by Annie Stone
But don’t worry… I finish rehab in two weeks, and the first thing I’m going to do when I’m in her bed is lick her pussy. And lick it. And lick it. You catch my drift.
She snuggles her face into the curve of my neck, and my arms wrap around her. I’m happy she wanted to sit down. I would never admit it, but my legs were starting to tremble. I hate that I currently resemble a flamingo. I’m not fully in control of my prosthetic.
“I love you,” I mutter, kissing her head.
She purrs. Almost. She loves to cuddle. I need to get used to that. I haven’t cuddled with anybody in so long. The last time was when I held her in my arms. No other woman has ever spent the night with me.
But Mac…
Mmm… Mac.
I love feeling her body against mine. I love feeling her skin on mine. Does that make me a pussy? Fuck it, as long as it means I get to be with Mac.
She breaks away, her fingers moving to my cheeks. She scrutinizes me. I know what she sees. Shadows under my eyes, tiredness, irritation…
“How are you doing?” she asks quietly.
I shrug. “Good.”
Her eyes cloud over. “Don’t lie to me.”
I squint, hoping my serious look will stop her.
“Don’t even try,” she snaps.
“Try what?” I ask innocently.
“Giving me those dark looks hoping I’ll be scared of you and stop asking.”
I snort in frustration. On the inside, I love that she can read me like this. I grab her cheeks and press my lips to hers. She makes a surprised noise before she melts. I put my tongue into her mouth, kissing her forcefully as she gets softer. I turn my head a little, fucking her mouth. Her fingers claw into my arms, holding them fast. She grinds her pussy against me, craving friction. Little seductress.
I interrupt our kiss to look at her. Her lips look red from the friction, her hair a little tousled. She’s breathing heavily. Her look is clouded and horny. She wouldn’t mind if I took her right here. And I wouldn’t, either.
She looks at my lips and strokes my beard. Slowly, her eyes clear. “How are you doing?” she asks again. “Tell me.”
I run my hand through her hair, which is longer than I’ve ever seen it, and sigh. “I’m having nightmares.”
She nods slowly. “That’s what I thought.”
My hands wander to her hips, and I plant them there. I rub the fabric of her dress, imagining it to be her naked skin. Fuck it. I find the hem and allow my fingers to move under the fabric. I need to feel her.
“Yeah, I’m not sleeping well,” I confirm.
“Are you talking to your therapist about it?”
I nod.
She’s quiet for a moment. “There’s a method called Imagery Rehearsal Therapy that can help with nightmares. Is it always the same dream you’re having?”
I nod, even though there are lots of dreams—only one of them really gets to me.
“Then imagine every detail of it while you’re awake and make up a happy ending. The more details you manage to put into it, the more successful it’s going to be.”
I give her a doubtful look. “Sure, Mac. I’ll just make up a happy ending and—boom! I’ll end up dreaming about rainbows and butterflies.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it. I know it sounds a little simplistic, but it helps. Not just with nightmares, but that’s one of the things it’s good for. You’re not experiencing any other symptoms of PTSD, are you? You’re not aggressive, you’re not unable to connect with other people, and you’re not suffering from addiction, right?”
I run my hand through my hair again. “No, Mac. I don’t have any of that.”
“So try it. Even if you think it’s ridiculous, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?”
I lean my head against her shoulder. Her fingers massage my neck.
“When you come home…”
“Maybe I should find another apartment…” I have no idea why I said it. I want to live with my family. But it just came out.
She stiffens. “Sure…er…if you want. I mean…if that’s what you need, sure. Should I… Should I help you find one?” Her voice sounds sad, but she tries to smile, to be brave.
I’m such a bastard, trying to hurt her to stop her from trying to help me. I reach for her upper arms. “Fuck, Mac! I’m so sorry. I have no idea why I said that. I want to come home.”
She looks relieved. “Oh, I’m so happy. Thank you.”
“No, thank you! I’m sorry, Mac. Can you forgive me?”
She nods, smiling. “Any time, babe.”
I smile. I like it when she calls me that, even if it’s not the most manly nickname in the world. But, let’s be honest, are there any manly nicknames between lovers? I guess she could call me Hulk. But would that be a compliment?
“Are you going to try it?” she asks.
I snort, because she’s trying to force that childish crap on me, but then I nod. I don’t know what it’s like to live with a small child, but I can imagine it’ll take all the energy I have. So if my nightmares keep me awake at night… Fuck! I don’t want this to have an impact on Hazel’s life, too. It’s bad enough it’s having an impact on my life. And Mac’s. But not Hazel’s! I’ll do anything to make sure she has a happy childhood.
“Sure,” I say at last.
“Thank you.”
I smooth her hair back from her face and lean in to kiss her. As usual, she receives my mouth and tongue for play. Her sounds and the power in her grip show me she wants this. She wants me. And I want her too. Whose idea was it to take things slow again?
She smiles when we break apart.
“I’ve got something for you,” she says and digs something out of the bag she’s been carting around. She puts two plates on the table. Then she produces a chocolate cake. Who doesn’t love a woman who can bake?
She cuts off a piece and hands me the plate.
“Stop, Mac. Come here.”
She sits back down on my lap, and I feed both of us cake, which, by the way, is ridiculously tasty.
“Delicious!” I say several times, making her beam. She likes taking care of others. She’s always had a maternal streak in her, even if I hope she’s motivated by other feelings in my case.
“Do you want more kids?” she suddenly asks.
I almost choke on my cake. “What?” I gasp, coughing out some crumbs.
She looks at her lap. I hold her chin and move her face, so she’s looking me in the eyes. “Please stop that, Mac! I don’t want you to be so insecure with me. You can always ask me anything and tell me anything you want. I want to know everything about you, and I’ll always take it seriously.”
She nods slowly. “So?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you want more kids?”
“Yes.”
“With me?”
“No, with my second wife. Of course with you, you crazy woman!”
She hugs me so passionately the plate slides out of my hands. I can hear it shatter on the concrete, while I’m just left sitting there, perplexed.
“If I’d known calling you names turns you on, I would have done it before,” I say against her neck. She laughs quietly, snuggling up to me. “Okay, Mac,” I say after a while. “Let’s talk about the future.”
She nods and sits up. “You’re getting out in two weeks.”
“I’m getting out in two weeks. The Marines are going to keep paying me for a little while. And I want to start college next semester.”
She makes big eyes at me. “Really?”
“Yep. Can’t keep lazing about.”
“What do you want to study?”
“Law.”
She smiles. “That’s so cool!”
“Really?” I ask, relieved. I don’t know why I was nervous, but I’m happy Mac supports my career choice.
“Definitely. We can do this, Hunt!”
I smooth back a stray strand of hair from her face. “The Marines will pay my tuition if I sign up with the
m.”
She gives me a confused look. “But…”
“For the J.A.G. Corps.”
She smiles. “That’s great! You can still be part of it.”
“I mostly want to be part of my family.”
“Which you already are!” she says happily. “Where will you go?
“Well, in this area, UCLA is the place to go, isn’t it?”
“L.A.?” she asks nervously.
I nod. “But first I’ll go somewhere in San Diego for my bachelor’s. But…I want you to come with me in four years.”
She smiles. “What was that about taking things slow?”
“Fuck it.”
She laughs and touches my arms. “I’m so glad.”
I smile at her, stroking her lovely face. “You’re mine.”
“And you’re mine.”
“Obviously,” I say, pulling her in for a kiss. “It’ll be difficult to have another child in the next four years, while I’m in school.”
“But in four years, I’ll be thirty-six.”
“I know.”
“If we’re restarting then, I hope you don’t want ten kids,” she jokes.
“No. Just one or two will do.”
“But…what if I can’t have another kid?”
I shrug. “We’ll still have Hazel.”
She bites her lip. “Is that enough?”
I run my fingers across her bottom lip. “You’ve already made me so happy, baby. You’ve already given me a wonderful daughter. She’s more than enough!”
“I want you to be happy.”
“I am, Mac. I am.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “I can’t wait for you to come home.”
“Do you have enough room?”
“Only if you’re okay with sleeping in my room.” She gives me a lustful look through her lashes, and I swallow hard.
“Try to stop me,” I murmur.
“Never.”
I walk into my new psychiatrist’s office. I walk. How does that sound? I’ve always taken it for granted—I can walk, sure. But now… Now I can see what a great gift it is. Only after it was taken away from me did I realize how incredible a skill it is.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” he greets me.
“Morning, sir.” I sit down in the chair I always sit in. Sure, there’s a couch, but that’s not for me.
“How are you doing?”
I nod slowly. “Good. I’m learning to walk again. My muscles are remembering how it works. The physio is helping a lot.”
“What about your nightmares?”
I smile. “I’m feeling better. My girlfriend told me about this method where you make up a happy ending for your dream. It sounds silly, but it worked.”
He nods. “Imagery Rehearsal. It’s a simple idea, but it can work wonders.”
“I’m pretty surprised myself,” I admit.
“What’s your happy ending?”
I lean back, putting a hand on my neck. “I think you can guess. Mac and my daughter.”
He nods. “Tell me about your nightmare and the new ending.”
I look down, searching my mind for the beginning of the dream, but it escapes me again and again. Maybe that means the beginning is not as important as the ending. “I can’t remember the beginning, but suddenly I’m lying on my back in a dark room. I can’t get up, even though I can move. I want to stretch out my arms, but I hit the walls of the room. It’s like I’m locked up inside a giant box. My legs are touching the walls. Inside me, a claustrophobic feeling manifests, even though I’m not usually claustrophobic. I feel my way up the walls, feel a lid, try to move it. But I can’t move the damn thing. I open my mouth to cry for help, and at that moment, the box fills with dirt. First it falls into my mouth, and I start retching, finding it difficult to breathe. I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life!”
“Have you ever been in such a situation?”
I shake my head.
“It seems to be a metaphor. Maybe you were in a hopeless situation you could not escape.”
“I also dream of events that really happened, but those aren’t the worst. It’s always about the sensation of being locked up and trapped.”
“Have you ever felt locked up in real life?”
I nod, thinking about the past few years. “Not necessarily locked up, but helpless. I didn’t know how to get out of my situation. I couldn’t see a way out.”
“When did you feel that way?”
“Ever since I was seventeen.”
“What happened?”
I rub my neck again and tell him how I met Mac, and everything that happened after. “And the entire time, I wished I could change something about the situation, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fall out of love with her, I couldn’t make her fall in love with me, and I couldn’t just take my father out of the equation. I was helpless.”
“After all the horrible things you’ve been through, this is the one that gives you sleepless nights? Why do you think that is?”
I look down, counting the joints visible between the walls. Ten. “I don’t know… I mean, I’m with her now. But maybe I don’t trust our happy ending?”
“Do you trust her?”
“Yes. At least I thought I did. But maybe I don’t trust her when it comes to taking care of my heart.” God, am I growing a pair of tits? I’m such a pussy.
“You’ve both been through a lot together, and you’ve never really been a couple. You didn’t have a chance to get to know her as a partner. So you don’t know what a relationship with her is like.”
“But I’ve seen her with Carter. I can see how she deals with other people, how she deals with her daughter. I know she would never intentionally hurt anyone.”
“She hasn’t hurt you intentionally. Your heart may think that, but nobody can help their feelings.”
“I know. She didn’t want to hurt me. At least not in the beginning. The rest was…” I sigh. “A misunderstanding, I guess.”
“Do you think you’re holding a grudge against her?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure. Yes, she fucked up. But I rigorously shut her out of my life, too, without giving her a chance.”
“You went to Afghanistan.”
“She said she would never have been able to forgive herself if anything had happened to me.”
He looks at me for a moment. “And something did happen to you…”
I raise my eyebrows. “Do you think…?”
He takes off his glasses, rubbing his nose. “I don’t know her, but from what you’ve told me, it seems she’s a very empathetic person with a tendency to blame herself for things, even if they’re outside her sphere of influence.”
I shake my head. “No. Mac doesn’t think it’s her fault I lost my leg.”
“Did you ask her?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should.”
14
Mackenzie
I’m sitting in my office staring out the window. Officially, I’m supposed to be thinking about answers for an interview I’m giving for a publication. But in reality, I’m wondering whether Hunter and I really have a chance. So much has happened, so many feelings have been hurt. We both have open wounds that haven’t quite healed. I want him. I have never wanted anybody as much as I want him. But will that be enough?
Will it be enough of a foundation to build a life on? I wonder where my negative thoughts are coming from. Whenever I’m with him, I’m happy, and I know we belong together. But whenever I’m lonely, alone in my bed or here in my office, doubts start nagging at me.
How much can a heart take?
How much can my heart take? And his? Will we always keep blaming each other for what happened, or can we leave it all behind us? I mean leave it behind for real, so we don’t keep dragging stuff back out whenever we have a fight.
My phone rings. I look at the display and frown. Unknown number. “Hello?”
“Mackenzie?”
I know this voice, eve
n though I haven’t heard it in a long time. “Hello, Carter.”
“Hey, Mackenzie. How are you doing?”
“You’re not calling me to make small talk, are you?”
He snorts. “No, you’re right. I’ve been trying to reach Carey, but he’s not picking up his phone. How is Hunter?”
“How much do you know?”
“I know he had a serious accident.”
I run my hand across my forehead. It’s not easy talking to him with the events from the last time we saw each other still fresh on my mind. “He’s recovering pretty well. He’s in physical therapy.”
“Therapy? Why?”
“He lost a leg in Afghanistan.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“Carter?”
“A leg?” he almost whispers.
“Yes, his left leg. It was amputated below the knee. He has a prosthetic and is learning to walk again.”
“Fuck.”
“It’s not the end of the world.”
“My son’s a cripple!”
“Your son is not a cripple. He’s a war hero.”
“Stop with the euphemisms. He’s only got one leg. He’s a cripple, simple as that,” he mutters bitterly.
Suddenly, I feel terribly guilty. It was me who made Hunter flee California. Without me, Carter would still have his boys. Hunter may never have joined the Marines. It’s my fault Carter’s lonely and bitter. How could I do that to him? How could I wreck his family like that?
I clear my throat. “He’s walking. He’s adapting well to the situation.”
Carter snorts. “Why are you in touch with him?”
“Because I care about him.”
“I thought he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
“I had some arguments he couldn’t resist.”
“Like what?”
“His daughter.”
More silence on the other end of the line. “His what?”
For a moment, I’m confused. Didn’t Carter know? I thought Carey had talked to him long ago, informed him he had a grandchild. “Sorry, Carter. I thought you knew.”