by E. J. Noyes
Bec crossed quickly to me, grasping my soft cotton tee and stretching up for a quick kiss. “Morning, sweetheart. Sorry I didn’t wake you. How did you sleep?” She didn’t take her hands off me, rather slid them under my shirt to rest against the bare skin on my hips.
I held on to her waist with one hand. “Okay.” With my other hand, I grasped the top of my shoulder, massaging the tight, sore muscle. A day and a half of travel and waiting around in cramped spaces was catching up to me. “Except…I totally passed out while we were making love, didn’t I?”
Bec’s dimples came out when she buried her teeth in her lower lip. “Mhmm,” she confirmed, eyes sparkling with mirth. God, I’d almost forgotten how vivid those eyes were, nothing like in our video calls or the photos on my laptop. She’d also had a few inches taken off her hair and it fell midway down her neck instead of to her shoulders, the blond a little lighter and the curl tighter.
You fucking idiot, Sabine, falling asleep on this beautiful woman in the middle of our first intimacy in far too long. Despite my weird not-quite-there feeling that Bec didn’t need to know about, she deserved more. At the very least she deserved my participation. If I hadn’t been such a mental fuckup, I wouldn’t have let myself just…check out like that. I pulled my hand from my shoulder. “Bec, I’m so sorry. I had all these plans for me coming home and I’ve screwed up all of them.”
Bec recoiled slightly, frowning. “Darling, come on. You’ve got to be exhausted, it’s fine, really.” She twisted me from side to side as if trying to shake me out of a bad mood. “And besides, it was kind of funny. Oh God, oh yes, right there bab— Snore.” Her grin was one of genuine amusement, not something just to placate me.
“I’m mortified,” I mumbled.
“I know you are.” Bec stretched up, wound her arms around my neck and brushed her nose against mine. “But we’ve got plenty of time to make love. Right now, I want to cook you breakfast and talk and just be with you.” Her arms slipped back to my waist, her head coming to rest against my shoulder.
“Sounds great.” When I hugged her, Bec made a quiet sound, the same one she always did when I held her. Like a low purr of contentment. How could I have forgotten it? She nuzzled herself under my chin and I dropped my face to her hair, breathing her in.
“There’s not much food in the house. I meant to go to the store today to be ready for you tomorrow,” Bec said against my tee. She meant it as an explanation and it was completely without malice or judgment, but I still felt a pang of contrition.
Silently, I chastised myself. Should have told her I was coming back. Shouldn’t have just sprung it on her. “Whatever’s here is great, honey.”
“Pancakes?”
“Sounds perfect. Thanks.”
Bec drew back, her hands moving to my stomach. Slowly, she stroked my skin, as though relearning how my body felt. One hand stayed on my waist, the other cupped my cheek as she kissed the edge of my mouth. The press of her lips was brief and chaste then she stepped away and backed toward the kitchen, pulling me along with her.
Bec poured coffee and added exactly the right amount of milk before passing the mug over with a smile. When I tried to help, I was swatted away playfully and shooed back toward the table. But I didn’t want to sit and watch her waiting on me. I wanted to get in there the way I always did, sharing cooking and then cleaning up afterward. Or to press myself against her back with my arms around her waist while she stirred something on the stovetop. I settled for watching from the other side of the counter while she started pancakes from scratch.
Bec unscrewed the lid from the flour jar. “How many do you want?”
“Maybe two?”
She added a couple of scoops of protein powder to the batter then resumed her careful mixing. I made myself set aside my discomfort and accept that she was doing that because she cared, not because she didn’t like how I looked. Even before we were together, when she was my boss, I’d known Bec was motivated by concern and a genuine need to help people. She did things like add weight-gain powder to my breakfast because losing eleven pounds on a ten-month deployment is not healthy.
I watched the play of muscles in her forearms as she stirred, and my gaze inevitably drifted to her face and the concentration crease between her eyes. I’d always loved that expression, the one she wore during surgery or signing reports or getting rid of lumps in pancake batter. Bec looked up, saw me watching her and smiled. “What?”
“Nothing. Just…happy to be home, here with you.” Bracing my hands on the countertop, I hoisted myself up and with feet dangling off the floor, leaned over to kiss her.
The bowl clattered as she lowered it to the counter without breaking the kiss. Our tongues met with gentle reacquaintance, the kiss soft and unhurried until she let out a low groan. Bec spoke quietly against my lips, “Are you going to climb all the way over here and finish what you just started?”
“Maybe.” I pulled back slightly, swallowed against my suddenly dry mouth and glanced over Bec’s shoulder. “Looks like the butter in that frying pan is about to start smoking.”
She regarded me for a moment, then picked up the bowl and stepped over to the stove. Bec raised the bowl, swirling it slightly as she poured batter. She leaned over to grab a spatula from the hooks on the side of the cupboard. “Peanut butter and banana?”
“Sounds great.” I slid around the counter to fetch ingredients but Bec brandished the spatula like a sword.
“Stay,” she said playfully. “Let me take care of you?”
I nodded my assent and leaned against the counter while she finished the pancakes—overcooked to almost burnt, just how I liked—then smeared peanut butter and sliced a banana over them. “Syrup?”
“Yes please.” I could have cringed at the polite deference in my voice. This was so damned awkward, almost like the morning after a one-night stand.
Bec gathered cutlery, carried my breakfast to the table and set it down, placing the knife and fork on either side of the plate. The wrong way around. I frowned. She’d always set the table back to front for me because I’m a lefty. After a beat, Bec shook her head, a low chuckle slipping out as she swapped the knife and fork. And I wondered who’d been sitting in my chair.
I dismissed the intrusive and insulting thought and made myself smile. “Thank you, honey. This smells fantastic.”
Bec sat opposite me and drank coffee while I ate. She didn’t stare exactly, but every now and then I felt her calm observance. The silence between us lengthened into the uncomfortable, strained kind. “This coffee seems different,” I said, just to break the quiet.
“Jana’s had a few dates with a guy who owns a roasting company. He gave her a bunch of free bags.” Bec’s fair blond eyebrows rose. “You don’t like it?”
“No, I do.” I set down my fork. This stilted, polite exchange was so absurd that I couldn’t help but laugh. “This is weird, right? It’s not just me?”
The lines around her eyes appeared a moment before her dimples. “It is weird.”
“Okay, good. Well…not good.” I exhaled some of the tension from my body and pulled out the chair to my right. “For starters, why don’t you come sit here.”
Bec slipped around and sat beside me, shuffling the chair so she was inches away. “Like this?”
“Much better.”
The mood eased a little when she kissed me, and then further when she moved her hand to rest on my thigh. We talked, we snuck kisses, she stole a piece of pancake from me and she never once uttered my most hated question: How are you doing?
We cleaned up together and the moment her hands were free, she pressed herself to me in another tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re back, darling.”
“Me too.” I kissed her temple, then down her neck until my face was nestled against her shoulder. Her shirt smelled different. “New laundry detergent?” I mumbled. Eucalyptus now, and the change made me unexpectedly uneasy. Something simple, but a decision made without me. I shoved the thought aside to si
t with all my other absurd ones.
“Yes.”
I pulled back. “It’s nice. You changed your hair too, I really like it.” Studying her, I allowed all the tiny details that become fuzzy after so long away to come into focus. “All those months with nothing but photos and video calls, I feel like I was blind. You’re so beautiful, Bec.”
She smiled, obviously pleased. She’d always been better than me at taking compliments. “Thank you.” Bec thumbed the edge of my mouth. “What do you want to do today?”
“Whatever. What did you have planned?”
“Housework, grocery shopping, getting ready for you to come home. When do you have to go back for processing?”
“Monday. They confirmed it’ll only be a week.” I hated that I was almost but not quite over the deployment yet. Instead of being able to take some time off work, we had to attend briefings, debriefings, screenings, evaluations and all that crap before they let us take vacation time. At least it was short, and we wouldn’t be sequestered on base for the duration like some combat units.
“Not so bad. We have four whole days together then. I was talking to some friends last week, and they said the new medical center is great, but traffic is awful during peak times and staff parking even worse.”
“Good to know, thanks.” I knew what she was implying. That I should take the bus or Metro instead of driving. Not an option. Not these days. Besides, my new duty station was only six miles from my previous one.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Without warning, her expression changed to mild panic. “Shit.”
“What?”
“I just remembered I’ve got our final football game tonight. I thought it’d be okay because you weren’t due back until tomorrow.” The crease between her eyebrows appeared momentarily. “It’ll be fine. I’ll call Gayle and let them know I can’t make it. I’ve skipped a few games this season because of work, they’ll be able to find a sub.”
“Babe, no, don’t cancel. You’ve been busting your ass all season and the team needs you.” Bec had missed our weekly flag football games so much she’d joined an all-women’s league back here in D.C. “Know what? I’ll come watch and cheer you to a resounding victory. Actually, it’ll be great to watch you from the sidelines rather than sneakily checking you out between plays while I’m on the field.”
Bec feigned shock. “Checking me out, you pervert! For that, you can sub in for us when we’re losing.”
“I’m a bit rusty,” I deadpanned.
Her laugh was low and amused. “Oh, sure. It’s been what…a week since you last played?”
“Not even.” I grinned facetiously. “We had a game the morning we left.”
“Whose team won?”
“Mitch’s, but he cheated. Asshole.”
She laughed. “God I’ve missed you. Are you sure? I kind of imagined we’d just lock ourselves away for a while after you got back.”
“Well…we can do that if you’d like.” An uneasy twinge in my chest made me want to frown and I forced myself to tease and be light. “You’d probably be sick of me and have cabin fever after a few days.”
Bec craned her neck to look up at me in the way that was so achingly familiar. “Hardly. I’ll never be sick of you, Sabine. Are you glad to be home?” The question was tentative and it made me realize I hadn’t shown much enthusiasm since arriving last night.
“More than glad.” I grinned. “But ask me again once I’ve listened to three hours of Mom complaining that I didn’t call her as much this deployment as I did the last.” Because once a week plus two or three emails apparently isn’t good enough.
“Good, because I’m glad you’re home.” Her kiss started gently but the way she teased my lips apart with her tongue, and the scratching of her nails on my back left me with no doubt as to what she wanted. She pulled back slightly. “Do you want to come take a shower with me?”
“I…thought I might—” I swallowed, ran my tongue over my teeth and tried desperately to not look like I was stalling. Bec tilted her head, her eyes both gentle and appraising. She knew. No matter how hard I tried to hide, she always knew.
“You look a little tired, sweetheart,” Bec said eventually. “Are you sure you slept okay?”
Maybe I did look tired, but I wasn’t too tired to make love to my girlfriend for the first time in ten months. Especially after my failed attempt last night. I wanted her so badly, but there was still a stupid persistent nope in my brain. It was something that kept short-circuiting that final thing that’d allow me to let go and just…fuck her.
We’d always fit together that way, frequently unable to make it into the bedroom, or even the house before we were tearing one another’s clothes off. So many times I’d taken her in the garage, on the hood of a car, unable to wait a moment longer to taste her, to hear those gasps of pleasure. Now, all I felt was an anxiety that I couldn’t pinpoint. And she was giving me an out and telling me in not so many words that it was okay.
“Mmm, I slept fine.” In between the familiar nightmares that is. I unclamped my teeth from the ragged skin inside my cheek. “I, um, just need to call Jana and let her know I’m back.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.” She kissed me again and left the kitchen, heading back toward the den.
Upstairs, kneeling on the bedroom floor, I fumbled in my backpack for my phone charger. Instead of hard plastic, my fingers brushed against soft velvet. I pulled the small box out and whispered, “I had such great plans for you last night.”
Talking to an inanimate object. Nice one, Sabine. Quickly, I opened the safe in our closet and locked the small box away, hidden behind Bec’s gun, the magazine sitting on top of a box of ammunition and another velvet box containing the medal that signified one of the worst days of my life.
I plugged my phone into the socket beside my nightstand, sank down to sit on the floor and called my sister. She answered after a few rings. “Jana Fleischer.”
The pure sound of her voice, untainted by poor-quality satellite and video calls, made my eyes prickle. “Jannie, it’s me.”
“Sabs! Hang on.” A toilet flushed, and a stall door banged open. Over the sound of running water, my ever-charming sister asked, “Where are you? Are you guys in Qatar already? When’re you landing? Could you please pass me some paper towel, thanks!”
Clearly the last statement was meant for someone in the ladies’ room, not me. “I’ll be there around eight thirty tonight.”
“You’re early, that’s fucking incredible! Bec’s still coming to get you right?” A door creaked open.
“Nah. I’ll drop by your place at eight thirty, like I just said.”
“You’re landing at eight thirty?” Quick footsteps of heels on the polished wooden floors of her office accompanied her words.
Was I speaking a different language? “I’m in my bedroom in D.C. right now,” I enunciated with exaggerated slowness. “We landed yesterday. Bec and I will be at your place tonight, at eight thirty, after her football game.”
My sister squealed. Loudly. In my ear. Muffled apologies followed, presumably to the inhabitants of her office who just got an earful. “You sneaky bitch. Bring dinner if you’re coming around. I’ll cancel my date. I love you.” And then she hung up.
Smiling at my sister’s outburst, I set my phone on the side table to continue charging. Some things never changed and I was eternally grateful for that. I needed that stability, now more than ever. Staring at my hands, I traced one of the faint shrapnel scars on the back of my right wrist. I could only hope that deep inside where it mattered, I was as unchanged as everyone else in my life.
* * *
I drove Bec’s Audi while she directed me to the fields where they played football every Thursday evening. Moments like this—letting me drive her treasured convertible—were when I felt an extra swell of love. And relief. Bec adored driving, but she handed me her keys as a matter of routine and settled comfortably in the passenger seat.
After t
he first time I’d asked if I could drive and explained why, she’d accepted it without comment. Since The Incident, the lack of control as a passenger was uncomfortable to the point of unbearable, and being in the backseat was out of the question. Whenever I’d had to get in a vehicle during the deployment, I’d puked. I only managed yesterday morning without a freak-out because of Mitch, Amy and diazepam.
There was a faint whistling sound near my ear, as if the car’s top wasn’t fully locked into position and wind was sneaking in somehow. I ran a forefinger along the seam between the window and the soft-top, trying to find the spot.
Bec leaned closer, head cocked, looking at my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I hear something,” I said, still probing with my fingertips. Nothing felt out of place, but the sound was definitely there.
She leaned over further. “I don’t hear it.”
“Mmm.” Suddenly self-conscious, I withdrew my hand. “Have you played this team before?” I asked, more for something to say to shift the focus away from me and my apparent auditory issues.
“Twice. We’ve won and lost one each. They’re good but their defense is weak.” Bec twisted sideways to grin at me. “Easy to slip through.”
“Well, when you’re as slippery as you are…” I took my right hand off the wheel and let it rest on my thigh, palm up.
Bec took my invitation, sliding her hand onto mine and lacing our fingers together. “Have I told you recently how much I love you and how excited I am that you’re home?”
I pretended to mull it over. “Maybe once or twice.”
“Mmm, I need to do better then.”
“Maybe you do,” I teased. I made my two-minute sweep of my surroundings, knowing even as I did it that it was totally unnecessary. There are no insurgents about to shoot at the car, Sabine. While deployed, my job as surgeon had me behind the wire in the relative safety of an FOB hospital, not on patrol in real danger. So why did I need to be so vigilant? I just couldn’t help myself. Stupid Incident.
