Vivid

by Jessica Wilde

  Her hand came to my chest and she sighed, still sleeping but staying close to me like I wanted. Even in the middle of the night I reached for her. It helped me sleep. The nightmares were still there, but waking to feel her next to me made the panic swiftly ebb. It brought light to that darkness and instead of feeling like I was about to lose my mind, I took control of it.

  Most of the time, I pulled her against me and made love to her until the storm passed. She asked me about it one morning and informed me that she was more than happy to be my outlet. As each day passed, I could sense the peace lingering more and more.

  What had felt like a cage, suddenly turned into ultimate freedom.

  I knew it was because of Grace, but I also knew that I'd worked my ass off to get there.

  "Mmm, why are you awake, babe?" Grace mumbled.

  I curled my arm around her shoulder, pulling her on top of me a little more. Her legs straddled my hips and she settled in with her nose pressed to my throat.

  I loved the feel of her skin against mine. It's why I made the no-clothing-in-bed rule that first morning together when she had nothing to change into but those scraps of material she showed up in.

  She agreed that it was a very strict rule that should never be broken.

  "Just thinking about you," I said against her hair.

  "And what were you thinking?"

  "That I've got a hard issue that needs to be hammered out with you," I smirked.

  Her chuckle vibrated against my chest, then she lifted onto her hands. I felt her stretch her back when I latched onto her hips. She shifted on my lap, discovering the issue I was talking about.

  "I like to take care of rising issues immediately," she teased.

  I sat up quickly, making her yelp with surprise. Once my back was pressed against the head board, I lifted my hips and pulled her down roughly. She gasped, but kept moving against me.

  She was already so wet, and feeling her slide over me sent me quickly to the point of no return. I bent my head and found her breast, licking my way to her nipple and pulling it between my lips. She clutched my head against her chest and lifted on her knees. I positioned myself at her entrance and helped her slowly sink down, engulfing me in her slick heat.

  "You feel so fucking good," I muttered against her skin. "Take me hard, baby."

  She did exactly what I asked. She went wild on top of me, taking control only to give it back when it became too much. I kept my grip on her hips and helped her keep a rhythm that drove us both over the edge.

  She whispered my name when she came. It swiftly sent me spiraling with her.

  We clung to each other for several minutes, slowing our breaths as I explored her body for the hundredth time.

  I knew every inch of her. The places to touch that would make her sigh, the dips and curves that I had discovered; they were all ingrained in my memory.

  I still wanted the sight of her. I wanted to know the exact color of her skin. I wanted to see the goose bumps I felt rise whenever I touched her.

  But my imagination was vivid.

  That would have to be enough, for now.

  ***

  I was dreaming of Grace.

  I didn't even know we had fallen asleep again, but Grace was riding me, her breasts swaying from her thrusts. I could imagine what she looked like above me and I could only see it in sleep. It's funny that I would truly rather touch that skin than see it.

  Grace opened her mouth to cry out, her face blurry in my subconscious, but the only sound I could hear was the shrill ringing of my phone. I opened my eyes and flinched. There was still nothing, but my right eye ached, reminding me of the sensation of going from dark to light.

  Grace was tucked in my arms, her face pressed to my chest and her hand over my heart again. The phone continued to ring, but she didn't move a muscle.

  I must have wore her out this morning, I smiled to myself.

  Shifting slowly, I carefully let her fall away from me. Her sigh was so sexy and I already felt the stir between my legs.

  But the phone kept ringing.

  I felt around on the nightstand and finally found the annoying plastic square. Flipping it open, I brought it to my ear. "Yeah."

  "Merrick? It's Jeff."

  That woke me completely. "Dr. Samuelson?"

  "Yes. I'm sorry I woke you. I, um, thought Grace might answer the phone."

  "Oh, no I got to it first."

  Awkward.

  "I'll cut right to the chase, then. I need you to come in sometime today."

  I frowned, a little ball of anxiety forming in my stomach. "But I was just there a week ago."

  "I know, but this is important."

  I sat up, being careful not to jostle Grace too much. "What's going on, sir?"

  "It would really be much easier if you came in so I could talk to you. I can contact Emma if you need me to."

  "That won't be necessary, but I'd really like to know what's going on. You're making me nervous."

  Jeff sighed and a rustling sound came through the phone before the sound of a door shutting. "I think I figured it out, son. After finding out what you're experiencing, I made some calls. There's a real possibility that your right eye can be corrected."

  My entire body stiffened and my heart thumped wildly. "Excuse me?"

  "This is why I need you to come in. I can answer any questions you have."

  I might be able to see.

  The idea seemed completely foreign to me. This had to be a crazy, sick twist in my dream. I scratched my fingernails over my head, tugging on my hair until pain registered.

  Not a dream.

  "Sir."

  "I know, Merrick. Don't think. Just come in and we'll talk."

  I nodded, mostly for myself. Making the decision so I wouldn't be able to back out. "I'll be there within an hour."

  "Good. I'll push back the rest of my patients."

  I closed the phone and raked my fingers through my hair again. My shoulders were trembling. My lungs were burning. What was happening?

  And what the hell could correct my right eye? My left eye was toast, I knew that and I'd accepted it, but to see out of one eye ... it was so much better than nothing.

  I opened my phone and pressed the button to call Mom. I spoke quietly, not wanting to wake Grace yet. Not until I could focus.

  "Mom."

  I didn't intend for my voice to quiver and she picked up on it. Nothing got past Mom. Not even when it got past me.

  "What is it, sweetie? Is everything okay? Oh, God, is it Grace?"

  "Yeah. I mean, no. Everything's fine. Umm, I need to get to Dr. Samuelson's. Would you mind driving me?"

  "What's going on, Mer?"

  I cleared my throat and shook my head. "I don't know yet, but he said he has some answers for me."

  Mom didn't need to ask any questions. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Let me call in and get someone to cover for me first."

  I closed my phone and set it on the nightstand. It took a few minutes to calm my racing heart. Grace still hadn't stirred.

  I turned, reaching around to find her hand. Her slim fingers were heavy with sleep. I leaned over her and dragged my nose down her cheek, over her jaw, and down her neck, kissing her there. Tasting her as I slid my other hand over her waist.

  "Mmm, five more minutes," she said sleepily, moving closer to me. Like a magnet. It was the same pull I felt for her.

  "I have to go, baby."

  She stilled. "You do?"

  "Yeah, your dad just called."

  I imagine her expression was a little surprised. "What? He did? What's going on?" She sat up, forcing me back so we wouldn't knock heads.

  I kissed her forehead and threaded my fingers through her hair. I hated lying to her, but I didn't want her to have any false hope. Not until I knew exactly what was happening. "I don't know. But I'll find out and let you know. Okay?"

  "Okay. I'm helping Keara with some wedding stuff today. She took the day off. Maybe I'll head over there a littl
e early."

  "Go back to sleep for a bit. She'll be there when you wake," I whispered, kissing her nose. "I'm just going to get dressed and head out when my mother gets here."

  "Do you want something to eat?"

  "No, I'm only hungry for one thing, but I can't have it right now or I'll never leave this house."

  She giggled when I moved my hand under the sheet and slid my hand between her thighs. I was being completely serious.

  "Be good," she gasped, contradicting her words when she lifted her hips.

  "I'm always good, baby." I kissed her hard, hoping that this pit in my stomach wasn't the warning I assumed it was.

  ***

  "What are you saying?"

  Jeff sighed and cleared his throat, the squeak of his chair breaking through the silence in the room. It forced hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. This didn't feel real and I couldn't discern between curiosity and a disturbing alertness.

  I'd just been told that Grace's father had never given up on finding a way to help my eyes. In fact, that little trip our parents made was a joint effort in finding more answers.

  "I'm saying that, with surgery, there's a good chance you'll be able to see out of your right eye. Maybe not perfectly, but it's something."

  Surgery. One more surgery could possibly change everything.

  No. Don't hold your breath. Not yet.

  "How did this happen?"

  Jeff shifted in his chair with another squeak, then spoke. "That fever of yours must have made everything more sensitive. Thank God for it. The fact that you were having light sensitivity at all was the first clue."

  "And the surgery?" I asked, knowing it wasn't going to be a simple one.

  "Well, I'd need to make a few observations. It would pretty much be a normal cataract surgery with a few minor alterations. It's a risk, but it won't make things worse if that's what you're wondering."

  "Does that mean this might be something that could eventually come back on its own?"

  "No, if anything, it would only become more painful until you need surgery to correct it anyway. At least, that's my theory."

  "Merrick," Mom whispered, resting her hand on my shoulder. "It's a chance. This is an easy decision."

  "Is it?" I snapped, tightening my jaw to keep from saying anything worse. "I don't think so, Mom. It's hope. We all know what hope can become when the outcome doesn't end up being what we wanted."

  "Son, what have you got to lose?"

  Nothing.

  Everything.

  I had finally accepted that I was never going to be the same. I was a different man now. I had plans and expectations for myself. Blind.

  This last few months was spent fighting the nightmares. Fighting the stress that invaded my mind. And now, when I finally figured out how to deal, this happened.

  What if getting my sight back changed me? What if I had to face it all over again? Seeing it in my mind was one thing, but being able to see the scars and the results of what happened to me, would be another.

  "Can I think about it?" I asked, ignoring the tension coming off of my mother.

  "Of course," Jeff answered politely. "You take your time, son."

  I stood and turned to the doorway, or what I thought was the doorway. Turns out it was just a wall. Mom was right behind me and helped me out of the building without saying another word.

  What could she say that she hadn't already?

  "Do you want to go to lunch?" she asked when we got settled in the car.

  "No, thank you. I just want to go home."

  "Is Grace waiting for you?"

  I shook my head. She'd be well into wedding planning by now, but I'd be fine on my own. Just like she always told me I would be. And I'd finally gotten to the point where I agreed with her.

  The drive was too long. Longer than it should have been because I needed to be alone. I don't even remember thinking about what was out on the road. I didn't care anymore.

  I might get my sight back.

  The thought made me nauseous, which only infuriated me. I should be happy about this. I shouldn't have to think about it.

  Why then?

  Because things had changed and I didn't want those changes to suddenly escape me.

  Mom helped me inside the house and started to say goodbye, but I stopped her.

  "Please, don't tell Grace."

  "Why not?"

  "Because. I need some time."

  "Sweetie– "

  "Mom, please. I don't want to give her false hope. Not until I've figured this out."

  She cupped my face and kissed my cheek. "Okay, son. I'll leave it up to you."

  "Thank you."

  "Don't thank me yet," she replied. A pat on my chest and a tug on my shirt to straighten it, was the next thing I felt. Taking care of me like she always did. "I'll call you later. Keep your phone on you, okay?"

  "I will, but before you go, will you do me a favor?" I stammered, struggling with the decisions I was making in my mind.

  "Of course."

  "Will you call someone for me? I don't know the number, but it's written down somewhere in my room."

  "Ryan?"

  I nodded, not surprised that she knew exactly what I needed to do. It was her phone he had called so many times before, trying to reach me.

  I heard Mom fumble around in her purse, then the beep of her phone. She dialed the number in mine. "Just press send," she said, then hugged me tightly and left.

  I found my way to the kitchen and sat down at the table. This was a long overdue conversation and I had a lot to say.

  I pressed send, my hands shaking as I did, unsure if my best friend would even talk to me anymore. But I needed to try. I needed to set some things right so I could center myself in everything else.

  "Hello?"

  "Ryan?"

  "Yeah, may I ask who's calling?"

  I took a deep breath, clearing my throat so it didn't crack. "It's Merrick."

  Silence.

  I could only imagine what was going through his mind. I had ignored every attempt he made to contact me in the beginning, until he just stopped trying. The last time I spoke to him was in that hospital room in Germany, just minutes after I received a silver star for whatever it was the military thought I did. I hadn't hesitated to demand that he leave the room. The regret came immediately after, but I fought it.

  That's how far gone I actually was at the time. I wanted nothing to do with the man I'd risked my life to save.

  "Merrick. Wow, this is a surprise."

  "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that."

  "Sorry? Man, you have no reason to be sorry," he insisted. "It's totally fucked. I get it."

  I wasn't the only one that had lost something in that attack. Ryan lost one of his hands and had multiple surgeries on the other, an attempt to fix his shattered fingers. The rest of his injuries were mainly superficial, with very few major burns. He also couldn't hear out of one of his ears. I didn't doubt he considered it just an inconvenience, but I knew what it was like to be missing a part of yourself.

  "I don't expect you to say a damn thing, Merrick, because what can we say to each other?" he added.

  "Still."

  He chuckled. "Then, apology accepted. Just don't ignore me anymore and I'll forget all about it."

  I shook my head, grinning because that's just who Ryan was. A forgiving fool that cared too much about me.

  "I won't."

  "Thank you, Merrick. For saving my life. For being strong enough to do it. I'm alive because of you."

  "Ryan–"

  "No, let me finish," he demanded before breathing deeply. "Miranda has her husband because of you. Charlotte has her father. There's nothing in the world you could possibly do that would stop me from being your friend. You name it, Merrick. I'm there."

  There was nothing to say. We understood each other and I wasn't going to fight him.

  "So," he hedged for us both, neither of us wanting to get too emotional. "Tell me how t
hings are going. You adapting?"

  I combed my fingers through my hair, remembering how long it actually took me to stop being so angry. It probably wasn't as long as others because I had one thing they didn't.

  "I'm getting there, with help."

  "You talking to the base counselor?"

  "Not anymore. Someone better." I closed my eyes and thought of Grace.

  "You met someone, didn't you?"

  "Yeah. I did."

  "Well, I want to meet her. If she's the one that got through your thick skull, she must be special."

  I laughed. "She's pretty special."

  We talked about my recovery and the therapy I did. He told me about the trouble he'd run into with his injuries and how Miranda didn't let him whine much about it.

  "She's so busy with Charlotte all the time that my complaining is more like white noise," he said with a short laugh.

  "You enjoying fatherhood?"

  "God, yes. Every minute. I wasn't able to hold her much until recently, because of the hands. But man, hearing that little girl cry ... it's the most beautiful sound in the world."

  "I bet Miranda feels differently."

  He laughed, reminding me of all the times we spent doing just that. I'd had friends when I was younger, but none of them were as loyal or admirable as Ryan Warner. The man just had a way about him that could lock you in for life. There was never a bad hair on his head.

  "So? Anything else you want to tell me?" he asked, bluntly.

  He also knew how to get information. It was one of the skills Captain Bowman admired in our training.

  "I've got a decision to make and for the life of me, I can't figure out why it's so hard."

  "I'm all ears. Well, kind of."

  I told him what I'd discovered only an hour earlier. Then, I told him what I was afraid of. He understood the effort it had taken to get where I was. It was a relief to know I wasn't being a complete dimwit.

  "Listen up, Merrick. Just because I can't hear out of both ears, doesn't mean I can't hear. It doesn't lessen the experience, just makes me appreciate it all the more. You get your sight back in one eye, it won't change a damn thing, except what you see."

  Well, when he put it that way ...