS

  “DENNIS!” LIZETTE calls.

  I turn to see her and Beau walking toward me. I’m waiting for the elevator to go back up to the condo, a case of beer in my arms. I smile at them.

  “Hey, guys.”

  Lizette leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Denny.”

  I nod at Beau. “Hey, buddy.”

  Beau claps me on the shoulder and smiles. “Hey, man.”

  “I’m glad Tucker invited us over for dinner. We have some news to share with you.” Lizette beams.

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh yeah? Good news, I hope.”

  “Very good.” Beau smiles and lifts Lizette’s knuckles to his lips.

  She smiles lovingly up at him.

  “Ugh.” I groan. “God, you two are sickeningly sweet. It’s disgusting.”

  They laugh as the elevator dings and the doors op
en. We pile in, and Beau hits the button. We chitchat about stupid shit for the minute we are on the elevator. When we reach our destination, we step off and start down the hall toward my condo.

  I frown as we get closer to my door. Something doesn’t appear right. Wood splinters are on the floor, and as I get closer, I see the door is ajar. What the fuck? It looks as if it was kicked in.

  “What the hell?” Beau says.

  “Dennis?” Lizette asks, a twinge of fear in her voice.

  I set the case of beer down and slowly push the door open. My only thought right now is what happened to Tucker. I doubt he heard the door being kicked in, which would leave him vulnerable. My adrenaline is pumping now, and I’m poised to strike. I step into the condo and make my way down the small entry hall, which opens into the large living room and kitchen. I wish I still carried my gun, because who knows what I’m going to find.

  What I see next has me going back into the kill frame of mind I was in when I went looking for Zara. It’s a quiet and cold place in my mind. I feel nothing.

  In front of me is my father, with his greasy, gray hair, his ruddy cheeks, and his huge beer gut, rifling through Tucker’s wallet while Tucker is sprawled out, unconscious, on the floor with half his face covered in blood and a piece of two-by-four lying next to him. The rage I’m experiencing at this moment is very, very close to what I felt back in Iraq.

  “What in the fuck do you think you are doing?” I growl in a low, deadly voice.

  “Dad?” Lizette says in shock. “Oh my God, Tucker!” she cries and pushes past me to get to Tucker.

  My father’s head shoots up in surprise. When he sees us, though, he sneers. How much we look alike really disgusts me. He shoves the money into his pocket as he starts toward me.

  “You lay one hand on me, boy, and I will hurt you,” he snaps, pointing a finger at me.

  My fists clench and a roaring starts in my ears, blocking out all other noise. As my father goes to pass me, all the years of abuse—physical and mental—come to a head. I had never laid a hand on him in the past, fearing what he would do to me, or worse, Lizette, in retaliation. But I was a kid then, and he still thinks I’m afraid of him. He still thinks he can knock me around like he used to. It’s been at least fifteen years since he’s touched me. A lot has changed in those fifteen years.

  I shoot my arm out and grab him by the throat. His surprised eyes land on mine. “What you seem to forget is that I. Am. A. Marine. I have killed people, and I am not a ‘boy’ anymore.” My voice oozes with deadly intentions.

  Fear slowly creeps into his glassy, green eyes. I squeeze a bit harder on his throat, making him gasp.

  He hastily reaches in his pocket and yanks out the cash. He stuffs it in my hand. “Here, take it. Now let me go.”

  I grin… well, more like bare my teeth. He’s not getting away that easily. He hit Tucker in the head with a two-by-four and knocked him out, for fuck’s sake! My fist connects with his face, snapping his head back. He stumbles out of my grasp and crashes to the floor. He’s now groaning, his eyes rolling around in their sockets. Do I give a fuck? Nope. I stand over him and wrap the collar of his dirty T-shirt around my fist. I lift his upper body off the floor.

  “If you or Mom ever call or come near me or Lizette again, I will kill you. Do you understand?” I whisper fiercely.

  “Yeah,” he moans.

  “Now this… this is payback for my entire childhood.” I nail him in the face over and over with my other fist.

  His body goes limp after the second shot, but I can’t stop. The hatred and anger that has built up in me over the years just pours out. Finally, after maybe the seventh or eighth shot, Beau grabs me. He wraps his arms around me and drags me away from my father’s bleeding face.

  “That’s enough, Dennis,” he soothes. “That’s enough.”

  I’m panting hard. I feel something running down my face, and when I swipe at it, I realize it’s tears. Shit. I glance over at where Tucker is lying on the floor, still out cold. Lizette is holding a dish towel to the laceration on his forehead to try to stop the bleeding, but her eyes are glued on me, a barrage of emotions flashing across her face. What hits me straight in the heart is the fear in her eyes.

  “Dennis, we should call an ambulance,” Beau murmurs, loosening his hold on me.

  I nod. “Yeah, can you do that?”

  “Sure, man.”

  Beau gives my arms a squeeze before pulling out his cell phone and walking away to call.

  “Lizzie, are you all right?” I ask cautiously.

  “I… yeah…. I just never heard your voice sound like that, and there was no emotion or anything on your face. You kinda freaked me out,” she admits.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just kinda snapped,” I say roughly.

  She nods. “I understand, believe me.”

  I squat down next to Tucker and smooth my hand over his hair. “Is he breathing okay?”

  Lizette eyes my hand that’s stroking his hair before looking up at me. Shit, I better watch how I touch Tucker. I don’t think I’m ready to tell Lizzie about what’s going on, and I don’t want her to grow suspicious either.

  “Yeah, it’s normal, and I think the bleeding is slowing.”

  “Fucking asshole. I can’t believe he kicked in the door and assaulted Tucker all because I wouldn’t give him money,” I say in disgust.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think he’ll be bothering us again,” she says with a hint of a smirk. She takes her free hand and brushes away the tears still leaking down my face. “Are you okay?”

  I take her hand and kiss her palm. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  Tucker shifts and groans. His eyes flutter open, and he looks around in confusion.

  “Dennis?”

  “Hey, buddy…. No, don’t get up. Just lie there.” I gently press my hand against his chest to keep him from sitting up. I don’t know if he was able to read my lips or responded to me pushing him back down.

  “What happened? My head is pounding.”

  “My dad kicked in the door and hit you with a two-by-four,” I reply.

  Tucker’s frown deepens. “What? I’m having trouble focusing,” he mutters before his eyes shift to look at Lizette, who is still holding the towel to his head.

  “Hey,” he mutters to her.

  She smiles at him. “Hi.”

  Beau walks up. “Okay, ambulance and police are on their way. Should be here any minute.”

  Lizette gives me a hard stare. “Dad tried to attack you too, right? When you walked in?” she says suggestively.

  I immediately understand. We need to tell the police my dad tried to come after me too, and I defended myself, otherwise I might be arrested for assault. I give her a sharp nod of agreement.

  The police and EMTs show up a few minutes later. Lizette, Beau, and I all tell them our stories while the EMTs get Tucker and my dad onto gurneys to be taken down to the ambulances waiting on the street. One of the EMTs already said Tucker is going to need stitches for the gash on his forehead and he most likely has at least a mild concussion.

  Given the alcohol wafting off my father and my history as a vet, the cops don’t question my story, which I appreciate. My father regains consciousness as they’re putting him on the gurney, and when he looks at me, I can see he now fears me. He should, because I’m done with him and my mother. I never want to hear from them or see them again.

  The ER is super busy when we arrive. Since Tucker is brought in by ambulance, we are taken right back. That doesn’t mean he gets treated right away, though. His injury is not life-threatening, so he gets put on the back burner. A nurse finally comes in to make him change into a hospital gown and check the gauze the EMT taped to his head to stem the bleeding.

  I can hear my father, who is in a bed a couple of curtains down, giving the nurses a hard time. Belligerent asshole. I’m so glad I finally got to pay him back for some of the grief he’s caused me. Although, it’s nothing close to all the
beatings he gave me over the years.

  We wait at least an hour before the doctor comes in to check on Tucker. He examines his head wound and asks a bunch of questions. Tucker has some trouble with them because he says his vision keeps going fuzzy and he can’t read the doctor’s lips, so I step in as his interpreter since the doctor doesn’t know sign language. The sign language is much easier for him to see. The doctor decides to admit Tucker for his concussion since it’s pretty serious and they need to monitor him. The doctor also says he’s going to have the plastic surgeon stitch up Tucker’s head so there will be less of a scar, but that won’t get done until Tucker is in a room.

  It’s another hour and a half before he gets put into a room and another forty-five minutes before the plastic surgeon shows up. As the doctor starts cleaning the wound, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and check to see who is calling. When I see it’s Duke, my heart rate shoots up, and I immediately answer.

  “Hey, man, is everything okay?” I ask in concern.

  The only reason he would be calling me is because of our little pact.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m cool. I was looking for Tucker. I’ve been texting him for two hours now, and he hasn’t gotten back to me. He’s usually on top of that shit.”

  “Ah, well, there’s been an incident.” I sigh.

  “Incident? What the fuck does that mean?” he barks.

  “My asshole drunk of a father kicked our door in and hit Tucker in the head with a two-by-four, knocking him unconscious. We’re at the hospital now. He’s been admitted because of a serious concussion. He’s actually getting his head stitched up at the moment.”

  “Obviously Tucker didn’t hear the door being kicked in.”

  “No,” I reply sadly.

  “I don’t know what I gotta do to convince that dumbass to get his hearing fixed. This whole thing could have been avoided if he would just get the damn surgery,” Duke growls.