ABANDONED: Elkridge Series, Book 3, A novel

by Lyz Kelley

  He applied pressure, experimenting, playing, and watching her reactions. Her kisses were doing wicked things to his concentration. He needed to hurry because his disciplined training was threatening to fail him.

  She dropped her head back against the pillow. “Holy hell.”

  “You’re not in hell, sweet Ash. I’m sending you to heaven.”

  She gripped his shoulders harder. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth seeking his. He let her feel like she was winning, but when she pulled back enough to take a breath, he lifted and nuzzled lower, kissing and caressing and nibbling until he found his salvation. He settled between her legs and let her knees drape across his shoulders.

  “Oh. God.”

  “Nope. Only Chase,” he sighed, before kissing each leg and caressing with his tongue. Her skin swelled and her breathing sputtered. He placed a hand across her stomach to hold her in place, to thrust deeper and deeper, until he felt her muscles tense and contract again and again and again. She wrapped her fingers under his arms and tugged. He kissed his way up her belly and then surrounded her with his arms. Her body had gone limp, but she pushed at his chest.

  “I want…you…inside, now.”

  He didn’t hesitate. After rolling on a condom, he lifted above her. “Lift your legs,” he commanded. She readily complied. Unable to hold back even a second longer, he drove into her hard, and she met him stroke for stroke. Amazing.

  Their combined groans were as stirring, as beautiful as the Hallelujah Chorus. The only thing he could see or hear or feel was her. Her body beneath his, fierce and brave and wild.

  When she clenched around him, he erupted and emptied his need, holding nothing back. Giving her everything. Giving her what he’d always held back.

  Giving her his heart.

  He started to lift to relieve her of some of his weight, but she tightened her legs around his waist. “Don’t leave. Not yet. You feel too good.”

  So he relaxed into her, letting the blood beating in his ears weave a complex rhythm with her heartbeat thudding against his chest.

  No matter how many times he’d convinced himself he wasn’t afraid while storming villages, looking for insurgents, and clearing rooms, he couldn’t lie. Right now, with her in his arms, he felt afraid. Afraid of not being with her. Afraid he wasn’t a good enough man. Afraid she might not want him in her life.

  Never had he met a woman like her, and he didn’t want to look any further. He rolled to his side, taking her with him. He’d had sex, but this wasn’t sex.

  After a while, her fingers began drawing little circles and curlicues on his chest around Bobby’s tattoo and she released a little hum. “Did your tattoo hurt?”

  “Not the tattoo, but the event which motivated it sure did.” Still did.

  She leaned in and kissed the tattoo, and then settled back by his side, letting the silence and her actions speak for themselves.

  Eventually, she lifted her head and looked back at him. “I want to talk.”

  Shit. Here it comes. “Yeah.”

  “About my dad.”

  Wow. Didn’t see that coming. Since the conversation wasn’t about regrets, he wanted to pop a cork and throw a party. “What about him?”

  “I…think I’ve been wrong about him.”

  He rolled her onto her back so he could see her better. She sat up and tugged the sheet up to her chest, hiding her body. Hiding from him.

  Her slithering away wasn’t cool. “You sure you want to talk about this now?”

  “You’re good at just about everything, including solving problems, and I thought…well, I thought maybe you could help.”

  Okay. That’s better. He scooted up to the headboard and shifted the covers for warmth. She dropped her head to his shoulder.

  She bunched the sheet in her hand, wadding and twisting the fabric. “For the longest time, I hated the Marines because they took my dad away. I assumed he loved the military more than he loved me, and that’s why he stayed away. That he didn’t want me.”

  “Ashley.”

  “No, let me finish.” She folded her hands together. “I’ve been reading old letters my dad wrote to my mom. The more I read, the more my perceptions don’t seem accurate. He loved me and my mom a lot. But my gut tells me something’s missing. I have to find out what it is. I’m trying hard to keep an open mind, but a multitude of ifs keep tromping though. I want to concentrate on the future. But part of me almost feels like I have to discover my past, get some clear answers, before I can make solid future plans.”

  He gathered her small hand in his and wrapped his fingers securely around hers. “You shouldn’t worry about what-ifs,” he suggested, trying to hide the contradiction. He was a master of whirligigging, never letting his mind rest. Constantly running the possible outcomes in his head, anticipating the result. “I’m sure you’ve thought about asking your dad directly?”

  “I could probably get more information out of Lucky. Marines don’t like to talk much…unless they’re having sex, as I’ve recently discovered.”

  “Funny.”

  “You think so, huh? You wait. Women know how to talk.”

  That paybacks-suck smile lit a fire in his groin. He’d made love to her the best way he knew how, and to prove they hadn’t just had sex. At least it wasn’t sex for him.

  “Will you help me?” she asked.

  Pastor Chris’s advice came back to him. “I can certainly try.”

  Ashley leaned her head back against the headboard. “My dad always said a Marine knows a Marine. Maybe you can help me understand him better.”

  “Describing events to someone who hasn’t experienced combat can be challenging.”

  “Jenna said you’re thinking of getting out.”

  “Thinking about it. My commanding officer’s expecting my answer by the first of the year.”

  Thinking. But I doubt you will.

  Ashley tried shutting the door on her heart, but the hinges were stuck. Chase might consider getting out, but she seriously doubted he’d make the big adjustment to civilian life. Most soldiers didn’t adjust well. The government knew it. Thus the many services offered to transitioning veterans.

  She refused to get her hopes up. Too many times she’d asked her dad to stay, only to be told he didn’t have a choice. She remembered her eighth birthday. Running down the steps before dawn. Seeing her father loading the car with his kit box and duffel bag. She’d begged him to stay, promising to be a good girl and do whatever he asked. Her mother came, tugging her small arms from around her father’s legs. It had been a long time since she thought about that day, but the memory still hurt.

  The pain of the desertion and rejection.

  After that, she refused to say good-bye to her dad. She wouldn’t be put into the position to beg any man to stay again.

  She tilted her head to see Chase’s face. “But either way, you have to go back.”

  “I don’t have a choice. Getting out requires paperwork and medical exams.”

  I don’t have a choice. There were those words again.

  He would leave. Then he might write or call for a while. She pondered the pile of letters in boxes. She refused to live her life like her mom, running to the mailbox, waiting for a letter to arrive.

  “I’m sure it’s a tough decision.” She picked at the edges of the healing scab on her finger.

  “Getting tougher every day.”

  The uncertainty in his voice she could empathize with, but she didn’t want to get entangled in the troubled emotions. He’d recently lost his friend, he felt alone, separated from people who understood him, trusted him. When he got back to the base, he’d put these few weeks behind him, forgetting her, forgetting this place. Her heart couldn’t take watching another person drive away in a cloud of dust.

  If he couldn’t keep the relationship casual, then she would need to find a way.

  She pushed off the bed and swooped up her clothes. “I need to check on Lucky. Can I bring you something?�
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  “No.” His body had gone stiff, his face closed like a storm door just before a tornado.

  She picked up his jeans, pretending she hadn’t just experienced the most mind-blowing sex ever.

  “I’ll get those,” Chase said.

  “I noticed you fixed the firewood rack and restacked logs today. You didn’t need to do that.”

  That damn sexy grin spread across his lips. “I like working with my hands…in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Memories of his warm, creative fingers working their magic made her body flash red-hot and transported her back to a place she wanted to be, but couldn’t go. She moved toward the door.

  “I’ll be up early to work on the stuff for the Bazaar. I’ll try not to disturb you.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  She wondered how long she’d be able to keep her emotions closed off. She didn’t have the defenses Chase had. He’d learned to be an expert at keeping his emotions under control, and could weasel his way in and take her down effortlessly. She forced her foot to take a step back. She considered her odds against this easy-going, extraordinarily good-looking man, and figured she didn’t stand a chance.

  Once Ashley disappeared, he let out a long, steady breath. He let her go only because she wouldn’t be able to go far.

  She impacted him in ways he hadn’t expected.

  A fierce protectiveness made him want to build perimeter defenses around her to keep her safe, safe from him.

  She had sound logic—he was leaving and had no choice—but that didn’t mean the future didn’t offer opportunities.

  While he unloaded dry goods off Harold’s delivery trucks, the storeowner had asked him the ‘what-next’ question. He didn’t have a solid answer. Over the past year, he’d considered leaving the Corps now and again, until the idea began to poke at him, like a persistent knife point in his side. Usually he dismissed the idea, not knowing how to tell his gung-ho buddies about the visions taking over his mind and body. If they knew, he’d be out or told to suck it up—a war needed to be won.

  The truth was, he didn’t join the Marines to kill bad guys. He joined to get away from his mom, to make a living, make some friends, possibly create a family. The Corps had given him much, much more and had far exceeded his expectations. Then there were the housing and medical benefits he’d be giving up. He didn’t know if he could, or even wanted to, cut the strings, but then Ashley walked into his sights.

  No matter where he pointed his riflescope, there she stood, directly in front of him. He’d never met anyone like her. He wanted to be with her. Every time he walked into the house, the first thing he wanted to do was find her, talk to her, make sure she was doing okay. He believed she was a good person even before she told him about her mom. After that, he knew she had to be the most generous person on earth.

  She’d given him something to think about, too. He wouldn’t have been able to put three years of his life on hold to care for someone. He could stick his finger into flesh to stop a bullet wound from bleeding out, he could carry a buddy three hundred yards with bullets whizzing past his head, but to sit in a room, day after day? He couldn’t do it. She was right. That took guts. Courage. More than he had. Ashley had to be the strongest person he knew, and he wished she had a bit more confidence.

  She’d make an excellent nurse or doctor. Maybe he could talk her into going back with him. They might be separated for a while, but they could work it out. Then again…

  He squeezed his index finger and thumb against his temples. He’d always planned, prepared, and then proceeded down the road.

  Since when did he go marching down the road without his gear? Since he’d met Ashley, that’s when.

  His life had fit in a nice, neat box. In a couple of days, she’d turned his kit upside down, and it lay in a jumbled mess at his feet. Funny thing was, he didn’t mind. He’d watched other buddies make compromises for a girlfriend or a wife, but his life had no room for such foolishness—until now. Now he didn’t think having Ashley in his life would be odd. In fact, he couldn’t think how his life would work without her. With only a few days left till the new year and his deadline for making a decision, he needed to look at options, and fast.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’m here.” Jenna struggled through Ashley’s front door lugging two plastic bins. She shifted the burden in her arms, greeted Lucky, and closed the door. “Look at you, big boy! Your hair is growing out.”

  “Let me help.” Ashley gently nudged Lucky aside and grasped the top bin by the finger holes. “Is it me, or is he looking better?”

  “His back leg looks great, and he’s put on weight. He does look a bit weird with those scabs and stubby hair, but pretty soon the fur will cover them and no one will notice.”

  Ashley patted the dog’s head and got a tail beating for the pleasure. “You’re a good dog. Yes, you are.” She looked at Jenna. “I cleared the kitchen table and island so we could work.”

  Moving through the long, tiled entryway, Ashley peered back over her shoulder. “I forgot to tell you. I got a text from my dad.”

  “Oh, boy,” Jenna responded with a tinge of weariness mixed with a heavy dose of protectiveness. “It’s good news, I hope.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s good news or not. The message was a bit cryptic, but I think he’s going to send me Mom’s letters. He said something about gaining an understanding.”

  Jenna paused her unloading of the labels, bags, and ribbons needed to prepare for Saturday’s Bazaar bake sale. “What’s up with your parents? They must be the worst communicators on the planet.”

  “I know, right?”

  No regrets. That was her mom’s philosophy. Look forward. Only forward. Never back. But her mom often didn’t follow the advice. She’d reflected on the past plenty, especially in the early morning hours when the house was quiet, and fever-fueled dreams made her have conversations with Ashley’s dad or the grandmother Ashley remembered only from pictures. Her mom had regrets. Tons of them.

  “I’m starting to wonder if I knew either of my parents,” she whispered, but Jenna heard the sentiment.

  “Better than me. I barely remember mine. I was seven when the car accident happened. I have an image of a man and a woman, but I don’t know who they were.”

  The look on Jenna’s face made her want to reach out and hug her friend, but Jenna wasn’t the hugging type.

  “Look at us. Today is supposed to be a fun day. I’ll put on some tunes, pour us some coffee and we can get started. How’s that sound?”

  “Coffee? Did you say coffee?”

  Ashley giggled at the lustful look crossing her friend’s face. She wondered if the same expression crossed her own face when Chase walked in the room. Probably.

  That morning, he’d looked darn handsome in his jeans and leather jacket. He was on his way out to do some touristy thing and visit a few ski towns farther west. The gossip mill also provided the intel that he’d be building a couple of shelves for Harold, and Maggie needed a tree stump pulled out of the ground behind the café. Keeping those amazing hands busy was a mighty good thing. He needed the distraction. And so did she.

  Ashley poured a cup of fresh brew and added a touch of vanilla creamer. The bitter and sweet fragrance mixed in the air before she handed the cup to her friend. Jenna took a long draw from her favorite drink and Ashley turned on the radio. Zack Brown’s voice resonated through the kitchen.

  “Oh. Coffee.” Jenna sighed in ecstasy. “If they could hook me up to a caffeine pump, I would be in heaven. Speaking of which, where is that heavenly man of yours?”

  “I keep telling you he’s not mine. And stop looking at me like that.”

  Jenna’s lips quirked into a yeah-sure grin. “Keep telling yourself he’s not yours. You better open your eyes before you run into a tree. You’re blinded by the self-centered jerks you’ve dated in the past. Chase has feelings for you, and he’s a nice guy who also happens to help people while looking sinfu
lly delicious.”

  Ashley’s skin tingled to the point she needed to bury her nose into the plastic bins to avoid Jenna’s scrutiny. She wasn’t blind. Her eyes were wide open. It was her heart having the misgivings.

  Ashley groaned when Lady Antebellum’s song ‘Long Stretch of Love’ drifted into the kitchen. You make me feel alive reverberated in her head. “Holy bejesus. I can’t get him out of my brain. He’s like an infection.”

  Jenna picked up her mug, probably to hide her giggling grin, but her laughing eyes gave her away.

  “Don’t start.” Ashley pointed her finger at Jenna.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You don’t have to.” She placed a finger on the rim of Jenna’s mug and pushed down. “Someday a guy’s going to run into you, and I’m going to have my laugh, although it’s not funny. I think I’m falling for this guy, and that’s bad.” Really, really bad. “He’s taking up way too much brain matter when I’ve got to concentrate on my plan.”

  Jenna’s mood sobered, and she grabbed a stack of bags and began attaching labels. “After this is all done, are you going to go back to college?”

  “That’s a whole ’nother pile of elk poop.” Ashley lifted another stack of labels. “I was going to finish my degree online, but I got a letter back from the University of San Diego. The curriculum for my business degree has changed. Since I’ve been absent for three years, the administration’s looking to determine if my credits are still valid. Plus, I’ve already got a pile of debt I want to pay off first.”

  “Are you even still interested in going back to school? Do you even want to start a business?”

  “I have been thinking about it.”

  “About what?” Jenna nudged her arm, most likely with the intent to lighten her mood. It didn’t work.

  The house. The store. Moving. Paying bills. The pending house foreclosure made her feel like the brewing storm would only get worse. She forecasted an avalanche of hurt with a flood of tears coming soon.