by M. C. Cerny
“Oh, a hero,” Doris swoons, and I roll my eyes.
Elisa nudges me. “Don’t disrespect servicemen.”
I swallow my turkey. “I’m not—he broke up with me.”
“Does he have a place to go for dinner? I think you should call him back,” Mom encourages.
“Give him a second chance,” Elisa says.
“Looks like a good catch,” Doris taunts.
“He broke your heart?” Dad picks up the carver again, revving it, and I’m not sure who he’s decapitating, the turkey or Tank in his mind.
The comments and questions give me a headache and I can’t escape these people for the next few hours. Coming clean almost seems easier than enduring the inquisition another minute.
I shrug, spilling details between bites. “His parents live across town. He finished two years at a junior college and came home before enlisting. I met him at the pool hall and bowling alley with Hope and Kate. He had some of his friends there too. Jesus, please pass me the cranberry sauce and leave me alone,” I huff, letting the silverware clang in the awkward silence.
“Well, I made pumpkin pie.” Mom diffuses the situation while my cousin Evan smirks, passing me the cranberry sauce.
Boys are stupid.
2
Tank
I walk back to my car and get in, slamming the door. My brain runs through all the scenarios I pictured for our reunion. I hadn’t expected to miss Beatrice Brennan with a fierce yearning when I enlisted. I had so many things I wanted to say to her if she let me, but like most things in my life, she was difficult. Not quite the sweet girl I recalled during long bouts of training when I craved her most. Her warm brown eyes remind me of cinnamon: sweet and spicy, with a kick if you aren’t careful—like tonight. Her dark hair bounced with soft curls resting right above her perky tits each time she sassed right back at me. I thought she’d be happy to see me, maybe even run and jump into my arms.
My mother warned me she’d be upset, but I didn’t listen.
Now I might not even have a chance.
Part of me wanted to pick her up and cart her off like a caveman because she told me no and that I’d have to wait until she was good and ready. She was kind of cute, dictating to me when we would see each other again. Trouble is, my clock is ticking too fast, and since I got back yesterday and slept like the dead, I only have nine of my ten days of leave left to convince her to be mine. Sounds crazy, but I know Bea is worth it and I want her to see that I’m worth it too—that we’re worth it together.
When I replay our last few days together in my head, I know I gave Bea reasons to doubt my devotion to her. Heck, we hadn’t even defined what our relationship was besides exclusive. I pulled back, thinking it was best. Make a clean break. Move on. Focus on the goal, my career and getting through the training. Beatrice made it impossible to focus. My head and heart kept coming back to her once she was gone.
I pull into my parents’ driveway and get out of the car. My mom rushes out the door with my younger brother and dad hot on her heels. I see the hope in their faces fall when they realize my girl isn’t with me.
“Well, where is she?” Mom is over the moon knowing about Beatrice. When she realized the sweet girl from the coffee shop was my girl, she gave me hell for how I had ended things so abruptly.
“Leave the boy alone, Marylin,” Dad chides, squeezing her shoulder gently.
“So I got dressed up for nothing?” My younger brother Cole is fourteen and a carbon copy of me before I enlisted—still lanky and mouthy. I ruffle his full head of hair. He’s dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. It’s not Sunday best, but I appreciate the effort he put in, considering it’s not a T-shirt he slept in.
“Mind your brother, Cole. Think she’ll come around, Henry?” Dad doesn’t force things but he frowns, looking about as hopeful as I feel right now.
“A little gun-shy maybe,” I mutter, following them into the house.
“Oh, she’ll come around. She’s bound to.” My mother is ever the optimist. She’d like nothing more than grandbabies and doesn’t care how young we are—it’s in her nature. I know I’m not ready for kids, but I want Beatrice in my life.
“Guessing she’ll make you pay the piper, eh?” Dad teases.
I place my car keys in the bowl we keep on a side table by the door. “She’s going to make me work for it, that’s for sure.”
Dad pats my shoulder and squeezes it hard before letting me go. He married my mom young too, and understands the draw of a good woman.
“I’m sure you’ll have another chance at the tree lighting to see her.” Mom smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that feels like a conspiracy—except I know her well, and two-plus decades of her machinations haven’t changed.
“Mom, you didn’t.” I have no idea what she’s done, but the humming and the grin creeping up her face is enough to indicate otherwise. Dad laughs with a loud bark and doesn’t seem the least bit fazed.
“I may or may not have Mrs. Brennan on speed dial from the church social.” Her shoulders shrug as she pushes me toward a dinner table filled with all of my favorite foods: roasted Turkey, mashed potatoes, roasted brussels sprouts, and cranberry jam. I should have known Mom would covertly find a way to meet Bea—or at least her mother.
I take a filled plate from her.
“Uh huh. Speed dial?”
I shovel a forkful into my mouth, savoring the flavors of good food slow cooked. I can’t imagine what she did for dessert.
She passes me another side dish; this one is baked broccoli with pasta and cheese. “What? We volunteer together.”
My father chuckles, clarifying, “That’s what we’re calling it now, my darling wife?”
Mom huffs. “At least I know who will be at the tree lighting over by the east lawn at 7:50 p.m.”
I groan. My mother is either the best or the worst conspirator. I haven’t decided yet.
“All right, but I don’t need any help when we get there.”
“Are you kidding? I bet she’s got another boyfriend.” Cole is taunting me and I grind my teeth until my jaw aches. If I didn’t have a good sixty pounds of muscle on my brother, I’d wrestle him until he screamed uncle.
Mom pats my hand, not letting go. “Of course not, Henry. How could she possibly say no to you? Besides, Marines never give up.”
What my mother neglected to tell me was that at 6:30 I would be stuck on top of a float making its rounds around town with all the newly enlisted. Families waved at us and thanked us for our service, but I was too busy scanning the crowd for a dark-haired girl I had to beg for a second chance.
As the float makes another round, I finally see her on the east lawn, standing next to a few guys and checking something out on her phone. Mom was more than happy to inform me with a nudge that it was just her with a bunch of odd cousins I’d never met. The whole group of them have matching plaid scarves around their necks, and I assume they’re all related by their similar looks.
“There’s your girl.” My fellow Marine and best friend Frankie nods. He lives in the next town over but came out tonight since we’re in the same group training together. Frankie had his own summer romance that fizzled and has been singularly focused as I on our careers.
“Damn right,” I say, keeping my eyes trained on her. I study the way she brushes back a lock of hair. The way she smiles when the guy next to her says something that I assume is stupid. For his sake, he’d better be a cousin.
I get up, ready to jump off the float, pausing to take in her beauty.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Frankie pushes me off. Apparently that was as much of a pep talk I was going to get. I make a note to myself to get Frankie back.
I stride in her direction, ignoring folks as I go to get to her. Her cousins step back as soon as they see me, and I guess I look intimidating or determined because they slink off. I spy her two aunts off to the right, and they both give me a thumbs-up, making their own quick exit. I salute them and keep go
ing toward my girl, who hasn’t seen me yet.
“Beatrice.” I sidle up to her, pretending to watch the last few floats of the parade. She still smells the way I remember—like summer—when the breeze picks up a curl of her messy hair.
“Tank,” she mutters, slipping her phone back into her pocket.
I take a peek at her tight jeans and the way her phone stretches the pocket over the tightest ass I ever had the privilege of touching, once upon a time. I’d love nothing more than to be able to peel those jeans down and hook my fingers into her lacy panties, but for now I rein in my dirty thoughts and reach for her hand, slipping it inside of mine. She doesn’t resist and I pump her hand with a gentle squeeze, warming her up.
She clears her throat and another float passes by.
“I’m still mad at you.”
“It’s okay, Honeybee. I’m mad at me too.” I bump her lightly. We stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the crowd part ways. Our families leave us alone, standing there, and I enjoy the fact that she hasn’t run off.
“In the effort of not having to deal with my nosy family tonight, we can watch the tree lighting from here if that’s okay,” she says.
I can’t get her to look at me, and that’s all right. Small steps, even if I feel like all the time I have left is for sprinting. I’ll take my cues from her.
“Sure,” I agree, moving her in front of me so I can rest my arms around her. We listen to the carolers sing and the mayor, dressed up as Santa Claus, hands out candy canes to the kids taking pictures. My own family is eyeballing us from behind a bunch of lighted bushes. My brother Cole makes an obscene gesture, probably thinking he’s cheering me on. I angle Bea away from them as my mother clocks Cole for being rude. My dad stands with his hands in his pockets, pretending to not observe with a big smile on his face.
“Oh look!” Bea points at a group with sparklers, and her eyes glow from the light while we listen to the crowd count down until the tree is lit.
I think of the ten ways I’ve missed her and the nine ways I wanted to hold her. During training there were eight clear memories of the times she made me smile, the seven ways she made sounds during sex, and the six favorite positions I wanted to try all over again—god willing she’d let me. There were at least five top dates, and four shared milkshakes. Off the top of my head, I could only think of three times she beat me at pool and the last two were because her sweet ass distracted me.
However, on the count of one, I turn her around and hold her close for a kiss that’s meant to be chaste, but ends up as anything but. Open-eyed, she looks surprised but settles into the kiss quickly. Our lips touch for the first time in thirteen weeks, and Bea sighs like she’s missed this as much as I have. It gives me hope and a reason to take the kiss deeper. I can smell the cinnamon spices on her skin and what I think is pumpkin and sugar lip balm. Her kiss is like home and I don’t want to let her go, tangling my fingers in her hair. I was meant to come back for this.
Her moan spurs me on and I tilt her chin up so I can capture more of her mouth. My brain is telling me to keep this PG because we’re in public, surrounded by people we know, but my heart doesn’t give a shit. My tongue slides against her sealed lips and she finally lets me in. The kiss goes from zero to sixty, from chaste to hot and messy with her hands grasping my shoulders and my hands mussing her hair into my fists. I want so much more than this one moment added to my list. I want this one as forever.
“Get a room!” Frankie yells from the float doing a second pass.
We laugh forehead to forehead. Her eyes sparkle and I can’t stomach the thought of tonight ending here until morning.
“Come on.” I pull her with me toward the hot chocolate stand and order two. Since I haven’t gone anywhere or done anything with my pay, I’ve got money to burn—like I knew I was saving it all for her.
“Where are we going?” She chuckles, following my lead.
“I’m not waiting for coffee tomorrow.”
We walk up to the carriage rides and I help her inside, passing her the drinks. We settle in with the lap blanket covering us, and the carriage driver takes us out on a long loop I pay extra for. I’m not letting her get away until we hash this out.
“So, what’s going on here, Tank? Level with me.” Bea blows on her drink, holding it with both hands. Her sipping her hot chocolate keeps me from grabbing her hand and I settle for having her next to me.
“Everything felt like it was happening at light speed when we met.” Beatrice Brennan consumed all of my thoughts, so much so that I almost missed a meeting with my recruiter, but she doesn’t know that and saying it wouldn’t help my cause right now so I lock it down and stick to the facts I can say. “I was nervous and scared and I didn’t know where it was going.”
“And then you left. You chose to go.” Her eyes glisten and tears are a blink away. My feelings for her now are solid and I don’t want her to cry any more sad tears.
“I know I did. The Marines was always my goal, but then you happened and that goal hasn’t been the same since. My focus shifted from the eagle, anchor, and globe. You were a part of it too, and I hadn’t expected that.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs, looking out toward the fields that will be filled with sunflowers and wheat come spring and summer. I know I’m making shit of this but I’ve also never felt this before and I’m out of my depth here.
“Honeybee, you’re the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me and I couldn’t say goodbye. Obviously, I couldn’t, and I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone.”
“How can you talk to me about it now? Why come back at all?”
I take her hot chocolate and mine and slip them into the holders near our feet. I gather her up in my arms and nuzzle her neck. “Because as sweet as you are, I missed your sting. I missed your sass and I missed knowing that if I didn’t try to get you back I might lose out on the best thing in my life, because the military comes second to you. Everything is second to you. I don’t want to say goodbye again.”
“I guess breakfast is off the table.” Shrugging, she gives me an odd look I can’t place. I don’t know how to win this argument. I’ve opened my heart to her and she’s crushing it.
“No?”
“Nope.” She jabs me in the chest with her finger. “Because you are taking me on a real date.”
“Yeah?” I’d hoot and holler, making a scene, but that won’t win me any brownie points with her.
“Yes. Pick me up for dinner and then we’ll see.”
I lean my head back, thankful she’s willing to give me a chance.
“We’ll see,” she says, my sassy girl.
“So, you did miss me.” I nuzzle her neck, breathing in her cinnamon scent.
“About as much as a squirrel who misses his nuts.”
The tone bites, but I can’t blame her. She’s lashing out and I deserve it, but she’s confirmed how much we affect each other.
“You’re killing me, Honeybee.”
“That’s my sting you missed so much.” Her eyes narrow.
I definitely missed something all right, and I swoop her up in my arms for another kiss. I move my nose up and down her baby-soft neck and kiss her. I tug at her silly scarf to taste what she’s been hiding.
Growling, I attack her neck. “I want breakfast anyway. I’m hungry.”
She moans, rubbing herself against me. I suck on the tight skin exposed, leaving it red but not quite marked.
Bea softens and says, “When are you not hungry?” She turns in my arms and the heat in her eyes matches mine.
“For you? Always.”
“Well, I need to sort myself out. You don’t get breakfast because you stole dessert.”
I attempt to kiss her lips again, but she presses her finger against mine, stalling me. I nip at the digit, loving the way she has to contain her squeal.
“Not even a taste?” I ask, reminding her of before. We would share dessert each time we went out. It didn’t matter if it was a milkshake at
the diner or a piece of pie she brought from her mom’s kitchen under the cover of darkness and bright summer starlight.
“Not if you want more, Tank.” Beatrice is serious. If I want more than a taste of this girl, I have to put all my effort into winning her back.
3
Bea
I hear the rumble as Tank pulls up to my parents’ house in his older electric blue Ford Mustang. The racing stripe down the middle and the custom paint job makes his eyes pop, and I do my best to not dream about the summer and how he loved to talk about his car. I chuckle because at first I thought he was bragging about his car like it was his cock, but everything Tank did was just bigger and better. I bounce over to the window and peek out between the lace curtains, watching him get out of his car. My whole body succumbs to a shiver, thinking about the drives we would take to the lake and how he’d rev the engine, making my core twitch with anticipated need. Back then I admired the way he handled the manual transmission of the car as much as the way he played with my body each night.
I’m falling hard under his spell and we haven’t even reconnected fully. I’m doing my best to remain level-headed, and failing abysmally in the short amount of time he’s been back. Lust is clouding my mind. He apologized last night, but I’m skeptical and still hurt that he left me so easily once before. What’s to say Tank wouldn’t leave me again?
After our buggy ride, I left him to rejoin my family. I didn’t tell them what happened and no one asked. My cousins shot me odd glances and I know they saw Tank kiss me. My cheeks could have been twin space heaters, the way I flushed. I knotted my scarf tighter around my neck, not caring if I suffocated myself. My parents, however—they had a ton of questions once they sent the aunts off and it was just us at the table nibbling on pumpkin pie. Mom gave my neck a suspicious glance, like she could see the brand he almost left marking my skin. Dad is convinced old habits are hard to break and he tried to point out that joining the military is a huge decision and a big responsibility. We’re both young.
