Gorgeous: A Commander in Briefs Novel

by Kristy Marie

  My mother smiles. “She’s a sweet girl. She and Theo have been so nice to us.”

  A grunt of disappointment in myself is the only sound I can respond with until my father gets up, his old knees popping with the motion. “We talked with Theo, and he thought it was time we gave you this.” Andrew Senior pulls a tattered letter from his pocket, and with great reverence, places it into my palm. “They delivered it with his things, when you were on the street.” He drops his head, willing the emotion back before continuing, “We couldn’t contact you, otherwise we would have. But then you were doing better at the Foundation and Theo thought it was best we wait.”

  Fucking Theo.

  Emotion sits thick in my chest like a bad cold when I clutch the dirty letter in my hand. I know what it is, and there is a part of me that doesn’t want to know what’s in it, and yet, a part of me craves to read his final words. “Thank you,” I mumble, staring at the letter like it holds the key to my sanity. “I’m so sorry,” I plead with my father, hugging my mother closer. “I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.”

  My mother squeezes me, placing a kiss on my forehead, taking my father’s hand. “You’re home now. And that’s all that matters to us.”

  My father claps me on the back. “You’re a Jameson. Nothing in the world would change that, Cade.”

  My face feels damp. Is that …?

  A tear.

  Goddammit.

  I swipe it away, holding my parents’ gaze as they stand in front of me. “I understand that now, sir.”

  My father claps me on the back, my mother stroking my face once more like she’s memorializing it. “Get some sleep,” he says. “We’ll see you in the morning.” It wasn’t a question. Andrew Sr. quite literally gave me a look of death like if he doesn’t see my ass bright and early in the morning, he will hunt me down.

  “Yes, sir.”

  When they retire upstairs, I take several deep breaths. I think about waking up Theo and having a drink, but ultimately, I stay where I am on the sofa. I unfold the note and read until the words blur in front of my face.

  Cade,

  Can you believe the heat out here? Motherfucker, man. I will never be able to knock up a girl and force her to marry me with all my swimmers burnt the fuck up.

  I know I’m dead when you’re reading this and it’s supposed to be some kind of sad, heartfelt goodbye note—I’m sure yours is very ass-kissing and will make our parents proud—but I’m not going to go out in a ball of mush.

  So here it is.

  My final words to you.

  1) You suck.

  2) I don’t know who you blew to make major because you definitely didn’t make it on your skills alone.

  3) Sleeping next to you while you jerk off is still awkward. No, I wasn’t asleep, asshole.

  4) Meghan, that chick from down the street, said I was a better lay than you were, so ha! She also said she was into girls so she might not be my best example. I was going through a dry spell.

  5) You still suck at video games and your deadlifts lack the correct form.

  But I guess if I’m dead, I can be honest with you. You weren’t too terrible to have around. You built some great forts and made Mom happy eating all her apple pies. You didn’t snore and you kicked Micah’s ass for me in the sixth grade. I still say I could have taken him.

  It’s been an honor to be your brother.

  Take care of Mom and Dad and find a girl to marry you. Bribe her if you need to. You aren’t getting any prettier.

  Take care of yourself.

  I’m watching you, motherfucker.

  Drew

  I empty the bottle of whiskey my dad keeps stashed away until I pass out.

  Theo wakes me in the morning with a smug ass smile and a cup of coffee. It takes me a while to say goodbye to my parents, promising I will return soon and stay longer. They are eager to meet all the guys, and the new lady in my life Anniston has been telling them about.

  Breck.

  Another wrong I need to right.

  But before I prepare to grovel, I ask Theo to make one more stop with me.

  “This place looks like it’s crawling with incurable diseases, Jameson. Are you sure it’s reputable?”

  Theo is chewing at his fingernail all wide-eyed, giving everything in this hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlor a thorough once-over. I almost want to make fun of him for it, but honestly, I’m a little nervous too—it does look a little rough.

  The walls are covered in laminated drawings—a shrine to the artists’ work. From dragons to Betty Boop, gang signs to praying hands, not an inch of sheetrock shows through this thousand-square-foot building. It’s clean, though, housing two open chairs for piercings and non-private tattoos. Three other chairs are in back rooms with a shower curtain pulled across, improvising as a door.

  The overall feel of the place is one hundred percent Drew. I didn’t tell Theo my brother has a history with this place. I just asked with a clogged throat if he would make one more stop with me. He nodded only once, buckled in, and turned on the radio. Now, though, after sensing I’m okay and not on the brink of a meltdown, his friend game is on.

  “Chad is an old friend. I trust his word,” I answer, vaguely tracing over one of the sketched doves on the wall.

  Theo’s face scrunches up, the lines in his forehead creasing in concentration like he’s trying to read into my words and extract the truth from them.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, tracing another image in the hope he’ll get distracted and move on. My friend, Chad, is bullshit. I don’t have a friend named Chad, but Theo doesn’t know that and I’m not in the mood to explain it to him in the middle of this questionable tattoo parlor.

  “Now I know for sure I’ll have to get a tetanus shot when we get home.” He rubs his arm in a grimace before morphing it into a lazy smile. “I’m not stupid, Jameson. You have zero friends. You found this place online and read the hell out of the Yelp reviews before making an appointment. Chad is a reviewer. Am I right?”

  I’m struggling to keep a straight face. Bastard. “Why did I bring you, again?” I ask with a chuckle.

  Theo’s smile is a full-on grin by this point. “Because I’m the only friend you have, and in a few hours when Hep C sets in, you’ll need me to take you to the ER and convince Breck you weren’t getting a fifty-dollar quickie on Moreland Avenue by some STD-ridden hooker.”

  I punch him in the arm, my throaty laugh taking the sting out of my hit. Theo stumbles back, rubbing his bicep furiously with a semi-scowl. “Come on, Jameson! That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

  “For once in your life, shut up,” I tell him, glancing over another one of the laminated pages. Drew’s note burns in my pocket. Make them proud. His words echo around in my head. I haven’t made anyone proud of me. I’ve disappointed everyone in my life at the way I’ve dealt with my grief.

  After firing off an email to the therapist Anniston requires me to see on occasion, I feel better knowing I am one step toward getting my shit together. If I ever want to get Breck back, I have to start with making room in my head for her. I can’t afford to be selfish anymore. There are too many people who deserve my devotion.

  “Cade.” A guy, presumed to be in his late fifties, steps out behind the curtain. I’ve never met him before so I don’t quite know what to expect but I do know who he is.

  He’s the artist that tattooed nearly my brother’s entire body.

  “Chris?” I call, catching Theo’s questioning brow.

  Chris charges over to me, a huge smile poking out through a facial tattoo of a skull. “Man,” he says while clasping my hand, “it’s good to finally meet you. Your brother talked about you often.” He gives me a quizzical look though, stepping back a little. “Although he said you were much smaller.”

  I snort. Fucking Drew and his bullshit. “He wished,” is all I can respond with, the comment not causing pain like it used to.

  “You know what you want?” T
he man with almost one hundred percent of his body covered in tattoos asks me.

  I nod, pulling the napkin from my pocket. I scribbled out something rough last night and I’m hoping he can make it look a shit ton better than I drew it. “Obviously something better than this, but essentially this is what I want.”

  Chris studies the drawing and then looks at me. “This is big. Gonna be painful.”

  I tip my chin, my gaze floating over to Theo who is totally eavesdropping on our conversation. “I can handle it,” I say, flipping Theo off with my hand down at my side.

  “Alright then, come on.”

  Four painful hours later, I’m standing in front of a full-length mirror, flesh raw and swollen, the entire left side of my torso covered in a barren tree. The branches are engulfed in flames, turning to ash as a fiery phoenix rises from the dirt, consuming it with its blaze. The roots hold the tree strong as the crows fly from its branches.

  The tree is my body.

  The roots are my family.

  The phoenix, my rebirth, burning away the demons that haunt my soul.

  I’m starting over.

  I’m rising from the ashes.

  I’m letting go.

  And I’m going to make all of them proud.

  Starting with my jelly girl.

  Dear B,

  Shame is a crazy thing. I did something today that I’m embarrassed to even tell you about, but I’m going to anyway because the guilt eats at me like a virus. I failed one of the simplest exercises today. I thought I would be discharged from the program it was that bad. There was no way I could come home and face Mom and Dad. I’ll save you from the worst of it, but later that evening after the major did barrack checks, I slipped into the jon, took my razor blade, and sliced open a vein on my wrist. As the blood pooled in the sink, I panicked. I couldn’t leave you alone with our parents. I instantly regretted my decision and tried to stop the bleeding when someone banged on the door. I knew I would be out of the program once they found me like this with a blade in my hand. When I didn’t answer the knock, the door flew open and Major Jameson stood there, nostrils flaring, looking very pissed off. He snatched my wrist, held pressure with his hand, and pulled me out of the bathroom. We went to his private quarters where he stayed silent, fury being the only emotion radiating from his person. He told me I better not make a fucking sound, and then doused my wrist in something that felt like liquid fire. I felt like I was burning from the inside out but I held it in. He wrapped my wrist and then sat across from me and said, “Even when you die you don’t leave this brotherhood.” I didn’t know what he meant until he kept on, “My blood is your blood. In your darkest hour, call on me, and we’ll fight together. Semper Fi, brother.” It finally hit me that I didn’t just take a job in the military. I entered a family. A family is only as strong as its weakest link. Major made me swear to never do this again, which is against protocol, and then every night, he showed up after everyone was asleep, and we trained. I’m so sorry, B. I never wanted to leave you. Please know that. I’m just so scared of being a failure to you.

  I need to go.

  Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I finally feel like I’ve found my place.

  I’m finally home, B.

  #iwishiwasastrongasyou #wonderwomandoesnthaveshitonyou #youstillsuckthough

  Private Bennett Brannon

  “Even in death you don’t leave this brotherhood. In your darkest hour you can call on me and we’ll fight together. My blood is your blood.” I stare at one of Bennett’s first letters to me.

  I’d like to think the reason I packed up everything to come for Cade was because Bennett would have wanted me to. Because even in death, he couldn’t leave the brotherhood. The duty passed to me, and in Cade’s darkest hour, he needed someone to fight with him. But after crying over all Bennett’s old letters, I realized that the reason I felt so compelled to come here was not because I owed it to Bennett, or owed Cade a debt. It’s because each letter my brother sent made me fall in love with this hero. This man he respected. The man who saved his life and was there for him when no one else was.

  His brotherhood.

  I loved Cade Jameson before I ever laid eyes on him that day on Skype. I missed the letters my brother sent, giving me a glimpse into Cade’s life. I had to see him. I had to make sure he was okay. My heart hurt knowing he was alone and had no one to fight alongside him. He needed an ally, and although grief and sadness were mixed in with my initial reasons to set out on this journey, my intent was solid.

  He needed the brotherhood, and I would be it.

  But that was wrong.

  Cade had a brotherhood. He found a family. What he needed was something else entirely. He needed a partner.

  And I blew it.

  “Breck? Darling?” The sound of Sue’s muffled voice carries through the door, drying up a few tears that have been steadily falling down my face for almost an hour now. Cade hasn’t responded to any of my messages. I stayed with Anniston for the first two days he was gone, but then I thought he may come home if I wasn’t there. It wasn’t fair to the guys—or Anniston—for him not to return home because of me. Jess begged me to come home, and my suitcase is out and ready to go.

  But I need closure before I can leave. If Cade Jameson wants nothing to do with me then I want to hear it from his mouth.

  “Breck?” Sue calls again. I tuck Ben’s letter away in the shoebox I keep them in and go to the door, sucking in a deep breath before I open it to find a frowning Sue. “You have a visitor,” she says, her cheeks puffy like she, too, has been crying. I rush her, hugging her closely. This woman has been my rock, my family for the past year when I came to Madison. I can’t imagine not having her in my life.

  “Are you okay?” I hug her, feeling like a shitty friend for not spending time with her lately. She strokes my hair, before pulling back. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just miss you is all.”

  What? I haven’t decided if I’m going back home to New York. Like I said, I need closure before I can leave. “I’m not going anywhere,” I answer her. Not yet, anyway.

  She gives me a knowing smile and pulls me from my room, pushing me down the hall. “Your guest is waiting.”

  Right. My guest.

  It’s probably Hayes or Anniston. They’ve come to check on me a few times since my blowout with Cade a week ago. I know he’s come home. Anniston texted me when he returned. To say my feelings weren’t hurt is an understatement, but I guess I deserve his silence.

  I trudge down the hall, my bare feet slapping against the wood. Then I come to a halt.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask from my position in the hall.

  Cade turns around at my question, his jaw hard and stubborn as he looks me over. “I came to offer you a ride home.”

  Fuuuck. Why, God? Why does his voice have to sound so damn sexy? Why couldn’t he have a laugh that sounded like a chipmunk and annoyed me to the point of packing my shit and heading home? Why does it hit me right in the nipple?

  I cock a hip out and narrow my eyes. Oh no, Mr. Jameson, I’m not going that easily.

  “I am home.” I state the obvious.

  His steps are predatory when he eats up the space between us, a cocky grin tugging at his mouth. “I beg to differ,” he says, snatching the hand off my hip, and turning me upside down on his shoulder. I make a sound that I will never own up to. It’s loud. And between a squeal and a moan.

  “You see, Brecklyn, I’ve been doing some soul searching this past week.” He opens the front door, stepping outside before demanding, “Close the door. Sue doesn’t appreciate bugs coming in.” I make a face behind his back, pulling the door shut behind us, and then I smack his ass.

  I’ve been waiting to do that for a long time now. Someone had to do it with this new, devil-may-care attitude he’s rocking, and that someone was going to be me. He owes me after everything I’ve been through this week.

  My hand stings after slapping the literal buns of steel, and he laughs, con
tinuing his pace like he didn’t feel it at all. He opens the passenger side of his truck and deposits me onto the seat like I’m a bag of groceries. The seatbelt comes next before he shuts the door and saunters off to the driver’s side.

  When he shuts the door behind him, sliding the key into the ignition, he looks at me and lets out a sigh that sounds exhausted. I wonder if he’s been sleeping.

  “I’m an asshole.”

  My forehead wrinkles. “And?”

  He chuckles, turning sideways, placing his hand along my cheek. “And I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for the awful way I behaved toward you, but I hope it’s a start.” He blows out a breath, his emerald eyes serious as they bore into mine. “I was so angry about you keeping who you were from me.”

  I cut him off. “I know. Understand that I never meant to hurt you. I just …” For the millionth time this week, my eyes well with tears. It’s miraculous that I’m not dehydrated. “I wanted to be there for you like you were for Bennett. It was wrong to not tell you who I really was.”

  Cade’s head nods once in understanding. “You were right, though. I would have never given you a chance knowing you were his sister.” His hand strokes down my face. “For so long, I blamed myself for his death. For all of their deaths. It’s not something I can easily let go of.” My heart plummets like maybe this is a goodbye speech and not a Pretty Woman moment. “But I’m trying. I’ve made weekly appointments with my therapist and have agreed to take the PTSD meds when I need them.”

  Are you there, heart? I can’t feel you beating. Did he say he’s trying?

  Don’t get excited. He may not be willing to try with you.

  “That’s great, Cade. I’m so proud of you.”

  And I mean it.

  Cade flashes me an annoyed look, his frown looking extremely kissable. “Be quiet and listen,” he scolds me. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m asking for a do-over. A clean slate. I’ll be real with you and you be real with me. No more lying. No more hiding.”