Love Me

by Olivia Cunning

  Once Lindsey was tucked inside with their meals on the floorboards at her feet, he shut her door and took a deep breath. Images of Josie—her smile, her laugh, the way she used to look at him—crowded his thoughts, but he pushed them aside and pushed her into his past where she belonged.

  By the time he backed the car out, he had his wits about himself again. He’d be okay. Especially with Lindsey beside him. Sometimes he wondered if she really was an angel sent from heaven to look after him when he’d needed one most.

  “Do you have a bed yet?” she asked.

  Then again, he didn’t think real angels had sex on the brain 24-7. Not that he minded. He grinned to himself and said to Lindsey, “It was delivered this afternoon. Why? Did you want to break it in?”

  “It will be nice to share a bed that’s not twin-size.”

  “Yeah,” he said, but he wasn’t so sure it would be nice. He liked being squashed between her body and the wall. It didn’t make him feel trapped, like most confined spaces did. Sleeping in such a small space made him feel safe. like she was protecting him while he slept or something. And whenever he started thrashing about in his sleep, she woke him before the dreams got too bad. Would he feel the same security when their bed was double the size?

  “You’re okay with dogs, right?” he asked. He supposed he should have asked her that before asking her to move in with him, because Hawn was already there waiting for their return. His golden retriever had overstayed her welcome at his parents’ house. Mom was tired of cleaning up shed dog hair and insisted that the smart and friendly pooch wouldn’t get in the way during the construction process.

  “I love dogs.”

  “Good, because I have one. She’s at the house.”

  “Did you adopt a puppy?”

  “She’s full grown. I believe you’ve met her. It’s Hawn.”

  “Your mom’s dog?”

  “She’s actually my dog. My folks kept her while I was deployed. She was only a year old when I left. Still a puppy, really.”

  “Hawn’s a sweetheart. I bet she’s glad you’re back together.”

  He could always count on his dog to be happy to see him. Even after his extended absences, she’d been loyal and faithful. She hadn’t cheated on him with another man. Stop thinking about Josie. You’re better off without her.

  When he pulled into his driveway, Lindsey leaned toward the windshield and gave the house the once-over. She winced slightly, but quickly covered her expression with a poker face. He was going to change her mind about loving the place. It did lack in curb appeal and also lacked a functioning kitchen, but he and Owen worked together quickly and efficiently. They’d have the place fixed up in no time.

  “See past the ugly,” he advised. “Like you do with me.”

  “I’d smack you if I wasn’t weak with hunger,” she said. “Do you have a dining room table?”

  “Uh, well, no. Not yet. Owen and I concentrated all our efforts on a different room today.”

  “Let me guess—the man cave?”

  He scratched at the scar over his ear. “Not exactly. There is a table on the back patio. We can move the tools and eat there.”

  “It is a nice evening,” she said—cool for early August—“but show me the inside of the house first. I’ve been dying to see what you find so appealing about this place.”

  “Location, location, location.” And that was the truth.

  He helped her out of the car—she really was less graceful than he was at times—and followed her up the path to the front door. It had a shiny new door handle and matching deadbolt. They were the only new items at the entrance. He’d be replacing the front steps soon—the treads were uneven and tended to trip him up—but he still couldn’t decide on an exterior color—besides classic white—that wouldn’t look weird with the traditional brown timber accents. He preferred yellow or soft green houses. Some cheerful color to liven up a place. Maybe he should paint the timbers too. He hoped Lindsey would help him decide.

  “The place needs flowers to chase the dreariness away,” she said.

  He completely agreed. “Do you garden?”

  “Not really, but I’ve always wanted to learn. Your mom does a beautiful job with her flowers.”

  “I’m sure she’d love to give you advice. The place does need all new landscaping—the yard is mostly weeds—but I need to concentrate on the inside for now.”

  “You’ll get to it.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could start work out here. Nothing big, but if you want to add a few flowers here or there, that would be great.”

  She brightened, her cheeriness putting all flowers to shame. “I’d love to help any way I can.”

  He couldn’t resist leaning in to steal a kiss. He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a key that fit the new locks. “This is for you.”

  “My own key!” She held it up by the leather fob he’d selected and shook the golden letter L that dangled from it. “A bit presumptuous on your part.”

  “You haven’t seen my ace in the hole yet,” he said. “If you hadn’t said yes at dinner, I did have additional ammunition in my arsenal to convince you.”

  “Is that so? I probably should have asked how much my share of the mortgage will be before I agreed to live you.”

  Since he owned the place free and clear, her share of zero would be zero, but he knew she’d baulk at that figure. “You can help with the bills when you get a job. And have you seen this dump? Any amount is asking too much. I should be paying you to live here.”

  She stuck her key into the lock, and even though the place was a dump, it filled him with pride that the house was his and he could give her a place to stay. Not as nice a place as his brother could give her, but a place.

  She sneezed when she peered into the living room. The dust still hadn’t completely settled from when Owen had stripped the floor with the sander. The gross, outdated carpet had been the first thing they’d ripped out, and they’d discovered that the hidden hardwood floors he’d been so excited to see had been covered for a reason. They’d been scratched horribly from years of wear, years of living. But they could be fixed. Tomorrow they’d stain the now-exposed wood. The next day they’d varnish, and after that cured, they could bring in the furniture. Maybe Lindsey could help him decorate the place.

  “Oh my,” she said, stepping over the threshold.

  Oh my? What did that mean? If she told him to take his ugly house and shove it up his ass, he’d be crushed. He bit his lip, steeling himself to not show any emotion.

  “It’s . . .” She took another step into the completely barren living room. Even the fireplace mantel and the wood trim that he’d been sanding down in the backyard had been removed.

  “It’s what?” he asked, planting his crutches just inside the threshold and swinging himself inside.

  She turned, and her eyes were brimming with tears again. Dear lord, those pregnancy hormones must be a constant challenge.

  “Home,” she said.

  Relief flooded him, and he might have gotten a bit misty-eyed himself, but he blamed it on the dust. She reached out a hand, and he released the grip on his crutch to squeeze her palm.

  “I feel that way too,” he said.

  Four feet scampered out of the kitchen—where a repetitive banging had just started—and Hawn dashed into the room, big brown eyes shining, mouth wide, tongue lolling, and tail wagging. Hawn hopped up and down beside Lindsey until Chad bellowed, “Down!”

  The exuberant dog immediately dropped onto her belly, her head resting on her front paws. She stayed put even though her entire body quivered with excitement. The banging in the kitchen stopped.

  “She listens to you,” Lindsey said.

  “She knows who’s alpha dog around here.”

  “What the hell are you guys doing home so soon?” Owen asked from the dining room doorway. Dirt covered every inch of his body, and his hair looked like it had lost a fight with a bag of sawdust.

  �
��I couldn’t wait to see the house,” Lindsey said.

  Chad was glad she didn’t tell Owen that Josie had made an unwelcome appearance at dinner. He’d tell his brother soon, but Chad was still processing what he’d learned about her infidelity and wasn’t sure he could talk about it without losing control of his emotions.

  “You should start with the upstairs,” Owen suggested. “It’ll make the mess I made of the kitchen easier to take.”

  “How’s the plumbing?” Chad asked, assuming Owen had already gotten into the walls behind the cabinets.

  “Scary,” Owen said. “Whole stack needs replaced.”

  Chad groaned and then took a deep breath. “It is what it is.”

  “I thought Owen doesn’t do plumbing,” Lindsey said.

  “He doesn’t, but I do,” Chad said. “Let’s go upstairs, Lindsey. We’ll see you in a few, Owen.” That was his not so subtle way of telling Owen that he wanted to show Lindsey her surprise without his presence.

  Chad headed toward the stairs, which he was getting rather good at climbing on his crutches. Going down was a bit tougher, but he’d soon be giving the crutches up for his new prosthesis, and he vowed that then, nothing would slow him down.

  “Do you like this banister?” Chad asked as they stood on the ground-floor landing. “We can probably find a more ornate one at a salvage store.”

  She placed a hand on the round ball atop the newel post, caressing the worn wood. “It’s home here,” she said. “I don’t think you should replace it just because it’s a little plain.”

  “I think you’re right. Once we get the woodwork all done, you can help me pick paint colors. We’ll paint samples on the wall to figure out which one brings out the tones we want highlighted in the wood.”

  “You really get into this stuff, don’t you?” she said. She started to climb the unfinished wooden stairs. He’d sanded them all by hand just that afternoon.

  Chad followed Lindsey, and though he could tell she was excited, she waited for him in the hallway so that he could show her around.

  “The master suite is over here,” he said. “It was originally two bedrooms but was converted into one large bedroom with a bathroom and walk-in closet.” There wasn’t much furniture inside yet—a king-size bed with no headboard and a deep blue area rug—but the walls had a fresh coat of pale gray paint and the room was ready for finishing touches.

  She crossed the room, eyes dwelling on the bed for a long moment before she entered the en suite. She didn’t even flinch.

  “We’ll redo the bathroom later,” he said. “It’s a bit outdated, but it’s functional.”

  “It’s nice,” she said, touching the laminate countertops and brass fixtures as she ventured deeper into the room.

  “It has potential.” He lifted a crutch and pointed at the door at the far end of the bathroom. “Your closet, m’lady.”

  “My closet?” She turned to look at him.

  “I don’t have enough clothes to fill it.”

  She laughed. “Have you seen my wardrobe? It fits in one tote bag.”

  He had noticed that she wore the same few outfits over and over. “You won’t need your maternity clothes much longer,” he reminded her. “And once you start working again, you can fill that closet with all sorts of new outfits and shoes.”

  She opened the closet door and gasped when the light switched on automatically. “Oh wow! It’s huge!”

  He gave her time to explore the shelves and racks and built-in drawers. When she emerged, she was starry-eyed.

  “Your ace in the hole would have done the trick. No woman could turn down a chance at using that closet.”

  “That’s not my ace in the hole.”

  She widened her eyes but didn’t comment as she followed him back into the hallway.

  The smallest bedroom, which was directly adjacent to the master bedroom, had been completely transformed into a fully furnished nursery. Lindsey stopped on the threshold and just stood there. He couldn’t read her at all. Did she like it? Hate it? Think he was a presumptuous asshole for not consulting her about decorating the space? His mother had picked out everything and assured him that Lindsey would love the surprise, but now he was rethinking his methods.

  “Mom said not to do pink, even though we know the baby is a girl,” he began, trying to funnel some of the guilt away from himself. “But if you want to change anything, just let me know. We left the space above the crib to put the baby’s name in white letters. I mean, unless, you’d rather put something else there. And owls are really in right now, but if you don’t like owls or if the colors are too bright or the rocking chair isn’t comfortable or—”

  “Stop rambling,” she said. “It’s perfect.” She waved both hands at her eyes. “I can’t believe you did this. For me.” She dropped a hand to her belly. “For us.”

  “I know you haven’t felt settled since you left home. I wanted you to feel like you had a real home, for you and the baby and . . .” Us. Was there an us? They never talked about what the future held for them. He didn’t fear many things, but the thought of her leaving him in the black hole his world had become terrified him. “Mom said we should have a baby shower right away and you can register for anything else you need or want. She told me you liked that owl comforter when she showed it to you at the doctor’s office, but maybe you were just being nice.”

  “Chad, you’re rambling again.”

  “Sorry.” He’d been worried that she wouldn’t accept his gift, but maybe she’d finally caught on that a true gift was given without expectations of reciprocation. He, however, would have liked to have gotten at least a hug out of the deal. But before he could get a good sulk going, she turned to him and wrapped both arms around his waist. So maybe she could read his thoughts. He hugged her back.

  “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. Thank you for the nursery,” she said, “but thank you even more for being you.”

  Her words were far more than he’d bargained for, and though he recognized the feelings of love he had for this woman, he couldn’t get the words out, so he kissed her instead.

  “Can we put her name on the wall tonight?” Lindsey asked, shifting to stand beside him and staring into the nursery as if imagining all the love she’d share with her little one in this very room.

  “You’ve already named her.”

  She nodded. “Daisy,” she said breathlessly.

  “That’s sweet.”

  “It’s my mother’s name.”

  “You’re naming her after your mother?”

  She nodded.

  “I thought you two were at odds.” Hell, until recently, he hadn’t realized her mother was still alive. Like him, Lindsey didn’t like to talk about painful events in her past.

  “We are. That doesn’t mean I don’t love her.”

  “You should call her. Try to set things right between you.”

  “I will after I get my life together. But not before. I can’t stand her thinking of me as a failure.”

  “You’re not a failure.”

  “I am,” she said. “But I won’t always be.”

  She had never been a failure, and he hoped someday soon she’d recognize that for herself.

  He rubbed her back, easing some of her tension. “Let’s eat our dinner and then we’ll go out and get the letters for Daisy’s name.”

  “Can we eat in here? I don’t want to move from this spot.”

  “Why don’t you try out the rocking chair?” he said. “I’ll get your steak.”

  “You’re too good to me, Chad,” she said. “I don’t deserve you.”

  He felt exactly the same about her.

  *~*~*

  Chad swerved and slammed on the brakes several seconds too late. A deafening blast on the passenger side rocked the vehicle, the impact sending Chad into a bleak reddened hell.

  Glaring sun battered his eyelids. Not dead. Not unless death was a deafening ringing sound and pain.

  Something soft and w
et tickled his face.

  Fuck. His leg was on fire.

  He opened his eyes and reached up to wrap an arm around the heavy weight across his chest. “Jawa?”

  The dog whined and licked his face again. His fur was sticky with blood. Chad ran a hand over Jawa’s side and sliced his palm on jagged shrapnel protruding from between the dog’s ribs. “Jawa?”

  Jawa shuddered, his body going limp as he took his final breath. Chad choked on a sob.

  “Sarge?” The wavering voice echoed from a few yards away.

  “Emerson!” Chad tilted his head back in the direction of the voice, but his helmet blocked his view. “Emerson!” He unfastened the chin strap, and almost vomited at the pain that radiated across his scalp from near his temple. He touched the area with trembling fingers and swallowed a fresh wave of nausea when he found his ear not where it was supposed to be. He lifted his hand before his swimming gaze, staring at the blood that coated his fingers.

  “Sarge, I can’t get up,” Emerson said. “I think I wet myself.”

  Chad swallowed against the bile burning up his throat and tilted his head to locate the PFC in his charge. He wished he hadn’t looked. A lake of blood surrounded Emerson, leaking in spurts from a wound in his thigh. If Chad could reach him, he could tourniquet the leg and stop the bleeding. “Emerson, hold on!”

  Chad planted his left foot against the massive vehicle pinning him to the ground by his right leg, but pain shot up his thigh and he cried out in agony, breathing hard. “I can’t . . .”

  Can’t? Can’t wasn’t a word he used.

  He shifted Jawa off his chest and sat up against the pain in his ribs. So much adrenaline surged through his body that for a moment he actually thought he might be able to lift the Humvee off his leg. He strained against it with every ounce of his strength, but the crumpled mass of metal didn’t budge. “My leg is stuck,” he called to Emerson. “Just hold on. I’m coming. I’ll save you,” he promised. “Do you hear me, Emerson? I’ll get us out of this. I’ll get you out.”

  Emerson didn’t answer.

  Something soft and warm wet Chad’s face, and a heavy weight pressed across his chest. He wrapped his arms around the heavy furry body draped across his. “Jawa?” He inhaled deeply as he opened his eyes to darkness. No . . . “Hawn?”