by Aria Ford
He was chuckling and I couldn’t help laughing too. It was funny. But even as I laughed, I realized how typical it was of her, to run to save a child without thinking about it. Putting herself in danger without a second thought. She reminded me of Pete that way—always looking out for others. I had forgotten that about her.
“Brett!” a voice from the door said. I turned around. Amelia was standing there. Her hair had come loose from its ties and it flowed around her head in those soft waves I’d always loved, even though she called it messy. She was wearing a pale pink sweater and jeans and she looked incredible. The front was tight over her high, round breasts and I found I could look nowhere else.
“What?” he asked, grinning wickedly.
“What are you telling people about me now?” Amelia said with a teasing smile.
“Nothing, sis,” he said innocently.
“Brett was just talking about the holiday,” Reese explained.
“Which holiday, Brett?” she asked, blue eyes wide. Her mouth was a soft pink “o”, and my loins tugged painfully looking at her.
“He told the story about your skiing lesson,” I said quickly. It wasn’t fair not to tell Amelia the truth.
She blushed. It looked spectacular. I found it very hard to look anywhere else. “Brett!” she said. She was caught between laughing and complete indignation. “Are you embarrassing me?”
“No,” he said with a prim expression. “Would I?”
“Brett!” she said again, laughing, and launching herself at him to give him a playful punch on the arm. “You are such a…big brother!”
He was laughing helplessly and I joined in. I couldn’t help it. It was as if we were all kids again and the world was right and Brett and I were at his home, with Amelia. Like it was when we first met.
“Come on, you two,” Reese said, seeming uncomfortable with the rough interchange between the siblings. “I thought we could all try that new coffee you bought yesterday.” She raised inquiring brows at Brett and he sighed, laughter subsiding.
“I’ll fetch it,” he promised. He headed to the pantry. We could hear him rummaging about.
Amelia, without Brett to torment for a moment, came and sat down beside me. She shot me a look under her brows that made me laugh. She looked indignant and wicked at once. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder, squeezing it firmly.
She tensed. I instantly took my hand away.
You absolute fool, Carson!
Now she was probably going to be cross with me. Did I really have to forget myself like that? We had split years ago! But the habit was still there. It was like the intervening years did nothing to change us being together. It might be as if nothing had changed, but things had changed. Touching her wasn’t necessarily permissible. Not now and not yet.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
She looked at me. Her eyes had a strange expression that I couldn’t fathom. I cleared my throat, ready with an excuse for my action.
“I…”
“Here we are,” Brett said, saving me from my mire of awkwardness. “A strong coffee for anyone? Any takers?”
“Me, please!” I said immediately. I was firmly addicted to coffee at the moment. Brett was right.
He rolled his eyes at me. “I knew you’d say yes, Grant.” He chuckled. “Amelia?” Brett asked. She nodded.
“I know I’ve already had one—okay, one and a half—but just make me another half, please?”
The lamp above the table shone soft light on her hair and I sighed. She was so beautiful.
“Okay. So five coffees it is, then. Coming up.”
“Four and a half,” I reminded.
Amelia grinned at me in a way that took my breath away. I felt as if my lungs were full of treacle and I coughed, loins tugging hard and grinned back.
“Oh, you perfectionist,” Brett grumbled, making coffee.
“Are the kids coming down soon?” Reese asked Amelia. She nodded again.
“I think so. I think Josh is, anyway. Cayley’s still playing in my makeup.” She grinned.
Reese rolled her eyes. “She’s so naughty at the moment!”
“She’s growing up.”
I had been about to say it when Amelia took the words out of my mouth. I smiled at her. She flushed again and looked at the table. I wondered whether she had forgiven me for my sudden touch.
“I know,” Reese agreed wearily. “But it’s always so tiring when she has to have a different opinion on everything!”
“She’s using her mind,” Amelia said gently. “A lot changes up there at that time.” I nodded in agreement.
“Kids have to test out new ideas,” I said. Reese gave me a funny look as if to ask me how the heck I knew about kids. I sighed. I didn’t want to get into an argument.
“And they have to test out makeup,” Amelia chuckled. “I wish I’d learned more then.”
Brett appeared with the coffees and placed one in front of his sister fondly.
“I remember you at that age, Mel. You wanted to know everything.”
Amelia laughed. “It wasn’t a quest for knowledge, exactly,” she recalled. “It was ‘cos I hated it when you knew something I didn’t know!”
“I know,” Brett chuckled. He lowered himself into the chair, tried the coffee and pulled a face.
I laughed and tried it myself. Hot, strong and sweet, it was good. I sighed. Amelia laughed.
“You always did enjoy coffee. I remember.” She said, surprising me. I had half-expected her to be cross with me about the unwarranted contact.
“I like it more now,” I said. “In fact, I can’t actually believe I drove here without it.”
She laughed. “It must’ve been a long ride. You in Colorado now?”
I nodded. “In Boulder.”
“Must be lovely,” she observed.
“It is.”
Talking to her felt natural. It was as easy as it had been initially. Which was odd, since we’d not seen each other for years now. I was amazed by how nice she was actually being to me. It wasn’t like I was that nice to her ten years ago. Maybe she had decided to let the past go. I hoped so.
“What will you do, now you’re discharged?” Brett asked, interrupting our conversation. I put my glass down carefully.
“Well, I don’t know, Brett,” I said softly. Part of me wished he hadn’t asked that here. I hadn’t any real plans for my life and I desperately didn’t want to discuss them in front of Amelia. If she knew I had no formal job yet and was despairing of getting one, she might think bad things about me. I surprised myself by how much her opinion mattered to me.
“Brett, let the poor man drink his coffee,” Reese interrupted. I gave her a grateful smile.
“It’s good coffee, Brett.” I said, changing the subject.
“Mm. It is,” Brett nodded. “A guy at work got me buying it and now I can’t stop.”
I laughed. “I can imagine.”
“We have it at the I near my work too,” Amelia observed, “I don’t go anywhere else, now.”
“When Lenny first brought it to the office, I remember it was a really tough day. I needed it. We were just landed with a contract, and…”
The conversation turned to a story from Brett’s work. I sat and listened idly, but I wasn’t really listening. My mind was filled with Amelia.
The question of what I was going to do with my life now that I was no longer in active service had set my mind on a darker path than it had been. I realized that I should stop thinking wistfully of second chances, settling down. And that I should, especially, stop thinking about taking up with Amelia.
What do I have for her?
I was a mess. I had no formal employment, I found it hard to sleep at night. My mind was plagued with memories of Iraq—the heat, the sun, the noise. The death. I was a changed man.
There isn’t a road back for me. I don’t belong here, at a family dinner, drinking coffee. I’m a loner; a wild thing
of desert and pain and loss.
I told myself that because it was true. How would I feel if I woke up from a nightmare and Amelia was beside me in the bed, seeing me shaking and messed up? I would feel humiliated. When we were young, she had thought me as tough, invincible. That was probably what she liked about me. She would despise the man who couldn’t sleep without medication, whose dreams sometimes woke him up screaming.
I have seen men blown to bits. Faced the same death. Seen comrades die. I can’t sleep.
I was a changed person. A person who just wanted four walls and a bed that would be there when I came home; three predictable meals a day. Another part of me was a wild person; someone who lived on adrenaline for a decade and would do anything for more of it. Life as a normal person was boring and colorless and it depressed me.
I can’t put myself as a burden on anyone.
I was especially not going to do that to Amelia. She deserved a sane, safe man. Not me.
“Carson?”
“Mm?” I asked, turning to face Amelia. I must have looked surprised, because she giggled.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to ask how long you’re staying?”
“Oh,” I swallowed. “Just until the twenty-seventh.” I lifted my coffee, looking into the cup. I didn’t want to risk looking into her eyes again, getting sucked into those blue oceans in which the unwary might drown.
“Oh,” she said. She looked away. She sounded a bit upset. I blinked.
Does she want me to leave? I felt hurt and a sort of bittersweet pain. Somehow, having her walk away from me, hurtful as it would be, felt cruelly just. I would almost be pleased if she did it.
“When are you staying until?” I asked.
“The twenty-seventh.”
“Oh.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. Wasn’t sure what it meant. Surely the only reason she could be sorry about that was because I was going to be here for her visit?
“Brett?”
“Mm?” Brett looked up at my rather desperate-sounding plea.
“Did you say you wanted to show me photos of your project?”
“Oh!” Brett smiled. “Sure. I’ll bring them down. Mel hasn’t seen either.”
Amelia raised her eyebrows. “Is this the apartment block?”
“Yeah. That’s right.” Brett stood, pushing in his chair. “I’ll fetch my laptop.”
While Brett wandered up the steps, his footsteps creaking over our heads as he went into the bedroom and sought out his things, I studied the paintings and tried to pretend I was elsewhere.
Reese coughed. “Maybe we could go skating tomorrow?” she suggested politely.
I looked at Amelia, who laughed.
“I am not going to fall on my bottom again, Carson Grant.”
I grinned because I couldn’t help it. “Is that a bet?”
She gave me a funny look. “Maybe…”
I leaned back, my mind whirling as I tried, very hard, not to notice the moistness of her lips or the flushed skin at her soft throat. She was so beautiful! My loins were aching.
“Well, then!” Reese said brightly. “Maybe we’ll go bowling instead. The kids are just getting the hang of it…so it seems like a good idea for everyone.”
“Yes!” Amelia laughed triumphantly as Brett walked in.
“What?” he asked.
“I am so going to beat you,” Amelia said, grinning at her brother. He laughed.
“You probably will.”
We all laughed. Then Brett fired up the computer and we all admired his designs for a new apartment block to be built somewhere in Berkeley
I stood behind Brett and absolutely refused to let myself think about how close Amelia’s body was to mine, how I could, if I leaned fractionally left, bump against her. How her hair smelled. What I would do to just hold her in my arms right now.
“It’s a neat project,” I said admiringly.
Brett turned to grin at me.
“Thanks, man.”
Amelia’s giggle warmed my heart. I closed my eyes.
Carson Grant. Stop it. You left her so you wouldn’t hurt her. Why would you want to go through that again?
I had never expected to walk straight back into feeling this way about her, but it had happened. And now I had absolutely no idea what to do.
I hadn’t been for therapy but I knew enough about myself and about other army buddies of mine to know that there were lots of rough edges. Lots of hidden wounds. I wasn’t really ready for a relationship. At least, I didn’t think so. But here one was, tantalizing, right before me and tempting me like hell.
You hurt her once, Carson, I reminded myself. I wasn’t going to give myself a chance to hurt her twice.
“I should go and check my mail,” I said tightly. Amelia looked up at me, big blue eyes questioning, and I forced myself to break the eye-contact.
“Okay,” she said softly. “We’ll see you later.”
“Later,” I said, my throat tight again, and hurried up the stairs to the lonely refuge of my bedroom. Before I got myself in any deeper.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amelia
The day went on with everyone minding their own business in an easy, familiar rhythm that stretched back to my childhood. Brett went to town for some things, Reese took the kids to a friend’s home and stayed for coffee with their mom. Carson went jogging and I took a walk. It was good to be out in the open.
That evening, Brett appeared from the garage with a triumphant smile.
“I have an idea,” he announced grandly. “Let’s do a barbecue. Like old times, eh, Carson?” he grinned.
Carson groaned. “Am I going to have to compete with you over who can do the best grill again, Mr. Barbecue?”
We all laughed.
“Well, I plan to beat you,” Brett chuckled. He turned to me. “I got butternut squash for you, sis,” he added as an aside to me.
“Oh, good.” I smiled, relieved. I hadn’t eaten red meat for years, and Brett’s success with barbecuing anything else tended to have limits. Reese had invented a dish for me last time I stayed that consisted of grilled butternut squash and a sauce she had yet to teach me how to make. My mouth watered at the thought of it.
“Okay!” Brett sounded pleased. “We’ll have to go on the back terrace. At least it’s out of the wind.”
“I bought some chestnuts,” Reese added, appearing from the sitting room, her handbag on her arm. “We can do those to start off.”
“Whee!” Josh said. “My favorite.”
Cayley patted her brother’s soft hair. “You’ve only had them once before,” she pointed out.
“I still know it’s my favorite,” he insisted. I smiled at the naïve truth in amusement.
You don’t have to have had something more than once to know it’s your favorite.
That thought shouldn’t have made me think of Carson, but it did. I felt a delicious tingle in my belly at the memory of our time together. From the first night, I’d known he suited me. Limited experience aside, there are some things instinct just tells you. That was one of them.
In ten years, it hasn’t been exactly disproved.
I’d had several lovers but none of them had even come close to satisfying me the way Carson had in that year of being together.
I smiled and listened to the kids as they recalled the last time they’d had chestnuts. It seemed to be the previous Christmas, when the family had gone to a German-style market. Hearing their talk made me feel excited about Christmas myself.
“You look happy,” a voice commented. Carson. I looked into his warm gaze.
“I am,” I said quietly. “It’s nice to spend Christmas here. Makes me nostalgic.”
His eye caught mine before I could look away. “Me too.”
I swallowed hard, rising excitement flowing in me. That wasn’t exactly what I’d meant—that I was nostalgic about us—but nevertheless I was not sorry he’d taken that meaning. I
t was also true.
“I…” I paused, not sure what to say about that. His head moved closer to mine and I moved forward, not even aware I did so, so that my lips almost brushed his own.
“Shall we move to the dining-room?” Reese asked, cutting through the tension. I blinked, seeing her standing beside me.
“Okay,” I agreed. I felt dazed.
In the dining-room, we all sat around the table. Carson sat beside me and I was conscious of his closeness without having to look in his direction. It was as if my body was aware of his every move, my skin tingling with his closeness and my body tense.
Brett was outside on the terrace, making a fire in their grill and Reese sat opposite me, preparing chestnuts, assisted by the kids who seemed to have been possessed of a kind of Christmas fervor. They were singing carols and they sounded happy.
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Carson whispered.
I nodded, seeing the look of fondness in his eye as he watched my brother’s two children enthusiastically rolling chestnuts in aluminum wrap.
“It is,” I agreed.
“It makes me think of when I was a kid,” he observed, chuckling. “The excitement, Christmas morning…gifts.”
“Looking up the chimney for Santa,” I laughed, before I could stop myself.
He grinned. “You did?” his eyes were tender and I blushed.
“Yeah. I don’t know why, but I always thought the guy might be stuck up there.”
He laughed, eyes bright. “No way! That’s smart.”
I squeezed his hand, without thinking about it. He drew in a breath. I let go.
We looked at each other. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his hand so that it covered mine. I felt my heart tense in my chest, as if it would never start beating. As if this moment was all there was, and all time had stopped here on its shore.
“Amelia,” he whispered.
I looked into those eyes, noticed his pupils had narrowed with longing. My body melted. I leaned toward him, hand shifting in his to stroke his skin. He tensed.
“We shouldn’t,” he hissed.
I nodded. Closed my eyes. I didn’t remove my hand but I stopped stroking his wrist. He smiled at me when I looked at him.
“Sorry,” I said shakily. “I shouldn’t have.”
