If I Love You

by Tmonique Stephens

  No. Not you too. Not another promise broken. He felt for her carotid and prayed he hadn’t fucked this up too.

  Her pulse was rapid, thready. Gently, he tapped her cheeks. “Yvette, it’s Noah. I’m here. Wake up for me.” He got nothing. He wouldn’t let this happen.

  Noah shucked off his coat and gathered her into his arms. He carried her into the master bathroom, and into the walk-in shower. Holding her close, he turned the knob. Water fell like rain from the overhead nozzle. He tipped her head, let the water pelt her face. Her lids flickered, and a dry groan eased from her mouth. She roused as if from a long slumber, in fits and starts, coughed, and slapped his chest in a pathetic display of anger. She tried to pull away. She didn’t want to be saved.

  Well, too, damn bad.

  “Stop,” she sputtered. Squinting through the spray of water, she glared at him. “I don’t want you here.”

  “That’s why you called me, right? ’Cause you didn’t want me here.”

  “I don’t want anyone here.” Yet she clung to his shirt.

  Noah flicked off the water and sat her on the built-in bench. She kind of crumpled, seemed to shrink two sizes while he waited for her to look at him.

  “I thought you were—” he was about to say better, but better was a relative term. “What happened between when I left you a month ago, and tonight?” He dropped to his haunches and waited.

  She always took her time to gather her thoughts. Tonight, was no different, and it tried his patience. “Today’s my anniversary,” she murmured and pushed her wet hair out of her face.

  Fuck!

  “It would’ve been five years for Jim and me. He would’ve been home from deployment three months ago, and I would’ve been pregnant by now. He wanted three. I agreed to one, and then we’d renegotiate.” A brittle laugh followed by a sob doubled her over.

  And Noah was right there with her, bleeding on the inside. “I didn’t know. I would’ve stayed if—”

  Rocking back and forth, Yvette shook her head. “I didn’t want you to stay.”

  Noah understood. Some pain couldn’t be shared. He handed her a bath sponge and the shower gel. “Are you good now? Can you do this on your own?” He would if he had too.

  “Yeah.” She took the items. He exited the shower, left her on the bench, but paused in the bathroom doorway to make sure she hadn’t lied.

  Slowly, Yvette gripped the edge of her tee. That was his cue to leave. He entered her closet. She still hadn’t removed Jim’s clothes. A blessing for him since he couldn’t remain dressed in wet jeans and a soggy sweater. A curse for her when she’d see her dead husband’s clothes on another man. Oh well, some things couldn’t be helped.

  He dressed quickly and took care to dump his soggy clothes in a plastic bag he found under the kitchen sink and waited for her to emerge from the bedroom. It wasn’t long for the bedroom door to open and for Yvette to carefully cross the living room and sit gingerly on the sofa. Her hair dripped, darkening areas on her fresh gray sweatshirt. She wore matching yoga pants and nothing on her feet. The room was too cold to go without socks and slippers. He almost scolded her, then realized he wasn’t her mother or her husband. He was a poor substitute for both.

  The clothes hung on her. She’d lost more weight in the month since he’d last visited. Jim wouldn’t recognize her if he were here. But he wasn’t.

  “Would you like me to start a fire?” He asked to be polite and headed to the fireplace without waiting for approval. Lately, starting a fire seemed what he did best.

  She shrugged and started picking up the random liquor bottles. A few had mouthfuls inside. Noah watched to see if she was that gone she couldn’t toss them away without draining them dry. He caught her licking her lips, but she managed to deny the impulse.

  He’d tell her he was proud but knew she’d take it the wrong way. Hell, anything he said, she took the wrong way. He got the fire going aware of her puttering around the room.

  “You shouldn’t have come. I did make it clear that I didn’t want you here.”

  Yeah. Only a month ago, she’d made it crystal. But she was sober, swore she’d joined AA and didn’t need his presence constantly reminding her of Jim. “You called me, or don’t you remember?”

  She paused with a bottle in her hand.

  He had his answer and fished his phone out of his jacket.

  “Who are you texting?”

  “I can’t help you. I know that. You look at me and see a soldier. One who survived. There’s nothing I can do about that, and I’m sorry. You want me to leave you alone, and I will as soon as you stop hurting yourself.”

  She plopped down on the sectional, dejected. Her hair hid her face, not the sniffles. They echoed in the room above the crackle of the flames catching in the fireplace.

  Noah didn’t approach her, hoping the distance somehow helped. “We had a pact. If anything happened to one of us, we’d be there for the family. I promised him I’d protect you, and he promised to protect Karen.” She’d dumped Noah’s ass as soon as his plane cleared the tarmac. That was two years ago. Bronx, Fresno, Tootsie, Milk, and Gator, most were his best friends, the first three since high school, Gator since boot camp, and Milk when he joined the unit a few years later. Same command. Same barracks. They even shared an apartment for a few months. Fresno fell in love with Yvette the moment he saw her. A navy helicopter pilot, she was assigned to their unit. Though they tried to hide it, it was obvious. They were made for each other.

  Noah planted his ass on the hearth and didn’t mind the heat baking his back as he sent a text.

  “You know what he loved most about you?” he asked as he returned his phone to his back pocket. “He loved that you wouldn’t give up your career after the military forced you guys to different commands. Loved that you were a badass copter pilot raining hellfire on the enemy while he was below walking into danger. Both of you doing what you loved for the country you loved.”

  She swiped at the tears lining her cheeks.

  “Jim loved you so fucking much, Yvette.”

  She sniffed and dragged her forearm beneath her runny nose. “You told me this three months ago before and after the funeral. I really don’t need to hear it again.”

  “You need to hear it until you get it through your thick head. This isn’t you. You’re too strong to go down this path. What you’re putting yourself through Fresno wouldn’t like it.”

  “Well, Jim isn’t here. He’s dead. And yet every time I see you, he’s alive.” She croaked the last two words.

  And that was it in a nutshell. He wondered if Kensley continued to feel the same, and if so, what were they doing? It wasn’t just sex—not for him—and she wasn’t that shallow to forget about Kevin for a stiff dick.

  “And you’re wearing his goddamn clothes.” Fury broke through the pain. Finally. He’d take her anger over the wallowing. Not because he didn’t understand, it’s because he did.

  “You want me to leave you alone, fine. I will when you agree to go to a detox program and go back to your therapist.”

  “I don’t have the money,” she grumbled.

  “That’s a lie. I know it, and you know it.” Not only was she a military widow, but she also inherited all of Jim’s assets. Yvette was far from a pauper.

  She sniffed and dragged the backs of her hands across her bloodshot eyes. “It’s blood money. I just can’t…can’t touch it.”

  Stubborn, stubborn woman, but he got it. “I’ll pay for it.”

  “I don’t want your money either.” She folded her arms.

  He ran a tired hand down his face and shook his head. “I accepted that answer before. That’s not gonna fly anymore.”

  “Oh yeah? So, what are you gonna do about it?”

  “I’m moving in.” An empty threat, but he needed her to believe it. Because if push came to shove, he would if it kept her sober.

  She barked out a laugh. “Oh no, you’re not.”

  “If I’m not, then your mother is. T
hat’s who I texted after I got your call. She’ll be here in a moment.”

  Her face turned red then drained back to a pasty white. “You called my mom?”

  “Yeah. You’ve been lying to her. She thought you were fine, healing. Your mother thought giving you space was what you needed. Imagine her driving over to check on her only child and finding her body laid out on a pile of liquor bottles.”

  “S-s-stop,” she stuttered.

  “She had no idea you were drinking yourself to death. You even lied about having a job, so when you were too drunk to answer her calls, she’d think you were at work.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “You’re not the first alcoholic I’ve dealt with.” The disease ran in his family. Uncle, father, brother, all on the same path. “How do you think Jim would’ve felt seeing you like this?”

  “Don’t…” her voice wavered. “Do this.”

  “You’re better than this, Yvette.”

  “I…just…hurts so much. But how could you understand? You survived.”

  Heart beating, brain functioning. That qualifies as living. Not surviving. The only reason he was here, in this neck of the woods, was for the two best friends he lost twelve weeks ago. In one fell swoop, he’d lost his brothers, his best friends. The two men he trusted with his life. “I do understand.”

  Even if he didn’t break down, he damn well understood. Maybe after he pulled Yvette off the ledge, then the wall he’d erected would finally crack. Until that moment, he owed his brothers, and that was a debt he’d pay.

  A vision of Kensley naked in his bed waiting for him to come home scrolled through his mind and the contentment in his heart at finding her there.

  The doorbell rang, and the vision drifted away, like smoke in a breeze. There one second and gone the next. Once real, but now a figment of his imagination.

  Yvette froze, her gaze darting to the sliding glass door and the backyard. “Are you really gonna run away from your mother?”

  “You don’t know my mom,” she sighed and shuffled to her feet.

  He’d met her mother, and she was as sweet as she was round. And she cared. It could make all the difference. “She’s here. That counts.”

  “Well, don’t sit there. Get the door while I…” She studied the mess of bottles, take-out containers, and pizza boxes. He didn’t think she’d thrown out anything since the last time he was here.

  “Miss Waymon.” He greeted Yvette’s mother at the door. He bent low and allowed her to hug him and took the opportunity to whisper in her ear, “She’s in a bad way. You’ve got to be strong with her.”

  She sighed and seemed to age a few years as she stood in the doorway. “All right. Let’s do this. We’re not leaving this house until she agrees to get help. And even when she agrees, I’m still not leaving. Get my bags, please.” She hiked her thumb at the three-piece luggage set waiting on the walkway and entered the house.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ten

  “I’m not getting any younger, so move your ass!” Tori hollered from Kensley’s living room.

  “Yeah, yeah. Neither am I,” Kensley hollered back. She’d showered, slathered scented lotion on her body, and even dusted off her one pair of racy underwear; a push-up bra to enhance her b-cup and a lacy thong because it made her feel sexy. And right now, she needed to feel desirable instead of feeling like an idiot.

  Stop it! Going down the self-deprecating rabbit hole wouldn’t solve her present dilemma. “Focus on the task at hand” she muttered, which was finding something to wear. She had plenty of colorful scrub sets hanging on the top rack of the closet. Thirty sets at last count. At work, her attire rocked. After work was the issue.

  Tori barged into the bedroom. God, she was gorgeous with her wavy black hair swaying around her shoulders. Tori claimed it was her best feature. She was wrong. She had a personality that drew people to her, especially men. Not a single one cared she was a size sixteen because she was a size sixteen in all the right places. Plus, when it came to her makeup, she had an artist’s touch while Kensley owned one tube of lipstick, one tube of clumpy mascara, and a caked liquid foundation that had to be at least four years old. She didn’t do makeup, didn’t have the patience or the aptitude. Plus, she liked her freckles. She preferred au natural to the full-on diva makeover Tori was determined to perform.

  “All right. What’s the holdup?” Tori came to stand next to Kensley and did a once over of her in the dresser mirror. “Never mind. You don’t need to answer that question.” She spun on her five-inch heels and faced Kensley. “Tell me you love me.”

  Kensley knew where this was going, and it was easier not to fight her bestie. “I love you like I love chocolate cake.” It was the best compliment she could give anyone.

  Tori strutted back to the living room and returned with a garment bag. She tossed it on the bed. “Now, don’t freak.” As if saying that wouldn’t make Kensley do the exact opposite. “Trust me. This dress is perfect for you.”

  “Did you buy me a dress?” Kensley asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Of course, I did. That’s what besties do.”

  No, that’s what Tori does. At the first sign of a meltdown, her bestie rushed over with cake, wine, a movie, anything, and everything to drag Kensley out the dank hole she’d lost herself inside of. This hole was a big one, especially since she’d just climbed out of the Eric hole only to have Noah kick her back into it. Yeah, nothing was promised except a good time, and she swore their tryst was a one—at the most two-night thing—which did nothing to stop her from being jealous and feeling betrayed.

  Nothing was promised, she kept reminding herself and firmly shoved the useless remorse and jealousy behind her. Tori didn’t know about Noah. She thought had Kensley backslid into ‘woe is me, I hate men’ depression was because of Eric. She had no idea about Noah, and Kensley planned on keeping it that way. No one else needed to know what a fool she’d been.

  Tori unzipped the garment bag and pulled out half a dress. Literally, it was half a dress that nearly matched Tori’s attire, a body-hugging dress highlighting every damn curve. Kensley’s dress was a sleeveless, no back, short thing that barely covered her ass. Good thing she had on a thong so no one would see her usual granny panties.

  “You do realize it’s ten degrees outside and there’s a foot of snow on the ground?”

  Tori waved her away and shrugged one shoulder. “Wear your long wool coat. We’re getting in my 4runner, so don’t sweat it. Ten seconds of cold for a night of heat.” She did a little shimmy. “It’s worth it.”

  “We’re going to a playoff party at the Watering Hole. Shouldn’t we wear jeans and a sports jersey?”

  “Yeah, but not tonight. There’ll be some hot guys there, and we, that means you and me,” Tori’s finger waved between the two of them. “will not be one of the crowds. All eyes will be on us.” Tori did a little shimmy.

  Oh great. Just what she always wanted, to be the center of attention in a sports bar on playoff Sunday.

  “And I have jerseys. They’re in the car. Now let me get my makeup case from the living room. And yes, I’ve bought you new makeup too.”

  Kensley sighed and picked up the dress. She could say no. She should say no. Her thoughts drifted to Noah, who hadn’t stopped by or called. Yesterday, she’d seen his truck tooling around town, so he wasn’t dead. And he wasn’t interested. Hit it and quit it. No biggie. No biggie at all.

  She slipped the dress on and had to admit it was sexy. The dress, not her. She looked like a hot mess in it. Though, the push-up bra did help her anemic cleavage.

  “Oh!” Tori dropped her case on the dresser and clapped while jumping up and down. “You’re so sexy!”

  “Go put your glasses on,” Kensley ordered.

  “Stop.” Tori smacked Kensley’s arm.

  Kensley turned sideways and eyed herself in the mirror. Even with the weight loss, she had a slight pouch. “Think I need a girdle? I’m gonna wear a gir
dle,” she answered her own question and reached for her lingerie drawer.

  Tori slapped her hands away. “You don’t need a girdle.” She zipped up the side zipper and spun Kensley around. “First rule of sexiness, you’ve got to own it. Claim your sexuality, and don’t let anyone take it from you.”

  Kensley snorted. “You can’t claim what you never had, Tori.”

  Tori rolled her eyes and dragged Kensley into the bathroom. She pushed Kensley onto the closed toilet seat and retrieved her makeup case. Patiently, Tori layered moisturizer, concealer, foundation, and other stuff Kensley had no knowledge of onto her face. Tori chattered away about her job, her bills, her lack of a love life since she and Will broke up—again. Wow, she’d gone three entire weeks without getting laid.

  Before Noah, it had been six weeks of forced celibacy. Forced because Kensley refused to be that small-town rebound girl every dick between the state lines tried to get a piece of. No thanks. She refused to be that lonely hoe willing to fuck anything parading half-naked in front of the male populace. Going out tonight was a bad idea. “You know, I really don’t feel well. I think I should stay home.”

  “Not falling for it.” Tori feathered the makeup brush over Kensley’s cheeks.

  “Going out, prancing around in a skimpy outfit with enough makeup on for three women is pointless, and it’s not me.” She liked wearing jerseys and jeans, sneakers and ballet flats, comfortable scrubs over high fashion. A revealing dress and face lacquer wasn’t her.

  Tori slapped her brush down on the countertop. Kensley waited for the reprimand. Instead, Tori hauled her up and spun Kensley toward the mirror.

  The person staring back at her…who was she? And she didn’t mean that in a good way. The makeup hid all her freckles and blemishes. It was false advertising as much as a padded bra and a girdle. But damn it all, she looked good. Really good.

  “Now that you’ve shut up let’s do something with your hair.