by Pandora Snow
"No sir, no major changes, just increased stress on the job. The foul weather has put our home building project behind schedule."
"Do you like your work?" he asks, another irrelevant question.
"I enjoy the feeling of accomplishment working with my hands, but I would be better suited for a professional medical career. I'd like to put my combat medic training to good use." Despite the loss of life and horrific injuries I witnessed, being in service was the ultimate career fulfillment.
"I appreciate your honesty this morning, Private Scott. It takes courage to admit you're struggling. We're going to start unpacking the deeper causes of your anxiety in our next session. I recommend you refrain from alcohol. Drinking is a primary trigger of brain dysfunction."
"Yes, Dr. Bennett, sir," I acknowledge.
I schedule an appointment Thursday afternoon and amble to the parking garage. I must admit that wasn't nearly as painful as I'd imagined, though we barely scratched the surface of my buried emotions.
This was a significant first step to regaining control over my mind and my life. I want to make Rebecca proud and be the hero she believes me to be. As soon as I regain a sense of calm and balance in my mind, I intend to propose.
The weather is either blazing hot or freezing cold; there's no in-between. I'm sweating on top of the roof this afternoon. Johnson was amicable about my time off requests for therapy but is working me hard to compensate for my absence.
"You alright?" Chuck asks, bringing cold water up the thirty-foot ladder.
"Thanks. Yes, all good." I down the cold liquid in three large gulps, handing the empty back down.
"Do you have time for a quick beer tonight? I wanted to talk to you about a potential side job. The money is worth your efforts."
Rebecca earns a good wage as an Administrative Coordinator for a large healthcare organization, but we still struggle to make ends meet most months. I would love to have a few extra dollars to pad the savings account and take her out for a casual romantic dinner.
"Sure, grab me after we wrap up." I'm sure she'll understand, and I'll do my best to avoid drinking. I'll send her a text as soon as I'm off the roof so she doesn't worry. Cloud cover rolls in, cooling off the air by five degrees. My attitude and my stress levels are under control today. Rebecca will be happy for me, and for us.
Chuck's friend wants us to build a small home on his rural property for his mother-in-law. She's recently taken ill and will be moving in with them. He ordered a basic pre-manufactured cottage and needs our help assembling the building. We'll bank about a thousand each for a couple weekends worth of work.
I pull out my cell phone to text Rebecca that I'm on my way home. I have three missed calls and texts from her, the last text simply asking, "Are you ok?"
Fuck. I forget to let her know I wasn't coming straight home. I immediately ring her number, but the call goes straight to voice mail. She was probably going crazy, wanting to know how therapy went. I lay on the gas of my Wrangler and berate myself all the way home. I've screwed up.
I throw my jeep into park as I reach the driveway and rush in the front door. The living room is pitch dark. I reach for the dim hall light to see if she's on the couch. My heart drops as I look around the apartment and see her sleeping body curled up in a fetal position, wearing nothing but her thin silk robe. The spaghetti and meatballs' aroma wafts through my nose, and I notice several extinguished candles on the kitchen table.
I'm such an asshole. She went to extra trouble to make me a special meal, proud of me for taking a step towards recovery, and I stood her up. I throw my sweatshirt on the chair and kneel gently next to her. My lips tenderly graze her cheeks and eyelids, coaxing them open.
"Are you alright?" she breathes sleepily, her lashes fluttering open to reveal red tear-stained eyes. She was fucking crying; she was so worried about me.
"I'm sorry baby; I forgot to text you." The vulnerability gracing her beautiful face tears at my soul. I've spent the last six months letting her down, yet she continues to be my only solace in a chaotic storm.
"I met with Chuck after work. His friend is going to hire us for a side job so I can earn some extra cash. I'm such a jerk. Forgive me for causing you worry."
"How was therapy?" she inquires, carefully sitting up as my hands stroke her waist and back.
"It was good, honest. We can talk about that in the morning. Let me put you to bed. You've been fatigued lately, and I've noticed your low energy."
I embrace her lax body in my arms, gingerly carrying her to the bed and tucking her under the covers. "I'll join you in a minute, let me shower."
The progress I made with Dr. Bennett this morning, and the potential for extra income, are overshadowed by my failure to let Rebecca know I was safe. After the panic attack, I understand why she would worry when I've gone missing for hours.
Juggling these responsibilities is overwhelming, another topic for the doctor and me to discuss. I'll scrape up a few extra dollars this week and take her out of town for a romantic overnight retreat. I can't let her down again. For reasons I don't quite understand, she needs me to be present with her more than ever.
CHAPTER FIVE
My Thursday morning therapy session went exceptionally well. Dr. Bennett and I discussed the pressure medics faced in the field, and I realized how much guilt I was holding regarding the traumatic loss of servicemen. We identified a few common triggers I might face in the everyday world, from cars backfiring to gunshots.
He taught me a deep breath technique called Box Breathing. I practice this when I wake up from a nightmare and before I reach overwhelm at work. He asked me to discuss my squad members, but I refused. I love these guys like brothers, but I'll fall apart if I share my struggles with them. I'm simply not ready to divulge my failures; it's too soon.
***
Rebecca's been unusually quiet the last few days, caring and loving as always, but quiet. The bed & breakfast I booked for tonight's romantic overnight date is about an hour drive north. We haven't had sex since Sunday, so I plan to seduce her with soft music, aromatic flowers, and a candlelight bath. I'm getting hard just thinking about her beautiful naked body lying in a hot steamy water pool with bubbles covering all the right places.
She said she'd be home around five-thirty, but her car is in the driveway as I arrive at the house. I stash the seduction gifts under a blanket in the back seat and look twice at my watch. Something's wrong.
I hear her rumbling through dresser drawers as I enter the apartment. She must be packing. I inhale deeply, intending to sweep her off her feet into a cherishing kiss. I'm frozen in the doorway, her tearful eyes closing as soon as I'm in range.
"What's wrong, baby, why are you crying?" She collapses in my arms as I reach her side and carry her gingerly to the edge of the bed. I rock her back and forth like a small child, allowing her tears to fall. She wipes her nose on the sleeve of my t-shirt and kisses me so tenderly I feel like this is goodbye.
"You're scaring me, Rebecca. What is it?"
"I know we agreed neither of us was ready for marriage, and…"
She can't even finish her sentence. I start breathing as the doctor taught me yesterday, feeling dizzy as my heart constricts with fear.
"Rebecca?" I ask, cupping her cheeks so I can see into her frightened soul.
"I'm pregnant," she sobs, breaking loose as she tightens her shaking arms, indicating to continue rocking her quaking body.
"Oh my God, baby, really? Oh my God, I'm going to be a father? I love you so much right now it hurts. Did you think I would be mad?"
My hands slide along her arms, my right hand reaching around to her stomach. I rub slow, cherishing circles along her skin as the news lands in my heart. Rebecca is my life and my love. I'm beyond humbled she's giving me a baby.
"I thought you'd be angry," she sniffles, relaxing her body while mindlessly weaving her fingers through my hair.
"Why, baby?" I whisper, not ever wanting my lips to leave hers.
/> "You're already under so much pressure, and your nightmares have gotten worse. I didn't want to burden you. I didn't know if you could handle this. I don't know if I can handle this."
"Have I told you today how much I love you?" A breathtaking, vulnerable smile washes across her face.
"No."
"I love you, Rebecca, and the beautiful baby we've created. You've patiently loved and supported me through years of separation and been my guiding light. I wouldn't have come home if not for your undying devotion." My raw emotions and vulnerabilities are on full display for her to see.
"Now is my opportunity to prove to you I'm capable of holding you in that same unconditional love." I can do one thing right today. Make the most crucial decision of my life.
"I promise to have and hold you, in sickness and health, till death do us part. Rebecca Rose Martin, will you marry me?"
I assume she said yes. The whirlwind of flying clothes and soul melting kisses lands us naked on the bed in a delirious haze of passion. My body is beyond frantic to fuck her senseless, but as our stomachs press together, I pause.
She's carrying my child, our child, in her perfectly beautiful body. We need to permanently engrain the raw, vulnerable emotions of this night in our souls. I need to take my fiancé slow.
My humble lips proffer a sweet kiss on hers, then lay a slow sultry trail along her jaw and neck. My left arm is above her head, holding her gently, my thumb sweeping her bangs back and forth. Her body is in a relaxed sensual curve against me, her eyes glowing under my tender touches. This is what she needs to feel tonight, safe and cherished.
My right hand caresses her bare shoulders and upper arms before sliding to the supple swelling breasts. I glide my thumb across her hardening left nipple, her hot mouth kissing mine in rhythm. Rebecca is dissolving under my featherlight caress, her left leg swinging across to make contact with my burgeoning erection.
"Not yet, baby," I purr into her ear, smiling as she thrusts herself against me. I envelop her with my heated body, laying her flat on her back. She tries to pull my mouth to hers, but I refuse. The whimper she releases triggers precum to shoot from my cock. Not. Yet.
My hands softly circle her breasts and taut peaks as I shift south, landing my lips on her stomach. I kiss her pregnant skin, awestruck by the miracle inside her womb.
When I look up to her eyes, they're flowing tears of joy. She's surrendered every ounce of herself to me. Time to fill her with the man she can count on for the rest of her life.
"I love you, Rebecca," I breathe, rubbing myself along her inner thighs on the way to sealing our union. Her fingers imploringly twist through my hair, our eyes locking.
With ruptured restraint, I stroke inside her slick folds one inch at a time. I reach the limits of her body, pulling out maniacally slow. Her eyes squeeze shut, the arching of her back revealing the intense sensations.
"Again?" I breathe as I kiss her open mouth.
"God, Drake. Yes."
The intense focus it takes to maintain restraint is running dry. I won't be able to give her a third round. I'm going to spontaneously climax.
I'm fully deep inside her, Rebecca desperately grabbing my buttocks.
I plunge faster and more forcefully, halfway in and out, my eyes close to rolling back inside my head. She clenches my cock with all of her might, and we explode together into a mind-altering euphoric climax. We're both pulsing and gasping for air as the sensations flow through untethered.
Hugging her tightly, I reposition her into my chest's curve, soothing and comforting every inch of tingling skin.
"That was the most beautiful experience of my life. Thank you, Drake." She turns her head to receive a delicate kiss, my heart overflowing with unbridled love.
"I'll spend my last breath creating new experiences with you and our baby. I love you, Rebecca. Nothing can change that."
Within minutes she's fast asleep, the rising and falling of her pure heart warming mine. This feels like a new beginning for me in every area of my life. For tonight, there are no lurking shadows or painful repressed memories. Only Rebecca, our baby, and me.
CHAPTER SIX
"The site is too muddy to lay the foundation; we'll try again next weekend."
"Damn. Thanks, Chuck, see you Monday." I could have put five-hundred tax-free dollars in my pocket this weekend. I'm glad Rebecca and I ended up staying home instead of driving to the bed and breakfast last night. She shouldn't be out in inclement weather.
My beautiful pregnant fiancé is still sleeping. Having taken a few breaths of rationality this morning, I'm feeling tentative about my ability to meet these ongoing demands. As embarrassed as I would be to contact the squad for support, I'm profoundly missing their friendship.
Clarence mentioned at the bar the other night that Everett is looking for me. Everett was always the man I could count on to have my back in the infirmary. Our limited Combat Medic sixteen-week training failed to prepare us for the stark reality of constant battle injuries. We pushed each other to learn every aspect of the job. Sergeant Hayes also looked out for me, controlling the chaos and directing my thrown-in-the-fire training. I'm sure their lives are entirely under control. I'd just be a burden.
"Good Morning," a shy sleepy voice hums across my lips, walking around to cuddle on my lap.
"Good Morning, sunshine. How are you feeling this morning?" From what little I know about being pregnant, morning sickness is one of the first signs.
"Blessed to have a handsome, loving fiancé," she smiles, placing her hand on my thumping heart.
"Did the job get canceled?" she asks, drawing small circles across my chest. Breathing in her scent of lavender always eases my mind.
"Yes, unfortunately. What can I do for you today? Do you want a shower, a massage, round two?" I can't help my constant desire for this woman. She's even sexier now that I know she's carrying our child.
"Yes, yes, and yes," she smiles, my thoughts fully present as I hold her close.
"Do you want to call your parents and tell them the good news, or is it too soon?"
Her parents are neutral towards me. They never fully embraced our relationship and wanted Rebecca to break up with me before I deployed. I expect they'll be overjoyed, however, to become grandparents. Rebecca will need to lean on her Mom for pregnancy advice and the particular type of emotional support only a mother can give.
"Let's wait a few weeks, you know, just in case."
"Alright. You know what I can't wait for?" I ask, my hand sliding between her lean legs.
"Diaper duty?" she smiles, passionately kissing me as I lift her off my lap.
"Having more of you to love."
We spend the next three hours cherishing each other with physical touches and heartfelt words. This unexpected news will motivate me to continue therapy, acknowledging and releasing my paralyzing memories. As long as the rest of my life remains stable, I see nothing but happiness for Rebecca and me.
***
"I don't understand," I lament in frustration, "my sixteen-week treatment plan was pre-approved!"
I'm standing in Dr. Bennett's office at nine am on Monday morning. His secretary has just informed me insurance will not cover PTSD therapy treatment. The standard cost of care is more than I can currently afford, leaving me with no choice but to suspend my sessions. She offers to email me information regarding loan programs and grants, and apologizes for the unforeseen rejection.
Rebecca deals with insurance complications on a daily basis. Maybe she knows how to circumvent the system. Her glowing face invades my thoughts, the relief from telling me about the baby leading to a raw, intimate weekend of lovemaking. I can't do anything to cause her stress or jeopardize her health. She's precious, like a china doll, in a vulnerable pregnant state. It's my sworn duty to protect her.
"How was therapy?" Chuck asks as I join him on the second floor of the stick-built house we're finishing.
"Insurance denied my claim for additional sessions," I grumble, g
rabbing several two by fours.
"Damn insurance companies. Doesn't Rebecca work in health care?
Maybe she can help sort this out."
Chuck means well, but right now talking isn't helping. "Yah, I'm sure we can straighten them out. Tell me more about the building site your friend owns, sounds peaceful living in the country."
The day blazes by like the hot sun, Chuck keeping my mind off of my problems. Quitting time arrives, and I decline happy hour, proud of myself for not reaching for alcohol to drown my troubles.
If Rebecca hasn't started dinner, I can pitch in and make us a meal. Her appetite is going to change as the month's progress. Cooking for her is a small enough task for me to handle. Even I can't screw up Hamburger Helper.