Shadow Soldier

by Carol Lynne

  “Sounds good,” Aaron said before hanging up.

  Deacon set the phone down. He swallowed the last of his drink and struggled to get back on his feet. Leaning heavily on his cane, Deacon entered the bathroom. He studied his heavy five o’clock shadow and decided he’d better shave again. Deacon reached for his electric razor and went to work. Kissing Aaron was only an outside possibility, but he knew how badly the coarse heavy whiskers could damage a lover’s skin.

  Deacon blinked several times as he continued to run the shaver over his face. When had Aaron moved from someone he felt sorry for and wanted to help to potential lover? After Luke had asked him to help Aaron, Deacon had used his resources to find out everything he could about the younger man. The information he’d obtained had been enough to convince him the best way to help Aaron would be to wait him out. If Deacon had followed his initial reaction, he’d have scared Aaron off before they’d even had a chance to open a dialogue.

  When Aaron had walked into the shop earlier, it wasn’t hard to see the pain in his eyes, and unfortunately, Deacon knew exactly how it had got there. To even consider anything beyond friendship was despicable on Deacon’s part. The last thing Aaron needed was a man of Deacon’s size and age to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. How many times had he been propositioned since Bobby’s death, and never once had he been tempted to open himself up, even for a single night of uncomplicated sex.

  After his face was once again smooth, Deacon reached for his toothbrush. He spat the toothpaste into the sink before running a comb through his hair, which was, knock on wood, still as thick as it had always been. The only thing left on his vanity list was to change his shirt. Deacon tried not to think about his choice too much, telling himself he’d picked the white button-up merely because it was the closest to the front. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way it showed off his dark green eyes or his naturally bronzed skin.

  With a disgusted shake of his head, Deacon headed downstairs. It wasn’t easy managing the steep steps, but he refused to put in an elevator, a lift. Walking through the shop, he took the time to turn on the small lamp in the centre of the large dining room table he proudly displayed in the showroom. Perhaps if he kept Aaron out of his apartment it would be easier to keep him out of his bed.

  * * * *

  Aaron arrived at the store with half a six-pack tucked under his arm. “Hello?” he called upon entering.

  When he received no reply, he shut the door behind him and tried again. “Deacon?” He made his way through the darkened store towards the only source of light, a large table with ornately carved legs. Aaron set the beer down and bent to examine Deacon’s work. What must it feel like to produce something so beautiful and long-lasting?

  The bells over the door sounded, startling Aaron. He dropped to the floor, tucking his legs against his chest and waited. The tap of Deacon’s cane against the wood floor made Aaron feel like a fool. He got to his feet. “Hey,” he greeted, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.

  Deacon set two sacks of food on the table. “I went ahead and ordered some chips and guacamole.”

  Aaron was grateful Deacon hadn’t made a big deal out of his cowardice. “I love guacamole.”

  Deacon gestured to one of the matching chairs lined up around the table like sturdy sentinels. “Is it okay if we eat down here?”

  “Sure.” Aaron pulled out a chair and sat across from Deacon. “I’m glad you suggested this.”

  “Me too.” Deacon removed four cardboard trays of tacos and several containers of salsa along with the chips and guacamole and set them on the table. “Go easy on the salsa, it’s usually pretty spicy.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” Aaron pulled one of the trays towards him and dug in. They ate in companionable silence with Aaron sneaking glances at Deacon. God, the man was handsome. “These are good.”

  With his mouth full, Deacon simply nodded. He waited until swallowing the bite before commenting, “I’ve yet to find something Jay can’t cook the hell out of.”

  Aaron hadn’t been into O’Brien’s Pub, but he’d met both men at one of the parties his co-workers had invited him to. “I’ll have to get up the nerve to go in someday.”

  Deacon reached across the table and tapped the back of his hand against Aaron’s. “It’s usually pretty quiet between four and five. That’s when I tend to sneak over and grab something to eat.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” Aaron finished off his third taco and pushed the tray towards Deacon. “You want this? I can’t eat another bite.”

  Already on his sixth taco, Deacon’s eyebrows rose in apparent surprise. “I thought you said you hadn’t eaten yet.”

  “I hadn’t. My grandma used to say there’s nothing wrong with still being a little hungry at the end of a meal. According to her, that’s why a large proportion of the population is overweight. Secretly, I think it’s because she didn’t have the money to feed a growing boy, but it’s a habit I haven’t overcome.”

  “Well, the food’ll just go to waste if we don’t eat it, so you might as well help me finish it up,” Deacon said, pushing the tray back to Aaron.

  Smiling, Aaron shrugged his shoulders and picked up the lone taco. “If you insist.” It would be hard to break old habits, but Aaron hoped to enjoy more meals with Deacon, so he’d better get used to eating more.

  * * * *

  “I should probably be going,” Aaron said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

  Deacon followed suit, noting the time. “I can’t believe it’s after eleven.” He braced his hands on the arms of the willow chair they’d moved to after dinner, and reached for his cane. “What time do you have to be up in the morning?”

  “Duty at seven, up at six,” Aaron replied, gathering the trash they’d left on the table.

  “I’ll do that.” Deacon walked over to the table and began to help Aaron clear it. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

  “I will, but first I need to help clean, otherwise you won’t invite me over again.”

  Deacon took the wadded papers from Aaron and stuffed them into one of the sacks. “As far as I’m concerned, you can eat with me any time you like.”

  Aaron bit his bottom lip. “Be careful, I might take you up on that offer.”

  “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” Deacon tossed the sack into the trashcan behind the front counter before returning to Aaron’s side. “I like you,” he admitted, meaning the words more than he really wanted to.

  Aaron looked up at Deacon. “Will you do something for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Aaron placed his palm on Deacon’s chest. “You’re the first person I’ve felt truly comfortable around since…” He removed his hand and looked down. “Well, I guess ever. I’m not sure if you’re feeling the friend vibe, or something more, but I was wondering if you’d kiss me?”

  Deacon reached for Aaron and pulled him into his arms. “It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to kiss someone.”

  Aaron gazed up into Deacon’s eyes. “And do you want to now?”

  “More than you know,” he whispered as he lowered his head. He brushed his lips across Aaron’s twice before sealing their mouths together. Not wanting to push, Deacon left his tongue in his mouth until he felt the warmth of Aaron’s pressing against the seam of his lips. With a moan of surrender, Deacon opened to Aaron’s passionate kiss.

  The longer they kissed, the more heated Deacon’s body became until he knew he either needed to break away or bend Aaron over the table and bury himself deep. The wiser portion of his brain took over and Deacon ended the kiss. “We’d better stop there.”

  “Why? Is there someone else?” Aaron asked, threading his fingers through Deacon’s hair.

  “Not for a long time,” Deacon replied, hoping to put Aaron’s mind at ease. “But I don’t think either one of us is ready to take this to the next level.”

  Aaron pressed his obvious erection against Deacon’s thigh. �
�There’s no doubt we’re both physically ready, but I guess you’re right. Better to get to know each other first.”

  Deacon wanted to confess that he already knew far more about Aaron than he should, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he dived in for another deep kiss. It wasn’t until his leg started to shake that Deacon realised he’d dropped his cane to the floor when he’d pulled Aaron into his arms. He pulled back and licked his lips. “Any more of this, and I’m going to end up falling on my ass.”

  By the confused expression on Aaron’s face, it was obvious he didn’t understand Deacon’s statement. “Will you pick up my cane for me?” Deacon hated to sound like a weakling, but it was better than stumbling to the floor.

  “Oh!” Aaron exclaimed. He bent to pick up the cane and handed it over. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

  “Never feel sorry for forgetting something like that.” Deacon wiped the sweat from his forehead. “But to be honest, I need to get upstairs before my leg gives out on me completely.”

  “You want me to help you?” Aaron asked.

  The thought of getting Aaron upstairs was tempting, too tempting. “Better not.” He winked, hoping to soothe the rebuff. Wrapping his free arm around Aaron’s waist, Deacon walked Aaron to the door. “Thanks for joining me for dinner.”

  Aaron grabbed for the door handle but didn’t open it right away. “I’m not usually like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sane. As a matter-of-fact, I’ve talked to you more today than anyone outside Dr Pritchard since I got back.” He shook his head. “There’s something different about you. When I’m with you, I feel calm.” Aaron tapped his head against the wooden door. “Safe, I guess.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Deacon soothed, running a hand down Aaron’s back. “Give me a call tomorrow if you get a chance.”

  Aaron turned and gave Deacon a quick peck on the lips. “I will.”

  Deacon locked the door as he watched Aaron get into his car. He waved as Aaron pulled out and stood there until he could no longer see the car’s taillights. After a trip around the store to turn off the lamps they’d used during their evening, he headed upstairs.

  Despite the feelings of euphoria at the prospect of holding Aaron again, Deacon knew there could never be anything serious between them until he came clean about digging into Aaron’s past. Unfortunately, if he did that, Aaron’s sense of trust in him would be ruined. Damn.

  Chapter Two

  Aaron picked out a yellow crayon from the carousel. He stared at it and grinned at the name. “Specialist Don Lymon, do you mind wearing a helmet in a colour that’s called banana mania?”

  Fortunately, the specialist stayed quiet as Aaron finished the image. Done, he carried the picture into the bedroom. Opening his closet, Aaron added it to the pile. As he sank to his knees in front of the ‘stack of crazy’, Aaron struggled to breathe.

  He turned away from the closet and crawled to the bed. The headboard meant more to him than anything else he’d ever owned, and it had only been officially his for a couple of hours. What did that say about him, he wondered.

  As he lay across the pillows, Aaron traced the carved reliefs, knowing each one had been created with love. Maybe he should talk to Dr Pritchard about his inappropriate attachment to an inanimate object. Or, he thought, maybe I should get off my ass, pull up my big boy pants, and go learn how to create something incredible.

  He attempted to sit up, but got halfway before falling back to the mattress. Who am I kidding? Aaron stared at his hands. They weren’t the hands of a craftsman, or a doctor, or, unfortunately, a soldier. They were the hands of a man who had watched four men in his company die without lifting a finger to stop it from happening.

  A knock on the door startled him, making him jump.

  “Aaron?”

  Deacon? Aaron pulled himself together and crawled out of bed. He wiped his nose on the bottom of his T-shirt as he made his way to the front door. Pasting on a fake smile to hide his current mood, he opened the door. “Deacon, I was planning to call you later.”

  Instead of smiling in return, Deacon narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Mind if I come in?” Deacon didn’t wait for an invitation, but limped past Aaron into the living room. “I thought we were going to start on that table today.”

  “Yeah, like I said, I was going to call you, I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” Aaron gestured to the sofa. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “No, I want to see the bed. Cameron told me they delivered it earlier. I figured you’d call. When I didn’t hear from you, I got worried.” Deacon headed towards the short hallway that led to the bedroom and the bathroom.

  By the time Aaron made it into the room, Deacon was standing with his back to the door, staring into the open closet. Shit! Aaron raced over and shut the door. “Don’t pay any attention to that.”

  Deacon moved Aaron away from the closet before opening the door again. “Is this what you do here alone in the house all day?” He retrieved a handful of pictures from the stack and carried them to the bed. With a look of concern on his handsome face, he spread the images out and studied them one by one. “Why crayon?” He didn’t look away from the drawings when he asked the question.

  “It’s what I’ve always used. We didn’t have money for paint or pastels when I was growing up, so I used what was affordable.”

  “They’re quite extraordinary.” Deacon closely inspected one of the pictures in particular. “I’ve been here.” He shook his head. “You’ve perfectly captured the architecture in this section of Baghdad, but the beauty in them has changed.” He glanced over to meet Aaron’s gaze. “Is this the way you see it?”

  Aaron nodded. The gun battle with Iraqi insurgents had forever changed the way he saw everything. He stepped forward and took the picture from Deacon before gathering the others. Clutching the drawings to his chest, he carried them back to their hiding place.

  “I’m not judging,” Deacon said.

  Aaron leaned his forehead against the now-closed closet door. “They’re my nightmares,” he admitted. “I don’t know why I draw them, but sometimes I can’t do anything else until I get them down on paper.”

  “Like today? Is that why I didn’t hear from you?” Deacon rested his hand on Aaron’s shoulder.

  Aaron hated the thought of showing weakness around Deacon. He’d made a fool of himself two nights earlier when he’d begged Deacon to kiss him. Turning his head, he stared out of the bedroom window. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he mumbled.

  Deacon moved to sit on the bed. “Come here,” he beckoned, patting the mattress beside him.

  Aaron sat beside Deacon. “The pictures help. Don’t ask me to explain why because I can’t.”

  Deacon put his arm around Aaron and kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  Aaron’s eyes drifted closed as he leaned against Deacon. A yawn erupted from him without warning, giving further proof of his restless night.

  “Tired?”

  “I didn’t get much sleep. When I have to stay the night at the station, I sleep on the sofa.” He looked up at Deacon. “It’s incredibly uncomfortable, but better than waking the rest of the guys up all night with my dreams.”

  “Do they know?” Deacon rubbed Aaron’s back as he spoke.

  “Yeah, but they don’t say anything. They’re all pretty skittish when it comes to mentioning my time overseas.”

  “Most people are if they haven’t been there. Of course there are the odd few who seem fascinated by soldiers once they return home, especially those who have suffered the most.”

  Aaron thought of Deacon’s leg. How many people had asked him how he’d been injured? “Would you mind if we got started on that table later? I think I’d like to lay down for an hour or two.”

  Deacon tilted Aaron’s chin up and kissed him. It was a nice kiss, soft, yet firm at the right moment.
“I closed the shop for the afternoon. Mind if I stretch out beside ya?”

  “What if…”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had my share of nightmares over the years,” Deacon said, cutting Aaron off. “No pressure, but I’d like to hold you for a while.”

  Aaron found he liked the idea of sleeping in Deacon’s strong arms. “Okay.” Instead of pulling the covers back, he went to the hall closet and retrieved another blanket. By the time he returned to the bedroom, Deacon had rid himself of his shoes and was standing beside the bed.

  “Which side do you sleep on?”

  Aaron pointed towards the side farthest from the door. “Usually there, but it doesn’t matter.”

  Deacon walked around to the opposite side of the bed. “I sleep in the middle, so either side works for me.”

  Aaron spread out the blanket before crawling under it. He met Deacon in the centre, not sure what to do next. He’d never spent the night with a lover, so the situation had never arisen.

  Deacon stretched out on his back and pulled Aaron against him. “That comfortable enough?”

  Using Deacon’s shoulder for a pillow was different, but the steady heartbeat under his hand, where it rested on Deacon’s chest, calmed Aaron almost immediately. “Yeah, it’s good.”

  Deacon ran a hand down Aaron’s side. “Relax, I won’t bite.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before,” Aaron admitted. After his time in the Middle East, he’d doubted he’d ever again feel comfortable enough to let down his guard, but he found Deacon different than most.

  Deacon cleared his throat. “Are you a virgin?”

  “No. I’ve just never been in the position to sleep with someone before.” He lifted his head and looked at Deacon. “You don’t have to worry about my virtue. That was taken many times over.” Oh, shit. Why had he said that?

  “I told you, you don’t have to explain anything to me. If it makes you feel better, I haven’t slept with another man for several years.”