by Odette Stone
“Not at all but you can’t move in here. I own this place. I’m trying to sell it.”
“Well according to the Land Spouse Protection Act, I have just as much right to be here as you do. You can’t sell this place without my express permission.”
“Not according to my lawyer,” I tried to bring air into my lungs.
“You supported me, Emily. You think you can just up and walk away from those responsibilities? There are laws against that.”
Julie flew down the stairs. “That stupid bitch stole everything. Where are my clothes? Where is my makeup? You took everything you stupid cow.”
“Hello!” Beth called out, appearing in the doorway. She stopped in her tracks as she took in Julie, Matt and myself.
Julie rushed at me. Rage etched across her face. “I hate you.”
I didn’t see her hand, but I felt the slap. I stepped back in shock and felt myself land awkwardly on a stool which tipped over beneath my weight. I flailed and fell back. My windmill arms tried to find something to fight the momentum of my body. My phone flew out of my hand. My cheekbone connected with something cold and hard and then I landed hard on my side, pain shooting up my arm. I took a deep gasp, and then everything faded to black.
I woke up to Beth crouched over me. I winced and looked up at her. Pain radiated up my arm. I lay awkwardly on my side.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” she repeated, gently touching my face, my neck, my shoulder.
“I’m fine, Beth,” I said, not feeling very fine at all. “Can you help me up?”
She put her arm around my shoulder and helped me to a sitting position. “Is the baby okay?”
I put my good arm, the one that wasn’t throbbing, on my stomach. Everything felt fine. “Yeah, I think so, but something is wrong with my arm.”
I cradled my sore arm in my good hand. My wrist already looked swollen. I couldn’t move it.
“Oh that looks disgusting,” Beth stared at my arm with wide eyes.
I looked around the loft. “Where did Matt and Julie go?”
“They took off,” she rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Seriously?”
“They were like two fleeing criminals at a murder scene.”
I touched my face gingerly. I was getting a goose egg right below my right eye, but no blood. I must have hit my face against the side of the island.
“I think we should get you to the hospital,” Beth helped me to my feet and put me on a stool.
My phone buzzed.
Jackson: What time is your flight? I’ll pick you up
“It’s Jackson. He wants to pick me up from the airport.”
Me: I land at 5:30 PM
Beth and I stared at each other.
“He’s going to be a serious level of pissed when he sees your face,” Beth breathed.
“Understatement of the year. Can you take me to the hospital?” I asked as another wave of pain washed over me.
Beth drove me to the hospital in my rental car where they immediately assessed me. The baby was fine. Wrist, not so much. My wrist sported a hairline fracture which did not require surgery, but it did require a cast. I didn't have a concussion, but I was getting a black eye from where my cheekbone had connected with the granite corner of the countertop. I had a swollen goose-egg bump on my cheekbone. My face felt like it was on fire. Don’t even get me started on my wrist. The pain that radiated up my arm made me nauseous.
Once I was cleared to leave, Beth drove me to the airport and promised to return my rental car. We parked, and I looked over at her. “I feel so bad that instead of going for lunch, we sat in the hospital.”
She reached out and hugged me. “Are you okay in Virginia?”
I hadn’t shared with her anything about Harper or how things were going with Jackson. I didn’t have the emotional energy. I awkwardly patted her with my good arm. “Everything is great.”
She studied me. “Will you call me when you get there?”
“I’ll text you tonight,” I compromised.
She reached over and hugged me. “Take care.”
“You too. We’ll talk soon.”
Chapter 27
Because I was in first class, pregnant and in a cast, I was the first one off the flight. I looked at my face in the plane’s bathroom before we landed and it wasn’t getting any prettier. I was in so much pain, all I could focus on was getting off that plane. I wanted to get home. That was my only goal. I wanted to lie down in my bed.
The doors for arrivals whooshed open, and I saw him standing, a head taller than everyone else in the crowd. He wore a baseball cap and a white t-shirt with a pair of faded jeans. My heart beat faster at the sight of him. Again, shocked by how handsome my husband was.
His expression didn’t change as he watched me approach him. He took in my cast that was in a sling, my bruised cheekbone, the black circles under my eyes. Something in me just went limp seeing him. I wanted to lean up against him, and have him wrap his arms around me.
“Before you say anything,” I started my carefully rehearsed speech. “Alien is fine.”
His nostrils flared, and he looked beyond me for a long moment. I watched him swallow. Swallow down his emotion, his reaction, his need to say anything. Green eyes looked back at me. Nothing but control there.
“What happened?”
“I had a disagreement with Julie. She slapped my face, and I stepped back and tripped over a stool.”
He interrupted. “Matt was there?”
“It was an accident. I landed on my wrist. It’s just a hairline fracture. Nothing to worry about.”
His voice was eerily calm. “Matt let Julie hit you?”
Oh boy. “He didn’t let her. He wasn’t even near us. She moved fast.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Not too bad,” I lied. “It smarts a bit but no big deal.”
Uh, more like someone split the bone with a red-hot ax and now burning heat radiated through my entire body in a crushing throb.
His jaw clenched. He took a deep breath through his nostrils. “Let’s get you home.”
He put his arm around me, and I leaned against his strength, inhaling his scent. I could feel my anxiety drain out of me. We found our way to his truck. He gently lifted me into the passenger seat and helped me put my seatbelt on.
His voice sounded casual. Way too casual. “Did he stay and help?”
“They were gone when I woke up. Beth was there, and I think that was for the best, don’t you?”
Green eyes bore into me and then he shut the door. I watched as he walked around to the driver side. He got in, started the truck, and we backed up. He hit the brake and then he drove the truck back into the parking stall. He sat there for a long moment and suddenly without looking at me, he said in a very even voice, “Can you give me a moment?”
He got out of the truck and slammed the door. Fascinated, I watched him through the windshield. Jackson was gone and in his place was an intense, vibrating Navy SEAL. He looked ferocious. He looked like he wanted to rip someone apart limb from limb with his bare hands. The man had murder in his eyes. He paced back and forth with his hands on his hips while he took deep calming breaths. Then with very controlled movements, he took out his phone and dialed a number.
His back was to me, so I couldn’t hear what he said or who he talked to, but his mannerisms suggested that he was vehement in his message. He clicked off the phone, took off his hat and ran his hand through his messy hair. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched. Jackson was extraordinarily upset.
Did this mean he cared about us?
I held my breath as he got back into the truck beside me. He looked over at me and in the most gentle tone, he said. “Why don’t we get you home? I have broken my arm before, and I know for a fact your arm is more than smarting.”
I nodded, trying to stop my eyes from filling with tears. We didn’t speak all the way back to the base.
When we got home, Jackson took one look at my face and led
me upstairs. He helped me get undressed and into bed.
“Where are you pain meds?” he looked around for my bag.
I lay on my good shoulder and refrained from panting through the pain. “The doctor said I could take an Advil.”
He stilled and looked at me. “Excuse me?”
“Pain medication isn’t good for Alien. But I can do a Tylenol or Advil.”
“Are you kidding me? Have you had any medication yet?”
I shook my head. It hurt to move. “No.”
He sat there for a long moment and then dimmed the lamp. “Hang on, okay?”
He returned with two Advil and a glass of water. I couldn’t get them in my body fast enough.
“I have some heating pads for you,” he put a pillow behind my shoulder. I almost wept as I felt a hot pad on the back of my shoulder. He put another one on my neck. Then he put a cool gel ice pack on my cheek. It felt so good I almost wept.
“Thank you.”
He pulled my good hand into his and started to massage it slowly. I have no idea why, but it made everything feel better.
“Are you mad?”
Green eyes looked at me. “Not at you. Never at you.”
“I’m sorry you’re taking care of me again.”
His expression was grim. “Try and sleep, okay?”
I woke up stiff and alone in our bed. The sun had set, and the light was dim outside. My casted arm made it difficult to get dressed, so I simply zipped up one of Jackson’s hoodies over my body and pulled up a pair of yoga pants. I found him outside on the porch watching Chloe who lay on the grass.
He stood up when he heard the back door open. He took my good arm and helped me sit down on the step. We didn’t speak. We had so much to say, so much to talk about, but instead, I just leaned into him, and we watched Chloe snap at fireflies that buzzed around her head.
“How are you feeling?”
I took a deep breath. I had wanted to show Jackson that I could handle myself in New York. “I feel a bit embarrassed.”
He cocked his head at me. “Why?”
“I wanted to show you that I could handle this. And I came back mangled.”
He gave me a measured look. “But you took care of stuff.”
“Yeah but….”
He shook his head. “No buts. Mangled or not, you handled yourself.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Thanks.”
He looked down at my arm. “Are you in pain?”
I rolled my shoulder. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel too bad. “Not really.”
Our eyes met. And then he said something that made my blood run cold. “We need to talk.”
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. “Right now?”
“You owe me a conversation.”
His statement floated between us while I hugged my knees and studied my feet. “Okay.”
Chapter 28
“Tell me about Mark.”
“Who?
“Private Mark Novikov, in his seventh week of BUDs.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“He was feeding you his burger.” Jackson's voice sounded terse.
My eyes went wide. “I didn’t even know his name, how did you find out his name?”
“If a man is hitting on my wife, I make it my business to find out who he is.”
I felt bewildered by this conversation. “He wasn’t hitting on me, he was being nice.”
“You said he knew what was going on with your food. What did you mean by that?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Jackson. He looked pissed. “It was nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“He understood why I wasn’t eating, that’s all.”
“Care to share that with me?”
Did I want to share with my husband just how awkward I was in social settings? “Not really.”
“I’m asking you to.”
I sat there for a long moment. I hated this conversation. “I get anxious to the point that I can’t eat. He saw my plate and said that he understood how I felt because his sister is the same way.”
“Why were you anxious?”
“Jackson,” desperation tinged my voice. “Can’t we just chalk up that BBQ as a big stupid moment and forget about it?”
“What happened?”
My face flushed with shame. I didn’t want him to know how much I was hated here. I didn’t want him to see that I was a social outcast, already failing miserably to fit into his world. “The wives don’t like me.”
“Why do you think that?”
“They don’t want to get to know me.”
“What happened?”
“Well, they didn’t like my clothes. They thought I was stuck up. They didn’t think I was pretty enough for you. And they also said that you and Harper were secretly meeting to go running together. And that you discussed our marriage with Harper who now believes it’s doomed. So she's just biding her time until you leave me for her.”
Jackson’s entire body went still. “They said all this to you?”
“Most of it I overheard when I was coming back from the bathroom.”
“I didn’t deliberately go running with Harper. We’ve run together for years, and we have often used the same routes. It didn’t seem like a big deal when we ended up on the same route. I never took it as anything other than coincidence.”
“Okay.” I believed him. I wasn’t so sure that Harper’s intentions were so pure, but I believed Jackson when he told me that he didn’t deliberately go out of his way to meet up with her.
“I've never discussed our marriage with her. Not once.”
I looked over at him. Our eyes met. “Okay.”
“Nothing is going on between Harper and me,” he was emphatic.
Yet. A small voice whispered to my heart.
“Fine.”
“I don’t cheat, and I expect the same consideration from you.”
My head whipped back, and I looked at him. “Excuse me?”
“I think I’ve been pretty clear.”
“I don’t think you have any concerns in that department.”
Silence hung between us.
Finally, he spoke. “It isn’t easy to be married to a soldier, but it’ll get easier if you can play nice with the other wives.”
Disbelief rippled through me. “You think I wasn’t playing nice?”
“I’m just saying, that you might want to make that one of your goals.”
His words cut like a knife. My husband was telling me to get some friends. Humiliation burned my stomach. At that moment, I had never felt more alone in my life. Didn’t he understand what was going on here? They didn’t like me because they were siding with his ex-girlfriend.
I couldn’t even look at his face as I stood up. I was convinced I would burst out into tears. “I’m going to bed.”
When I woke up, the sun was shining. My cast made things awkward, but the pain had receded to the point of being manageable. There wasn’t much I could do about my face. The swelling on my cheek was gone, but the dark bruise was impossible to hide, even with make-up.
Jackson: Let’s go out for dinner tonight
I stared at his text. I almost couldn’t take the tension between us. I was done with fighting. I was almost crumbling under all the pressure.
Me: Ok
We went out to a local surf and turf restaurant that had a spectacular view of the boardwalk. Jackson had said very little on the drive. I studied him. He looked casual in his t-shirt and faded jeans. There was no expression on his face. Thanks to Irene and her years of abuse, my husband could do blank better than anyone I knew.
“Where did you learn to play baseball?”
He took his time answering. “I played as a kid.”
He had been so good that professionals had scouted him.
“Were you in a league?”
Green eyes glanced my way. “Ted loved baseball more than life himself. He got me started.”
“Ted did?
”
“He’s the one that came to all my games.”
“What about Matt’s dad?”
“He was busy.”
My God. This man wanted to share nothing with me. Nothing at all. That hurt.
“My dad was big into archery,” I offered.
“Oh yeah?”
“He wanted me to take an interest. I got this beautiful bow and arrow. I took private lessons. I was in a league for ages, but then they kicked me out.”
His eyes looked at my face. Interested. “What happened?”
“I accidentally shot a judge in the arm.”
“You didn’t.”
“I was terrible. I was worse than terrible. I have zero hand-eye coordination.”
He openly laughed. “And your archery career ended.”
“My dad had dreams of me going to the Olympics.”
His smile was easy. “Was he upset?”
“He was resigned. He knew I sucked. I think he appreciated that I hung in there for five years.”
“Five years. That’s impressive.”
“I hated archery, but I loved how excited he was and how that was our thing.”
“I guess that’s what it’s about.”
“Promise me that if Alien has my athletic ability, you’ll be patient with him.”
His smile broadened. “I’ll be patient.”
His phone rang. He looked at the screen. “I gotta take this.”
I watched as he walked out of earshot. The conversation looked serious.
“Hey, if it isn’t 45 calories!”
I turned and looked up to see the tall blond guy from the BBQ. “Burger guy.”
His smile dropped as he looked at my face. He glanced down at my cast. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just had a little accident.”
He looked around and spotted Jackson across the boardwalk talking on the phone. His voice went low. “I had no idea your husband was Jackson Hunter.”
I shook my head. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He leaned down on the table. “If he’s hurting you, I can help.”
