Not Another Soldier

by Holt, Samantha

  Urgh, there it is. Friendship. That fateful word. Friend-zoned, as they say. But I still feel like a fucking jerk for my behavior earlier so I smile and pretend the word doesn’t jab me like a damned knife. I’ve been her friend for so long, and I don’t ever intend for that to change, but it’s been painful, holding back, letting her make her mistakes with Rob and keeping my mouth shut.

  “I’ll always be here for you, short stuff. No matter what.”

  She leans back, hands still clutching the coffee and closes her eyes with a sigh. “What did I ever do to deserve you, Nick?”

  I shake my head and study the arch of her neck. I can’t help think the same about her. She’s so amazing and she just doesn’t see it. And as much as it’s been so difficult keeping my hands off her all these years, I can’t regret those years spent waiting. Because I have a shot now.

  ***

  Sienna

  It’s almost three am by the time the police pack up. They’ve dusted for prints and taken mine. I’m still angry but I’m tired now, in spite of having slept through the day and the fact I’d still be at work normally. The fatigue has taken the edge off my resentment.

  I study the mess and shake my head. Where do I even start?

  “Leave it for now,” Nick says, coming up behind me from the kitchen.

  “I don’t know if I can. I don’t really want to wake up to this.”

  “It’s late. You won’t get much done.” He bends to pick up some fragments of vase and I catch myself admiring the way his jogging pants pull tight over his ass. I snap my gaze away as he comes back to standing.

  “We can get everything cleared up in the morning.”

  We? “No, Nick, you’ve done enough. Anyway, it is morning.”

  “You need some rest and I’m not leaving you to sort this mess on your own. Besides, I wouldn’t leave you anyway.”

  I prop my hands on my hips and face him head on. “What do you mean?”

  “Sweetheart, you’ve just had your place broken into, your door is still damaged and who knows if they found what they wanted. I’m not leaving you alone.”

  “Nick, I’m a big girl. I can do this on my own.” I fight the need to stomp my foot. This domineering act is getting old quickly. I’m not the most street-wise of people but I’m starting to get fed up with being babied.

  “Fine, then at least go stay in a hotel for the rest of the night. Until we get new locks put on. New, extra-strong locks.”

  “Nick, we are not a ‘we.’” I motion between us. “I will sort some locks tomorrow and I am not staying in a hotel. I am not being chased out of my home!”

  His lips twitch as if he’s struggling to hide his amusement. “Guess I’m staying here then.”

  “No!”

  Nick chuckles. “Hotel then?”

  “No!”

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere, babe, so either you try to kick me out or get used to the idea that I ain’t leaving.”

  I thrust my chin out as he crosses both arms across his chest. I eye that torso and consider my options. There’s no way I have any hope of ejecting him by force.

  “Argh, fine.” I throw my hands up. “Though I don’t know where you’re going to sleep.”

  He glances behind us toward the bedroom. The door is still ajar and my bed, with its crumpled sheets, is visible. My heart skips slightly at the idea of sharing a bed with him.

  I see him shake his head marginally. Shit, is he thinking what I’m thinking?

  “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he announces and, as if marking his territory, he steps through the double doors and sits. “I can see the door from here.”

  With a scowl, hands still on my hips, I take a moment to study him. Damn if he doesn’t look so very right sitting in my apartment, as if he owns the place. Though my couch is a little small for a man of his size. “You won’t fit on there.”

  “I’ll do fine. Stop fretting and get ready for bed.”

  I huff—a long slow one. “Fine,” I mutter as I turn away, snatch a glass from the kitchen and rinse it in the sink before filling it. “Do you want to use the bathroom before me?” I call out. “You can… use my toothbrush if you want.” I pause because it seems too intimate. But I realize he is doing me a favor really. I need to at least try to be a little pleasant even if I don’t want him to stay.

  “Thanks.”

  I wait for him to go past me and hear the bathroom door shutting. Blowing out a breath, I dash into my room to grab my PJs so I can dive past him once he’s finished. I tap my foot as I listen to the water run and try not to picture him washing up. The strange urge to see him shaving strikes me. What would it be like to sit in the bathroom and chat with him as he shaves? It’s a bizarrely domestic picture that I really don’t need.

  His gaze snaps to mine when he opens the door, as if surprised to see me. “It’s all yours,” he says as he holds the door open.

  I’m forced to press past him and I keep my gaze downward. My hands shake slightly as I wash, and then brush my teeth. The image of his hair damp and spiky is going to haunt my dreams tonight. And now he’s going to sleep on the couch. Only a door and a few short steps will separate us. I put my toothbrush back in the plastic tumbler and grip the edge of the sink as I study myself.

  This is too much. All of it. Rings circle my eyes though I shouldn’t be tired, not from the sleep I had during the day. It’s been brought on by the strain. Too many things have happened in one day. Attacked, almost arrested, robbed.

  Oh, yeah, don’t forget sleeping with your best friend.

  I scrape my hands through my hair and grimace at my reflection. I clearly have no common sense. Why would I risk the only honest-to-goodness friendship I have by sleeping with Nick? But it’s clear I’m not exactly smart when it comes to men. Otherwise, I’d have realized what Rob was up to.

  With the break in, I’d almost forgotten the things that had come to light about him. How can you be married to someone for so long and not realize they’re drug dealing? When did he get into it? And did he use?

  I don’t think so and neither does Nick. Rob’s moods weren’t great but that was usually due to alcohol. I’m sure the military would have found out if he had. And that’s the thing about Rob. In spite of everything, he loved being a soldier. I’m not sure if it was the hero worship that came with it or the adrenaline-filled moments, but he appeared to thrive on it. The few times I spoke to him when he was in Afghanistan were the few times he seemed like the man I’d first met. The one who was outgoing, outrageous, exciting…

  Ugh. I shake my head at myself, cursing the young girl who fell for such a man. But I didn’t understand that exciting and outgoing didn’t make a marriage at the time.

  My thoughts turn to the man now taking up my couch. It’s funny because I used to think of Nick as dependable, caring, practical—the things that do make up a marriage—but he excites me too. In a completely different way to Rob. Rob never made my skin prickle with his mere presence and he certainly didn’t make my pussy clench by looking at me.

  As I watch myself in the mirror, I see a glaze come over my eyes and I shake it off.

  Shoving away from the sink, I change into my nightwear. A cotton camisole and checkered shorts. It’s not glamorous but it’s comfy. I gave up on sexy nightwear a long time ago when I realized Rob preferred the company of other women at night to mine. Coldness clutches at my chest as feelings of inadequacy eat into me. It didn’t matter that I didn’t like the man Rob had become; no woman wants to be cheated on. Sometimes I laid in bed at night and wished he’d just come back to me—return to being the man I thought I’d married—as I pictured him with other women. Christ, why did I spend so long wishing and not taking action?

  Drawing in a breath, I open the door. Hopefully Nick’s all settled and I won’t even have to—

  He’s sitting on my bed.

  Damn the man. He studies me, slow and languorously, and I flex my fingers, longing to splay my hands across myself. My simple P
Js now feel sexy and I’m definitely showing off too much skin.

  “Can I—” I cough. “Is everything okay?”

  Nick nods slowly, his eyes saying everything is more than okay. My skin heats and I hope he can’t see the redness that’s no doubt in my cheeks and on my chest.

  “Yeah,” he says finally, gaze lingering on my bare legs. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Though I don’t sound fine. Having your heart going the same rate as a freight train or your blood boiling beneath your skin probably isn’t fine. But that wasn’t what he meant.

  He doesn’t look convinced.

  “It’s been a crazy day and I am a little shaken but I’m okay, I swear. I just need some rest and I need to get this place back to normal and then I’ll be great.”

  Nick takes a moment to study me once more and stands. “All right. Just checkin’.”

  “Oh.” I go to my closet. “Here’s some blankets.” I draw out two old ones that I usually use if the temperature drops and pass them over.

  “Thanks.” He takes them from me.

  “Do you need something to sleep in?” I bend down and rummage through the bottom drawer. “I might have some old T-shirts.” I find one and come up to standing.

  His eyes are wary and he looks tense, like he’s going to explode at any moment.

  Baffled, I thrust out the T-shirt. “It’s one of Rob’s. I don’t know why I still have them really. Or would it be weird wearing his stuff?” He doesn’t respond so I hesitate before turning around and chucking the T-shirt back in the drawer. That was a stupid idea. “Sorry, guess it would be.”

  With a wry laugh, he nods. “Yeah, I don’t want to be wearing his stuff, but I got to tell you, babe, I’m more worried about your night clothes.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re sleeping like that,” he motions with one hand down me, “then it’s going to make me sleeping there,” now he points to the couch, “a real trial. ‘Cause when you bend over in those shorts, all I want to do is take you to bed and peel them from you.”

  I slap a hand to my hot cheeks. I feel scalded by his words and at the same time secretly pleased. I suppose I lost a lot of confidence when Rob stopped having sex with me. Though I know I’ve got a good a figure, I think there’s more to being sexy than that. I just don’t feel like I have that ‘thing’ that makes a person sexy.

  But Nick’s words make me think otherwise. And I sure felt sexy in bed with him yesterday morning. I search for something witty to say. Something a hot, sensual woman would utter, but nothing comes and I stand there stupidly gaping.

  “Sleep well, short stuff.”

  I nod.

  “And tomorrow, we’re getting rid of those damned T-shirts.”

  Before I can react, he’s gone and has closed the bedroom door behind him. I step away from the drawer, kick it shut and sink onto my bed.

  I never considered how Nick felt toward Rob after his death. I assumed he must have grieved for the guy who was his best friend, but I’ve seen Nick grieve and I know full well he does it stoically. When he was in the fire fight that injured his leg, he lost three men. Even then, he remained so calm and in control.

  But that reaction—it was so negative. More like something you’d expect between an ex-boyfriend and a new boyfriend. Except Nick isn’t my boyfriend and Rob was his best friend. Even if we have been nursing this attraction for a while—and I don’t even want think about that—surely that doesn’t change the fact they were close friends? He’s said stuff that’s hinted at his frustration with Rob but I guess I assumed he still considered him his friend. God, who knows? I don’t feel like I know anything right now.

  I slide into the sheets and take a sip of water before placing it back on the side table. I probably shouldn’t pick at it, but it’s bugging me. How does Nick really feel about Rob? His words before, when he expressed his disgust about the way Rob treated me… I didn’t even pick up on it but I’d always believed Nick was kind of blinded to Rob’s behavior like I was in the beginning.

  Guys worshipped Rob and though I knew Nick was too smart for that, their shared history—growing up as friends—seemed to have cemented their friendship forever. It always prevented me from telling Nick absolutely everything. Like how Rob had struck out at me. But maybe Nick saw most of it anyway. He is a damned clever guy after all.

  And I’m an idiot. I smack my pillow and try to get comfy. I am an idiot. I know I am. I’ve got a hot, amazing guy lying on my couch and my experience with Rob is holding me back.

  Shit. I put an arm over my eyes and will myself to sleep. I do not need to be thinking about Nick right now. I should be moving on, getting my place sorted and considering buying a new car. One that hasn’t been involved in drug trafficking.

  I shake my head. Oh, Rob, what went so wrong with you?

  ***

  I’m not sure when I fell asleep but I must have since I was having all sorts of weird dreams about Rob and Nick. Rob was trying to persuade me to sell drugs for him at the hospital and Nick just got angry about his T-shirts. And then it got heated. Nick started stripping off my clothes and Rob said he could have me.

  I rub my eyes, my head thick from not enough sleep and grimace as I sit up and glance at my clock. I’ve only slept for a few hours. My skull pounds a little and the need for coffee forces me out of bed and into the bathroom to change. I choose what to wear carefully, wondering how Nick will view me in my worn jeans and tank top.

  He said he wanted a girl who looked incredible in scruffy jeans, I remind myself. I push the thought away. So what? I need to clean up today so it’s not like I can wear my best clothes and they’re hardly revealing.

  I run a brush through my hair and dab on a little powder, especially under my eyes where the bags are starting to show. Then I do my mascara, pop on some lip balm and put my hair up into a high ponytail.

  I glance in the mirror. Cute, I guess. Nothing to go crazy over though I do clean up nicely when I put the effort in. I definitely don’t understand what inspires those looks from Nick though.

  Deliberately opening the door slowly, I peer out. He’s not in the kitchen but it’s early and we had a real late night. I tiptoe into the living room and see him sprawled across the couch. Smothering a laugh, I admire him. Yes, I admit it. Admire him. One leg is almost on the floor, the other hangs off the end of the seat. An arm rests across his chest while the other is above his head. Weirdly his hands attract my attention. I recall how warm and strong they were when he held my hand. And how rough and sensual they were against my skin.

  His T-shirt rides high, giving me a peek at the taut, tanned skin below and the line of dark blond hair. Tingles race down to my fingertips and I have to curl my hand to resist tracing the line. Or maybe even tasting it.

  I step forward and release a screech as a sharp pain pierces the sole of my foot. Nick is up and has his arms around me within seconds while I hop up and down.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My foot… Shit. Ow. I think I’ve stepped on something.”

  He looks around. “Yeah, probably a piece of your vase. What were you thinking walking around barefoot?”

  “I wasn’t thinking! I forgot, okay?”

  With a muttered curse, he scoops me up and sits me on the couch.

  “You’ve got bare feet,” I mutter accusingly as he drops down next to me and coaxes my foot into his lap.

  “Well, my feet are a lot tougher than yours.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him but he ignores me. Sounds like some manly rubbish to me. I squeak as he probes my foot. “I bet you’d scream too.”

  His teeth flash and he gives my foot a rub. “No blood. I think you’ll live.”

  “Gee, thanks, Doctor Jackson.”

  He stands, steps gingerly over the vase shards and points at me. “Don’t move. Do you have something you can put on your feet?”

  “Yeah, my shoes are in the bottom of my closet.”<
br />
  He disappears into my bedroom and I take a moment to study my foot. He’s right. No damage really. It still hurts though. I wrap my arms around my legs and wait for him to return. I can’t believe I got caught watching him. Hopefully he didn’t realize I’d been standing there long.

  Nick returns holding up a pair of sneakers.

  “What? No heels?”

  “I was trying to be practical,” he says with a grin as he hands them to me and I slip them on.

  “Well, thanks.”

  “Though there’s a hot little red pair I’ve taken a liking to.”

  “Well go ahead, though you might have trouble squeezing your big feet into them.”

  He chuckles. “I meant I’d like to see them on you.”

  “Yeah, well those are one of those pairs you buy and they just sit there and look pretty. I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to wear them.”

  “Babe, I’d do anything to give you the chance to wear them. Your legs in those heels…” He groans and I flush.

  The banter is gone again and we’re serious once more. His gaze is determined and I fidget before getting up from the couch. Does he say these things on purpose just to rile me or what? I straighten and make for the refuge of the kitchen. There’s countertops and stuff that will create a nice, safe barrier between us. Then I won’t have to worry about flinging myself into his arms.

  Sorting out the coffee pot, I call to him as he strolls in, looking as at home as ever, “You want a bacon sandwich?”

  “Do you need to ask?”

  I roll my eyes as I pull some bacon from the fridge and grab a pan. He settles himself at the breakfast bar and I point the pan at him. “I don’t know how you look like that when you eat so much crap.”

  He lifts one shoulder. “Just blessed I guess.”

  He’s being modest. He works out like crazy, especially since the accident. But I don’t need him to know how much I admire him for getting fit again right now. I’m weak enough around him already.

  “Well, why don’t you get your blessed body into the shower while I make breakfast?”

  “Do I smell?”