Finding Hope: A Colorado Veterans Christmas

by Tiffani Lynn

  After a little bit I grow tired again. Not wanting to let go of his hand I lean a little and rest my head on his shoulder. “Is this okay?” I ask before I get too comfortable.

  “Perfect,” he whispers.

  I settle in and doze off.

  The next day I wake up to find we’ve shifted. I’m lying with my head on the arm of the couch and his head is on my hip while he sleeps. I need to go to the bathroom but I refuse to move for fear I’ll wake him, and I know he needs the rest to heal his wounds. I lie there for a long while, listening to him breathing and thinking about how nice it is to have him here. It feel good having someone to take care of. Caregiving is part of who I am and why Uriah and I worked so well for the years we were together. Nursing helps feed that need some, but having one person to focus on, and also someone to talk to, is really nice. It doesn’t hurt that he’s attractive and thoughtful. Damn, I need to stop my train of thought. It’s not like this is some kind of dating situation. He’s just a man who needed help I could provide and somehow seems to be transitioning into a friend. I only wish I had the interest and little spark I have for him with a friend.

  It’s been a week since Cy came to stay with me and I don’t remember being happier. He’s quiet, but thoughtful, and sometimes willingly shares things with me I can tell he hasn’t shared with anyone. In turn, I’ve told him things I haven’t even told my sister. Uriah knew about some of them because he knew my situation fully when he freed me, but I haven’t been able to speak about them out loud to anyone. I’m not sure why that is. I guess it always felt like reliving the things I had to explain. It doesn’t feel that way when I’m with Cy though.

  After the first night on the couch, I invited him to sleep in my bed. Knowing the basics of what happened to me in my past, he slept fully clothed on top of the covers. The curtains in my room have stayed open since he arrived and that seems to relax him. By the third night I told him to stop being silly and sleep under the covers. When I woke up the next morning I was snuggled into his side with my head on his chest and his arm wrapped around me like I belonged there. At first, I was mortified that I’d clung to him like a koala in my sleep, but when I tried to pull away he held me tighter and told me to relax. Best feeling ever.

  Mari and Dex have been by a few times and seem to like him. Mari has brought him new clothes at every visit and quietly left them in the extra bedroom. Dex seems to be warming up to him and even carried on a conversation with him about Marv and the shelter when they came over the last time.

  Tonight I’m making tacos. Cy mentioned that was something he hasn’t had in a while so I thought it would be fun to make. As I put the ingredients in the bowls, Cy comes into the kitchen and takes them to the table. Such a little thing, but it feels so good to have someone around to share my time with.

  Things only got worse when I cut his hair; the last layer of wild mountain man slipped away with a few snips of my scissors and I’ve found it hard not to stare at him. He’s ridiculously handsome, in a way I never would have expected when I met him in the shelter that night. But it’s not just about looks.

  Cy fascinates me and makes me feel warm and tingly inside. Everything from that dang eyebrow lift to the scars on his soul. It’s all interesting to me. The sound of his voice soothes me and the feel of his arm around me when we sleep comforts me. How is it that a homeless guy I met a week ago has come to mean so much to me in such a short time? If someone else were telling me this story about themselves, I’d say they were nuts, but I guess some things can’t be explained. Instead of second-guessing it, I’m just going with the flow and enjoying every second of it.

  “Do you have any pork rinds?” Cy asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  “Um, no. That’s a random question.”

  “You’ve never had pork rinds on your tacos?”

  This time, it’s my eyebrow that rises and he actually laughs out loud. What an awesome feeling, knowing that I made him laugh.

  “Next time make sure you get some plain pork rinds and crumble them on top. It’s fantastic. A buddy of mine from boot camp made me try them that way. I was skeptical at first too.”

  A tiny grin is still on his lips as he takes his first bite of the taco.

  “What are your parents like?” I ask. So far there haven’t been any subjects off limits so I hope I’m not overstepping by asking. He’s mentioned them in passing but not said much.

  “Conservative, country, small-town people. A little sheltered, but they’re good folks.”

  “Do you miss them?”

  He sets his taco down and finishes chewing. “Honestly, yes.”

  “Then why—” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “Because I can’t bear to hurt them anymore, and truth be told, I can’t stand to let my father down worse than I have already. He had such high hopes for me and I couldn’t function enough to do basic daily stuff. I thought it would be easier on everyone if I just left.”

  “Do you still feel you made the right choice?”

  “Most of the time, yes. I haven’t been able to stay indoors like this since I came home from my last deployment—until I met you. It would freak my mom out when she would find me sleeping on the front porch swing or in the backyard under a tree instead of staying in the house.” He picks up his taco and chews another bite before he continues, “When I call them on their birthdays though and hear the brief excitement in my mom’s voice, yeah, those are the times I regret leaving. Maybe they could have gotten used to me sleeping in the woods. I don’t know. At the time it didn’t feel that way.”

  Even after the heavy subject, the silence between us isn’t uncomfortable. That’s the way it is with us. Besides a strange current of sexual tension that I’ve never really felt before, things between us are wonderful. When dinner is complete we retreat to the living room to watch a movie. I’ve discovered that he likes movies with stupid comedy, so we’ve been binging on Adam Sandler and Will Ferrell movies for the last few days. Just as I’m turning the television on the phone rings, so I retreat to the kitchen to answer it.

  The call from Marv only lasts a couple of minutes because he is just filling me in and making sure Cy and I are doing okay. When I return to the living room Cy is leaned back, his head resting against the couch, with his eyes closed.

  “Cy, are you okay?” I’ve noticed he only does that when he’s trying to relax. He was fine before I answered the phone. “Did I say something to upset you when I was talking to Marv?”

  He turns his head to look at me and I can tell by his expression something has changed radically in the last two minutes. “You’re freaking me out. What’s wrong?”

  Finally he answers. “The news was on when you walked away. They reported that Ms. Nona is dead. Apparently since I was attacked there have been two more victims. The other guy survived but is in critical condition. Ms. Nona didn’t.”

  “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I ask, but I already know the answer. Cy knows all the regulars on the street, doesn’t exactly have friendships with them, but he knows them. Ms. Nona was his favorite. He seems to be kind of a protector on the streets so I’m sure a single older woman is someone he looked after closely.

  “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. The living room was light with laughter and companionship a few minutes ago and now it feels like a darkened cave, one where all the warmth and light has seeped out.

  He wraps his arm around me and pulls me in close. “Go ahead and start the movie, Rosie. I’ll be okay.”

  “We don’t—”

  “Yeah, we do. I want to. I need something to take my mind off of Ms. Nona.”

  “Okay,” I answer softly, wishing I could take away any hurt or blame he’s feeling. I have no idea why I feel such a connection to Cy. It’s this unbelievable chemistry, a strong feeling of belonging I have with him that I don’t have with anyone else. And the thought of him hurting any more than he already does makes me feel the pain all the way to my soul.

  I press p
lay on the movie but neither of us laughs. In fact, we’re so quiet throughout the entire movie that I’m not sure either of us really watched a second of it. By the time it’s over, the overwhelming urge to soothe him is clawing at me like an angry tiger. So I make a decision to step way out of my comfort zone and make a move on Cy that would make other people think I’ve lost my mind.

  “Go on up, Cy. I’ll handle everything down here.” Once he’s out of sight, I go around the room turning off the lights and checking to make sure the doors are locked. When I get upstairs Cy is lying in bed staring at the ceiling. I take my nightgown into the bathroom, change, wash my face and brush my teeth. When I come out he’s in the same position, with the same expression on his face. I turn off the light and take a deep breath, readying myself to make my move. My hands shake as I pull the covers back and slide in between them and up close to Cy. I’m an idiot. I may have spent the last week with him but I still don’t really know him. I push those negative thoughts from my head and lean over close, bringing my lips right next to his.

  “Rosie?” he asks, his breath fluttering against my mouth.

  Just go for it, I tell myself, and I lean in and press my lips to his. I pull back and repeat. When I go back for another, his mouth opens and his good hand slides under my hair and along the nape of my neck. A moan escapes my lips as his tongue slips inside. The kiss is sweet and slow, his hand holding me close but not tight. My body awakens all the way, sending a zing of electricity to my nipples and even lower to the apex of my thighs. He tugs my bottom lip with his teeth lightly and shifts so I’m lying down next to him. Without even thinking about it, my thigh hitches up on his hip and I press forward to seek relief against him. The pajama pants my sister bought him leave no room for imagination when he’s like this. The heat between us spikes and his casted arm adjusts so that his fingers can skim the nightgown over my breasts.

  “Cy,” I softly moan, not sure if I’m begging, but ready to do so if he stops.

  “I need to feel you,” he whispers as his kiss trails across my chin and down to my earlobe.

  “On your back,” I tell him.

  We adjust so I’m straddling his hips, the thick, hard cock practically pulsing between my legs. The fingers of his casted arm touch my bare thigh and the other hand pushes my nightgown up slowly past my thighs, over my hips and along my ribs. I arch into his touch, impatient for him to show my hardened nipples some attention and he does. First with a light touch and then with a pinch, alternating sides and causing a flood of lust between my legs.

  His hand slides down and my eyes lock with his in the moonlight coming in the window. The anticipation of his fingers between my legs as he slows his approach has me begging. “Cy, please, please touch me.”

  “Hold tight, honey, I want to make it last.”

  I whimper, dying for him to touch me.

  By the time he slips his fingers between the silk of my panties and along the warmth of my skin, I’m ready to come. It should be embarrassing, but the euphoria is so thick at this moment, I can’t worry about it. His fingers slide down over my slick folds and with two or three circles against my sensitive nub my thighs lock against him. I throw my head back and moan as my body shakes and burns in delight. I cry out his name and grind against him for far too long before quaking and collapsing against him.

  He says nothing. He just wraps his arms around me carefully so he doesn’t hurt me with the cast and waits for my shaking to stop. Once it subsides I slide to his side and push his shirt up. My fingernails make light passes over his chest and abs slowly for several minutes before I get up the courage to slip them under the waistband of his sleep pants. He grabs my hand quickly to stop me. “Rosie, don’t. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “I know, but I want to.” He doesn’t let go so I beg, “Please?”

  After a long pause he finally relents and releases my hand so I can reach inside to grip the throbbing hot flesh. Damn, he’s bigger than I expected. My hand slides gently up and down over his velvet flesh, until Cy finally pauses me to push his pants down a little. I resume at a faster pace, his hips pumping against my strokes and his breaths coming faster. “I’m coming,” he groans between clenched teeth. I increase the pace, holding tighter and using my other hand to grip his sac. That’s all it takes, and he spurts warm semen all over my hand and his belly. When I’ve drawn out all that I can, I release him and dart into the bathroom. I grab a towel and bring it back to clean us up. Once that’s done I lean over and kiss him deep once more and curl into his side again.

  “Thank you,” I whisper as I draw little circles on his chest with my fingernail.

  “I should be thanking you. It’s been a very long time for me.”

  “Me too, and even then, it wasn’t...it didn’t...feel good,” I share.

  “I hate that what you’re saying is true, but it sure gives me an ego boost. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Both inside and out. I don’t know what I did to deserve your attention and your care, but I’m forever grateful.”

  I wrap my arm around him tight and he flinches. “Sorry, I forgot your ribs are still sore.”

  “That’s okay, it was worth it.”

  I smile against his skin and let myself fall asleep happy.

  I wake up in the early morning to find the sun shining through the windows and I immediately notice the lack of warmth beside me. I stretch a little and then climb out of bed, make a quick trip to the bathroom, slip on my robe and pad down the stairs.

  When I reach the living room I realize that Cy isn’t in one of his three typical spots: the couch, the kitchen table or standing outside the windows staring at the mountains in the distance. Panic grips my chest tight and I find it hard to breathe.

  “Cy!” I call out loud enough to hear anywhere inside the condo. Silence is the only response I get. A cold chill slides down my spine and I somehow know that he’s gone. Did I freak him out last night by being too aggressive? I knew that was too much and went for it anyway. If he wasn’t so shaken by what happened to his friend on the street then—

  Oh my gosh! He’s gone out there, back to the street.

  I race to the counter to get my phone. Next to it is a note.

  Rosie,

  You are amazing in every way. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye, but I couldn’t allow anyone else to get hurt when I could protect them. Take care of yourself,

  Cy

  Damn it! I was right. I pick up my phone and dial.

  “Dex.”

  “What’s up, Rosie?”

  “Cy went back to the streets,” I tell him quietly.

  “I’m sorry, I know you care for him.”

  “He didn’t go back because he was unhappy here. He went back to save the other people on the street.” I stand and pace the room, my muscles tense with fear and agitation.

  “What do you mean?”

  “His friend, Ms. Nona, was killed and another guy got hurt. The note he left me said he couldn’t let anyone else get hurt. With his arm in that cast he’s in no shape to save anyone. Please, Dex, can you help me find him? I’m scared to death.”

  “I’m at work until five o’clock. I’ll see what I can find out. If it isn’t busy I’ll go look for him.”

  “Thanks, Dex.” I hang up, frustrated that Dex isn’t able to help right away. I sit there feeling helpless for a long time, just like how I was under that asshole drug lord for too many years of my young life. But I’m not a victim anymore; I’ve proven that I can take care of myself, that I’m tougher than anyone gives me credit for. If Dex and Mari knew half of what I survived, what I fought through, they wouldn’t see me as a victim anymore.

  By the time Dex goes out to look for Cy, he will either be terribly hurt or dead, and that’s not acceptable to me. I finally found someone who fits with me and my crazy fucked-up past. I know he feels it too. After last night, there is no doubt. I can’t let a man like him slip through
my fingers.

  8

  Cy

  Last night, as Rosie slept, I mapped out the list of homeless-person attacks on an old print map I had in my backpack. It was obvious to me that there’s a pattern. Why the police haven’t figured that out, I don’t know. I thought about going to Dex with the information, but wasn’t certain he would believe me. With the knowledge I have now, I can’t wait. Someone else could be hurt or killed. It feels like it’s my duty to protect those I’ve spent many years cohabitating with, people who, as a whole. are easy prey for predators.

  I know leaving Rosie without a goodbye is a horrible thing to do, but I was going to end up back out here at some point and she wasn’t going to like it. Might as well be now, before I get any more attached than I already am.

  A woman like her deserves a man with no scars on his soul, and no weakness. She deserves a man who can provide for her, keep her safe and love her with everything he has. What she doesn’t need is a broken Marine who’s such a mess he can’t sleep in a room without enormous windows and an easy escape route, a man who has mind-bending nightmares that reflect the awful things he had to do. Did she deserve a better goodbye than a note on the counter? Absolutely. But that’s a good example of my weakness. I knew I couldn’t handle seeing fear or hurt in her eyes, so I wrote a quick note.

  I need to stop going over everything about her and everything I will miss in my head and focus on the task at hand. Clearing all the homeless people out of the alleys and streets that I suspect will be the next targets is a necessity. Once they’re all out, I will curl up as if I’m sleeping and wait.