by Susan Stoker
“Want something to drink?” she asked, standing next to the couch.
“No. Sit, Mary.”
Loving the bossiness in his tone, and realizing for the first time how much she’d missed it, Mary kicked off her shoes and went over to the other side of the couch. She curled her jean-clad legs under her and leaned against the back cushions, facing Truck. He scooted over until he was within touching distance and sat sideways to face her.
“Does your head feel better?” Mary asked.
Truck nodded. “Now that we’re out of the noise, yeah.”
“Does it always hurt?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“What did the doctor say about it? You did tell him, right?”
“Of course. He said it was normal. My brain was knocked around quite a bit when I fell and it’s bruised and swollen. He says that’s why I can’t remember the last three years. He’s hoping that when the swelling goes down and my brain heals completely, my memory will return.”
“Is there anything you can take for it?” Mary asked. She didn’t even want to talk about the possibility of Truck not remembering. She wasn’t being selfish either…okay, a little. But she couldn’t imagine losing that much of her life. Although, forgetting the hell she went through while she was fighting cancer might be a blessing, but then she’d also have forgotten Truck. And she’d take the awful memories of the cancer if it meant she could have memories of how amazing Truck had been.
At least it wasn’t worse. She supposed Truck could’ve lost all his memory and not even remembered that he was a soldier, or that Ghost and the others were his friends. That would’ve been tragic, and would be a lot harder to come back from.
“I don’t like painkillers,” Truck said. “I’d rather deal with the slight headache than take something that makes me tired or crabby.”
Mary smiled. She knew that. She’d also tried to put off taking the painkillers and anti-nausea pills for as long as possible when she was sick because they made her feel as if she was out of it, and she didn’t want to get addicted, but Truck wouldn’t let her. They’d argued about it, with Mary declaring that if Truck could decide not to take drugs when he got hurt on a mission, she could make the same decision in regards to her cancer treatment. He’d agreed to her point—then pleaded with her to take them, since seeing her in so much pain hurt him. She’d relented.
“What?” Truck asked.
She should’ve known he’d figure out she was remembering something. “I’ve heard you say that before. Do you remember what happened when you got hurt?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“No. When I woke up, I thought we were in the Middle East.”
“Must have been a surprise to find out you were in Africa, huh?” Mary knew that’s where they’d been because Rayne had told her. She’d heard the basics from Ghost. She didn’t know exactly where or why, but knowing Africa was where he’d been hurt was enough.
“Yeah. I pulled a gun on one of the other Deltas.”
“One of your team?” Mary gasped.
“No. The other one that was with us.”
“Seriously?” Mary asked. When Truck nodded, she said, “Holy shit.”
Truck chuckled. “It was tense there for a minute or two. I pulled a gun. He didn’t pull out his own weapon, but his teammates sure did. Then Coach, Beatle, and Blade reciprocated. Ghost stood between me and the other team, trying to calm me down. There we were, in the middle of an op, all ready to blow each other away.”
Mary couldn’t help but smile at the image he’d put in her mind.
“Of course, calmer heads prevailed, and here I am,” Truck said wryly.
“I’m glad,” Mary told him honestly.
Truck rested his head on his hand and stared at her.
“What?” she asked after a moment, uncomfortable.
“I’m trying to figure out how in the hell I could’ve forgotten you,” Truck said.
That was probably the nicest thing anyone had said to her in a long time, and Mary tried to blow it off. “Probably because I’m a bitch and hold people at arm’s length.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yeah. Why?”
This was it. The start of the new them. Mary knew she could either deflect his question, or she could take the opportunity to let him know why she was the way she was.
Taking a deep breath, she felt the shield she’d kept wrapped around her for so long crack the slightest bit. “I didn’t have a good childhood.” That was the understatement of the year, but he didn’t say anything, just kept watching her with his intense brown eyes. His quiet contemplation, and the fact he didn’t immediately start asking questions, gave her the courage to continue.
“My mama was a whore. And I don’t mean that in the general name-calling sense. She was literally a whore. She didn’t stand out on street corners or anything, but she went after men who she knew were vulnerable and had money. She’d seduce them, move them in so they could pay her bills, and she milked them for all they were worth. In return for them buying groceries, paying the phone and cable bill and electricity, she slept with them. One of my earliest memories is of Mama fighting with one of my ‘uncles’—that’s what she told me to call them—and when he got fed up and left, she lectured me for hours about how awful men were and how all they wanted was sex. She said that as long as I didn’t expect them to love me, it was okay to spread my legs for them, especially if I got as much out of them as I could. I didn’t know what that meant, I was only four or five, but eventually I understood, because the lecture remained the same for years.”
“That’s awful,” Truck said in a tone that showed no pity, only compassion.
“Yeah. My entire childhood, she pounded into me that men were no good. That they were only useful for money and they only wanted sex. She told me over and over, and showed me by her actions, that they weren’t capable of loving women. I didn’t want to believe her. I mean, I knew she wasn’t the nicest mama in the world, she sure didn’t take care of me, I had to do that on my own. I thought she was full of shit.”
Mary stopped talking. She hadn’t ever told anyone this. Not even Rayne. Oh, her best friend knew her mama was a whore and that she wasn’t very nice, but Mary had never gotten into the details. And now here she was, basically telling a stranger her life history. But somehow that made it easier. He didn’t know anything about her. Had no preconceived ideas about her.
Truck reached out and put his hand on one of her knees. “Go on,” he urged. “Get it all out.”
“This is crazy,” Mary murmured. “We should be talking about our favorite foods or some shit.”
“We’re past that,” Truck said.
Mary rolled her eyes. “You didn’t know I existed an hour ago.”
“But I know you exist now,” Truck countered. “And I can’t explain it, but I think a part of me remembers you. It’s not a memory, per se, but a feeling. Now, what happened?”
Mary sighed. She wanted to believe him, but she knew how stubborn he was. Truck used to hate not knowing what she was thinking, which happened all the time because Mary was just as stubborn as he was. She didn’t like to talk about her feelings or about the shit that she’d been through.
Closing her eyes, Mary decided to just get it done. “When I was fifteen, I met a boy. He was so nice to me. He stood up to bullies for me, and he made me feel so pretty and wanted. We dated for a while and one day, he told me he loved me. I was so happy. I told him I loved him back. I thought we’d get married and I’d live happily ever after. I slept with him. Gave him my virginity.” Mary ground her teeth together and tried to calm herself down to finish the story.
It was Truck’s hard grip on her knee that did the trick. She opened her eyes and saw the hard, furious look on his face, and weirdly, it made her feel better that he was upset for her. She reached down and picked up his hand and held it in both of hers while she finished. “The next day, he broke up with me. Told me I’d he
ld out longer than he’d thought I would, considering I was the town whore’s daughter, and that he was moving on to the freshmen cheerleaders who would sleep with him without all the dramatics. That was the last time I ever told a guy that I loved him.”
She bravely looked up and met Truck’s gaze. It was as if he could read her mind. Knew what she was trying to say without saying it. “That guy didn’t deserve your love,” he said after a beat.
“Duh.”
“I’m sorry you went through that, Mare. That sucks.”
Mary beat the tears back at the endearment. Had something deep inside him really remembered her as he’d claimed? She cleared her throat and said, “He was the first man to hurt me, but he wasn’t the last. I tried to prove my mom wrong time after time, but eventually I realized she was right. All the men I dated were using me for one thing or another. Some wanted something tangible—a place to live, for example—but others just wanted sex or to try to make an ex jealous. I didn’t want to admit that Mama was right, but I didn’t really have a choice.”
“If it makes you feel any better, my childhood wasn’t exactly idyllic,” Truck said. “Although at least my parents didn’t flaunt their affairs in front of me.”
Mary sat up straighter. Truck had never talked about his family. Ever. She’d even asked Rayne to ask Ghost about it, and she’d reported back that Ghost didn’t know much about Truck’s life before he’d joined the Army. He never talked about his parents. Even to the men who were like brothers to him.
Truck looked away from her uneasily. “Although you probably know that already.”
“I don’t,” Mary said, holding his hand tighter when he tried to pull away from her. “You never talked about your family.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“Yeah, probably because I don’t like to even think about my parents anymore.”
“What’d they do?”
Truck sighed. “They kept me fed and clothed, but they were never very loving. I started growing in middle school. I grew so fast, they had to keep buying me new clothes so I didn’t show up to school in high-water pants. I was super skinny, no matter how much I ate. I was a beanpole and the other kids definitely noticed.
“My dad wanted me to play basketball since I was so tall, but I was also uncoordinated back then. I didn’t make the team, not that I was surprised. After that, it was as if my dad gave up on me. He wasn’t interested in anything I did. If I couldn’t succeed in sports, he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to me. Neither him nor my mom wanted to hear about the bullying I went through. I learned to take it. If I pretended the words didn’t hurt, then they usually gave up taunting and teasing me.”
“I don’t understand why kids are so awful,” Mary said quietly. “I really don’t.”
“It didn’t help that my sister was super popular and beautiful.”
Mary jerked back and stared at him in surprise. “You have a sister?”
Truck nodded. “I guess I never told you that either, huh?”
She shook her head. “No. I had no idea. How old is she? What’s her name? Where is she now? I take it you aren’t close?”
Truck pressed his lips together. “Mercedes. But she hates that name. She always went by Macie. And once upon a time, we were extremely close. She’s almost five years younger than me. She was going into ninth grade when I graduated and left for boot camp. I haven’t talked to her since the night before I left.”
“Why? If you were so close, what happened?”
“I’m honestly not sure. We had a fight the night before I left for basic training. I didn’t like the boy she was dating, and she thought I was being too overprotective. We yelled at each other, and then I left. But I wrote her. I figured she’d get over it. I guess she never did, because I never heard from her again.”
Mary tightened her hand on his. “Truck…something had to have happened. I mean, you were both so young. She never wrote you back?”
He shook his head. “No.” His voice lowered. “It hurt. It had been us against the world—and our parents—for so long, and it felt as if she’d abandoned me when I left. Even when I got this,” he fingered the scar on his cheek, “I never heard anything from her. I wrote her for years. I think I was around thirty when I finally gave up. I had begged her to contact me, told her that whatever it was I’d done, I was sorry. Told her that I loved her and wanted her to be a part of my life. I thought about hiring a private detective to try to find her after I got hurt, after I realized just how awful my parents were, but after I thought about it for a while, it was more than obvious she didn’t want to be found. Didn’t want me in her life.”
“Do you… Never mind.”
“What?”
Mary paused, then asked the question that was on the tip of her tongue. “Is she still alive?”
“Yeah. My parents had no problem telling me what a perfect daughter she was every time they saw me. Granted, I haven’t talked to them in a long time, but I’m guessing she’s fine.”
Mary’s mind was racing. She couldn’t believe Truck had a sister that no one knew about. “Maybe if your parents were so awful to you, they did something to prevent her from contacting you. Maybe they were mean to her too, or threatened her in some way. Did you ever think about that?”
Truck stared at her for what seemed like forever before he said, “No. And what kind of brother and man does that make me, that I was so locked in my hatred for them that I didn’t even think about what they could be doing to Macie?”
“Don’t,” Mary warned, sorry she’d even brought it up. “Whatever they did isn’t on you. So…Macie was popular and you weren’t?” she asked, wanting to change the subject slightly and get back to what they were talking about before his huge revelation…namely, his bullying. It was hard to believe a man like Truck was ever bullied.
Truck nodded and continued, “When I was in the tenth grade, I finally started filling out, but by then it was too late. I was the weird, tall, quiet kid. I was lonely a lot, as I didn’t have any friends. I joined the local YMCA and started doing weights and running, just to keep my mind off how miserable I was. I joined the Army right out of high school, and my dad actually laughed at me when I told him what I’d done. He didn’t think I’d be able to cut it.”
“But you did,” Mary said.
“Yup. Decided I was going to show him. I signed up for Delta Force and was thrilled when I was chosen. The training sucked, but every time I wanted to give up, I thought about those kids making fun of me and my dad telling me I would never amount to anything. I was going to go home and throw it in my dad’s face that not only had I done it, I was a force to be reckoned with. I even thought about how proud Macie would be of me, and it kept me going. But then I got this.” Truck gestured to his face once again.
“The Army contacted my family, and my parents came to see me in the hospital. It looked a lot worse back then, believe it or not, and my dad took one look at my ruined face and turned his back on me. They didn’t know I was conscious…and he told my mom that at least they still had one good-looking kid. He couldn’t stop talking about how hideous I looked, how no woman would have me now, even if I was some ‘hotshot killer’.”
“That asshole!” Mary exclaimed. “He should’ve gotten down on his knees and thanked God you were alive.”
“Yeah, well, that was the last time I saw them. They were surprised when they found out I wasn’t unconscious and told them to get the fuck out, and that I was done with them. For good.”
“What did they say?”
“Nothing. They simply left.”
“I can’t believe that!” Mary said again, standing up and pacing in front of the couch. “I mean, you were hurt serving your country! How could they turn their backs on you?”
Truck grabbed her hand when she paced by and yanked her toward him. Mary shrieked, not expecting the move, and landed with an umph on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and lay back, resting his head on the arm
of the couch. He shifted her until she was lying with her back to the cushions and her front plastered against his side.
Mary froze. All she could think about was her boobs. Were they still where they were supposed to be inside her bra? What if they’d shifted? The last thing she wanted was for Truck to look down and see one of her inserts sticking up from her shirt, or a lump in the middle of her stomach.
But all thoughts of her chest flew out the window when Truck lifted his head and buried his nose in her hair.
“What…what are you doing?” she asked shakily.
“You smell so good,” Truck told her.
“Um…you know this is weird since we just met,” she said, trying to put some space between them. She didn’t want the space, she’d missed him terribly, but she was trying to do the right thing.
“How long have you known me?” Truck asked, keeping his nose right where it was.
“Um…a couple of years.”
“So this isn’t weird,” he concluded.
“Truck!” Mary protested.
“Mary!” he countered. “Relax. I need this right now. I hate thinking about my parents, about my childhood. And you smell so good. Comforting. Give me a second.”
How could she keep resisting when he said things like that? She couldn’t. Besides, she loved being here with him. They’d lain just like this many times in the past. He’d held her when she’d felt sick from the chemo. They’d watched television or simply slept.
Mary melted into him and shifted one leg up and over his. Her arm wrapped around his huge chest and she let her head relax until it rested on his massive shoulder.
“You know, that explains so much,” she said after a minute or two.
“What explains what?”
“You never call people out when they’re being rude. When they stare at your scar like it’s the most fascinating thing ever. When people look down their noses at you. I’ve always wondered why.”
“It’s just not worth it. Besides, I have a feeling you probably stuck up for me more than once, didn’t you?”
