Heartbreak Warfare

by Heather M. Orgeron

  “Gavin,” she rasps out as she tightens around me, coming long and hard. Her moan pulls the last of my restraint away as I quicken my pace. She floods on my cock as I fly over with her, filling her up. As I collapse on her chest, I’m only able to take a single breath before my lips turn up at her next order.

  “I’m going to need you to do that again, Captain.”

  We bared both our fears without words, fucking hard and fast then making love soft and slow before coming back to earth wrapped in the other. The next morning, I’d spied her reading the tactics manual when she thought I was sleeping. Rolling her wedding ring on her finger with her thumb, she worried her lower lip in concentration. “Stop staring at me like that, Captain,” she says as she flips a page on the tablet. “Unless you plan to do something about it.” Whether or not she’s doing it for me, I’m glad she’s doing it. And for a split second, her bravery scares me.

  Fiery, demanding, opinionated, relentless, insatiable, and brave. Those were the words I’d use to describe the woman that left me months ago. And I know she’s still in there.

  Brave. My wife was brave.

  I’ll wait.

  Slipping out of bed, I pull on a sweatshirt and step into my slippers. Cracking Noah’s door, I see he’s fast asleep, and it’s then I feel the draft coming from downstairs. Making my way down, I stop in my tracks when I realize where it’s coming from. The back door is wide open. Rushing to it, I step out on the porch to see Katy sitting in the middle of our backyard, dressed in full uniform. It’s twenty degrees outside, and she’s rocking back and forth with her knees drawn, mumbling words I can’t make out. Soundlessly I pull the back door shut, before I start to cross the freezing grass, softly calling her name, her face coming into view as I slowly creep past her.

  She doesn’t pause her rocking. She’s too far gone as she sits in wait, for what, I can’t even fathom.

  “Please,” is the only word I can make out as I slowly circle her before crouching down in front of her a few feet away.

  The skies are clear, and from the half-crest light of the moon, I can see the alarming tint in her face. Her lips are blue.

  How long has she been out here?

  “Katy,” I whisper again and again as she looks up at the moon and begs.

  “Please, please.”

  “Katy,” I say sharply, inching closer. Her eyes gloss over and slowly drift to meet mine. It’s only when she says my name that I feel the heat of the water trailing down my cheeks.

  “Help me,” she pleads. “Help me. Please, God, help me.”

  “Anything. I’ll do anything, Katy. Tell me what to do.”

  Her jaw shakes involuntarily as she tries to speak and closes her eyes tight. I pull off my sweatshirt and lay it across her shoulders before I kneel in front of her. “I can’t get out,” she whimpers. “I can’t get out.”

  “What did they do to you, baby?” My voice cracks as she opens her eyes, looking past me.

  “It’s too late,” she whispers, her hand fisting the front of her shirt. “I’m never getting out.” She’s trapped in her hell and speaking to me from where she was, as opposed to where she is, sitting in the cold, breaking apart.

  Unable to handle another second, I pull her to my chest, and she clings to me like she never has, the same two words spilling from her lips over and over as she clutches me tight. “Help me.”

  It’s then I realize that I’m only half the man she needs, because I can’t. I can’t help her. And her tears still won’t come.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Briggs

  “Well?” my Gran asks, rushing to greet me at the door as I’m returning home from meeting with my commanding officer. The thirty-day mandatory convalescent leave they placed me on has finally come to an end, and I’ve never been so eager to get back to work. This R & R has been anything but relaxing.

  “Are you a free man?” She looks so hopeful, her dark brown eyes big and round. I hate that I’m about to crush her with my next words. But as it turns out, I don’t have to say a thing. One look at my face has her gripping the counter for stability. “Christopher, you didn’t?”

  “Gran,” I say, grabbing her shoulders and leading the woman who raised me to sit in a chair before she falls over. “It’s my job.”

  “You could stay here and work the ranch. You love the horses.” I’m so thankful my Gran and Gramps took me in when my mother lost custody of me as an infant. Their horse ranch has been the place I’ve called home my entire life. When Gramps died a few years ago, she begged me to get out and take over running the place, but I wasn’t ready. If the past thirty days has convinced me of anything, it’s that I’m still not ready.

  “One day,” I promise. “I’ll retire. Just like we always planned.”

  Her red-rimmed eyes drip with tears, and I feel like I’m failing her. “That was before. Things have changed. I almost lost you.”

  “But you didn’t.” Placing a comforting hand on her back, I lean in to kiss her cheek. “I’m right here.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  For the past month, I’ve been absolutely miserable. Dreaming of Scottie, thinking of her every waking moment. The long nights have lengthened to unbearable, and all I want is her. I’m both happy to know that she’s reunited with her family and fucking dying inside every time I imagine his hands on her body. It’s sick and twisted, but it’s how I feel. For my own sanity, I need to return to my first love. “I’m a soldier, Gran. I need to go back.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  Chuckling, I shake my head. “You never have.”

  “And you never listen to me,” she says, wiping her nose and drying her tears.

  “Just tell me why?” For the first time since I left Katy at the airport, I’m tempted to talk about it. Instead, I offer a sad excuse.

  “Old habits die hard, Gran.”

  The first week back at the base is insane, filled with meetings and paperwork. I’ve already been back to visit Mandy and the kids, keeping an eye on them so she could get out and away for a bit. It makes me feel good to be able to do little things like that for her, but it’s also hard. I’m mentally exhausted.

  “Hey, man,” my new roommate, Connors calls, greeting me as I return to the barracks. I haven’t quite gauged how I feel about him yet, but he seems a lot like the good-time GI I used to be. A much bigger version. He stands six-four and has to weigh over three hundred pounds.

  He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Some of the guys and I are gonna hit up Rox’s pub tonight.” He grabs his keys and wallet, shoving them into his pockets. “Why don’t you come out?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him no, but the alternative is another night spent alone with my memories, and I’m in desperate need of a break. “You know what? I think I’ll do that. Give me fifteen to get showered and changed?”

  “You want to be DD?” Connors plops down on his bunk, pulling out his phone and tapping away.

  “Fuck no,” I answer seriously. I have too much pent-up tension to be designated driver for anyone. I’ve done well enough to keep my nose clean. He grins at me from where he sits. “It’s like that, huh?”

  The woman I love is probably at home cooking dinner for her husband while he’s absorbing her beautiful smiles the way I used to, and probably kissing her tears away too.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  “Yeah, it’s definitely like that.”

  The thumping of the bass and rotating lights sends a jolt to my senses, knocking me off balance. It’s my first time out since before I was deployed to Iraq, and I need a moment to catch my bearings.

  “You all right, Briggs?” Connors’s buddy Riley reaches for my arm to steady me.

  I shake my head. “Yeah. Just a little off-kilter. I’m good now.” He nods as I give him a brotherly slap to the back, and we continue on to the crowded bar.

  Like Moses parting the Red Sea, people scatter as Connors announces my presence. “We’ve got a real Americ
an hero coming through. Show some fucking respect.”

  Okay, maybe I don’t like this guy.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” I shout as he gives me a shit-eating grin.

  “Hey.” He looks over to me with a shrug. “You gotta use that POW shit to your advantage, Briggs. You should be thanking me.”

  “What am I thanking you for, exactly?”

  After relaying our order to the bartender, he looks back at me over his shoulder. “Pretty sure you could have any girl in the bar tonight, bud. Choose wisely.”

  It’s then that I notice the many pairs of eyes fixed on our little group, more specifically on me. “I’m not here for a hookup. Just a distraction.”

  “This place is filled with distractions of every shape, and color…you’re welcome.” I realize then I must look the way I feel if he’s working this hard to get me laid.

  “Appreciate it, man, but I don’t need the help.”

  “A little help never hurt anybody,” he says as he waves a group of girls over, wrapping his arms around the waist of a busty redhead.

  “Briggs, this is Tonya. Tonya, Sergeant Christopher Briggs.”

  “Hey,” she shouts over the music, and I give her a friendly nod while she tries not to squirm as my new roommate slips his hand up the back of her shirt. Classy. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same to you.” I nod, turning to divert my gaze from what’s quickly turning into a public groping session.

  “Stop that,” she scolds Connors before she turns to me. “So, he wasn’t lying, you really are that guy on the news. Wow.”

  “Please don’t be impressed. Getting captured really isn’t the sign of a job well done.” It’s so weird how everyone suddenly treats me like I’m something special when I didn’t do anything deserving. The media is painting us up as heroes instead of survivors, instead of soldiers just doing our jobs. I fucked up, and we got caught. That’s the truth of it. A knot lodges in my throat—thinking of my survival reminds me that my two best friends weren’t so lucky. I still can’t accept that they’re gone. I’m so screwed up at this point, between mourning Scottie and my friends, that I’m not sure which ache to try and conquer first.

  I grab my beer from the bar, giving it a long pull, and Tonya looks back at Connors with wide o-kay eyes, and I realize what a prick I’m being.

  “Sorry,” I offer in apology, “but it’s really not party conversation. You know?”

  She nods, “Yeah, sorry.”

  Months ago, the blonde standing next to her would’ve already been on my radar. I wouldn’t have hesitated with some line to work myself into a better night. Instead, I motion for the bartender as I pluck my wallet from my pocket.

  “No, I’m sorry for being a downer. Tell you what, shots are on me.” Connors gives me a nod, and before I can place the order, a small hand smacks a couple of twenties down on the bar in front of me.

  “You dismiss yourself all you want, Sergeant, but I was raised to thank a soldier for his sacrifice, and you aren’t buying me a drink tonight; I’m buying yours.”

  I turn to see the little blonde eyeing me with determination.

  “I’m Amy. What are you having?”

  She’s beautiful, with a kick-ass figure and a mind of her own. There’s just one problem—she’s not Scottie. Despite my hesitance, I know the next one won’t be either, and I have to push past this.

  “I’m simple,” I tell her. “A shot of Jack and another beer, and I’ve never let a woman pay for a drink in my life. I was raised that way.”

  “One round?” It’s a compromise, and I nod. “Okay, thanks.”

  She sizes me up, and I can’t help my growing smirk.

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “Agree,” I say. I’m half-assed flirting, and it feels out of place. I wonder if I’ll ever get back to who I was before. The world seems plastic in contrast to the alternate life I live as a soldier, and I’m not sure which I’d prefer.

  Connors takes off to the dance floor, and Amy turns to me.

  “You dance?”

  Immediately I think of Scottie, and that somehow this is wrong. Please make it fucking stop.

  I’m being faithful to a woman I have no future with. The notion is ridiculous. At this point, it’s either fight or fuck my way through it. I decide to try for option B. Breaking this hold I’ve put on myself is the only way to get over her.

  She’s not waiting for you.

  She never asked me for loyalty; she asked me to let her go. I’m the one who decided to love her from afar.

  I answer Amy, who’s patiently waiting. “Not feeling the dancing right now, that okay?”

  “I borrowed this jumper,” she announces suddenly.

  That earns a laugh from me. “Okay?”

  “Well, it’s fucking short, shorter than anything I’ve ever worn. I’m capable of intellectual conversation.”

  I give her a grin. “Sounds…stimulating.”

  “I just mean…” She bites her lip, looking over at her friends on the dance floor, who are bent over, shaking their asses.

  Amy’s adorable and just as uncomfortable as I am. I find comfort in that. She’s out of her element. “I think what you’re trying to tell me is you’re not an idiot who counts on her looks to make up for what she’s lacking.”

  “Precisely,” she says. “This is a slut suit.”

  My eyes trail down her body. “Can I be honest?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You look really fucking good in that slut suit.”

  Her smile comes from within, and I feel better about talking to her. We make our way to the corner of the club, and soon our conversation is flowing easily. Amy’s twenty-three and works as a kindergarten teacher at a Catholic school. The more she talks, the more I like her. She’s no bullshit, opinionated, and I like the way she drinks—heavily.

  “So, you’re single?” she asks.

  “Not exactly. I’m in love with a married woman,” I admit freely, because why the hell not? Women are the best at giving advice on this shit. “And before your wheels start turning,” I add, “no, I haven’t slept with her. I have no intention of breaking up her marriage.”

  She nods as if she understands. “I just got dumped by the principal at my school. Which means, yes, I was screwing my boss. I don’t exactly have the moral high ground.” The more she talks, the more I like her. Her smile says a lot. They’re all genuine but have to be earned.

  She looks up at me with hope in her light blue eyes. “How about tonight, we commiserate together?”

  “I’m game.” We clink bottles, and she gives me a shy smile, which I reciprocate. Though her presence should bring some comfort, I still feel like I’m being dragged through glass. Admitting the truth did nothing for me, and she’s not doling out advice. We’re just two clueless and heartbroken people sharing time and drinks. Hours pass, and we get a little sloppy. We’ve talked about everything but the heavy. The light conversation is making this easier for me, and I can visibly see the relief in her. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough. Half drunk, she pulls me out to the dance floor, and I allow it. Slow country music sounds out through the club, which is more my style.

  “We’re pathetic, Briggs,” she murmurs to my neck. “We are a country song right now.”

  I chuckle because I have to agree. “Go big or go home. And I wasn’t always such a sad bastard.”

  “Gah,” she says, visibly upset. “Why is it we always give our hearts away to the person most likely to break it? We’re gluttons…I mean, at least that’s how I feel.”

  I pull her closer. “I’m sorry, Amy.”

  “Me too, Chris.” She looks up at me with a different light in her eyes and her arms link around my neck, her body pressing against mine. She smells good—sweet—the rub of her chest indicating the conversational portion of the night is over. Slipping my arms around her waist, I pull her tight to my chest, rubbing my hands along the small of her back and brushing the top of her
ass with my thumbs as we sway to the seductive beat. Before I know it, her hands are pulling my head down to hers, and I’m licking the seam of her mouth, beckoning her to open for me. Willingly her lips part, and I dive in. Briefly, my mind wanders back to her, and my stomach begins to churn. Amy slips her hand between us discreetly, kneading my cock through my jeans with a question in her eyes, and I answer with option B.

  “So, you and Amy, huh?” Connors elbows me as he walks past to make his way over to the coffeepot. It’s four in the morning, and I’m nursing the hangover from hell with PT in just thirty minutes. “You gonna see her again?”

  My stomach revolts as a cloak of guilt lays heavy on me. “No.”

  “Really? She’s fuckin’ hot, man. You seemed so into her last night.”

  “She’s great, but I’m not there at the moment.” Amy was the perfect distraction, but I don’t feel a centimeter closer to where I hoped it would take me. I’m no idiot; I know that love doesn’t exist in the physical, but I damn sure hoped a little physical would help this ache. And now I know I’m looking for a warm place to sleep in a blizzard.

  Man. Fucking. Down.

  He nods, concentrating on adding the creamer to his cup. “So, you’re a one and done? I gotcha, man.”

  Yeah, one woman has done me the hell in.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Katy

  Therapy. It’s the bane of my existence. I sit in a room for an hour every other day, talking feelings about feelings. The meds aren’t working. They keep me asleep during nightmares I’m dying to wake from. I’d rather feel like I’m on fire than feel that whacked-out. But for Gavin, I’ll try anything. I’m tearing him apart.

  But I know what I need is not in any sort of bottle.

  I can’t cry, and I know that’s a problem for Gavin. I’m fine with it. I don’t want to feel this way. Mostly because it feels inconvenient for my family. Trying to hash out what happened is working me into a constant frenzy. I traded one harsh reality for another.

  I didn’t belong in that hole in the ground, but feeling like I don’t belong in my life is ruining me.