by Dee Palmer
“Trust me, you’re going to love your first time.” He wiggles his brow mischievously, only his attempt at easing my terror is lost on me.
“In my experience, first times are overrated.”
“That’s because you’ve never had a first time with me,” he croons.
“You’re very cocky. Has anyone ever told you that?” I do appreciate his attempt to distract me. It worked on the flight over, and it’s starting to work now.
“Some may have told me I’m arrogant, does that count?”
“I bet ‘some’ didn’t leave the sentence there, though.” I know I didn’t at our first meeting.
“I don’t know what you mean.” His feigned innocence makes me laugh.
“Oh, the language barrier isn’t that significant, Mr. Jensen, even if English isn’t your first language, but fair enough. I’m sure no-one has ever called you an arrogant arsehole.”
“Not to my face.”
“Ha! Look at you, making a funny. Maybe we do have something in common.”
“We have many things in common, Hope, but fear of flying isn’t one of them. Shall we?” He opens the tiny door, and I climb into the cockpit. He leaps from the pontoon onto the front frond of the plane and then from one to the other until he is climbing through the pilot’s door. He folds his large frame into the seat beside me and buckles us both in our seats. I zone out in lieu of passing out.
I don’t think I draw breath the entire flight. As rattly and flimsy as the plane felt, the journey is uneventful. Jørgen even manages to squeeze my hand from time to time, until I say I’m going to shit myself if his hands don’t stay on the damn steering wheel.
We land, and my screams of terror are mostly drowned out by the roar of the tiny engines and propellers. I don’t know if this amused or shocked Jørgen, since I had my eyes screwed shut until the engines sputtered to silent and the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves. Plucking my fingers from the vice-like grip on my seat, Jørgen helps me from the plane. The quickest glance around, and I know we have landed somewhere magical, if only I had time to drink it in and savour this ‘first’. Unfortunately, my nerves revolt from being tied in knots for the last ten hours, and I rush to double over and drop to my knees. Hanging over the edge of the walkway, arse up, head low, I empty the entire contents of my last meal into the crystal blue waters of paradise.
Classy Hope, real classy.
Present Day
“HOPE, ARE YOU CRYING?” IT’S a dumb question. Jogging over to where she is perched precariously on the rocky headland on the left side of the beach from where we set up the BBQ, I could see something was wrong. Her shoulders have stopped the tell-tale judder, but the smudge of mascara, the damp sleeves, and Rorschach pattern on her cuffs are a dead giveaway. “Please tell me what’s wrong? I can’t help if you won’t tell me.” I balance on one knee and try my best to give her a hug. The rough terrain is not helping, and I feel like I’m hanging on to her rather than giving her comfort. She shifts on her perch to give me enough space to sit beside her, wiping the glassiness from her dark green eyes she pinches out the tightest smile with the saddest expression. It’s killing me.
“It’s stupid. It’s nothing, I’m fine.” She sniffs and pats her cheeks completely dry.
“Hope?”
“Finn, really, it’s nothing.” She puffs out a sturdy breath as if the force of that will somehow make her lie believable.
“I can see that.”
“I mean, I’m a bit of a mess right now; I admit as much. I’ve been under a lot of pressure, and I haven’t been home in a while. I think I’m a little homesick.” She shrugs. Her explanation is a revelation.
“Really, where have you been?”
“Nowhere. Oh, wow, did you catch a whiff of that? I’m starving.” The evasion and change of subject give me whiplash. What the hell is going on? Why so secretive?
I twist at my waist and place my hands on her shoulders, forcing her to do the same, so we are facing each other almost nose to nose. “Hope, I love you, and you clearly have forgotten, but you can tell me anything, even if it’s that you’re in love for the first time.”
“What? How—” Her eyes are on stalks, and her face loses all its colour. She falters, and if she didn’t look so terrified, I would laugh. I interrupt and smile encouragement whilst feeling all kinds of shit for being so judgmental. I try to offer my own brand of reassurance. My hands squishing her cheeks, I kiss her forehead, and my voice softens.
“I want you to be happy, Hope.”
“Sometimes it’s not as simple as that, though, is it?”
“Preaching to the choir, babe. Complicated is my middle name.” She laughs and some of the sadness leaves her expression. I wasn’t lying when I said I want her to be happy, and if it wasn’t Pink she was falling for, I’d be full throttle encouraging her to go for it. I just have to be more than a hundred percent sure she’s serious. Pink has the kindest soul and the biggest heart, and he deserves all of that and more. “Come on, let’s join the others. That food does smell good.” Standing, she takes my hand and lets me pull her to her feet. We pick our way back along the rocks until we can jump down onto the sand and head over to where the fire is blazing and smoke is filling the salty air with the smell of burning drift wood and sweetly charred meat.
“What are you guys talking about?” I let go of Hope’s hand and jump right in between my boys.
“You.” Tug replies and takes the break in his conversation as an opportunity to pull me to his side and tuck me under his meaty arm. Hope circles over to grab a beer and sits over by the fire with Flick, my closest female friend from the navy crowd. It’s a tight group, and they are out in force tonight.
“Oh, right…you want me to leave?” My effort to pull away is futile, and my bones creak a little under his renewed hugging.
“Now why would we want that, sugar?” He looks down, a deep frown marring his dark features.
I shrug. “I don’t know; it might be secret stuff.”
He shakes his head at my reason. “We don’t have secret stuff, Toxic here was just saying he’d like a night with you to talk through some feelings and shit. That’s right, ain’t it, Tox?”
“Not quite how I put it, but, yeah, I would. I want to clear the air.” Toxic shifts from one foot to the next, and the anxiousness in his tone makes me pull out from Tug’s hug and step up to him.
“You think the air is cloudy between us?”
“I think I’m a little confused.”
“Yeah, me, too, big guy. Talking sounds good.” Threading my arms around his waist, I bury my face in his t-shirt, my nose squishing against his firm chest. The scent of sweat and sandalwood wrap around me just like his big, strong embrace.
“Great, and maybe I can join you guys when the talking’s done?”
“Tug!” Toxic groans, the rumble from his chest vibrates against my cheek.
“What? I didn’t mean for fucking, I meant just a night together like we used to, you know, after we were done with the fucking.”
“With charm like that, how’s she gonna refuse?”
“Finn knows what I mean, don’t ya, sugar?”
“I speak fluent Tug, and I’d like that.” Tug’s attempt at clarifying his point makes me smile. He’s completely adorable, crude, and often has the tact of a bulldozer. He’s unapologetically Tug, and I wouldn’t want him any other way. In fact, if I had to pin one of the guys with Hope, I would’ve said Tug was more suited to her and her type, but they do say opposites attract.
“Where’s Pink?”
“He’s over there.” Toxic points to where Pink is wandering over toward the fire and Hope.
“Oh, right.”
“Everything moving a little fast, ain’t it?” Toxic catches the drop in my voice, and I swallow back the lump in my throat.
“A little, yeah.”
“We can slow down anytime you want, Finn. You know that, right?” He tips my chin up with his finger, and his eyes hold m
ine. I hear what he’s saying, and I believe him.
“I’m fine. As long as you guys are happy, I will be fine.” I step out of his hold and back straight into a solid wall of Tug. His arms wrap around me, crushing my ribs, and he squeezes the air from my lungs. He arches back, causing a few popping sounds from my spine with the stretch, and lifts me clean off the ground.
“Yeah, you will be mighty fine.” He jiggles me up and down before spinning me in his arms, letting me slide to my feet, and fixing his face to mine.
“Um, Tug, kinda need to breathe.” I speak against his lips since his mouth is anchored to mine with his strong, meaty hands.
“Still feels the same to me, bro.” He smiles against my mouth and finishes the kiss with some sweet pressure and a knowing wink aimed at Toxic.
“Shut up, Tug!”
“Just sayin’.” Tug backs away with his hands held up in surrender.
“Hey, angel, do you want some food now?” Charge calls over from the barbecue.
“Yes, please. Do you need a hand?”
“Just park your ass down, and I’ll fetch you a plate.” He waves the barbecue tongs in the direction of the fire, and I give him a mock salute, happy to obey. I’m starving. I wedge myself between Flick and Hope on one of the larger pieces of driftwood arranged around the small fire.
“Wow, is he house-trained too?” Flick teases, although she wisely keeps the comment to a whisper.
“You know he can lip read, right?”
“I did not know that.” Flick places her hand over her mouth and turns her back toward Charge, making him laugh. “How’s married life treating you, Finn?”
“I’m a fan,” My cheeks ache with the wide smile plastered on my face, as I watch Charge weave his way through his group of friends. Balancing his beer and two plates stacked high with food, his eyes are fixed on me as if we are the only two people on this beach. Yeah, I’m a fan.
“It suits you.”
“I can thoroughly recommend it, Flick.”
“Not everyone’s as lucky to find the one or the four, in your case, ain’t that right, Hope?”
“She’s a lucky girl,” Hope winks at me.
“Do I have a convert on my hands?” I nudge Hope in her side, only teasing when her wistful reply floors me.
“The way Charge looks at you, Finn, I get it now.”
“Wow!” My astonished response sounds abrasive to my ears and cuts the jovial vibe around us dead. It also shines a big ass spotlight on my friend, and it’s not like she’s declared she likes eating babies or anything. I’m quick to try and rectify my overreaction, laughing lightly, and playfully suggesting a new goal. “Well, now all we have to do is find you the right man, then, hmm?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Her smile is tempered by something I can’t quite work out, and I’m hoping I haven’t upset her too much. It’s just a shock, a turnaround, and I’m struggling to believe she’s changed that much. Fuck, I hope she has, for all our sakes.
“Sounds like a mission.” Flick slaps her hands on her thighs and then rubs them together conspiratorially.
“Sounds like a girls’ weekend.” I drop the suggestion like a grenade, effectively pulling the pin as my plan takes on a life of its own.
“Weekend? What girls’ weekend?” Charge motions for Flick to shuffle up and give him room to sit beside me. The question is aimed at me, with an arched, suspicious brow and a tell-tale twitch in his jaw. “Night, you said a girls’ night.” He hands me my plate of delicious-looking food, and I take a bite from the end of a chicken kebab before I address the inquisition I know is coming. Sticky barbecue sauce dribbles down my chin, and I chase the sweetness with my tongue. His eyes follow the movement, but I can see in his expression, his brain is already working over all the worst possible outcomes of letting me out of his sight.
“If we head into LA, though, which will be fun, we may as well stay over. That makes sense.”
“To you, maybe. Shall we discuss it later?” His attempt to shut the conversation down makes me bristle. I know his overprotection comes from a good place, and I’ll give him some latitude on how that manifests in our day-to-day lives, but I won’t change my plans.
“If it’s an actual discussion, then, yes, but if you’re going to steamroller over my suggestion, then I’d rather get it sorted now. Hope and I will stay in LA, in your apartment, or we’ll get a hotel. If Flick and some others can come too, then great. If not, it will be just us two girls. No guys and no spying from the shadows.”
“Count me in!” Flick speaks for herself and waves her friends over to fill them in on what’s being discussed. Maggie, Alison, and Nese seem just as animated as Flick when they also count themselves in on the trip. I can feel Charge stiffen beside me as my plan gains a momentum all its own.
“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” I tell him, and our conversation drops to an intimate whisper.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point? Trust?”
“No,” he clips. His agitation is palpable, and I try to ease the visible stress by absently stroking the nape of his neck and into his glossy hair.
“Then there is no objection. Thank you for being so understanding.” I smile tightly, announcing the outcome like it’s a forgone conclusion even if I can see in his eyes that’s not the conclusion he drew.
“Wow, pretty sure she’s the one driving the steamroller.” Flick snickers, and too late I give a tiny, sharp shake of my head so she doesn’t continue to add fuel to the furnace building beside me.
“We’ll see.” Charge drops the rib he was sucking clean on his plate and scowls at Flick. Standing abruptly, he walks across the circle, kicking the embers at the edge of the fire into a billow of bright orange sparks and smoke. I’m about to follow him when Pink waves me down and steps in a few paces behind my simmering husband. They are standing just back from the group, but now everyone is mumbling or not speaking at all, so we can hear every word.
“She’ll be fine, Charge. You have to loosen the leash a little. Don’t go doing something stupid.” Pink slaps Charge’s shoulder, squeezing what must be traps rock solid with tension.
“If keeping her safe is stupid…” He drags his hand through his hair, and his dark eyes find mine. I can see the genuine fear, and it breaks my heart that he’s lived with so much loss, it sometimes cripples his ability to let go.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Pink holds his shoulders, forcing him to look and listen. Pink has his back to me, and Charge’s face is illuminated by the fire, shadows and the darkness of the night making his eyes look like pools of ink still staring at me. They have both dropped the volume too low, but Charge isn’t the only one that can lip read. I’m not as good as him, but when he’s speaking slowly like he does when he’s trying to control his temper, I can read every word.
“She doesn’t need to know I’m keeping her safe, but I will feel a lot better if I am.” He shifts to the side and Pink steps around, inadvertently helping me out so I can now read them both.
“You’re going to stalk her on her night out? Yeah, I can see that going down well.”
“She’s not going to find out, is she?”
“You’re the boss.” Pink salutes, and his gaze flicks over to me. I look away before he catches me watching. If my dropped jaw isn’t a giveaway that I ‘heard’ every word, then the pissed expression on my face would be, because right now I feel like I need a girls’ week!
I FLOOR THE GAS OF the Wrangler. It’s my car, a wedding gift, and I love it. With the top off, music blaring, it’s perfect for a road trip, and I happily send a cloud of dust in my wake as we head off down the drive.
“He did not look happy. We don’t need to do this, Finn.” Hope slinks down in her seat, after looking back through the settling swirls of dust at the others waving us off and Charge.
“We do, oh, we so do. You know, I’m not even mad at this point, and that big pouty lip of his was fake,
by the way. He thinks I don’t know that’s he’s got this weekend all staked out and my itinerary sorted down to the last fart. However, he underestimates my need for a little alone time and my own resourcefulness. All I want to do is chill with some girlfriends and dance my tits off. Fuck, it’s not like we’re going to some dive in downtown Caracas.” I’m all riled up and barely draw enough breath to let her speak.
“I meant we didn’t need to do this for me, but by the sounds of it, we’re doing this for you.” Hope arches a knowing brow.
“It’s not like he hasn’t got a tracker on my phone, and he’s got a damn driver for us so he’ll know exactly where I am. I wonder if he’ll be like this when we have kids?”
“Highly likely. Do they do Kevlar BabyGro’s?”
“That would be funny if I didn’t think he’d actually buy them.”
“He cares, and you always wanted someone that actually gave a shit.” Her pointed remark defuses my irritation, killing it flat.
“I did. I do. Ignore me; I’m venting. It’s worse for me. I actually have a reason to worry, or I did.”
“What do you mean?”
“The job. He nearly died, him and Toxic. I had good reason to be a wreck when they leave for work. This? This is a walk in the park compared to the hell I went through when he disappeared.” An icy chill licks my skin, making me shiver, and I feel the colour drain from my face with the mere memory. The dry heat of the California sun fails to penetrate the sudden drop in my core temperature. The images flash, vividly recalling events of last year. If I hadn’t been seated at the time, I would’ve crumpled to the floor in agony when the Commander explained so calmly that Toxic was critically injured, and Charge was still missing after their aircraft crashed. God, this pain in my chest, I can’t fucking breathe.
Hope’s hand on my thigh pulls me back with a gentle squeeze and a warm smile.
“It’s different now, though. You said he doesn’t do that anymore?”
“That’s right, he got a position teaching at the base. I sleep a little easier, Pink is out of it for good, and Toxic is still on sick leave, although Tug is very much an active SEAL.”