The Other Sister (Sister Series, #1)

by Leanne Davis

  The dress zipped on the side. She brought her hand up to the zipper, and slid it down, to loosen the front. She wore nothing beneath it, and heard Will’s gasp when he saw her. Then he cursed.

  “For God’s sake! Leave your clothes on.”

  She paused. He wasn’t looking at her, but glaring at the wall behind her. She turned and looked, but it was just a white wall.

  “You don’t want to have sex?”

  “No, I really don’t want to have sex with you.”

  “But why? Why not? There’s no reason not to.”

  He laughed bitterly. Then he outright laughed loudly as his hand came to the side of her dress where he gently re-zipped it. “We have every reason not to, starting with your hatred of sex. You always hate yourself after having it.”

  “It’s okay, really. I can deal with it.”

  He stared at her. “You believe that, don’t you? I meant it when I told you I wouldn’t sleep with you if someone held a gun to my head.”

  She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest as humiliation washed over her. She was at a complete loss of what to do.

  “I’m on the list for a two-bedroom apartment. We should get it soon, and until then, I have no problem sleeping on the couch.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He lifted her chin, so that her eyes could look into his. “You’re pregnant, and you’re taking the bed. Jesus, I’m a soldier, I think I can handle the couch for a few weeks. Quit treating yourself like you don’t deserve anything.”

  She jerked her chin from his fingers, not sure what to think of that. She needed to escape him for awhile. He was too kind to her, and knew too much about her.

  She passed him, and grabbed the bag she packed, before starting towards the bedroom. She stopped when he unexpectedly came towards her.

  “Wait. Let me see that.”

  “What?”

  “Your bag,” he said, taking it from her and rifling through it.

  “What are you doing? Stop it!”

  He didn’t look up. “You know what I’m doing. Not tonight. No more cuts.”

  He found the infamous razor blade and removed it. She started to grab for it, but he simply put an arm out, pushing her gently away from him. Sighing with frustration, she grabbed her bag and slammed the door in Will’s face, locking it loudly, and ignoring his pleas to let him use the bathroom.

  And just like that, as strange as it was, she became Jessie Hendricks and started living with the soldier who saved her life. She wasn’t quite sure how to act, or why he wouldn’t take up her offer to have sex. Could it be possible that he really didn’t want her for that? And wasn’t ultimately trying to get into her pants? The innovative thought started taking root in her head. It was an odd feeling. Weird. Unheard of. But it was… nice. That is how Jessie chose to describe it: a really nice feeling.

  ****

  Will entered his apartment and was not happy to find Jessie there. His wife. Of course, she was there. What else did Jessie have to do? She was such an oddity to him. He always worked, even during high school. His parents couldn’t afford to give him lunch money. But not Jessie. Jessie just sat all day. Will didn’t like having his privacy interrupted by her either. He lived with plenty of soldiers, but that wasn’t like living with a woman. And nothing could have prepared him for living with this woman.

  Today, as most days, he found her lying on the couch, with the TV on, and a bowl near her head on the floor.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” she said, hardly glancing his way. Her hair was matted, and her face dull. She was wearing loose, baggy clothes.

  He stood in the entry, staring at her. Finally, she raised her eyes to his. “What are you staring at?”

  “You didn’t do anything at all today?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Is this how you always are?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, and looked back at the TV.

  “What about dinner?”

  “I had a bowl of ice cream about an hour ago. There’s a little left.”

  “You don’t think maybe we might try having an actual meal?”

  “What did you expect, soldier? Me in an apron with your dinner piping hot on the table? Screw you.”

  He stalked into the living room. When she referred to him as “soldier,” it meant something was wrong. “Jessie?”

  She finally sat up, sighing at his tone of disapproval. “It’s not very much fun, is it, soldier? Saving me, I mean. What did you expect? After making me legitimate, I’d somehow be different than who I am? Look, I appreciate the break from my father, but really, what did you expect us to be?”

  He regarded her solemnly and she couldn’t hold his gaze. She looked down. “I thought it would be a chance for you to figure some things out.”

  “Fine. Consider me figuring.”

  He let it go for another week, but she hardly moved. She didn’t leave the apartment. She sat around, watched TV, spent hours on the computer, and eventually drifted off to sleep. They didn’t say more than three words a night to each other.

  However, he did not find any evidence that she resumed cutting herself that week. Was he making some kind of progress?

  One evening, he came home early to find Jessie in his bedroom with a man. His temples nearly exploded with the pressure of his boiling blood rushing through them. He grabbed the neck of the scrawny little recruit and pulled his half naked ass through the apartment and out the front door. He slammed the door and stormed back into the room. She was lying on the bed, and her clothes were messed up.

  “What the hell were you doing?”

  “What do you care? You won’t sleep with me.”

  He put a hand to his head. God, could she seriously be questioning why he cared? “You’re supposed to be married to me, Mrs. Hendricks. And pregnant with my baby. Do you think maybe you could refrain from fucking new recruits behind my back? In my own bedroom? It doesn’t make me look good. Don’t you know better? You have to stop doing things like that.”

  “Why don’t you just admit this was a stupid mistake? Your guilt complex went wrong, thinking you could stand being tied to me, to right some wrong you think you owe me. I’m not the girl you think I am. I’m not all tragic, and in need of your big, strong guidance to set me right. Fuck you, Will. I don’t even want to make you look good.”

  “Regardless, you are legally my wife. If I find another man around here, or you go out to find one, I swear to God, I’ll drive you straight back to your father’s house and leave you on his doorstep with a giant bow on your ass. Push me anymore and we’re done! I’m trying to help you out, why don’t you quit punishing me for it? For once in your life, you are free of your father’s rein. Why don’t you do something with that?”

  While they were talking, the phone on Will’s hip suddenly started vibrating. He glanced down, then up at her. “I’ve got to report in. Shape up, Jessie. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “Shape up? Get back? What? You’re leaving? Now?”

  “Yeah,” he said moving to his closet. He opened it and took out a green duffel bag, packed full of his gear. Her clothes were so crammed into the closet, the door no longer shut. He glanced her way. “Special Forces. I’m on rapid deployment. You know better than most what that means. I go when they say.”

  “Where?”

  “Can’t say.”

  With that, he walked out the door.

  ****

  Jessie kept telling herself she was glad Will was gone. A month of cohabitating with Will was driving her nuts. He came home every single evening after his long hard day, ate his manly man dinners, then worked out, regardless of getting up before the sun to run each morning. He was so disciplined, so well behaved, he made her want to scream. She felt his looks of disdain as he constantly found her splayed on his couch. God forbid, she should relax and watch some TV. Or nap. She was pregnant. He had no clue how tired it made a woman feel, or how the constant morning si
ckness was draining her energy.

  He didn’t know what it was like to want to leave the apartment, but feel unable to because of thoughts that were so dark, bad, and blood-stained they paralyzed her with inertia, and she felt safer sitting at home on the couch.

  How could the capable, self-contained, self-motivated, self-reliant Will Hendricks ever understand what it was like to feel inadequate? Inferior? And so sad, troubled, and depressed that she was unable move? How could he ever understand that?

  Then he left. In a blink, he was gone, literally. He didn’t call her, write her, or e-mail her. She was all alone. No one cared. She couldn’t sleep at night, being alone in a strange apartment. She lay awake all night long, surrendering to sleep during the day and hovering by the TV at night, watching re-runs of sitcoms from the sixties.

  She did go out to buy a fresh pack of disposable razors. That was the only thing to help get her through the nights, the dark, and the terrors.

  After a week, she tore out a piece of paper and tried writing Will a letter. She started by telling him about her day, which wasn’t much. Got up. Ate a little. Threw up. Watched the morning shows. Ate lunch. Took a nap. Read some gossip on the internet. Went to bed. Eventually, little snippets started to emerge. Snippets about her dad, her mom, Lindsey, and eventually, Mexico. She wrote a letter every day. Soon, there were twenty-one letters, and she sent them off. She felt like they were mailed into oblivion, destined for nowhere because she wasn’t even allowed to address them. The military forwarded them for her.

  She once tried contacting Lindsey, only to have the door slammed in her face. She went back to Will’s apartment, lay in his bed, and didn’t get up again until the next afternoon.

  Will was gone a month, when, one afternoon, he surprised her by strolling into the apartment as casually as he did the first week after being at work.

  She stared at him as he did her. Finally, she rose up from the couch on legs shaking with nerves and surprise, but mostly, relief. So much relief. Will was back. She felt safe again. She might even be able to sleep at night again. She touched a hand to her hair and winced. She temporarily abandoned hygiene and grooming because she didn’t care. Now, however, she did. Now, she was just so glad he was back.

  Will was wearing his fatigues. He lowered the green duffel onto the floor, and held her gaze. “Have you left the apartment?”

  “Of course. I had to get food.”

  “No one’s heard from you.”

  She shrugged. “Really? And who’s heard from you? Lindsey?”

  He stiffened, and took a step, then another, slowly, as he came closer to her. He seemed bigger than she remembered. Broader shoulders and the material of the fatigues seemed heavier, darker, and more foreboding. His eyes traveled over her messy hair and pale face. His hand lifted her chin, and he looked at her. Suddenly, his stern expression softened. “You haven’t been sleeping again, have you?”

  She jerked her face away from his hand. “No. So? You were good for one thing: letting me pretend no one could get past my door at night.”

  She regretted her sarcasm, and what it revealed.

  He swore softly. “I should have called. I’m not used to having... a wife anymore. Anyone, really. I haven’t had to worry about anyone else for years. I just leave, and become a soldier: working, not thinking. Home is wherever I am and becomes all I see. I should have thought of you. It won’t happen again.”

  She turned her head. “How could you forget me when I wrote to you?”

  He stilled, and she glanced up. “I didn’t get any letters. Mail is delivered sporadically to us. Maybe they got lost.”

  “Twenty-one of them? I doubt that very much.”

  “You wrote me twenty-one letters?”

  She hated her big mouth, as well as the weird tone in his voice. “I was bored.”

  His gaze softened in compassion and regret. “I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t know what happened to the letters. Is there any chance your father could have intercepted them?”

  “He–he couldn’t possibly. I mean it. Oh God, he couldn’t read them. They discuss everything. He’ll kill me.”

  Will came forward and put his hands on her arms, dispelling their icy chill. “No one’s going to do anything to you. Listen to me. I married you. You’re my wife, and under my protection. Your father doesn’t hold any power over you like before.”

  She trembled. If her father had possession of the letters, he would know some of things she told Will, but could never admit to him. They were things she knew he already suspected, but she feared actually telling him. Now, she had told him, but he never received them. And her father might use it as more ammunition against her.

  “Jessie?”

  She looked up at the tone of Will’s voice. It was so gentle, kind, and soothing.

  “Do you want to tell me what you wrote?”

  “No. None of it matters.”

  “You look tired. How is the baby?”

  She shrugged. “Still there.”

  “Have you been back to the doctor?”

  “Yes. Heart is still beating.”

  “So is yours. Don’t forget, so is yours. It will get easier.”

  She turned her back to him and he grabbed her arm. “Where are you going? I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Funny! For a whole month, you couldn’t even manage an e-mail. So worried about me, huh? You couldn’t just say, ‘Hey, are you alive over there?’ Whatever. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

  She slammed the bedroom door, but didn’t lock it. He simply picked the lock anytime she did that to get into his bathroom. As far as she knew, however, he never once tried to sneak a peek at her or catch a glimpse of her naked. She remained the wounded puppy he saved and was nurturing, just as long as she didn’t interfere with any of his real life.

  ****

  Will kicked the couch. He screwed up big time. She was right. He promised to help her. Protect her. And he didn’t even check in on her. He left her all alone to combat her fears, phobias, perpetual nightmares, and imaginary terrors. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he just call her?

  He knew what went wrong. He was so pissed when he left, he nearly did as she suggested and stop trying to protect her, help her, or save her. But in those moments when the real Jessie emerged, he rethought it.

  It was chilling to hear she wrote him twenty-one letters. For a girl who claimed to hate him, his lifestyle, and his soldiering, what could she possibly say in so many letters? He had a feeling that the letters held the answer to what kept her nearly catatonic on his couch all day. He initially wrote it off as shortsighted laziness on her part. But in his gut he knew it was so much more than that.

  Jessie’s inertia was her natural reaction to traumatic events, a sham pregnancy, and a marriage to someone she barely knew. He was a prick for allowing his disgust with her to blind him from being there for her. Or at the very least contacting her.

  Would the general go so far as to monitor her mail? He must have. Why else would twenty-one letters have missed their mark? No way.

  Jessie didn’t look right. She should have been gaining weight, judging by the way she ate, and sat around all day, pretending to sleep while lying in bed for hours on end. She was now three months pregnant, but looked waif-like with deep circles under her eyes and gaunt cheeks. Her skin was pale and pasty and her eyes were dull.

  Will blamed himself for leaving her without a word of encouragement, or a plan in place for emergencies, and never checking in on her. Of course, she spiraled out of control. Being so angry when she brought a man to the apartment, he temporarily forgot the why behind all of Jessie’s sexual encounters, which she acted out.

  He knew he had to try a different approach. It was time to figure out something for Jessie. His resolve became even more certain when he found the bloody residue on the shower curtain. He knew exactly what Jessie did while he was gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jessie awoke to loud knocking on her bedr
oom door. She glanced at the red digital clock and groaned because it said four-thirty a.m. She couldn’t believe it, and threw a pillow over her head, but the knocking persisted. Then it stopped. She heard a scraping sound, and the next thing she knew, Will popped the lock and entered her bedroom. She groaned in annoyance.

  “Change your mind about having sex with me, soldier? Couldn’t it have waited for a better time?”

  He barely spared her a glance, but rifled through her closet and came out with a pair of black sweats and a shirt. He threw them at her. She finally flipped over and noticed he was wearing a similar outfit.

  “Get up. Get dressed.”

  “For what? I have to report for roll call or something?”

  “No. We’re going for a run.”

  “I don’t run.”

  “You don’t do anything. So we’re going to find you something to do. Why not run?”

  “Because I won’t make it a block.”

  “Well, it’ll be a block more than yesterday now, won’t it? You sit around feeling miserable, with nothing but bad memories that haunt you, and bad thoughts to propel you forward to do bad things. So today, we’re going to try something different.”

  She threw the clothes back at him. “A run won’t make me forget I was raped, you stupid asshole!”

  “No. But it won’t harm you either,” he said, throwing the clothes back to her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck one hip out. “You can’t make me.”

  He smiled. “I can. I can make you. Let’s not push it that far.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “You wouldn’t dare. I thought you were better than that.”

  “No. No, I’m not. I’m a soldier, you can’t fight me. Now get your ass out of bed. You got five minutes. I’ll be waiting.”

  She grumbled, but quickly threw the covers back. She put the offensive clothes on, and found a pair of shoes that weren’t nearly proper for running. They had no support, but she didn’t own a pair that did.

  Fitting a baseball cap onto her head, she finally came into the stark living room. It was a depressing place to live: generic, bland, basic as all army posts, or any soldier, she decided. She still hated soldiers, even if she liked Will.