by K. L. Donn
I have to choke back the tears threatening to consume me. No one has ever done anything nice for me, and I don’t even know who my benefactor is. I was supposed to be here for a year, but after just over five months, I’m leaving, and I can breathe again.
“Go, North.” Jamie pushes the envelope at me as well as a cell phone and keys to an apartment.
I haven’t spent much time in Kitsap, but I’m excited as the Uber driver cruises through the city, and the stars shine brightly in the night sky. After weaving through traffic lights and two accidents, he parks in front of a beautiful building.
Grabbing my bags from the trunk, I stand in awe of this tower. I don’t even think it would be considered an apartment building. It has to be condos. I can’t possibly live here.
A cool breeze billows up my jacket and reminds me it’s the middle of winter, and Christmas is in a few weeks.
I guess I have no choice.
Approaching the front door, I’m startled when a man opens it for me. “Evening, Miss Williams.” I stop mid-step as my name leaves his mouth.
“How do you know my name?” Did I somehow wind up in 50 Shades or something?
“Mr. Rowe has asked me to help you get settled.” He waves his arm out in front of him for me to precede him.
“Mr. Rowe?” It takes a minute before it clicks. “You mean Desmond?” He nods. Kitsap—of course, it was Des. “He did all this?” Why would he do this? What else did he do? Crap.
“Yes, ma’am. If you’d please…” His arm directs me again.
Doing as I’m asked, I follow the bellman—Is that what they’re called?—to the elevator where he uses a key to turn it on. As it ascends, he hands me another one with instructions on how I only need to use it to go up but not down.
We stop on the fifth floor, and he does the arm wave for a third time. He halts in front of door 535 and says, “This is you, Miss Williams,” and hands me the apartment key and an envelope. “Make yourself at home. The fridge and pantries are stocked. Phone and cable are hooked up; there are no passwords on the computer.” He’s gone before I can ask anything else.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter, unlocking the door.
The apartment is spacious with an open floor plan. I can see into the modern living room and down the hall from the door. The kitchen is only cut off by a breakfast bar with four stools. Large windows showcase the city in all its winter glory. Snow is falling so that it looks like I’m in one of those snow globes where you shake it and white dust falls around.
Crossing the threshold, I leave my suitcase by the door and take off my coat, hanging it on the coat tree beside it. Remembering the envelope I was handed, I open it as I meander into the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards as I unfold the paper.
North,
I know what you’re likely going to start thinking in a minute or two, and I want you to cut that shit out. Now! You were handed a raw deal without due cause, and this is my way of righting it. Even if it wasn’t my wrong. After reading your last letter, I couldn’t sit by and do nothing. I hope you can understand that.
You’re special, North, and it pisses me off that your father doesn’t recognize it. I intend to make up for it. I like you, baby, a lot. My home is now your home. Explore, look around. Nothing is off limits to you.
I imagine this must be sudden for you; it is for me, too. I’m hoping to be home in time for Christmas. We can talk more then, though I’d love for you to still write to me.
While I’ll be happy if you’re there when I come home, I’ll understand if you’re not.
Yours,
Des
P.S. You have beautiful eyes. I can see right into the heart of you.
Fucking tears.
Fucking Desmond.
Why’s he gotta be so kind? Sweet. Affectionate. He doesn’t know me, dammit! Reaching for my suitcase, I’m tempted to leave. I should leave.
But where would I go?
I can’t go back to the rehab center.
I can’t go home.
Looking around me, I really see the apartment for what it is.
A safe haven.
Desmond gave me something I never thought I’d have again.
A home.
Desmond,
I’m at a loss for words.
I’m sitting here, tears streaming down my face at your generosity, your thoughtfulness. I mean, who does this?
Desmond…
Your picture, those knowing eyes, all that thick hair I want to run my fingers through. You look mysterious and heroic all at once. I don’t know whether to hide from you or kiss you. You look like the kind of man a girl could cuddle with in front of the fireplace. The kind a girl could get used to having around.
I wish I were good enough to be that girl.
I wish I were good enough for all that you’ve given me.
The truth is, I don’t deserve any of it. I’ve been nothing but a rotten little shit for years. I don’t blame my father for my mistakes. The good thing about being isolated for 5 months is, I had a lot of time to reflect.
I’m bitter, I’m angry, I’m an emotional mess right now, and with Christmas around the corner, it feels like everything is attempting to box me in. Making me claustrophobic in a way I’m not used to.
I’ve spent the past 3 nights sleeping in your bed, and I have to say, I like it. It smells the way I imagine you do—woodsy with a hint of wild inhibition. I’m not complaining. It’s been a while since I’ve felt comforted in my sleep.
So, thank you, Des.
I know that you said to make myself comfortable. Explore. Do whatever I feel like. Though, I doubt you meant to set up camp in your room and steal your soft baggy shirts. But I’ve done all of that. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.
Last night, I dreamed you came home and held me all night. I was disappointed when I awoke to find myself alone.
We don’t know each other well, but I’d like that to change. You were right when you said there was a connection between us. I want to explore that.
Yours,
North
P.S. I hope you like these pictures as well.
North, in my bed, hiding behind the blanket. Her eyes are full of life. Unlike the first photo I saw of her. The next, she’s laying in my shirt on the couch sprawled out and almost melting into the oversized cushions.
The last one… Damn. She’s standing in the master suite bathroom in nothing but a towel and a look of awe on her face.
The one thing that remains the same in each picture, though? Her smile. Full of life and a sense of peace I felt was missing from her words.
I know I did the right thing by calling my former captain. I wasn’t sure, at first; I honestly thought she would rebuff me and tell me to get lost.
Only two days until Christmas, and I’m sure North thinks I won’t make it. I’m one flight and a quick stop away from being home. Away from holding her in my arms.
I don’t know what…if…we’ll have any chemistry when I get there, but I’m willing to try if she is.
She thinks she’s unworthy. That she doesn’t deserve all the happiness in the world. I aim to show her just how much she should be demanding from her man.
From me.
North may be young in years, but she’s wise in heart. A pure heart full of so much love and understanding that I don’t think she knows exactly what she’s capable of.
Just one more flight, Des.
Snow is falling, piling up like bricks outside, and the poor bellman in the lobby is doing his very best to have an incredible tree from a farm delivered to me. When I left to go shopping for a few decorations yesterday, he suggested I wait on a tree. That he would have one brought to me.
By the time I got home, he had a picture of a beautiful Blue Spruce that stole my breath. I’m not too embarrassed to admit that I had a tear in my eye and let out an incredibly girlish squeal. Within five minutes, he’d been on the phone and bought it for me.
Now, I’m waiting w
ith baited breath for it to come.
I don’t know if Desmond is coming home. I realize it’s likely too late for his next letter to arrive before mail delivery today, so I won’t know until I wake up alone on Christmas morning. Just in case, I bought him a couple gifts while I was out. I hope he likes at least one.
Since being here for nearly three weeks, I’ve learned quite a bit about him. He has a love for fighter jets. The ones you can build and paint, and hang on the roof or display on a shelf. He has, at least, a dozen around his apartment. One I didn’t see was an older model Storm Bird. By the skin of my teeth, I was able to find one in a hobby shop, alongside a World War II battleship.
“Oh my damn!” I gasp as I see a large pickup truck slowly making its way down the road with my tree strapped to the bed and cascading over the roof.
It’s…everything.
Sinfully gorgeous.
Slipping into my runners, I make quick work of jumping in the elevator and heading for the lobby. As soon as the doors open on the main floor, my heart stops as I watch the two men carrying it through the doors.
“Well, Miss Williams, what do you think?” Andy, the doorman/security guard/my hero, asks, and I just can’t form words.
The colors, the beauty, the sheer size of it is overwhelming.
“It’s wonderful,” I finally whisper.
“Let’s get her up there, then.” The man who brought it from the tree farm smiles as they walk closer.
Leading them up the elevator and into Desmond’s large living room, they place the exquisite tree in front of the window I’d been staring out of earlier. Once it’s settled, they leave, and the quiet surrounds me again.
Admiring the beast of a spruce before me, I smile into the night. I’ve always loved watching the snow fall. Enjoyed it more when it was enveloped in silence. Tonight, though, anticipation fills me. I’m excited about Christmas tomorrow. Even if Des won’t be here, I’m still happy.
Pulling out the decorations I’d found in a thrift store, this tree is going to shine with the most mismatched ornaments in the city.
I found white and pink lights that I drape the branches with first, followed by bright green and red garland in a messy array. Next are the cute handmade elves with letters on each of them, and I imagine they were made for a family. I found the cutest set of snowman globes I plan to put on the mantel over the fireplace, too.
After spraying the fake snow on a few branches, the tree is finished, and I love how it looks. Soft, elegant, not cluttered but full of life. My mother used to muddle up the tree with an overabundance of ornaments. She was always so happy while doing it, so no one complained, but I always thought it was over the top.
All that’s left to do is hang the stockings and put the small treats I found at the grocery store in them and then wrap the few presents I bought. Grabbing the red and green paper with reindeer on it, I begin cutting and taping. Three paper cuts later, a balled-up roll that refused to be folded, and Desmond’s presents are under the tree.
Satisfied, I yawn as I note the late hour. With one last look out the window, I say a quick prayer for Des as I head to bed. Even knowing he’s not in battle, I appreciate the danger is still there, and I worry constantly.
Surrounding myself in his bed after stealing another of his shirts, I dream of my soldier. Of all that I want us to be when he returns.
I dream of the strength in which he’ll hold me while I sleep. Of the way he’ll protect me from the outside world when I feel my worst.
I dream of a love so grand it steals my breath.
Three a.m. and the snow is only now beginning to slow its descent as I approach my condo building. Andy—I swear the man never sleeps—holds open the door for me. “Officer Rowe, glad to have you home again.”
“Thank you, Andy. Is she still here?” My weary stare strays to the elevator. The last obstacle before I have North in my arms for the first time.
“Yes, sir. She hardly leaves.”
I look to him then. “Hardly? It has been nearly a month.”
“She went shopping a couple times, had a big ol’ tree brought in tonight. Though, that was more my doing than hers. But she doesn’t leave too often.”
Interesting. I figured she was a bit of a loner from her letters, but I thought here she would get out some. Explore the city. “Merry Christmas, Andy.”
“You as well, sir.”
I can hardly stand still as the elevator ascends the few floors to my condo. Once the ding announces the arrival, I’m off and through the door in seconds. The fresh smell of pine and cinnamon greets me as I put my bags down and lock the front door once again.
The city lights shine in the big window, highlighting the tree North had brought up and decorated, as well as the stockings on the mantel. My girl went all out for us, even not knowing if I would be home in time.
Reaching into my pack, I grab the presents I got for her and place them under the tree, anticipating her surprise when she opens them.
Quietly walking down the hall towards the master bedroom, I’m not shocked to find North curled up in the middle of the bed. She has the blankets piled so high it looks like a small mountain. Walking towards the dresser, I take my clothes off and toss them in the hamper. Upon opening the second drawer where my t-shirts normally are, I’m not shocked to find the drawer empty.
Shaking my head with a smile on my face, I go one drawer down and slip on a pair of basketball shorts and undershirt. Dressed, I go back to my bed. One I’d saved for over a year to purchase. I may have to sleep on the ground half the time, or on a hard cot, but when I’m home, I want comfort. This mattress brings all of that, and so I understand her desire to sleep in it.
Nerves cause me to stall when it comes time to draw back the blankets. What if she doesn’t want me in here? What if we don’t click the way I desire us to?
Nothing earned, is nothing gained, I guess.
Sliding in behind North, her warmth sucks me into her body like a forcefield. Immediately, I can feel my body succumbing to her tantalizing curves. Without thought or permission, my arms wrap her body against mine.
Her hips fit perfectly into mine, and her legs tangle with me as she settles down. “North,” I breathe into her ear, “Merry Christmas.”
“Desmond?” she sighs and turns.
“Yeah, baby. I’m here.”
“I knew you would come.” She buries her face in the crook of my neck and is out cold within seconds.
“I’ll always come,” I promise into her hair as I breathe in her scent. My shampoo and body wash smell better on her than it does on me.
I don’t sleep, I only hold North, enjoying the feel of her in my arms. Savoring the sensation of a woman’s softness against me for the first time in more years than I care to admit.
North is everything. So quickly she went from troubled kid to friend, to a woman I can’t see my life without.
I don’t know how or even when it happened, but my heart has started to claim her as its own. It’s not quite love, but something close to it. More than lust. A deep need for companionship with the right person.
North is that person.
The sun rising with a fresh fall of snow has North stretching in my arms. Her ass pressing against my groin has my morning wood growing at a rapid pace.
She freezes, and I wait painfully for her reaction. “You’re really here?” she whispers so quietly I almost miss her words.
Kissing the back of her neck, I say, “I’m really here,” just as quietly.
Her hand reaches back and grazes along my chest, up my neck, and to my face. Her nails in my beard are sinful. “You have a beard,” she murmurs, turning in my arms. “You don’t in any of the pictures.”
“Came home and crawled right in with you. Didn’t feel like shaving.” I nuzzle her hand, loving the feel of her exploring my face.
“I like it. A lot.” She watches me as we lay quietly in the morning light. “I missed you,” she finally confesses. “It’s ri
diculous and corny, but I missed your words.”
“Oh yeah?” I chuckle when a blush hits her cheeks as she nods. “I missed yours, too.”
“I got something for you.” Her excitement is contagious, and in this moment, I see the teenager in her. The one who hasn’t gotten to break free very often as she drags me from the bed and into the living room. “Sit.” She pushes me onto the couch. The same one she took pictures on, and I can’t help fantasizing about what else we could get up to. “Here.” She pushes two gifts into my lap.
Seeing her excitement, I unwrap the larger one first. Shocked, I look from her to the battleship and back again. “Where did you find this?” It’s one I’d been searching for.
“That hobby shop over on First Street. They had just gotten new stock of everything in.”
“How’d you know?”
“You told me to look around, explore, make myself at home. So, I did. I also found all your models and thought this would be great.” Her grin is wide, self-satisfied. “You do enjoy building them, right?”
“Hell yeah, I do.” I look at North intently. The light in her eyes, the passion in her smile. This, giving me something I like, pleases her. “Sit.” I point to the spot next to me. As she does, I get up and grab her gifts. “It’s nothing fancy.” I shrug as she takes them.
“Thank you.” Her whispered words are full of amazement, making me wonder, once again, what the hell is wrong with her father.
“Desmond,” she gasps as she opens the first box. “This is stunning.” Carefully pulling out the hot wax paint set I’d found, her face is full of more life than I’ve ever seen on anyone. “I can’t believe you remembered.”
“Of course, I did. I remember everything about you, North,” I tell her sincerely.
Placing everything to the side, she crawls into my lap. Her gentle touch on my neck as her stare meets mines is full of such emotion. “This was incredibly thoughtful,” she murmurs, leaning forward and kissing me lightly.
That small touch isn’t enough, though. Not for me. And if her blush is anything to go by, not for her, either. “Come here,” I demand and pull her in closer. The first touch of our lips is soft, slow. A buildup of what we both crave.