Beth
My father is finally out of the hospital, but he’s not ready to come home yet. The drive to the inpatient treatment center on the other side of the state is awkward and quiet. It’s good, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t know how to deal with the reality that my life may not revolve around taking care of my dad anymore.
The phone number that Dr. Zahid had me call wasn’t too good to be true. And now my dad is on his way to some holistic treatment center where he’ll stay for the next month. Getting clean and getting healthy.
Without me.
I don’t know how I feel about that.
“So don’t burn the house down or anything while I’m gone,” he says when we pull down the long gravel drive toward the address. It looks like an old plantation complete with white pillars and a drive lined with ancient pine trees.
I try to smile. “I won’t.”
“You don’t sound very happy to be getting rid of your old man for a month.”
My throat squeezes shut as I help him out of the car. “I’m scared,” I finally whisper.
“Me too.” He pulls me into a hug and I’m lost, holding onto my dad for dear life, terrified that I might never see him again. Which is stupid because this is the closest I’ve come to having him back since he first got hurt.
“I’m going to get better, sugar bear. I promise.” Whispered words I've dreamed about. “You won’t have to take care of me anymore.”
A sob breaks out of my throat. I don’t know what that even means but I won’t lay that on him. I swipe at my cheeks and try to smile up at him. “No cute nurses, okay? Because that didn’t work out so well last time.”
He rolls his eyes, but a flush crawls up his neck. My dad, the ladies man. Who knew? “Fine,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get signed in and settled.” He pauses. “You don’t have to come in.”
I’m not sure if I want to or not. “I’ll see you in a month,” he says when I say nothing.
I nod and he slips by me, heading toward the big house. I don't turn around. I can’t. I wait for a long time before I slide back into the driver’s seat. I can see him in the rearview mirror, standing on the porch, his green army duffle bag dangling from one hand. It’s breaking my heart to leave him there but it’s for the best.
I keep driving. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But there, in the broken shards of my heart, is a single seed of hope.
* * *
There is a note from Professor Blake for me to see her after Stats. I’m distracted and not paying attention. Normally I’d be tense with anticipation, wondering what she needs to see me about, but there is too much on my mind.
Noah has been gone a month. I still look for him in class every day. I look for him in the shadows after work.
I haven't heard from him. I don't know if he's okay. I don't know if he's quit the program and just hasn't come home. I don’t know if he’s managing or if he’s not and it’s killing me. It keeps me awake at night when I’m supposed to be grading assignments and completing my own.
It's the not knowing that drives me slowly insane.
I knock on Professor Blake’s door. There is a cream-colored envelope on her desk that she slides toward me. It’s heavy in my hand. "Congratulations, Beth."
My fingers shake as I open the envelope, reading the words I’d put so much hope into. Then I read them again because they cannot possibly be real. "I start the internship at the end of the semester?"
She nods, her eyes warm and filled with pride. "You've worked very hard for this.”
Words are locked in my throat. “It doesn’t seem like it’s possible,” I whisper.
“Howard was on the fence about you. He wasn’t sure a girl from your background would be a good fit.” Her words should sting but they don't. They are true enough. “But Alistair was impressed by your story. He overrode Howard’s objections.”
I look down at the heavy card stock in my hand. “Thank you,” I whisper because I am confident she had more to do with this than she’s willing to admit.
My eyes blur again. I’m so tired of feeling like the other shoe is going to drop any day now. That my dad is going to be back on the couch and my normal will return to what it was. I don’t know how to function without him, but I’m learning. I stayed out late with Abby after work last night. We ended up at a coffee shop talking about work and school and her distinct lack of a love life since she broke things off with Robert. I sure know how to party, right?
This internship feels like a pyrrhic victory. Something I wanted so much for so long but now it’s empty and hollow. I wanted to celebrate with Noah but he's not here. But I don't say any of those things.
"He's going to be okay." Professor Blake is apparently a mind reader.
I look up sharply. "Ma'am?"
"Noah. I've known him a long time. He's like a son to me." She hands me a photo that has sat facing her computer, but away from the door. I've never seen it before.
I look down at two grinning soldiers. I recognize Noah immediately. "Who's this?"
"My son Michael.”
My throat closes off as I stare down at the picture, absorbing how young and carefree and strong Noah looks.
There is sadness in her eyes. Sadness and understanding. “Noah has always been a thoughtful boy. More so than Michael. When Michael asked me to see about helping Noah out with his application to school, I had no idea how long it would be before I'd see either of them again."
Her words do something funny to my heart, knowing that she’s connected to Noah this way. "Noah said it was important that he pass all his classes."
Her smile is warm and kind. "He's determined not to screw this up. He doesn't understand how having him here is more than enough for me." Her smile turns a little bit sad. "I tell you this because I'm betting on Noah to pull through this and come out stronger on the other side. He's stronger than he knows." She pauses so long that I look back up at her. "So are you."
I swallow hard. "Thank you." I don't argue with her even though she's wrong. If I'd been stronger, I wouldn't have bailed on Noah in the first place. Guilt is an insidious thing sitting on my heart, smothering the happiness I should feel at being offered this internship.
Maybe I’m just tired. I’ll be happy about it tomorrow when I’ve had time to process it.
I head to work because there is nothing else I can do. My father is in rehab, making sure he's capable of functioning on his own before he comes home.
I am completely alone and I don’t know what that means.
I guess I’ll have to figure it out. I tell Abby about the internship and she damn near shrieks with excitement. Her happiness will have to be enough for me for now.
I'm exhausted after the end of a difficult shift. Every customer tonight seemed to be a whining diva who needed the lemon in their water at room temperature, or their asparagus had touched their bread and could they have another plate please.
I'm irritated and tired and lost in thought when I step into the darkness and head home. I want to tell my dad about the internship but I’m not allowed to contact him for another week, at least.
I want to tell Noah but I don’t know how to reach him.
I am alone in the darkness, walking between the pools of light that illuminate the sidewalk. It’s damp but warm on the walk, and my mace is in its customary place in my hand. I’m edgy tonight. Wary when the shadows move.
A familiar form melts out of them. A form that I recognized. A form I hadn’t dared hope for.
Relief is a palpable thing that prickles over my skin. I stand there frozen for a moment. There is nothing I can do.
Then I take a step. A single, halting step.
Noah. There. Just there. So close. So very close.
And then we're both moving until he's in my arms, and I'm in his. Our mouths collide in a fierce rush of heat. My body fits to his the way it was meant to. His arms are tight around me, his skin hot and warm. His grip is fierce and strong. Like he’s never
going to let me go.
I am fine with that plan. His clothes are bunched in my fists. He is warm and strong and solid and real. So goddamned real.
"Oh God, I missed you."
"I missed being called God," he whispers against my mouth.
I laugh because I can’t help it then lean back to look at him, really look at him. He looks rested. Whole.
He looks like Noah. Not some fractured GI put back together by pills and bad medicine. He's just Noah. My Noah.
He cups my face gently in his hands in the way that I have come to love. His mouth is warm against mine. “I missed you so much,” he whispers. And then I am lost in his arms. I’m never going to let him go.
He's home.
And for the moment, it is enough.
Epilogue
Beth
I am alone when I wake up. I’m not used to it, but it’s getting better. I no longer have the blazing flash of panic wondering where he is or if he’s okay.
I suppose the latent worry will always be there. Trust, when broken, never goes back together just like it was. There are always fault lines and cracks, but it’s up to both of us to avoid stepping on them.
It’s easier some days and harder on others. I’m not sure what today will bring.
I hear the shower running. Steam rolls out of Noah’s bathroom. I wonder how long he has been in there. Given that the sun isn’t up yet, it’s not a good sign.
I’m still navigating through this new aspect of our relationship. The one where I try not to worry and fuss over him and he works on staying sober. It’s hard because I know that he is still in pain. Will probably always be in pain.
I don’t know how to fix that. But I’ve gotten better at being there when the pain comes. It’s not a perfect solution, hell it’s not even a marginally good one, but it’s the best we’ve got right now.
I slip from the bed. Sliding my pants down my hips and tugging my tank top over my head, I then pad toward the bathroom. Steam mats my hair, making it curl into my skin.
I can make out his shape in the fogged up glass of his shower door. His head is down, beneath the water. His shoulders bent.
I can hope that he’s merely rinsing his hair but I’m not that naïve. Not anymore, at least. I hesitate, but only for a moment, then I open the door and step into the scalding heat with him.
His skin is hot. I slide my arms around his waist, resting my head against his back. He doesn’t move for the longest moment. Water runs over my face, soaking my hair, my skin. My blood warms just from touching this man.
And from the memories of what we’ve done in his shower. Have I mentioned that I love his shower?
For a moment, we simply stand together, his body stiff and tense.
Then his hands cover mine near his heart. I melt a little bit more for this man. I can feel the scars beneath my cheek, the stark demarcation between smooth strong skin and the raised edges of the damaged areas. I press my lips near the edge. I want him to feel my touch. To know that I am here for him. Always. No matter what.
He turns after a moment and pulls me close. I will never get over how good it feels to be skin to skin with him. To feel his heart beneath my cheek, his arms strong around me. There is so much strength and goodness in him.
So much courage to keep on going when things are dark and difficult and others would just give up. I think he’s thought about it. At night, sometimes, I find him alone in the dark, listening to “Flake”, staring into the distance at something only he can see.
I sit with him on those nights because it is all that I can do. I can’t take away the memories. I can’t dull the pain. But I can be there for him.
He brushes his lips against my forehead, then lower until he finds my lips. I open for him, tasting the sleep and the water. I love the way he kisses me. Long, simmering kisses, slow glides of tongue and nips of teeth. He strokes the fire to life in me with the simplest touch. I burn for this man. I always will.
He cups my face and deepens the kiss. I slip my hand between our bodies, cupping him, stroking him gently. I’ve learned what he likes, what drives him wild. He’s done the same, listening as I tell him what I like. Whispering dark and dirty things that with him are good and right and clean.
But right now, in this moment, there are no words. There is simply the slide of bodies, the caress of skin as he sinks to his knees in the shower, taking me with him. I straddle him, angling my body until he is there, just there. He stops me then.
Waits until I meet his eyes. His thumb strokes my cheek, his hands strong and familiar.
“I love you,” he whispers against my mouth.
I slide down his body then, taking him deep inside me with a single motion, moving in that special way that takes us both closer to the edge of the abyss.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders, bracing myself so that I can move the way we both need. The delicious friction, the slide of his body into mine, drives us both closer to the edge of the abyss.
And then he moves and we are on the floor. The shower streams behind us but all I can feel, all I can see is Noah rising over me. His body tight and tense and driving into me. His eyes dark and haunted as he watches me. Our bodies slide together and I reach for him, pulling him down. My arms are tight around his back, my thighs gripping him tight as my orgasm dances just out of reach.
“I love you,” I whisper in his ear. “I love you.”
I don’t know if he believes it. If he feels it deep in his soul like I do.
But I will say it every day until the end of time if that’s what it takes.
Because I will never leave him alone again.
Thank You for Reading!
Thank you so much for reading! Word of mouth is incredibly important to helping authors like me reach new readers so please tell a friend if you’ve enjoyed this book. Reviews help other readers decide whether or not to pick up a book. If you’d consider leaving a review, I appreciate any and all of them (whether positive or negative or somewhere in between).
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Don’t miss my contemporary romance series Homefront about soldiers coming home from war.
Homefront: First Sergeant Gale Sorren & Melanie
After the War: Captain Sean Nichols & Captain Sarah Anders
Face the Fire: Captain Sal Bello & First Sergeant Holly Washington
Love New Adult? Want to know what life is like for a soldier home from war adjusting to life on campus? Check out my New Adult Falling Series:
Before I Fall: Noah & Beth
Break My Fall: Abby & Josh
If you’d like to read about my own experiences in Iraq and the transition home, please check out To Iraq & Back: On War and Writing. and The Long Way Home: One Mom’s Journey Home From War.
Want more stories about soldiers coming home from war and the families who love them? Check out my Coming Home series:
Because of You: Sergeant First Class Shane Garrison & Jen St. James
I’ll Be Home for Christmas: A Coming Home Novella: Sergeant Vic Carponti & his wife Nicole
Anything for You: A Coming Home Short Story: Sergeant First Class Shane Garrison & Jen St. James
Back to You: Captain Trent Davila & his wife Laura
Until There Was You: Captain Evan Loehr & Captain Claire Montoya
All for You: Sergeant First Class Reza Iaconelli & Captain Emily Lindberg
It’s Always Been You: Captain Ben Teague & Major Olivia Hale
All I Want For Christmas is You: A Coming Home Novella: Major Patrick McLean & Captain Samantha Egan
About the Author
Jessica Scott is a career Army officer, mother of two daughters, three cats, and three dogs, wife to a career NCO, and wrangler of all things stuffed and fluffy. She is a terrible cook and even worse housekeeper, but she’s a pretty good shot with her assigned weapon and someone liked some of the stuff she wrote. S
omehow, her children are pretty well-adjusted and her husband still loves her, despite burned water and a messy house. Photo: Courtesy of Buzz Covington Photography
Find her online at http://www.jessicascott.net
For more information, find Jessica at these online hangouts
@jessicascott09
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[email protected]
To my real life stats savior
You know who you are
Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Scott
All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing 2015
ISBN: 978-1-942102-16-8
978-1-508409-78-6
Author photo courtesy of Buzz Covington Photography
Cover design by Jessica Scott
For more information please see www.jessicascott.net
ISBN: 978-1-942102-15-1
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Before I Fall Page 20
