Courage of Us

by Brooke May

  To my surprise, she manages to get into my truck, and even once I have her in the passenger seat, she’s fine. This sends me back in time again. All the times I’ve taken care of her, and the very few times she was able to return the favor.

  Gingerly, I start the truck and put it into gear to take her home for the second night in a row. She remains silent, and I don’t like it. Patience has never been a quiet drunk, even when she was upset.

  Halfway to her house, her head does a strange whipping motion, bringing her glare to me.

  “Why’d you leave me, Duke?”

  Shit.

  Swerving, I realize I have a drunk truth seeker in my truck tonight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Duke

  WORDS EVADE ME AS I stumble over syllables and vowels to piece together some sort of response to her question.

  Why did I leave her?

  I didn’t leave her in the way she thinks.

  Or did I?

  I can’t figure this shit out. I never wanted to leave her behind, but by the time I was able to call her, she was gone.

  “Pati—”

  An odd sounding snort rips from her mouth and nose; so strange that I actually am worried snot and blood came out of her nose. That is until laughter quickly follows it.

  “I’m so shit-faced.”

  I have to agree with that. But she can’t be that drunk if she’s admitting to it. Patience has always taken the Galaxy Quest view; never give up, never surrender. The tenacious part of her personality is both endearing and annoying at times.

  “I’ll get you home soon and into bed.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” She drunkenly giggles before falling over onto the center console.

  Oh sweet lord, help me.

  After all the times I have taken care of her in this state, never once has she ever been this forward with me. Loose lips sink ships? Yeah, that doesn’t apply to Patience. This girl can surprisingly hold things in no matter what you feed and bribe her with.

  “Patience, you’re drunk. Shit-faced, as you said. You are in no state for us to—”

  Shit, how do I put this without sounding like either a complete asshole or a prude?

  She snorts again, but this time I don’t fear cleaning up after her. Struggling to sit back up, she rolls her amber eyes at me. I can’t see because of the dark around us, but I know what she is doing better than she does.

  “That didn’t stop you last time. Hey!”

  My foot hits the brakes a little too quickly, causing her to nearly slam her head against the dashboard, and we skid on the ice.

  Good thing she is too small to reach that far.

  “That wasn’t nice, Duke.” She sneers my name, but it reminds me of a kitten trying to egg on a big dog. I don’t let her hear my laughter, though. I don’t want to set her off on one of her revenge-seeking missions.

  “We are at your house, snowflake.” Calmly stating the fact, I point at her house and turn the truck off. “Care to give me your keys, or do you think you can get your legless self inside safely?”

  There it is; the glint in her eyes is one I’m so glad never vanished. It’s the watch me look she’s always given me or any of the guys when we told her she couldn’t do something or if we even implied she couldn’t.

  Jetting her nose up in the air, she struggles out of her seat belt and then to find the door release. Once she has those figured out, she nearly summersaults out of the truck and plants her face into the concrete of the curb.

  “Real smooth,” I quip, getting out of the driver’s seat and rounding the truck to help.

  “You liked seeing my ass.” She giggles.

  Maybe she drank more than I thought.

  She used to have a pretty high tolerance, so this has me worried about her blood alcohol level. She’d be pissed if I gave her the breathalyzer test.

  “Come on, Patience.” Grumbling, I grab her keys from her and then throw her over my shoulder. I will not have her dragging both of us down on the ice.

  Ignoring her grabbing my ass and patting it, I get her into her house, take her shoes off, and then place her back on her feet.

  “Let’s get you in some pajamas and into bed.”

  “Why don’t you just skip the pajamas?” A single digit reaches out and glides over my badge. “I’ve always liked a man in uniform.”

  Her eyes droop, not in a seductive way, but in a way that screams I’m going to pass out at any second.

  “Patience.” Groaning, I turn her and march her to her bedroom.

  “Great idea.” She starts to strip her clothes away as she wobbles back to her bedroom. By the time she flops onto her bed, she is down to her bra and panties. I’m doing my best not to let my body respond to the matching pink lace.

  Saying it’s hard would be an understatement.

  Because it is achingly difficult not to reach down and adjust myself as she wriggles on her bedding, drunk, but still a fucking glorious sight.

  “Get ready for bed, Patience.”

  “Only if you join me,” she purrs.

  I’m nearly delirious by her. Shaking my head, I reinforce my front.

  “Patience, you’re drunk. You need to go to sleep and rethink this when you sober up.”

  “It didn’t bother you last time.”

  And there she goes again.

  That stings. But she doesn’t stop there with my shame.

  “Isn’t that why you slept with me? Because I was drunk and might not remember it?”

  “What the hell, Patience?”

  She rolls over on a laugh. I need to look away from her breathtaking body, her ass especially. The perfectly round globe has a single dimple in it. My mouth starts to salivate, the need to taste her skin consuming me.

  “I could never forget.” Snapping to attention, I look back up, finding her face turned into her shoulder and her heavy eyes fluttering in my direction.

  “Patience, please. I don’t want to get into this right now. When you are sober, we can talk about the past.” Pinching my brow, I need the break to close my eyes and not look at her tempting body.

  My eyes snap open when I hear a loud snore.

  She fell asleep?

  Her body is still in the position I have been trying to block out, her lips kiss her bare shoulder as goose bumps start to break out over her body.

  “Thank you.” I clap my hands together and look at the heavens before I carefully step forward and maneuver her body under the covers.

  Gingerly, I move her to pull the covers back and place her under them before I look for something for her to wear. I don’t find any clothes out except the ones she had stripped out of. Looking under the bed, I find a single white shirt.

  A man’s shirt.

  I know it has got to be one of Greg’s and that pisses me off. Not wanting to look through her clothes, I jog out to my truck and pull out one of my shirts from my gym bag and take it back inside to slip her into.

  A strange possessiveness takes hold of me as I slip her into my shirt. Once I have her settled, I make sure the way to her bathroom is clear so if she needs to hurl, she doesn’t hurt herself.

  I can’t very well leave her here by herself tonight, but for the sake of my sanity and Patience’s, I think it would be best if I didn’t stay in the house. Sure, I could go hide downstairs, but I won’t.

  Instead, I walk out of the house and fold myself into the swing on her porch. I can look in the window and see into her hallway with ease. It’s a good guard position, especially since Patience likes to meander out into the cold when she’s drunk.

  Once I make sure I’ll be warm enough, I settle in for the rest of the night.

  It feels like I just closed my eyes when warmth starts to spread along the left side of my face, waking me. Lifting my head, I wince at how tight my neck is from sleeping out here. The kinks I can handle; it’s trying to get my neck to pop that is driving me crazy.

  After stretching and yawning, I peek inside a
nd find nothing has changed from the last time I checked. There are no noises, so I take it that Patience is still sleeping off all the alcohol in her system. Not wanting to wake her, I head down to my truck, and as quietly as I can, I back out and take off for home.

  I work today, and I still need to shower and clean my uniform since it is my only one right now.

  It doesn’t take me long to get back to the ranch. I quickly throw my clothes into the washer and file into the shower. Since I have to wait on my uniform to dry, I head into my kitchen and nearly collide with my mom.

  “Mom?”

  “I was just coming to check on you. I saw you were home and thought I would bring some food over.” Wiping her hand on her jeans, she points at the food on the counter. “For God’s sake, Duke, finish drying yourself off and throw some clothes on. It isn’t warm enough in here.”

  “Thanks.” My gaze is fixed on the pancakes, sausage, eggs, and some milk set up for me. “I’ll be right back.”

  Throwing some sweats and a T-shirt on, I head back out to the kitchen and take the unoccupied seat across from my mom.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Digging in, I don’t wait for her reply. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since last night before I went into the station.

  “You’re welcome,” she mumbles around her coffee. “Where were you last night?”

  “We got a call about a bar fight, and I went to help out with it.”

  “Was it bad?” Her cup nearly drops to the table. She thinks this will be some big news to gossip about.

  “No, it was Patience. She was on top of another woman, beating the shit out of her. I took her home and watched over her last night.”

  “That poor girl.” She tuts. “I’ve been waiting for her to finally blow.” Shaking her head, she goes back to her coffee. “I’m glad you’re back, Duke. That girl of yours has been through the fires of hell.”

  “What do you mean?” I bristle at her. She called Patience mine. I like the sound of it, but I wonder if I even know Patience any more.

  “Greg ran around on her and verbally abused her for years until it turned physical. Thank God she gathered enough strength to divorce his cheating ass.” Her hand reaches over and gently squeezes mine clenched around the fork. “You and Patience were always meant to be. Give her some time to finish healing and then go from there. I saw it the day you two got into my chickens, and you said it was your idea. You love that girl, and she has always loved you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Patience

  COLD AIR HITTING MY bare toes wakes me from the strangest dream I’ve possibly ever had.

  Why are my feet cold?

  As I wiggle them around, the fog around what happened last night refuses to clear. My eyes reluctantly open only to snap closed again with a wince. I really need to paint my room something other than white because the stark, bland vision on the other side of my eyes lids is blinding.

  “Aw.” My voice is dried out. I can hear my vocal cords cracking through to my sensitive ears. Rolling onto my side, it smarts and causes the air to be knocked out of me.

  “What the fuck?” As delicately as I can, I sit up and lift the giant, oversized shirt up to reveal a nice fist-sized bruise forming on the left side of my ribs. “What did I do last night?”

  I haven’t drunk that much in a very long time. I don’t really remember drinking that much either.

  I’m such a lightweight now.

  Putting the shirt back into place, another question slaps me.

  How did I get out of my dress and into this shirt?

  Pulling the shirt out so I can inspect it closer, USMC printed in large letters stares up at me. As I let it drop, it bends over my boobs. Where in the world did I get a United States Marine Corp shirt?

  Digging the heels of my hands into my temples, I try hard to regain any blurred knowledge of last night. I remember going out with Angie, doing shots, having other drinks, dancing, and then …

  “Oh, no.”

  I beat the shit out of Maya.

  Why would I do that?

  I don’t care about what Greg did during our marriage or who he did it with. But something snapped in me last night. I haven’t been in a fight in almost as long as the last time I actually had a drink.

  My fists don’t look bruised or beaten. Our fight must have not been very long.

  I’m going to have to go to the doctor to get tested. I can’t say that I hadn’t slept with my ex in the last couple of years because I did. I didn’t enjoy it and usually thought of recipes while he got off, but it was unprotected, so I may be at risk.

  “Great. Another thing to add to my list.”

  More fog lifts and a gasp causes me to choke, wince, and fall back on the bed. I really need to get up and get some water, but I’m paralyzed as the rest of last night comes back to me. Or at least until I got into my house.

  I was on top of Maya, beating the shit out of her when strong arms wrapped around me from behind and pulled me back. The feel of him against me and his voice in my pounding ears sent my body into a delicious spasm of lust.

  He brought me home and then …

  “Oh, God.” Burying my head into my hands, I feel the embarrassment of what I did next. Why the hell did I have to drink, and why in the fuck was Duke the one who came to get me? I stripped for him and then tried to get him into my bed.

  “Why me?”

  The collar of the shirt is wide enough to expose some of my chest. I’m still in my bra, and I’m sure my panties are still in place as well. Duke must have put me in his shirt when he didn’t see my pajamas. That would explain why I’m not in my usual thick wool socks, shorts, and sweater I wear to bed in the winter.

  I have humiliated myself in front of the man who once was the boy I loved. What a fuckup I am. He probably thinks I do this all the time now.

  Get drunk.

  Beat up on possibly one of several of my ex-husband’s hussies.

  Strip for a man who comes to get me and then offer him sex.

  “What is wrong with you, Patience?”

  I know this isn’t my lowest of lows, but it is pretty damn close. What Duke must think of me now.

  “Quit feeling sorry for yourself.” Scolding myself is the only thing I can do to push myself to stop feeling it.

  I’m right, though; I shouldn’t care what Duke thinks anymore. He left me a long time ago and shouldn’t pass judgment on me just because I cut loose for once.

  He left.

  He fucking left.

  My pounding head is dull compared to the anger that flares in my chest. Getting out of bed, I walk over to my chest of drawers and pull out my bedtime socks, the put them on. I make my way out of my room to use the bathroom and then make myself some greasy eggs to help clear my head and settle my stomach.

  Once done in the bathroom, I wander out to my living room and stop dead in my tracks when I see a body slumped on my front porch swing.

  It’s Duke.

  His head rests against the bay window by my dining room table. From here, I can see his breath bellowing out of his slightly open mouth and forming a fog against the glass.

  He stayed the night?

  That does strange things to me. Should I be pissed that he felt the need to stay outside away from me? Or should I be happy he stayed to watch over me? Should I go tell him I’m fine and he can go home, or do I invite him in for some breakfast?

  I could do that for him, at least.

  My churning stomach agrees. Forcing my feet to move, I take my hungover ass into the kitchen and quietly start to make something for us to eat. I can’t help the smile that tugs on the corner of my mouth as I break some eggs and heat the oven to bake the bacon. It feels good to make breakfast for someone other than myself. Sure, I make plenty of baked goods for people to eat for breakfast, but nothing for someone to eat with me.

  Pouring some batter into my waffle maker, my mind starts to wander more than I really want it to.

  Does he still care abo
ut me?

  Duke has to if he brought me home and then stayed the rest of the night to watch over me.

  What do I do now?

  How do I talk to him now and try to get him to sit down and discuss the past? I still feel confused about the night he left me in Chase’s barn. I need to tell him about everything with Greg, what has happened to my life, and … the baby. The spatula nearly falls to the floor as my hands start to tremble uncontrollably.

  Aside from my mom, I haven’t talked about him to anyone else. The only time Greg would bring him up was when he would rub it in my face. After I lost him, it took me months to grieve. I still haven’t fully accepted losing the one piece of me I never wanted to lose.

  Big fat tears pool in the corners of my eyes, and I look away before they fall onto the food.

  “I have to tell him.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I have our breakfast ready. Taking them out to the dining room, I nearly drop the plates when I look up to find Duke is no longer on my porch swing. In haste, I put the plates down and rush outside to find Duke’s truck is nowhere to be seen.

  My back falls against the cold siding as I wrap my arms around myself.

  Maybe I was wrong.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Patience

  I BURST INTO THE store’s front door like the windstorm blowing behind me. I do not do late well. When I finally managed to stop feeling pity for myself and got back into the house to eat my breakfast alone, I was already three hours late.

  After giving myself a good dose of heartburn from choking down my food too quickly, I changed my underwear, put Duke’s shirt back on, and shoved myself into a pair of loose jeans and socks before rushing out to my mom’s car.

  That wasn’t there.

  Luckily, Mr. Parkman, my elderly neighbor, was on his way to the feed store to get food for his chickens and offered me a ride to the store. I was going to use my lunch break to go car shopping, but that will have to wait until Monday.

  Several of my customers along with a few of my family’s employees stop to watch me as if I’m the most interesting thing to walk into the store since Mrs. Chet strutted in wearing zebra print leggings and a leopard print spandex shirt, both of which were far too tight to be wearing in public.