by Annie Stone
Again, I look at the faces of my adopted family at Free at Last, and this time I see pride there. Pride that I’ve finally become the hero of my own story.
“We do not deserve this. We did not provoke this. And we certainly did not ask for this! It is not our fault. But in order to help us, in order to protect us, we need your help. We need to educate people and show them that a healthy sexuality can only be consensual. It is not enough to tell women to be careful. We need to create awareness in our society, awareness that forcing people to have sex is inherently wrong. But we cannot do this alone. We need help from all men and women. From all human beings. Only if we work together can we protect our girls and women. Please help us.”
As my final words subside, people start clapping. As I stand in the lights on the stage, I see the first guests rise. More people follow suit. I look over at Carter and Carey, who are both clapping loudly, and in their faces, I can see anger about my fate, sadness about what happened to me, and also their love for me.
I see something move to my left. My breath catches.
It’s Hunter. He’s standing so only I can see him. And I see the same thing in his eyes that I saw in Carter’s: anger, sadness, and love. But I also see something else: pride. He’s proud of me. For stepping up for myself. For standing here to claim for others what I have claimed for myself. He’s proud of me for not breaking down but turning my weakness into a strength.
He smiles, clapping along with everybody else before turning around abruptly and leaving.
In that moment, I can feel in my bones what Shane said. To Carter, I am just one love. To Hunter, I’m the love of his life. Which is why he’s here today even though, tomorrow, the next phase of his training begins. He still had to support me tonight. I don’t even think he knew I’d be giving this big speech—he was just here to show me I can always count on him, here and everywhere else.
My heart contracts. I never thought this kind of unconditional love actually existed. For the very first time, I wonder whether I’m trying to make do with crumbs when I could have a cake. Don’t I deserve that kind of love? If not with Hunter, then with someone else? Is what I have with Carter truly enough?
I can tell Carter wants to talk to me, but as soon as I get off the stage, Carey is there to wrap his arms around me. And in spite of being a teenage boy who tries to look cool at all times, he’s not afraid to show me now just how torn up inside he is.
“Don’t you worry about me,” I tell him quietly. “I’m fine. I’m great.”
“God, Mac, the stuff you went through… I’m so sorry. And to think how I treated you in the beginning… Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
I rub up and down his arm. “It’s all right. Really. Don’t worry. Whatever happened back then, it’s now that matters. And now you and I are family. It’s all forgiven and forgotten.”
“Really?”
“Really. I love you.”
He smiles at me. And I can’t help thinking: he and his brother really are incredibly handsome boys. Carey is as tall as Hunter now, and still drop-dead gorgeous. The girls are all over him, but he’s stuck with Katie so far. I’m not willing to make any predictions on how long he’s going to be able to resist the pull of other women, but right now he’s still in love.
After Carey releases me, I spend some time talking to a few sponsors, explaining our ideas and goals. Carey doesn’t leave my side even for a second, like he’d going to personally make sure nothing bad happens to me ever again.
It’s only when we get home that Carter says, “We need to talk.” He looks at Carey and adds, “Alone.”
Carey raises both hands. “All right, all right.” He kisses me on the cheek before disappearing upstairs.
When we’re alone, Carter turns to me. “Why have you never told me?”
The man doesn’t pussyfoot around.
“It all happened so long ago,” I say. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“You didn’t think it was important?” He shakes his head. “Sweetie…I had no idea. I feel like I don’t even know you.” He sits down on the couch, slouching.
God, I didn’t want to burden him with this. I never wanted that.
“Carter—”
“It’s such a huge part of your story, and you’ve been hiding it from me… To be honest, I don’t know what to make of that.”
“I wasn’t hiding it,” I protest.
“Fine, but you omitted it. And that doesn’t change the fact that I thought we were telling each other everything. That we were being honest with each other.”
“We are.”
He shakes his head. “No, we’re not. Sometimes I wonder whether this is still a meaningful relationship. Whether it still makes sense.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, licking my dry lips.
He shrugs. “I have no idea. But I’m a little speechless over what I heard today.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“You should have.”
I bite my lip, wondering what I can do to make him feel better. To show him I love him. A lot. Really. But I can’t think of anything.
Except…
“I love you.”
“I know.”
And for the first time, he doesn’t say it back.
“Good night,” I say quietly.
He nods and makes himself comfortable on the couch before turning on the TV. I don’t know what else to say, so I slowly walk upstairs.
In the bathroom, I get changed and take off my makeup. Then I sit on the edge of the bathtub. And that’s when I realize I’m lonely. Incredibly lonely. I’ve got Carey, sure, but for how much longer? God, can I really be in a relationship and still be lonely? If so, how good is the relationship, really?
The next day, the doorbell rings, and when I answer the door, a stranger hands me a pink daisy and a card.
I go to the kitchen to put the flower in a vase and rip open the envelope.
Dear Mac,
I am incredibly proud of you. I know how difficult it must have been for you to tell your story, but you did an amazing job. I’m so proud of you for being such a strong woman. And proud of how you’re always standing up for others. I hope I can make you proud too one day…
Yours,
Hunter
A tear rolls down my cheek. My heart flutters excitedly. Again and again, I find myself realizing that Hunter has a very emotional side. A quality his Dad seems to lack. Hunter must get that warmth from his mother. I still think Carter made a mistake, that he didn’t want to help their mom get better, but the two boys have really been flourishing since their split from their mother. I don’t think they miss her. At least, if they do, they’ve never told me.
Should I ask Carey about it?
Again, I look at the card…
Hunter… Hmm.
Once again, I find myself wondering if there’s a way to get us all out of this without breaking hearts left, right, and center. But I don’t see how. I’m definitely breaking Hunter’s heart. And Carter is not immune to heartbreak, either. But I don’t want to hurt either of them…
Especially not Hunter…
A quiet voice inside me says, Don’t do it then.
“What’s that?” Carter asks.
I freeze. Only one thing goes through my mind: Carter must not see this card!
I feel my cheeks growing hot. He would completely misunderstand the situation!
“Who would send you a single flower?” he asks. “Hmm?”
A young soldier…
“Uh, it’s from a client at Free at Last,” I say, hoping he’ll stop quizzing me.
The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him, but he gets distracted by the mail I left on the table. He sorts through it, stopping at an envelope he opens.
“Goddamnit!” he calls out.
“What?”
He hits the table hard with his palm. “That boy is driving me insane!”
“What boy?” I ask, even though I think I know.
<
br /> “Hunter, of course. Who else?”
“What did he do?”
Carter hands me the letter. I skim through it but then have to read it again slowly to fully grasp its meaning.
Hunter rejected his trust fund?
“You lied to me,” Carter says suddenly.
“What?” I say, looking up.
He’s holding the card in his hands. Hunter’s card.
“Why?” he asks. His voice has never sounded so cold.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter. “I didn’t want to make things worse between you. Please. I’m s-so sorry.”
“How could you lie to me? After we just talked about being honest with each other! Why? Are you in love with him?”
A tear rolls down my cheek. “No, no! I love you!”
But for the first time, I feel a tinge of doubt as I say it.
How can love last through so much distrust and doubt? The simple answer is: it can’t. It’s impossible. Whatever love there may have been, it would wilt and perish in such an environment. Every day a little more.
Every hour, every minute, every second, I can feel my love for Carter wane.
I love him. I do. I still do. Which only goes to show how much I loved him in the beginning. I was so in love with this man. Our relationship was real. I know that. He loved me, too. But maybe it’s just like Shane said—we were only ever one love for each other.
I want to stop this, this falling out of love, but I have no idea how. I want to turn back time, but I don’t know how to do that, either. And what point in time would I want to go back to, anyway? A time when I was happy? All my recent happy moments include Carey and Hunter. Carter barely features in them.
How can you stop falling out of love? How can you stop the unstoppable train that keeps rolling toward the end of the tracks? I can see it coming. It’s going to derail, and there’s going to be a big wreck. The question is: who’s going to be eaten up by the fireball, and who’s going to make it out alive?
“I don’t believe you anymore,” he says. “My gut was right. You are in love with my son.”
“No, no!” I cry, even though I’m not sure I’m telling the truth anymore. I’m not sure my feelings for Hunter haven’t grown a tiny bit stronger…
“How could you?”
“I’m sorry!” I sob.
“I really don’t know what to say anymore… I… I need to go.”
“No, please, Carter, don’t go. I love you.”
He stops in front of the stairs. “But maybe not enough…”
He runs upstairs, and I sink onto the sofa, sobbing. Turns out it’s me left incinerating in the fireball.
7
Hunter
Between the different parts of training, we get time off. I meet up with Carey sometimes, but not very often. I promised Mac I wouldn’t call her, and I assume that includes not visiting her, either. Though I did kind of break that rule just a tad. Maybe I’ve just gotten grumpy, like a bitter old man. After all, how long can you be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back without getting depressed and frustrated? We said goodbye to each other over a year ago now, and I can count the times we’ve seen each other since then on one hand. Actually, it’s just two fingers.
I don’t want to sound like a pussy, but I long for her every day. Every day. When I see other Marines walking off with their girls, I want that, too. Not with just any girl—with Mac.
Not having sex isn’t exactly making things easier… It really isn’t. Hell, how did I ever come up with that stupid idea anyway? And yet…
Something inside me says I’m doing the right thing. But on days like this, where I miss her so much, I want to kick the shit out of myself for ever thinking it’s the right thing.
On one long break from training, I go to D.C. to see Devon and Ava. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I last saw them. After Devon picks me up from the airport, we drive to a restaurant, where Ava is waiting for us. But she’s not alone. There’s a pretty blonde sitting next to her.
Oh, no, she didn’t!
“God, Hunter! You’re even bigger than you used to be!” Ava squeals before she throws herself into my arms.
I want to drop the little matchmaker on the floor, but I don’t think Devon would appreciate that. So I just hug her back instead.
“This is my friend Laura,” Ava says. And that’s when I realize that, yes, she indeed did…
A date.
I look at Devon, who shrugs innocently. Sure. Like he had no idea. That’s just great.
“Hi, Laura,” I say, holding out my hand.
She takes it in her small, soft hand, which is sporting manicured nails that are way too long. You’d have to worry about getting stabbed having sex with those nearby. Fuck, if she sunk those claws in your back, you’d look like you’d been whipped.
“Hi, Hunter,” she purrs. “How you doing?” Yeah, she’s on the hunt. Definitely. And she wants me to be her prey. Ironic, really, considering my name.
“Great,” I say, trying to be friendly. “How about you?” As I sit at the table, I try to kill Ava with my eyes, but she just ignores the daggers I’m throwing her way.
I’d like to order a whiskey because I know I won’t make it through this otherwise. But as I am still not twenty-one I have to live through this hell sober. How Ava can think I’d go for a plastic doll like Laura, I have no idea.
Even before I only had eyes for Mac, a girl like her was never my type. Nope, I want somebody else… I want a warm smile, the kind of smile that shows a little, slightly crooked tooth. Not too bad, just a tad twisted, making her all the more interesting. I want that brown, wild hair that always looks a little like somebody just buried his hands in it. I want tits too big to succumb to the limits of a bra, jiggling up and down untamed. I want brown eyes that can look so fiery they could burn you if you come even one step closer—but can also look so gentle you just want to sink into them. I want a deep, slightly rough voice saying my name, only the six letters of my name and nothing else. I want endless legs that look fucking hot in those weird sandals with thick soles. What are they called again? Fries? Chips? Wedges? No idea. Something to do with potatoes.
Something nudges me, and I see it’s Devon, trying to wake me from my daydream.“Uh, what?” I ask the table at large, finding them all staring at me.
“I said what’s next for you, then?” Laura repeats her question.
“Um, next step is joining the Combatant Divers,” I say, clearing my throat, “and then hopefully I’ll be admitted to SEAL training.”
“Aren’t the SEALs divers?” Ava asks.
“Sure, but not everybody gets in. But you need it for FORECON.
“So the divers are kind of a safety net if you’re not good enough to be a SEAL?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
“A Marine,” Laura purrs. “There’s nothing as hot as a man in uniform…”
I could list a hundred things hotter than that… A blowtorch, a furnace, napalm…
Ava must guess my thoughts, because the next second, she kicks me in the shin. I flinch—because it freaking hurts—but then remind myself not to be such a pussy. Once, during training, I dislocated my shoulder. Now that hurt.
“Why are women into uniforms?” I ask Laura, pretending to be interested in her reply.
She twists a strand of hair around her finger. Why do women do that? Seriously. It’s not sexy. Not the least bit.
“It looks good,” she says, like the brilliant philosopher she is, “and I like the idea that my man could protect me…”
The award for most original statement of the evening goes to…Laura!
“Personally, I think it’s because the pants are so tight around the ass,” Devon pipes up.
“Damn,” I chuckle, “the stuff you notice, man!”
He just laughs.
“But you’re right,” I concede. “They’re damn tight.” That’s only our gala uniforms, of course, not our cammies.
I feel a h
and on my thigh, pressing down slightly. Luckily, she’s not putting her nails there…
I don’t want her to touch me…and yet…when her hand slides higher up, I can feel my dick reacting. That motherfucker. Not even he can be relied upon. No, he just insists on causing trouble. Like now, when she puts her hand directly on my crotch—the thing is rearing its head to be touched by her. Fuck.
But, like I explained to you before, male brains work in weird ways…and that goes for dicks, too.
I’m in hell.
Laura bends toward me and whispers, “That seems to be quite a package.”
And she’s right.
The question is: Do I want it unwrapped?
I know the answer, but I also know it’s not just sex I’m longing for. What I’m really longing for is being close to someone. Maybe it’s not cool to admit this, being a man and all, but I like to cuddle. Sure, not with a one-night stand or anything, but I always used to cuddle a little with Liza after we had sex—at least later on in our arrangement… And it was good. How much better would it be if it was the woman you actually loved? Feeling her beautiful curves, her heartbeat under my fingers as I touch her tits…
In the real world, our group in the restaurant carries on. We eat, chat, drink. It’s great to be spending time with Devon and Ava. And in spite of all the plastic, Laura isn’t as bad as I initially thought. When she’s not doing the sexy pussycat act, she’s pretty interesting. The only thing wrong with her—apart from her claws—is that she’s not my girl. And never will be.
But maybe she’s a girl for one night… It would be good to lie next to a nice-smelling body for a change—instead of a smelly Marine.
“What have you two been up to?” I ask Devon and Ava. “What’s college like?”
“I like it,” Devon says. “It’s tiring, but it’s cool to get to explore all the opportunities out there.”
“You sound totally gay.”
He grins. “I’m not the one living with a sore dick from rubbing it so hard all the time.”
“Touché.” He’s right, of course. Maybe I’ll let this girl have a taste after all…