by Brooke May
He’s holding a large poster size piece of paper.
Dear Mercy,
Frowning, I’m at a loss.
We all stand and pay our respects to the flags as well as the veterans as they get closer.
Next comes our Korean vets and stationed dead center in front of them is Holt, another close friend. He, too, is holding a sign up.
Your words, sometimes lost and other times just as simple as any other conversation, have meant the world to me.
Standing, I abandon my mug and wish I had a pair of binoculars.
When the Vietnam vets come into view, it is yet another friend, Ryder, who leads the charge.
I have been through the pits of hell, but my northern star was always my focus to return.
Tears are flowing now. I don’t know where they got these words, but something is yanking on my soul to continue to look beyond.
Duke leads the veterans of Desert Storm.
I couldn’t come back until I knew I was as whole of a man as I could be.
“Wh-what’s going on, Archie?” My legs begin to grow weak, and I reach for the older man for support.
“The only thing we could think of to thank you for your own dedication.” He kisses the top of my head. “Now, watch.”
And I do.
I watch as Chase arrives with everyone who has served around and since 9/11 and nearly fall apart.
I’m home, babe. I’m not the man who left you, but I’m still the man who loves you with all his heart and soul.
“Oh, my God.” Tears cascade, adding a bite to my chilled cheeks. “Oh, my God.”
Like a slow approaching storm, I watch from the distance as people who were seated stand once more, and like far-off thunder, applause follows as three lone people bring up the end of the parade.
A voice breaks through the speakers, and it is then that I notice no one else is talking. Even the band has grown quiet as I see my dad and Cord flanking an extremely familiar person.
“Mercy.” My knees tremble at that deep timbre. It’s like sex, rippling through every nerve ending my body possesses. “Surprise.”
Most of our small town knows what I have been through and worried for me after news of Daxon’s fate spread.
“You always said you wanted a surprise like you watch and cry over on YouTube.” I can feel his grin. “And here it is, babe.”
He reaches me, and I don’t think I ever thought I could vault over a railing like this before. I sprint into his arms, my tears blocking most of my vision, but I could find him in a pitch-black cave. Our bodies slam together as I fall apart and cling to him because I’m never letting go again.
Chapter Eighteen
“You’re really here?”
“I told you,” he murmurs to me as a thunderous applause storms around us. “I will always find my way back to you.”
“Where have you been?”
“Through hell, babe, and I needed to get my mind back before I could return to you and be the husband and father you and Layla need.”
Pulling back, I take him in. He is thinner. There is a gaunt horror to his appearance that tells me all I need to know. He has lived through something horrific.
He is still as handsome as the day it dawned on me that I was meant to be with him. I’m floored by all questions speaking at once in my head that a headache is starting to slam into the front of my head. It isn’t welcomed. Not when my heart is pounding as if I just ran a marathon nonstop. Ice and heat fight to take hold of my body as I stand there and stare at him.
“Thank God. You’re not going anywhere from now on.”
He chuckles, and it is like the sound of angels singing because that’s just what he is.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
While I’m lost in the moment with him, I forget about everyone else until I feel someone pull on my leg.
“Momma?”
Pushing away from my tight hold of Daxon, I give Layla a watery smile.
“You cry?”
“Happy tears, baby.” Picking her up, I place a hand on Daxon’s chest. The beat of his heart underneath is reassuring to feel the steady rhythm. Looking at her and then to her daddy, I find him wide-eyed, and if I’m not mistaken, nervous. “Layla, this is your daddy.”
“Dada?”
“Yep. He went away to be a superhero.” It’s the easiest way to explain this to her at this age. She will grow up with a better understanding, but for now, all she needs to know is he is a superhero. “And now he is home to help me protect you.”
It might be due to his pictures being a constant in her life, but she doesn’t hesitate to jump from my arms to his.
“Dada!”
“Hey, little one. It’s nice to meet you finally.” He squeezes her as tears fall from his own eyes. “Mommy has sent me pictures of you and I feel like I know you already, but I’m looking forward to knowing you better.”
He kisses the crown of her head before looking back at me.
“But first, Mommy and I have some things to talk about.”
Now I’m nervous. I know he can see all the questions I have swarming in my mind, and like always, he wants to give me all the answers he is allowed to give.
“I’m ready if you are.”
“That’s why I’m home. As healed as I could get, I won’t be complete until I fill in the blanks you deserve.”
Reluctantly, Daxon hands our daughter over to his dad before grabbing my hand and leading me away.
“I’ve already talked to your boss and cleared your schedule for the day.”
“Oh?” He doesn’t say another word until we are in my car and heading to our house. He is driving, but there is an edge to him that wasn’t there before. Whatever he has been through has changed him. I know he would never do anything to break us or hurt our daughter he has yet to truly know. It pains me to leav her behind, but he didn’t give me much of a choice.
“Quit gnawing on that lip of yours. I don’t want to see you wince when I kiss you.” Butterflies return to my stomach and chest after a long hibernation.
“Now that sounds like my Daxon.” I do my best to lighten the air, but I don’t think that is going to happen until we talk.
“I’m still me, Mercy, just slightly bent now.” Reaching over, he captures my hand once more and places a gentle kiss on it.
We don’t speak again until we are in our home. He walks in like he never left. The house hasn’t changed too much. The furniture is still the same, but the desktop computer has been replaced with a laptop, and there are toys everywhere.
Falling onto the couch, he moves only to pull a dinosaur from under him.
“Sorry, Layla has kind of taken over the house. She has so many toys and I don’t know what to do with most of them.”
“Don’t ever apologize for living your life, Mercy,” he growls, and I take a step back. He has never taken that tone with me before. And then he sighs. “Come here, babe. I didn’t mean to snap.”
I need to remind myself that he was on a mission when he went missing. Obviously, he went through hell wherever he was and is still trying to recover. There is a high likelihood that he may have PTSD now, and I need to be there to support him, not cower away and ignore it.
“Right.” Going over to him, I fall onto the cushion next to him. “I’m okay.” Placing a hand on his arm, I watch him flinch, causing my heart to ache.
It takes him a minute; he plays around with the dinosaur before he places it on the coffee table and turns to me. He dives into the depths of a mission gone bad. He and two others were captured while everyone else was left to die alone in the desert. They were tortured and left on the edge of death time after time only to be brought back enough to be tormented once more.
He lost track of time and his mind for long periods of time until his captors made a mistake. They let one of them loose, thinking he was on the verge of death, and it would have been easier to haul him out once he was dead. His companion had just enough strength left in hi
s weak body to set the other two free and was the distraction while Daxon and the other man escaped.
They didn’t know where they were or who to trust, so they took off after securing some food and water. They got lost and wandered. His partner didn’t make it even after they found sanctuary. It was still some time before the military was able to recover him and the body of his fallen companion. And still some time after that to verify his identity. He had no identification, no way to prove who he was until he was detained and put through the wringer.
His story is almost impossible to believe, but the serious note to his voice and the hard glare he has pinned to the wall behind me conveys the truth. My hand has found its way to my necklace, and I tighten my grip around it.
“By the time I got back to the US, they kept me isolated for medical clearance. I wasn’t allowed to contact anyone because of the severity of what I went through and the mission I was supposed to succeed with. Guilt consumed me, Mercy. It still does. I’m the only survivor. I should have done everything in my power to get those men out and home safely, but I failed them. I failed you by not coming home–”
“You failed no one, Daxon.” I stop him from further damning himself. “You did what you could with the situation you found yourself in. Those men did the same.” I didn’t need to be there to know that.
He falls silent, and I don’t know what else to say to make this better. I’m sure they didn’t let him leave until a therapist saw him, and as much as I want to ask, I won’t.
“Your emails …” He begins, licking his lips before looking at me once more. “I read every single one of them you sent.”
“You read them?” The question stumbles out.
“My therapist thought it would help me heal. At first, more guilt weighed on me because I missed all of it, but then I saw what I was being told. I had a life waiting for me at the only home I have ever had.” He grabs me, pulling me onto his lap, and the warmth I have longed for is welcomed back around my body. “I’m far from being healed, Mercy, but I’m here, and I know I will get better with your help and that of our family and friends as well as getting to know our little girl more than just what I’ve read.”
A sob erupts out of me as I latch onto his front and bury my face into his chest.
All of it; his captivity, his survival, his struggle to return home to me doesn’t have me breaking down, but builds me up instead. I have to be strong for both of us and be there for him when he needs me most. We still have a long road ahead of us to get back to us—to get him back—but I’m ready for that. I will help this man through anything.
Daxon has returned home to me.
Chapter Nineteen
Our lips fuse as recognition of one another, and the memories of all the times we have locked in our lover’s embrace flood back to us.
My hunger for him, the insatiable need to unite with him once more has reason falling by the wayside as I quickly disrobe.
I don’t know how much time we will have together before our family shows up to celebrate his miracle return to us.
His hunger and need match my own. Fumbling, we remove all articles of clothing. My heated eyes look at every part of him, and I do my best not to react to the scars marring his body.
My God, what did they do to you?
I won’t voice that unless he wants to talk about it, but to me, it feels like it would reopen wounds that he has claimed to heal from.
I’m separated from him for a few seconds as we remove our pants. His erection, hard and throbbing, presses against my slickness as I sit back down on his lap. Lust, love, hunger, long-awaited reunion throws any form of foreplay away as I lift and guide him into me.
It feels foreign while at the same time reminds me of home as I fully seat myself on his lap and pause to revel at this moment.
As I begin to move, his hands run up and down my body from my waist to cup my breasts, and it doesn’t feel like any time has passed since the last time we were together.
Our gaze breaks only to blink. Otherwise, we stay fixated on one another as we relearn the other all over again.
There is nothing rushed about this.
His erection pulsates within me as I tighten around him. A benefit of having a child and learning workouts to help return my body to the way it used to be. My inner muscles are stronger than ever.
“Sweet, Jesus, Mercy.” His head may be thrown back, but his eyes never break from mine. His Adam’s apple bobs as he keeps a loose hold on his control.
This first time is for me to control. The gentle pace of lovemaking is bringing us back together in a carnal way before he takes hold of me. He will leave my voice hoarse from screaming the house down, and my legs like Jell-O as my body becomes spent.
“Oh, Daxon.” I moan, gyrating and rolling my body so he will hit every spot that has my mind reeling.
As gentle as this is, I’m still falling apart as if he has me bent over the back of the couch, my hair fisted in his hand, and is slamming into me from behind.
My body straightens as if I’m a rocket about ready to take off as my orgasm takes full control of my body and mind. Daxon’s hands roughly grab my hips as he too shoots up and into me. His roar is so loud that I’m sure the neighbors can hear him if they are home.
I’m sucking in as much air as I can as I come back to my right mind. Opening my eyes, I feel a small smile spread across my face. He mimics me perfectly.
Leaning closer to him, I cup his strong face, and though I miss the muscle he once had, I’m just glad to have him whole and home.
“Welcome home, soldier. I love you more than anything aside from Layla.”
“I love you, too, Mercy.”
Chapter Twenty
Daxon
I never thought I would be able to find comfort again.
Resting in the middle of the bed Mercy and I share, I have my wife on one side and my daughter on the other. Both are cuddled close to me as the winter winds pick up outside. Over each pec, I have a slumbering head breathing in even breaths.
My world fell apart the day it all went bad, and it wasn’t easy to get to here. Some days, even when I was freed and somewhere safe to recover, I didn’t think I would make it. Suicidal thoughts took hold of me far more than I will ever tell Mercy.
Not that I have any plans of ever letting her know how dark I went before I could find the light of her star again.
It was six months into my delicate recovery when my therapist told me about the emails, and as I logged in with a password I’d never forget, I cried when I saw the number waiting there for me.
I fell apart at first, seeing how destroyed Mercy was of my news and her worry not knowing what happened or even if I were alive. I read them all in one sitting and reread them over and over again whenever she sent a new one.
As I grew stronger, not only physically but mentally, it felt like I hadn’t missed as much as I really did.
Mercy did a great job making sure I knew everything going on in her and Layla’s life, including so many pictures that if I had a phone, I would have used up all the memory to save each one.
I still live with the guilt. That won’t go away anytime soon, but I can live with it for the most part.
Layla stirs, her tiny hand fisting into my drool-soaked shirt as she murmurs something and settles once more.
God, I’ve missed so much yet don’t really feel like I have.
As I turn to face Mercy, her peaceful face helps me find some as well. Yet not enough to fall back asleep just yet.
She shifts and exposes her necklace, the very one she promised never to take off, and it seems she’s kept her promise. One of the pictures she sent me of Layla’s birth show she even wore it while having our child.
That’s one of the reasons I have one in my bag for Layla. It isn’t a big as Mercy’s, but she is now one of my guiding stars as well. I will give one to any other daughter we have. I’ll have to figure something out for sons if they are to come in the hopefully near fut
ure.
Taking in a deep breath, I look at the ceiling.
“I’m home, and it was all because of Mercy’s love.” She is the true embodiment of her name and I love her more each day for her kind heart.
Epilogue
Daxon
One Year Later
Mercy’s glorious body writhes under me. Her lips are parted as she takes in a staggering breath as I slam into her over and over again.
Complete, I am complete in this connection with my woman, my savior, one half of my entire world.
It’s been one hell of a year, but this right here has made the mental battle I’ve been through so much more victorious.
“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Layla’s little voice has no place in the memory of what I did to her mother last night.
Looking up from my workbench, I can’t fight back the instant smile that slams onto my face as my little girl bounds over to me.
It’s taken me time to accept the unconditional love this little girl has for me. Just like her mom, she has embraced every broken part of me and mended them back together. Her love and that from Mercy has been just what I needed.
Once winter was gone and spring was in full bloom, I built my workshop in our backyard where I make custom log furniture. I found that messing around with wood has helped give me a concentration I lacked after getting home. It has allowed me to be available for my girls, family, and friends.
“What’s goin’ on, princess?” Putting down my pencil and triangle, I don’t have a moment to dust myself off before she is launching herself at me.
“Here, Daddy.” She giggles as I rub my face against hers. She produces a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” I say with a surprised voice that doesn’t sound anything like me, but she loves it. “Is this another beautiful picture for me to put up?”
“No.” She giggles. “Mommy.”
“Oh, Mommy has a note for me?”
She nods, her wild hair flying everywhere.
