We changed into more comfortable clothes and Mom drove us into town. We spent the next couple of hours munching on popcorn, crying when the characters in the movie finally discovered they had been in love all along.
We stopped for some ice cream and picked up some food for Dad who called and informed us he would be home soon. It was nice to have some time with my mom. No questions or concerns.
By the time we made it home, I was ready to go to bed and Mom looked like she was ready to go out and party.
"You feeling alright, Grace?"
I put Dad's food in the fridge and turned back to her, seeing the curious expression on her face. "I'm fine. Just tired. Didn't sleep much over the weekend."
"How is Mitch doing?"
"He's recovering. I think they're discharging him in the next couple of days. I offered to help with his homecare, but since he lives with Emma and Nathan, she said they could handle it."
"Poor Emma. Having two sons so hurt is too much. I couldn't imagine you being injured like that. I don't know that I would stay sane knowing my baby had been hurt so badly."
I watched her frown and shake her head. She rounded the center island and pulled me into her arms.
"You go to bed. I'll wait up for your dad. I love you, Grace."
"I love you, too, Mom."
When she finally let me go, I didn't quite feel any better. My worry for Merrick was ever present, but it was the worry for his mind that kept me up at night. He still suffered with the trauma of what happened in Iraq and probably always would. He may have a strong body, but his mind was still very fragile.
The amount of nights he woke up screaming seemed to be happening less and less, and I just hoped that Mitch's accident didn't cause a setback. Merrick loved his family. His little brother had looked up to him his whole life.
Not having siblings myself, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose one or almost lose one. But Keara was like a sister to me, and imagining losing her made me completely lose my breath.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth, then sat on my bed and found myself staring out the window of my bedroom. It was strange knowing he was there but no lights were on. I started to hum as I undressed and found a tank and sleep shorts to wear. I jumped when I heard the blinds pull up at Merrick's window, covering my naked breasts out of instinct while I let out a squeak.
"Sorry, did I scare you?" he asked.
"Yes, I was dressing and–" I immediately stopped talking and closed my eyes. My blinds were mostly shut, but even if they were pulled up completely, Merrick wouldn't see me dressing.
"Damn!" he said, amusement in his tone. I pulled on the tank and shorts and moved toward the window, raising the blinds and leaning against the window sill. I strained my eyes to see in the darkness of his room and could barely make out the outline of his figure.
"Damn what?" I asked.
"I would have liked to see that," he replied, sighing dramatically.
I swallowed, the action harder than it should be, and opened my mouth to ask why. He didn't give me the chance.
"How was the barbeque yesterday? I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier."
I shrugged off the shock and decided to box his comment up so I could address it later while lying in my bed thinking of him anyway. "You have a lot going on, Merrick. I didn't even realize you knew I went."
"Mom told me."
I grinned. "Well, I didn't even know she knew I went."
Merrick chuckled softly, and I wished I could see the rare smile that would have been on his face at that exact moment. I dashed over to the switch and flipped off my light before resuming my position by the window. It only took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but I started to see him more clearly.
A sliver of moonlight was shining on his handsome face and instead of sitting with only his right side facing me like he always did, he was turned towards me. I could barely make out his features, but it was enough.
The smile was still there.
"So?" he asked.
"It was a lot of fun. The Colson boys know how to entertain and Keara is always fun to spend time with."
"Aren't both of Josh's brothers married?"
"Yes, and their wives are hilarious," I said, a beaming smile stretching across my face just thinking about them.
He grinned again before suddenly furrowing his brow, frowning. "So, were you there alone?"
"Are you asking me if I brought someone?"
"Yes," he answered without hesitation.
Curious.
"I didn't take anyone with me. I don't really have anyone to take." Oh shit, did that sound pathetic? Why did I say that?
Merrick's features were becoming more visible as the moonlight continued to light up his face. He looked unsure about my answer. "How is that possible?" he finally asked.
"How is what possible?"
"Not having anyone to take with you."
"Pfft, it's easy," I said dismissively. "I stay too busy to really meet anyone."
He nodded his agreement and I could have sworn I saw a grin on his face. He knew exactly what – or whom – I stayed busy with. "Have you ever been serious with someone?"
I had no idea where this was coming from, and I really wasn't prepared for these kinds of questions. Discussing my love life with Merrick seemed out of the realm of possibility, but he was sitting several feet away from me, asking me to discuss it.
My discomfort must have been shamefully obvious because Merrick shook his head and raked a hand through his hair, grumbling, "Never mind."
I thought about all the things Merrick had endured over the last few weeks with me. He wasn't really a talker, so the sharing of secrets wasn't the issue, but he trusted me with things that a man usually never has to trust anyone with. I had seen him vulnerable, which clearly wasn't easy for a man like Merrick Thatcher.
I could give him this. He trusted me, so I could trust him with this.
"I've been serious with someone before. Just one man," I rasped. "I've been too busy lately to really put much thought into anyone else and Jason wasn't really the kind of man that ... well, he made me doubt relationships altogether."
Merrick nodded, confusion clouding his expression. He patiently waited, giving me the chance to say more if I wanted to.
I took a deep breath, quickly filing through what was appropriate to tell him. "It wasn't a very good situation. He stopped loving me, and keeping him happy wasn't worth the heartache it caused," I informed him, hoping that the hurt I felt over a year ago wouldn't come back with a force that could knock me over. Not now.
Merrick was quiet for a long time, obviously ruminating on what I just told him. He was fighting something, but I couldn't figure out what. I wanted him to say something, anything that would make me feel less exposed to him.
"What if it was?" he finally asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"What if it was worth it? What if it was still a lot of work, but he made it worth it?"
I pictured Jason and everything I went through to try to make him happy. I believed that a relationship takes sacrifice from both sides, but I was the only one sacrificing while he lived the life he wanted. If he had been any different, made me feel like I was special to him or like I was important to him, would I still be with him?
No. I wouldn't be. What we had wasn't love, it was obligation. It wasn't real. Not for one minute.
"The answer is in the question, don't you think?" I said, shrugging. "Love ... real love ... is worth anything."
This time, it was me who waited. Merrick seemed to think my answer was strange if the look on his face said anything at all.
"Do you, umm ..." He cleared his throat and scratched his cheek. The scruff he had a hard time taming was sexy on him, but I could tell he wanted to shave, badly. He just didn't think he could. "Do you think, maybe, you could do me a favor?"
I smirked because Merrick Thatcher didn't ask for help, but I wasn't about to complain. He had changed the s
ubject, after all. "Sure."
He scratched his cheek again, dropping his head forward so I couldn't see his face anymore. "My parents are coming over for dinner tomorrow night and their bringing someone kind of important. I, uh, I want to make sure I'm presentable. I guess."
"Okay?"
He sighed and shook his head as if he was chastising himself for being nervous. "I don't think I can shave on my own without cutting myself or missing something. Do you think you could ... I don't know, maybe ..."
I smiled because, again, Merrick wasn't a talker, but tonight he was rambling. Never in my life had I seen something so adorable, and I would bet my meager savings account that his cheeks were pink.
I was tempted to put him out of his misery and say, 'Yes, of course I'll help you shave', but this was much more enjoyable.
"Fuck, I'm so bad at this," he murmured.
I had to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. The harshness of his words were in complete contrast to the utter vulnerability that was radiating off of him. My laugh slipped past my fingers and I could no longer contain it.
"Oh Merrick, you're adorable, you know that?"
He lifted his head, sending a dramatic scowl my way. It only made me laugh harder.
"Adorable? I'm not adorable."
"You are, though."
"I am not," he argued.
I shook my head and let the laughter die out. The poor guy had no idea how appealing he actually was. His typical grumpiness did nothing to hide it.
"I'll help you shave, Merrick. I would love to help you. Even though I know you could do it by yourself."
He sighed, those broad shoulders slumping with relief. "Thank you, Grace. This is important to me."
"I can tell."
We both sat in silence for a few minutes. The moon still shined on his face and I continued to lean against the window sill, getting my fill of him. The cool breeze outside swept my hair back and made me smile.
Peace.
I hoped Merrick was feeling the same way.
It was several minutes before he finally spoke again. "What other songs do you know?" he asked softly.
His deep voice sent a pleasant shiver up my spine, making my stomach swarm with those raging butterflies. "Lots."
"Will you sing for me tonight? Please?"
It was in that moment I realized I would do anything for him if he asked me like that.
"Yeah, Merrick. I'll sing for you." The lump in my throat felt impossible to swallow, but I pushed past it as I laid on my bed.
The man underneath all that tough skin – scarred skin – was still just a human being. He wanted peace just like the rest of us. It was just a little harder to come by these days.
I sang until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. Merrick listened.
Chapter Eight
Merrick
I believe there are only a few things in this life that should make a man truly nervous. This doesn't include actual fear, like the fear of losing a loved one or the fear of being shot at. Those are completely different.
I'm talking about that very distinct anxiety one has to make sure everything goes well. That deep concern that causes a quivering ball to sit heavily in his stomach.
First, is the apprehension a man feels when he makes the decision to serve his country, in any capacity. There should be pride and determination, but the underlying apprehension of getting seriously injured in the process is always there. This will not usually deter him, but it's there, and it's usually replaced with the adrenaline rush of purpose.
Second, is the unease a man goes through when he truly wants a woman. That special woman that makes him forget his name. He wants to ask her out, kiss her, or ask her to marry him, but he hesitates. It's the possibility of rejection that lies at the forefront of his mind. A guy might say that he isn't nervous, he might even look like he isn't nervous, but he most definitely is. The dread of rejection can make a man seriously reconsider his decisions.
The third thing applies to all men, too. It just comes in many different forms.
Facing the man that knew all of his weaknesses.
I've never been more nervous about my appearance and attitude than when I knew my CO was going to be around.
Captain Lee Bowman contacted my parents recently and wanted to check in on me. They invited him for dinner at the house. With the lack of sleep the night before and the added stress of Mitch being in the hospital, I didn't think I would make it. The captain had given his condolences for my little brother and said he would have rescheduled for another time, but he was leaving the country in a week and wanted to see me before then.
Lee Bowman was thoroughly involved in my training and that of my unit. He was a respected officer with a reputation for being subtly deadly. He was blunt when he needed to be, but the man was powerful with the simple act of silence. He planted seeds in the mind instead of throwing grenades of orders. He taught with lessons and punishment, but not one man who was under his command held any hostility towards him, no matter what he made them do.
He was a hero and a role model for every kid that ever entered the military and was given the incredible opportunity to meet him. The man who, for a solid week, forced me to carry around a fifty-pound rock named Respect.
I had Respect with me when I slept, when I ate, and when I trained. If anyone asked why I carried it around, I was to answer with, "To replace the respect I lack."
To someone on the outside, it didn't seem like a punishment, but every man there knew exactly how humiliating it was, and they made sure to ask about Respect every chance they got.
Needless to say, I learned an important lesson. One I must have forgotten in the last several months since the attack.
Captain Bowman was going to be disappointed when he realized the kid he'd taken under his wing was now lost. I was terrified I would lose his respect by lacking mine.
"You look like you're going to throw up."
Grace's voice was no help for my nerves. She was a prime example of that second anxiety and it was starting to give me ulcers. You'd think a man who had been in the line of fire, saw most of his friends killed, and was nearly burned to a crisp, wouldn't fear very much. But she terrified me. The way I felt when she was close had become a drug. One I couldn't imagine giving up.
"Nah, I'm fine," I said, clearing my throat after my voice cracked. If it wasn't already obvious to her how nervous I was, it was now.
We spent all morning getting the house ready for the captain's visit. Well, she did most of the work, and I tried to help where I could. Mom told her not to worry about it, but Grace insisted and told my mom to stay at the hospital with Mitch a little longer while we took care of things. I don't think Emma Thatcher could love Grace anymore than she already did.
The thought of my little brother lying in that hospital bed sent a shiver through my limbs. I don't remember how I got to the hospital that night. In fact, I don't really remember much after I spoke with my father on the phone. The only thing I know for sure is that Grace was there and she had reached into my chest and kept guard of my heart. A heart that I felt breaking more and more every day.
It isn't easy to shake off dread, but Grace swept it off my shoulders like she was dusting off a shelf. Once we took that first step – or roll – out of the house, it had been up to me to keep it off. I went through hell those couple nights in the hospital, unable to see if my little brother was truly going to be okay. I didn't sleep, I barely ate, and every sound in that cold hospital room took me back to the first day I woke up in Germany. I felt the pain, the grogginess from the useless narcotics, the panic of whether or not I was the only one to survive.
I heard the family members of other patients walk by Mitch's room with smiles in their voices. Laughter. Relief that their brother, sister, son, or daughter was going to be okay.
And the worst part? I was angry about it. They had no idea how many were lost. They had no idea the list of names that had already given t
heir lives for them.
I couldn't stand to hear the happiness of others when so many of my brothers would never smile again.
It was the thought of Grace that kept me from shouting at them. It was the thought of Grace that kept me from completely losing it. She was a light in the only dark I could see.
Now we were both in the bathroom, me with no shirt and a face covered with shaving cream, and Grace standing over me, waiting for me to steady my breathing. She saw my struggle and had the most incredible amount of patience. She never pushed, just let me work through the pain.
"Merrick?"
"I'm fine," I breathed.
"Whatever you say. I promise I won't cut you with the razor," she teased with a smile in her voice.
"That's not the problem."
"Oh good. Because I've done this before."
Instant jealousy tightened my chest when I thought of her touching another man. I wanted to find the guy and pound his face to a pulp. "Who?" I snapped, tightly clenching my fists to control myself.
"When I did a rotation in geriatrics, the few patients I took care of were men. They wanted to look nice for some of the older nurses that worked there," she said with a chuckle. "I'd go in early and help them shave because they had a hard time keeping their hands steady."
I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or in complete awe of her. It made me realize that Grace was not just a good nurse, she was more compassionate than I originally thought.
She lifted my chin with her gentle fingers and said, "You ready?"
The feel of her warm breath on my face made me wonder if she would care about getting shaving cream all over her when I finally kissed the daylights out of those lips. I was sure they would taste like sugar and I would give anything to get just one look at them.
I nodded my head, under no condition to speak, and I felt her lean in close. I imagined the space between her eyebrows would be wrinkled with concentration and her bottom lip would be trapped under her teeth. The first swipe of the razor was slow and steady, and my fingers started to tremble in my lap.
My CO coming over for dinner was no longer the issue. The semi-erection I wouldn't be able to hide right now, was.
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