by Meghan Quinn
Not sure if you believe in that kind of stuff, but I do.
And I’m falling hard . . . really hard, especially after the flowers you brought me on Sunday. My apartment still smells gorgeous because of them, reminding me of your sweet heart with every breath I take.
I love you.
Rory
Dear Rory,
This paper is unreal. You didn’t have to get me letterhead with an embossed airplane at the top, but fuck if I don’t like it. Thank you for the gift, and I couldn’t agree more. Writing letters gives me something to look forward to in between our visits, especially on weekends like last weekend when I couldn’t be with you.
I’m sorry.
I will tell you this, though. When Hardie saw the paper I was writing on tonight (he’s become used to the quiet I need when writing you) he had freaking stars in his eyes and asked where I got it. I told him it was a gift from you, and do you know what he said after that?
He told me I better not fuck up anything with you, because if I was willing to let someone go who bought me such “beautiful” paper then I was an idiot.
I couldn’t agree more.
I also made a mental note to ask you where you bought it, because it seems like Hardie might be itching for some.
Thanks again. I love you.
Colby
Dear Colby,
Remember how you had Martin Luther King Jr. Day off? Remember how we went to the movies and watched three movies, refilled on popcorn multiple times even though you said you couldn’t eat anymore? And remember how we sat in the far back and made out for the entire second movie? Remember how your hands started to wander a little . . .
I think about it all the time, and I’m wondering, with Presidents’ Day fast approaching, and furniture sales taking up all the ads on the radio and TV, if you’ll be up for movie going part two? But this time, instead of going to the movies, we hang out at my place. And instead of watching movies, you perform some kind of sexy striptease for me? And since I’m ranked general and all, your little cadet ass better salute me while you’re stripping.
See what I did there? I know you’re not rolling your eyes at me. I know you’re laughing and wishing you were standing in front of me, penis at full salute, waiting to be told what to do . . . right?
So basically, I just need to know if you’re up for a sex-a-thon this coming Presidents’ Day weekend? What better way to honor the men who have led our country than by fucking for our freedom?
Too much?
How about Porking for Presidents?
Let me know what you like better, and I’ll make us matching shirts with the date and slogan on them.
I know how much you like matching shirts. (wiggles eyebrows at you)
I love you . . . and I miss you.
Rory
Dear Rory,
Okay, I’m going to admit it. You broke me.
It’s Wednesday night, two days after Plonking for POTUS 2018, and I still have a sore back. I know you thought it was funny at first when I had a spasm during hour forty-eight of mission full-on nudity, but I’m still feeling it. I was doing pushups during PT and could barely get my body up and down.
I blame you and your idea to try to conduct acrobatic tricks while having sex.
I give you the upper hand one time and look what happens. I threw my back out.
And the picture of your naked tits that you texted me earlier to “help me feel better” did nothing but stir my cock and make me horny as fuck. What did I tell you about naked pics, Rory? I can’t do anything with them here. I’m not about to jack off with Hardie next to me or in the showers with everyone showering next to me.
Do you send them to torture me?
Because it’s working.
Consider me tortured. I’m at your mercy. Please stop taunting me with your gorgeous tits. Save them for the weekends when I can fully enjoy licking and plucking your nipples with my mouth.
Until then, I love you, Rory.
Colby
Dear Colby,
Ugh.
It’s days like today when I wish I could climb into bed with you and cuddle into your side for hours, feeding off your strength and love.
Bryan had a meltdown today at the house. It was bad. Mom and Dad called me to come help calm him. And the worst part is they don’t even know what triggered it. Mom was in the kitchen, Dad was in the bathroom, and Bryan was watching TV when it happened. It could have been something he saw on TV or heard, who knows, but it was bad. He was hitting himself. He wound up giving himself a black eye.
I hate days like this, days where I feel helpless. I hate knowing that there are times I can’t help my brother. Days I can’t be there for him when he needs it.
I hate that he’s autistic.
I don’t think I’ve ever said that to anyone, and it’s because I don’t want it to be construed differently than how I’m trying to say it. What I mean is, I hate that Bryan can’t talk to me, that I can’t really hear his voice or understand what’s going through his beautiful mind, or take him somewhere by myself.
I hate that his life will always be different than what my parents envisioned for him, and I hate that their job as parents will never end. Unlike me, Bryan may never move out, and they will never take off their parenting hats.
I hate that he’ll most likely never know what it’s like to fall in love.
And I hate myself for saying that, but a part of me has to be realistic. I don’t think Bryan will ever have what we have, and that just about destroys me. Because what we share, Colby, the kind of compassion and admiration we have for each other? It’s beautiful and doesn’t come around very often.
I don’t mean to be such a downer, but I want you to know, that calling you my boyfriend is one of the best gifts I will ever receive. Thank you for loving me.
I love you.
Rory
Dear Rory,
I’ve been considering whether I should tell you this or not, but I think I need to make it known just to cover all my bases, make sure I don’t lose you.
Because I can’t lose you.
Here goes . . .
Gramps is obsessed with you. I just got off the phone with him, and all he could talk about was how beautiful and sweet and kind you are. You really did a number on him this past weekend. And honestly, I can’t disagree with him, because as usual, he’s right.
But I wanted you to know because he asked for your number. Yeah, my grandpa asked me for your number, and for some odd reason, I gave it to him. But when he chuckled and said he was taking you out on a date, I regretted my decision.
If he asks you out, spare me and say no.
Because you’re mine.
I love you.
Colby
Dear Colby,
I started teaching a new class at the gym. I’ve been asking to teach it for a while, but the instructor who was in charge of the class has seniority over me. I finally got my opportunity when she was sick. Now we split the class schedule because the gym members enjoyed it so much.
It’s Barre. Which is like Pilates and ballet mixed together for an amazing workout that tones rather than builds.
I don’t know if you remember—who am I kidding? You probably remember everything—but ballet was my passion, and I was supposed to go to New York with it. I occasionally take a class here and there at the local dance studio, but nothing too intense, nothing like I used to. I felt like I’d lost touch with that part of me, so when this opportunity came along, I snagged it.
It felt so right, teaching and instructing on the basics of ballet. Granted, it’s not like a normal class, but at least I wasn’t teaching a weightlifting class I have no interest in. This was different. This made me enjoy my job.
I spoke with my manager, and he’s going to see if we can work more Barre classes into the schedule, because it seems to be popular.
Eeep, I’m excited.
Can’t wait to see you this weekend. I’ve never been to Seven Falls . . .
ever! Isn’t that crazy? And I’ve lived here my whole life. There were things we didn’t do, because we didn’t want Bryan to feel uncomfortable. But I’m excited to go with you and the gang.
I love you.
Rory
Dear Rory,
Worthless.
I hate that fucking word.
But it’s a word I live with on a daily basis. It’s a word I’ve been called numerous times not only by Ted, but at the academy during basic military training. It’s a way to break down the cadets so we can put them back together.
I’ve never used it. I’ve never called anyone worthless, not even Ted, because even though he treated me like shit, my mom and his patients love him. There is unseen worth in him, so perhaps it’s there in all of us.
I need to remind myself that worth differs from person to person. You, fuck. You’re everything worthy. You’re a shining beacon directing me forward, guiding me with every jaw-dropping smile you give me. Stryder is full of worth, and despite what his father thinks, he’s so goddamn smart. Hardie and Joey, they’re not only valued in my eyes because of their friendship, but they have giving souls, always volunteering. Before my dad got sick, he always tried to build me up and tell me I was worthy of love and happiness. I lost that when he died, but Gramps tried to carry that torch. We know how that worked out. But you, you’re showing me my worth as a man.
But Ted, his worth is different. His worth is a lesson.
And his lesson to me is that even though his words and his iron fists still live deep in my soul to this day, I know I will never be like him, ever.
Because his abuse will eventually fade, but his disgusting, black heart will be forever.
Thank you for listening to me and writing to me. I miss you, Rory.
And fuck do I love you.
Colby
Dear Colby,
Guess what I’m wearing?
Your Colorado Rockies sweatshirt. Thank you for letting me steal it from you. It smells like you and it’s big and warm and reminds me of being in your arms.
It’s the little things.
Which is what I’ve come to realize. It’s the little things that matter the most, especially with us. Like the good morning texts, our short FaceTime conversations, and these letters. Even though we only see each other on the weekends, and sometimes not every weekend, it feels like we’re closer than ever.
Does it feel like that to you?
I’ve never felt this close to another person before. I feel like I know every last piece of you, and I wonder if it’s because we’ve given ourselves time to talk. The physical aspect of our relationship doesn’t exist five days out of the seven, and we’ve replaced it by communicating with our hearts.
To me, that’s special. And I freaking love your heart.
My mom was asking about you the other day. She really likes you. This is embarrassing, but she called you a “swell” guy when I was talking to her. I should have told her she wouldn’t think that if she heard the things you said to me in the bedroom. She would most likely turn a ghostly shade of white and then pass out.
Everyone thinks you’re this big teddy bear, but I know you, Colby Brooks. You’re freaking dirty, and I love it.
I can’t wait for spring break. It’s so close. You better be staying with me instead of Stryder. You hear me? This is your last break before graduation, and I want you for all of that time.
You’re mine.
I love you.
Rory
Chapter Twenty-Eight
COLBY
“Where are we going?” Rory has a blindfold on, and her excited little body is hopping up and down in the passenger seat while she grips my hand tightly.
“I told you, it’s a surprise. We’re almost there.”
“It’s concerning that you had to blindfold me for this.”
“Why?” I chuckle and make a left-hand turn down a very familiar road.
“Because for all I know, you could be taking me to the woods where you sit me on a log, drop your jeans, and then tell me to remove the blindfold only to come eye to bulbous head with your penis.”
An outburst of a laugh escapes me. “What? Where the fuck did you come up with that?”
“One of Ryan’s boyfriends did that to her. She thought they were going to a couple’s massage. Boy, was she wrong.”
Keeping my eyes focused on the road in front of me, excitement brewing, I say, “I’m not a douche. I would never do that to you. This is a legitimate surprise, one I think you’ll really like.”
“Knowing you, I will.” She rests her head against the seat and says, “These last few days have been amazing. Thank you for staying with me instead of Stryder.”
At a stoplight, I lean over and press a kiss against her lips, catching her off guard. She quickly recovers, weaving her fingers through my hair before I have to pull away and make another left-hand turn.
“It was best I didn’t stay at Stryder’s. If I weren’t with you, I would have asked to stay at Joey or Hardie’s house. Stryder is having a shit of a time with his family, and I think I’m a constant reminder to his dad that Stryder didn’t make it into flight school.”
“Ugh, I feel terrible for him. I still don’t get why he didn’t get in.”
“Believe me, none of us get it. I thought he was a shoo-in. I’m actually . . .” I pause for a second, questioning whether I should talk about Stryder with Rory, but it’s Rory. If anything, she’ll know how to soothe the anxiety in my heart. “I’m worried about him. I feel like he’s spiraling. Everything he’s ever looked forward to when it comes to the Air Force has been denied him.”
“What do you mean?”
“From the beginning, we’ve both shared the same two goals: make flight school and get the hell out of the Springs. Neither of those things have happened for him. He’s been stationed at Peterson Air Force Base after he graduates. It’s a fucking kick to the nuts for him. And now he’s, fuck, I don’t know, he’s not the same. He doesn’t want to hang out, and he usually just holes up in his room. When we jump, he doesn’t talk to me like he used to, and during meals he’s no longer the jokester at the table. He’s quiet, sullen. And I don’t know how to talk to him, because there is this giant elephant sitting between us that makes it hard to breathe when we’re near each other.” I shake my head and park the car. “I’m sorry I brought it up, especially since we’re here now.”
Rory unbuckles her seat belt and scoots close to me, her blindfold blocking her eyes from my view. I need to see those green eyes. I need to feel them hit me deep in my bones. I remove the mask and instead of looking around, she focuses on me, bringing her hand to the back of my neck.
“Don’t apologize. I always want to hear your worries. If I were you, I would be worried as well. Stryder is my friend too, so do you want me to talk to him?”
I shake my head. “No. He’d fucking hate me if he knew I said anything. I just needed to get that off my chest.” I lean forward and place a soft kiss on her lips, reminding her that today is about us. “Are you ready for your surprise?”
She searches my eyes, trying to read through the veil of happiness I’m wearing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod. “I am.” I place another kiss on her lips and then with my finger, I push her chin to the side so she’s forced to look out the window. “Are you ready to jump out of a plane?”
Within seconds, her eyes light up as she takes in the twin engine King Air and the tarmac with soon-to-be parachuters getting a safety lesson.
“Are you serious?”
My lips curve from the pure excitement she exudes. Being around her joy and elation is addictive. Her expression, when she’s this fired up, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Very serious. I know you dreamt about it, so I’m hoping you’re up for the challenge. You can jump with me. I’ll teach you everything.”
From the way she sweeps herself into my arms, the passionate kiss she places on my lips, and the way she
grips my head so closely to hers, I’m going to take it that she’s excited.
“Come on, we have a jump time to get ready for.”
Hand linked with Rory’s, I lead her through the small private airport we jump at over the weekends to gain more experience and learn how to teach civilians. This place is like a second home to me next to the academy.
Opening the door for Rory, I usher her in and one of the instructors I’m close with spots me. “Colby, my man. It’s about damn time you visited us.” He eyes my hand in Rory’s and a knowing smile spreads across his face. “And I can see why we haven’t seen you around lately.” Holding his hand out to Rory, he says, “You must be the girl Stryder’s told us about when we ask him where Colby is. I’m Blake.”
A pink blush spreads across her cheeks. “Blake, nice to meet you. I’m Rory, the girl who’s been sucking all of Colby’s jumping time.”
Blake laughs and pats me on the shoulder and then points behind him toward the dressing area. “Stryder is back there. Have fun.”
“Stryder’s here?”
Blake nods. “It’s where he’s been spending a lot of his time lately. Ten to twelve jumps each day on the weekend. He’s been living in the sky.” A pain of understanding hits me, because this is probably as close to flying as Stryder is going to get. I haven’t tried talking to him about applying for flight school again, but given I barely get to talk to him, I feel he’s given up hope completely.
Fuck.
I let out a long breath and take Rory to the back room. Skirting past the swinging door, I find Stryder in the corner, quietly strapping on his harness, tightening the straps with more force than needed.
“Hey man.” Stryder looks up, surprise masking his features before they soften as he takes in Rory and me.
“Hey.” He looks between us, our connected hands, and then goes back to tightening the straps to his harness. “What are you guys doing here?”
