Assigned

by Paris Wynters

  We all peer at the photo of a bathroom, or what’s left of one. The door is off its hinges and leaning against the wall in the hallway. There’s an empty hole where the sink should be. Same with the toilet. And half the walls are missing tiles.

  My eyebrows lift and I look at Taya and Marge, who seem to be hiding smiles behind strategically held cups of coffee. I wouldn’t want to be Tony if he doesn’t get that bathroom put back together. Inara sure as hell appears to be a woman who might storm out of here to open a can of whoop ass on her husband if he doesn’t. Boy, do I like her. Maybe she could knock some sense into my spouse.

  Then again, when she gets his side of the story, she might turn on me too.

  Inara turns to me. “Just a heads-up, I’m sure he’ll con Lucas into helping him. Don’t be afraid to tell Tony the answer is no. And don’t leave it up to your husband to say so. Those two are like children. They can’t be left to make their own decisions. I swear Mason is the most mature out of the three of them.”

  A soft laugh escapes my lips. “I don’t know any of them that well, but it actually sounds like it would be fun to watch.”

  Inara waves a careless hand in the air. “Yeah, when it’s someone else’s husband. But when it’s your own . . . you’ll be in the same boat as me, wondering where your common sense went.”

  “How are things going with Lucas?” Marge asks.

  I slouch a bit and fiddle with the napkin in front of me. “They’re going.”

  “Can’t be as bad as Jim and I were at first. We fought so much when we first moved in together. Two total strangers trying to make heads or tails of a crazy situation.” Taya takes a sip of her coffee, then puts it down. “Though, you two dated in the past, right?”

  Hoo boy. Here we go. If only I knew what they already know, what Lucas has told them or any of the men. “When we were kids.”

  I’m grateful for the temporary distraction of the server bringing over our food, but even after I take a bite of my toast, the women are all staring at me. Guess they want more info. I search my brain for the most bare-bones version of our history. “We dated in high school. Broke up during senior year.”

  “Kind of like Bear and me. We dated in high school. I got pregnant, thanks to having too much fun at the senior prom. We split up after our oldest daughter was born but made our way back to one another.” Marge smiles and her whole face lights up from the inside. “Sometimes you never know where the future will bring you.”

  “That man was lost without you. Still would be. He worships the ground you walk on.” Inara shakes her head. “And he happens to be more mature than the dingbat I got stuck with.”

  Marge elbows her. “And you love him.”

  Inara grins ear to ear. A similar light to the one that shines on Marge’s face is shining on hers. “I do.”

  It would be nice to feel like that, to have the thought of someone light up my face, to have someone who can drive me up the wall only for me to laugh about it with friends. But the fact is, that will never happen for me. I know that now. It’s not like I haven’t tried. Truthfully, who would want to spend their life with a person who will get sick off and on for the rest of their life? I wouldn’t want to burden anyone with my illness and the struggles it causes. I can barely deal with it on my own most days. And the kind of person who would want that is probably the kind of person who would want to wrap me up in Bubble Wrap and put me on a shelf. Like my parents.

  I pick at the piece of toast, popping a section of the crust into my mouth.

  Taya must have seen some of what I’m feeling on my face. “Riley, you can talk to us. This life isn’t easy. Forget the program. Wait until the guys get deployed or go on training missions.” Taya takes a bite of her Danish and continues once she swallows. “It can be the loneliest feeling in the world.”

  “Not to mention raising the children by yourself.” Marge thunks her coffee mug down with a bit too much force, sloshing a bit onto the table. “You’ll learn to unstop toilets and how to mow the lawn and to fix the damn mower when it breaks, among other things you’d never thought you’d be doing.”

  “And that’s just the day-to-day stuff. Because there’s also the danger. Jim’s been hurt, had a severe TBI. I think they’ve all been shot at least once.” Taya stops and takes a deep breath, then looks down at her son. “They even had a former teammate who was killed.”

  I suck in a sharp breath, my chest tightening. The same way it had at the beach when I came across the surfing program for the Gold Star families. Lucas could die. He could walk out the door one day and never walk back through it again. The thought claws away at my insides, and my stomach lurches. Part of it’s the Crohn’s, but the other part is thinking about what losing Lucas would mean. I set the crust of toast I was about to eat down.

  Someone places her hand on top of mine. “We have each other, okay? Anything you feel, any worries, anything you need help with, just ask.”

  I follow the hand up to find Inara looking at me. I nod, fighting back the tears forming. These women are kind. And strong. And they rely on one another. Not one of them is weak. How could they be? They’re taking care of their families, supporting their husbands, all while knowing they might never see them again. Do I have that type of strength in me?

  Marge slaps the table. “Enough of that. Now, Riley, curious. What’s with the toast? Are you and Lucas having a bit too much fun?”

  It takes me a moment to figure out what she means. The water I had been drinking goes down the wrong way and I choke. Marge quirks a brow. Holy shit. While I expected maybe a comment about what I was eating, this wasn’t the direction I’d anticipated. “Just an upset stomach,” I say, one of my usual dodges.

  “Of the nine-month variety?” Inara sits back, narrowing her eyes as if analyzing my reaction.

  They think I might be pregnant. I can feel the heat climbing up my cheeks, thinking about what we would need to do to get me that way. “Uh, no. We haven’t . . . done that yet.”

  Liquid sputters and I turn my head to find Taya wiping coffee from her chin. “You two haven’t had sex yet?”

  Marge slaps her on the shoulder. “Look who’s talking. You and Jim certainly took your time.”

  Taya starts to protest, but I brush at some of the crumbs my toast has left on the table. “No, we haven’t. Everything’s still awkward. And his ex-wife is pushing for some sort of custody arrangement that Lucas is super unhappy about. Actually, he’s at the lawyer’s now. Figuring out what his options are.” I bite the corner of my lower lip. Maybe I should’ve kept that to myself.

  “That makes sense. No wonder he’s been moody.” Inara drums her purple-painted nails against the table. “Tony said he’s been closed off, touchy even. I think those two even had some sort of fight at work the other day and they’re like brothers.”

  I’m sure I’m part of the reason and my stomach twists again. No point in adding that to the conversation.

  “Must be tough becoming a stepmom,” Taya says. “Hell, it’s tough being a new mom. Wait and see.”

  That is not something I’m focused on. I adore Mason and love being a stepmom to him, but as far as other children go? Well, I won’t be having any. Not after all the medical procedures I’ve had. It’s too risky. With the resections I’ve had, the pressure of carrying a child could cause more harm to my intestines. Not to mention the medications that help control my Crohn’s can harm a baby. No. I’ve gone through enough. I still go through enough. Having a ready-made family is perfect for me. Mason is perfect for me. He’s a great kid. God, I hope the lawyer has some way to help Lucas in all this.

  I force out a breath, my shoulders sagging. I can only imagine what the thought of losing him must be doing to Lucas. I promised Lucas we’d make this marriage work for the mandated year, make the court see Lucas was a good father. I intend to keep that promise.

  I slump back in my seat, realizing keeping that promise means apologizing for shoving him away at the beach and for what I said
in therapy. If the shirt shifted any more, his hand would’ve hit the scars. The fact that they’re ugly is bad enough. Having to explain them before I’m ready would be even worse. So instead, I went with that old idea that a good offense is better than a defense and pitched a fit and continued that fit right on through to the counseling appointment. Lucas isn’t the one who’s putting his pride before what’s best for a terrific little boy who deserves to have his mom and his dad in his life. That would be me.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat, hoping my husband will forgive me, and return to the conversation, which has luckily moved on to exactly what Tony is doing to Inara’s bathroom.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Riley

  The house is empty when I arrive home, a note on the fridge informing me Lucas had a meeting. Which meant I had time to decide my next move. And that is to make things right. I don’t want to be the reason Lucas loses custody of Mason. But sitting here on the couch, staring out the window, waiting to spot his truck, is doing little for my anxiety.

  I need a distraction. I reach out and grab my laptop from the coffee table. Might as well use my time productively. Opening my email, I pull up the messages from the two companies who’d offered me jobs.

  Clicking on a new document, I begin to type out all the information into two columns. Pay. Retirement benefits. Insurance options. Paid training. Days off. And the list goes on. Then I start adding technical requirements.

  By the time I’m done, Lucas pulls into the driveway and I steel myself for what comes next. The front door clicks open as I close my laptop and place it back on the coffee table. My husband walks inside, his head turns in my direction, and after a brief pause, he keeps walking.

  “Lucas, can we talk?” I ask, keeping my voice level and even, although my heart is hammering.

  He stops, the muscles in his back tensing. He’s so strong. He always was. Strong and steady and sensible. It’s why I broke up with him. I knew how he’d behave when he found out how ill I was. What he’d sacrifice to stay by my side. I couldn’t have it. It wouldn’t have been fair.

  He turns to me, face impassive except for a pronounced tic of his jaw. “Tried that. Didn’t go so well for me. Might lose my kid and my job because of talking.”

  I look down at my hands. “I know. I’m sorry. I . . . I regret what I said. I’ll call Dr. Stehman and tell her I was just angry and looking for a way to lash out.”

  He just lingers there, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, watching me with those chocolate-brown eyes. Since he continues to remain silent, I push on. “How did things go with the lawyer?”

  “It went.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help? I want to be there for you and for Mason. Please let me know the best way to do that. I would love to be there with you when you meet with the lawyer next time if you think that would make things easier.”

  He shakes his head. “I . . . I didn’t know you wanted to go. I didn’t know if you wanted to have anything to do with me.”

  I get up and walk over to where he stands, then reach up and place my hand on his jaw. I turn it so he faces me, looks at me, sees me. “Mason is the best and you’re a great dad. There’s no reason we can’t provide a loving second home for him.”

  He takes my hand. “I hope Lisa sees it that way.”

  I give that hand a squeeze. “We’ll make her see it.”

  For a moment we stand there, hands locked together, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body, smell the woodsy scent of his cologne. I place my other hand on his chest and feel the thump of his heart, strong and steady against my palm. And those muscles! The man is made out of marble. “I, uh, want to apologize for what happened on the beach the other day.”

  His muscles stiffen under my hand. He’s still angry. I understand why a bit more now that I’ve had time to think about it. I didn’t trust him. I’m still not sure I do, but if I want him to trust me, I’m going to have to try. It’s a two-way street.

  I want him to see me. Really see me. All of me. That means he’ll have questions. Questions I think I’m ready to answer now. I suck in a deep breath and pop the top button of his shirt. The thump of his heart picks up pace.

  “Riley?” His voice comes out gravelly and deep.

  I pop the next button. And the next.

  His breath comes in short bursts, his hands clenched at his sides. I slide the shirt off his arms and stare at the chiseled body before me. So masculine. So powerful. So different from when we were kids and yet still so familiar.

  My sex pulsates, my nipples harden the longer I look. But anxiety is there too. I’ve had a man want me before only to run out when he saw me naked. I swallow past the fear. That man wasn’t Lucas. Lucas won’t do that.

  At least I hope he won’t.

  I reach down to take his hand again and my eyes catch sight of the bulge between his legs. The corners of my mouth curl up. Some things don’t change. I know exactly what’s behind the material of his pants. My breath quickens at the thought of feeling him inside me again. He’d been my first and the few other encounters I’d had never quite measured up.

  Taking Lucas by the wrist, I lead him up the stairs and into my bedroom. He doesn’t say a word. Just follows.

  Once inside, I push him down gently to take a seat on the edge of the bed. My body hums with both a sexual and nervous energy. Here we go. Moment of truth.

  I reach behind and pull down on the zipper to my dress, watching as the orange-flowered garment falls to the floor. I inhale deeply and stand straight in nothing but a lace thong, completely exposed to the air, to the world, to Lucas.

  The room remains quiet, every creak of the house sounding louder than the blare of a train’s horn. I bite my lip and look to Lucas. His fingers grasp the blanket covering my bed, brows furrowed as he concentrates on my abdomen, at the scars that crisscross there.

  Christ.

  This was a mistake.

  But before I can react to the awkwardness of the situation, Lucas leans forward and wraps a big, muscled arm around my waist and pulls me forward. He nuzzles into me and gently kisses the scarred flesh. “Is this why you got so mad at me on the beach? And shut me down on the Ferris wheel? These scars?”

  I try to say yes, but the word won’t come out. Instead, my throat tightens and tears congregate at the corners of my eyes. I look toward the ceiling to keep them from spilling out. But it’s no use.

  “Riley?”

  I swallow hard and hold my eyelids open, praying the air will dry out the tears. Lucas kisses my stomach once again and I slowly move my head until I’m looking down at him. My hands rest on his shoulders and he pulls me down so I am sitting on top of him.

  He tilts my chin with a finger so my eyes meet his. “I’m sorry for whatever caused this, but know it doesn’t change how I see you in any way, shape, or form. I love you. I always have.”

  “I . . . um—”

  He places a finger against my lips. “You don’t have to explain tonight. From the time you jumped on that wild mare to when you’d backtalk your father whenever he had something to say about the trailer park I grew up in, you’ve shown yourself to be one of the strongest and most fearless people I know.”

  Echoing the words from the love letter that is still in my wallet breaks the hold fear has on me. This man just recited what he wrote me fifteen years ago as if he’d come up with the words this second. Nothing could touch me deeper, reach my soul on the level he has. I offer him a soft smile. “I’m really glad we’re getting a second chance.”

  “Me too.”

  He leans forward to kiss me, but I pull back. “Not yet.”

  My body aches with need, but if there’s one thing I remember after all these years, it’s how much fun teasing Lucas can be. It’s been years since I felt sexy and confident enough to play those kinds of games with a man. The touch of Lucas’s lips against my stomach makes me feel brave. I want to be in control,
to show him how strong I still can be.

  I push him hard back onto the bed. He scoots back and I reposition so I’m once again straddling his hips, my pussy resting on the bulge of his thick cock in his pants.

  “Riley—”

  I cut him off with a kiss and when his hands cup my neck, I pull away. Grabbing his hands, I place them above his head. “No touching.”

  “Not fair.”

  “Shh.” I bring my finger up to his lips and kiss him again, moving to his jawline, and neck as I grind against him.

  “Riley.” The deep tone and desperation of his voice causes the hum of need in my body to become stronger.

  I nip at his earlobe and he bucks, his fingers grabbing onto my blanket as if he’s holding on for dear life. Sitting up, I reposition myself so I’m sitting on his thighs. His pupils are large, his chest heaving with every breath.

  Slowly I unbutton and unzip his dress pants, earning me a nice hiss from my husband. Lucas drops his head back and tugs on the blanket as I remove his clothes, revealing his huge erection, pained and full. Inside, all I can feel is a pulsing need, an arousal so strong I can barely function.

  I lean over him, my body gently grazing his hardness and he growls. When my lips are pressed against his earlobe, I nip him once more. “Your turn.”

  He instantly flips me over and buries his head into my neck, hands roving over my skin. He makes his way down my body and rips off my underwear, then buries his face between my legs.

  “Holy, fucking shit.”

  Yeah, not exactly the sexiest words to ever leave my mouth, but it has been over five years since a man has touched me, much less devoured me.

  My back arches as his tongue flattens against me, rubbing my clit. My body tenses, the need too strong. My fingers tug at his hair, my nails dig into his scalp. “Don’t stop.”

  Lucas is ravenous. I grab my breasts and pinch my nipples. A deep growl catches my attention and I look down to find Lucas staring up at me. He sucks my clit into his mouth while his tongue swipes back and forth. Then I feel him push his finger inside of me, and that’s all it takes. I climax instantly as my back bows off the mattress, and I scream out his name. “Lucas!”