by Iris Morland
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
He turned her head so she met his gaze. Although he had his arms around her, she had the feeling that if she pushed him away, he’d let her go. It was that realization that burst something inside her, something she couldn’t yet understand.
When he bent down and kissed her, she was certain her heart would explode inside her chest. He tasted like spice and something she couldn’t identify, and within a moment the kiss turned heated, like a fire catching on dry tinder. She opened her mouth to his invasion, and his grip tightened around her waist.
Rose had been kissed before: some kisses had been good, others had been worth forgetting. This kiss, though, turned her inside out. Her heart beat in her ears; a flush traveled from her chest to her cheeks until she was thankful for the darkness around them. She moaned as he kissed her, licking inside her mouth, making her tremble even harder.
When Callie yanked on the leash, Rose returned to herself. Turning, she pushed Seth’s hands away. Like she’d thought, he let her go.
“I need to take Callie inside,” she explained. Callie, for her part, just wagged her tail and didn’t seem at all concerned about going inside. Rose tugged on the leash until Callie got up to follow her.
Seth didn’t say anything as she left him standing there. She heard him go inside his apartment, and she listened as he walked around. She wished he would go to sleep, because until he did, she’d never be able to close her eyes.
But when she did finally fall asleep, all of her dreams were of Seth anyway.
6
Seth hated the dreams the most.
They always started innocuously enough: he was back in the deserts of Afghanistan, the heat and the sand palpable. He heard his fellow soldiers laughing and joking around as they returned from some mission. Seth had moved up the ranks to corporal by the time he’d gone on inactive duty, and although he hadn’t been in charge of anyone, he had acted like a mentor to the newbies by the time he’d started his second tour.
In this dream, Seth watched as his best friend and fellow corporal Max Meyers waved at him to join him. They were in the middle of the desert, and Seth didn’t know what Max wanted to show him. He jogged up to Max, who pointed to something in the sand.
“I can’t see anything,” Dream Seth said, confused.
Max grinned. Max had a smile that you’d never forget, his teeth crooked yet his grin infectious. He was the jokester of their group, always trying to keep people’s spirits up. Seth had found Max annoying when he’d first joined, but through sheer force of will, Max had gotten Seth to be his friend.
Dream Max pointed at some spot in the sand. “Can’t you see it? It’s right there.”
“What’s right there?”
“Seriously? Come on, Seth, you’re pulling my leg here.”
Seth was about to tell his friend to fuck off when Max stepped forward onto the spot. Then, before Seth could warn Max, or warn anyone around them, the spot exploded.
The sound was deafening. Seth flew into the air, and it was like time had stopped. When he finally landed on his back, the breath leaving his body, he felt the spray of blood on his face. He tried to scream Max’s name, but his voice was caught in his throat.
Crawling, unable to see with the smoke and the sand obscuring his vision, Seth found something warm. It was an arm, slick with blood. As Seth’s vision cleared, he saw in horror that it wasn’t Max: it was Rose.
Rose, lying in the sand, bleeding her life away. She gasped something, and Seth tried to get her to stay still and quiet. He yelled, but it came out as a hoarse groan. And then, right before his eyes, Rose closed her eyes and breathed her last.
The scream caught in Seth’s throat emerged as a shout that woke him from a sound sleep. Gasping for air, his entire body covered in a cold sweat, Seth took in lungfuls of air. His heart beat so fast it felt like it would beat out of his chest.
It was a dream. Just a dream.
He wondered if he was going to puke. Sometimes he did, depending on the nightmare. Other times he lay in bed, not wanting to return to sleep. Having your dreams haunt you made sleep unbearable.
Seth rose from his bed, the sheets damp with sweat, and he stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower. He let the water run until it went cold, but even then, he felt dirty.
This had been the first time his dreams had featured Rose. He couldn’t stop seeing her dead in the sand, her life bleeding away as he could do absolutely nothing for her.
It was close to five a.m. Seth started a pot of coffee and sat down on the couch, knowing he’d never get back to sleep.
Seth had seen Lizzie fall apart after she’d gotten pregnant with Trent’s baby and then subsequently miscarried. Seth hadn’t known about the pregnancy until Trent had called him one night in February, telling Seth that he was afraid Lizzie might die from her miscarriage.
Seth had driven to Seattle in a terrified trance. The only thing that had kept him from losing it was the desire to punch the living daylights out of Trent for doing this to his twin sister.
Lizzie and Trent had broken up after that, and Lizzie had run away to be a musician, abandoning not only Trent, but Seth, too. Seth had been more hurt by her abandonment than he’d ever admitted to anyone. He and Lizzie, as twins, had done everything together as children and teenagers. Then Trent had entered the picture, and everything had been destroyed.
Seth had worked a few jobs in Fair Haven before moving to Seattle, not wanting to hear his parents complain about his throwing his life away. He had a few friends from high school working in Seattle, and he’d moved in with them. Sometimes there were women, but mostly, Seth struggled to find a purpose.
He’d never been a great student. He’d enjoyed woodworking, but after Lizzie had left, somehow he couldn’t do that anymore. Maybe it was because she’d encouraged him to do it in the first place.
Then he’d gotten a knock on his door from a recruiter that had changed his life.
Seth had joined the Marines just short of his twenty-first birthday, serving three tours in five years. He’d moved up the ranks, and he’d quickly become close friends with a number of other Marines. Max had been his closest friend.
But then Max had been killed by an IED during Seth’s last tour, and everything about his involvement with the Marines seemed pointless. Max had left a wife and little girl behind, but worst of all, Seth had survived when Max had not.
Seth had walked away with only some cuts and bruises, but Max had been too close to the IED. He’d been killed instantly.
So Seth had told his CO, Staff Sergeant Felix Loyd, that he was going on inactive duty instead of signing up for another tour, despite the fact that he’d have been close to attaining sergeant status if he’d stayed on active duty another year or two.
Sergeant Loyd hadn’t been happy with Seth’s decision. He’d called it a total waste. “You’re one of my best and brightest,” he’d said. “What the hell are you going to do back in Nowhere, Washington?”
And in a way, Sergeant Loyd had been right. Seth hadn’t known what he’d do back here in Fair Haven.
He drank his coffee, and then around seven o’clock, he got dressed and went down to the shop to get some work done.
Alan wasn’t there yet, but Seth didn’t mind. He had a table he wanted to finish, and although Seth appreciated Alan’s input, sometimes it was easier not to have the old man hovering.
He didn’t even hear Alan enter, he was so deep in his work, and after he’d finished the last leg of the table, Alan gave him an appreciative slap on the shoulder.
“Great work, son. I’m impressed.” Alan inspected the table. Although Seth called him Old Man, Alan was no more than fifty. His gray beard lent him an older air, and Alan had embraced the title without protest.
Seth stood up, wiping his forehead. “Thanks. I need to polish it up, but it should be done by tomorrow.”
“I’m still impressed you could return to woodworking
after years of not doing it and be this good. I’m not sure even I could do that.”
Seth shrugged, embarrassed. He was so used to the military, with its no-nonsense commands and lack of straightforward praise, that hearing Alan’s compliments now made him uncomfortable.
“At this rate, I’ll be hiring you full-time.” Alan gave him an assessing look. “Unless you have other plans?”
“Not particularly.”
“Excellent. We’ll talk about it later. I need to finish up this chair today.”
By the afternoon, Seth had almost forgotten about the nightmare that had awoken him that morning. Working with his hands, feeling the grain of each piece of wood, sent him into a kind of trance. He’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed this work.
His idyll ended, though, when his phone rang and he saw it was none other than his CO calling him. Seth frowned. What the hell did Sergeant Loyd want?
Seth knew very well that, even though a reservist could be called up at any time, generally speaking, it was pretty rare. Yet seeing Sergeant Loyd’s name flash on his phone caused him to feel—panicked? Excited? He didn’t know how to identify this particular emotion.
“This is Thornton,” he answered, stepping outside for some privacy.
“Corporal, hello—how’s it going? Where are you again? Bellingham?”
“Fair Haven.”
“Right. Never been there. I wanted to call you because I have an opportunity that I thought you’d be perfect for.”
Seth leaned against the wall of the building, his heart hammering, wondering what the hell Sergeant Loyd had in mind this time.
“We need more guys—guys like you, Thornton—and I’ve wracked my brain to find somebody else, but you’re the man I need. I could get you reinstated to active like that if you accepted.” Seth could hear him snap his fingers. “Then you’d be on tour again by October.”
Seth couldn’t believe it. It was one thing to be called up again while on inactive duty; it was another to have a choice in the matter.
“What’s the job?” he asked.
Sergeant Loyd gave him the lowdown, telling him again that Seth was one of his best guys, and if he took this last tour, Seth could be promoted to sergeant if he wanted.
“I know you’re on inactive, but I told you that was a total waste. I think you know it, too.”
“When do you need my answer?”
“The sooner the better. Let’s say by July fifteenth. That’s when I have to turn in my paperwork.”
Seth assured Sergeant Loyd he’d give him his answer by then, and then he stood, staring at nothing, as he thought. He couldn’t help but agree with his CO: what was he doing in Fair Haven? Woodworking and hanging around? He’d excelled in the Marines, moving up the ranks with ease, and the only reason he’d decided not to take a fourth tour was because he’d thought he was done. Max’s death had changed his outlook: life was such a fragile thing. Could he really test the limits of his own mortality a fourth time?
But now that he was basically a civilian again, he felt lost. Adrift.
Then he thought of Rose, of her pointing a gun at him, and his vow to keep her safe. He rubbed the back of his neck. What would happen if he left her, and this ex-boyfriend of hers hurt her? Or worse?
The thought was unbearable. Even though he’d only known her a short time, she’d affected him deeply. She’d made him want to do more than just drift along in life without any purpose.
And what if another tour ended up being his last?
If Rose had known that Seth Thornton, her seemingly unassailable neighbor, suffered from nightmares just like she did, she might have just laughed. It was too ridiculous, too melodramatic.
But that night, she didn’t know of Seth’s dreams. She only knew of her own, and she wished that she could be rid of them once and for all.
She always dreamed the same dream: the day when Johnny had brought her to his apartment and told her he had a deal for her. She’d been all of twenty, naïve and sheltered, and Johnny had charmed her the moment she’d met him. He was handsome and witty, and he told her she was beautiful.
When you grow up with a brother and no parents, and that same brother tries to hide you from the world in his best effort to keep you safe, it ironically creates a situation where you become vulnerable to people. People like Johnny.
She knew this dream well. Johnny handed her a glass of wine before touching her cheek. She trembled and could barely contain her tears, because her brother had been arrested for drug charges that would send him to prison for a long time if he was convicted. She knew he was innocent; he would never jeopardize his future like that, or hers. He was going to be a teacher, for God’s sake. What kind of a teacher gets arrested for dealing heroin?
“Don’t cry,” Johnny soothed. He lounged in a chair across from her, his legs crossed. “I’ve got it all worked out.”
She gasped in relief. “How? Do you know who did it?”
He shook his head regretfully. “No, but I know people, and I can get your brother released and the charges dropped and erased.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. But I need something from you.”
Her gut twisted at the tone of his voice, but Johnny had been kind to her. He wanted to help her. She wanted to believe he could set everything right.
“I’ll do anything,” she breathed.
He smiled. Rising, he sat next to her and set his arm on the back of the couch behind her. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t need to. She felt the gesture in her heart: it was a gesture of ownership.
She gripped her wineglass harder.
“If you want your brother to go free, you’re mine. Do you understand?”
“I’m already your girlfriend.”
His lips quirked. “Yes, you are.” He brushed her throat with his fingers. “But you won’t let me touch you. Still a virgin, aren’t you, Rosie?”
She blushed scarlet, looking away. He leaned forward to kiss her shoulder.
“Your end of the deal is this: you’re mine to do with what I want. You don’t get to say no, because then I’ll have your brother arrested again and thrown in jail for the rest of his life.” Johnny’s voice had hardened with each word, until Rose wanted to jump off the couch and run.
Fear coursed through her, until the wine in her glass splashed onto her thigh.
“What do you say?” he asked, his voice quiet yet lethal. “Yourself, or your brother? Your dear, dear brother, who took care of you when no one else would.”
She knew what her answer was. What it had to be. Setting the wineglass on the table in front of her, she began to take her hair down from its braid.
And Johnny smiled.
She awoke with a scream lodged in her throat. She always did. The scream could never be let out, because Johnny wanted that. He wanted her to scream.
Her head in her hands, she whispered the litany she told herself whenever she had this nightmare.
You’re free. You’re here. He’s gone. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.
If only that were true.
Callie followed her into the bathroom. Rose washed her face and considered taking a shower, but decided she’d rather sit and watch Bob Ross to soothe herself.
It was ridiculous, but she loved Bob Ross’s voice, his happy little trees. Only joy could be found in his paintings, those hotel paintings of landscapes. Rose sometimes considered taking up painting, but she had a feeling her paintings wouldn’t be full of happy little trees.
They’d be full of darkness, and shadows, and things better left buried six feet under.
She heard a noise next door, and the reminder of Seth Thornton made her pull her blanket closer around her shoulders. She almost laughed. What would he think about what she’d done? The deal she’d made with the devil to save her brother?
She thought of the kiss, the way he’d said her name. She wanted him to touch her as much as she wanted him to leave her alone.
Seth would think she was a fool, most l
ikely. She knew very well how stupid she’d been. She’d thought she was being brave and honorable and saving her brother, but what did it mean when you sacrificed your own well-being for someone you loved? You lost yourself in the process.
So one person dies, anyway. Maybe not physically, but spiritually. Part of her had died that moment Johnny had touched her.
She pushed the memories aside. Callie pushed her nose against her palm, giving doggy comfort. Rose smiled. She didn’t cry—not anymore. She’d cried enough for five people.
All she wanted to do was repay Johnny the money he had spent to get Heath’s name free and clear. And then she’d get a life of her own.
She fell asleep to the sounds of Bob Ross painting a mountain, and her dreams weren’t nightmares this time. They were just as unsettling, however.
She was in Seth’s apartment—she didn’t know what it looked like, but her imagination supplied shadowy pieces of furniture. The walls were bright colors, which she thought was strange.
Then Seth emerged from his room without a shirt, and although she’d never seen him shirtless, she knew her imagination wasn’t overblown here. He was cut like a Greek god, and her mouth went dry with sheer lust.
When he touched her hair, tipping her head back, she didn’t hesitate. She closed her eyes as he kissed her. It was like the kiss outside, yet it wasn’t. It possessed an intensity that shocked her to the tips of her toes. She moaned as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, licking and searching, and she wished he was inside of her in other ways. She wanted him to make her forget.
He picked her up and carried her to his room, never breaking the kiss. When they fell onto his bed together, she laughed, but then they were both naked—as dreams tended to do, without any logical reason—and when he pushed her legs apart, she wanted to protest. She couldn’t move or speak. She gripped his hair as he touched her, torn between what she wanted and what she feared.
And when he had almost pushed inside her, he disappeared into a mist, leaving her all alone.
