Always Was

by Amabel Daniels

  His destination of the moment was a given. Sammy wanted to go back to Concord. He peeked at the driver next to him. She’d flicked her hood back and tugged at the collar.

  “Aren’t you baking in that thing?”

  She shrugged. “I drive with the windows down on the highway.” Regardless, she pulled it off over her head.

  Instead of the chance to check out her tits or really anything of her physique, he witnessed an oversize black t-shirt.

  Dull, dark, and bleak. For a prodigy of illustration and a creature of creativity, she sure had morphed to presenting a gloomy appearance. Maybe it was an artist thing. Like Picasso’s blue period. Making a statement of some sort. Hell if he knew. Instead of simply wanting to ogle her, he wished to know why she dressed so … bland. Simply didn’t seem like her. She’d never been a flashy, gaudy teen, but she’d always appreciated color in life.

  He petted Ink on his lap and watched Sammy as she brushed her hair back from her face when a breeze swept in from their windows.

  Long thick tresses of chocolate brown. So rich and soft from what he’d felt from their awkward hug.

  Dragging his attention from her ear to the curve of her jaw, he ceased taking his eyeful when she turned to face him, a scowl on her face.

  “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  Why would she assume something was wrong? Like she was waiting for something bad to come.

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Just looking.”

  “It’s weird.”

  He chuckled. Weird that a man appreciated an alluring woman? No. That was how attraction worked. Though she could have meant it was absurd he was checking her out. He refused to accept his annoyance as disappointment.

  “I’ve never seen you with so much hair,” he said.

  “You know, under other circumstances, that would be a very strange comment to make.”

  “It’s so…” He refrained from reaching over and shifting his fingers through it. That would be stranger than strange, since he’d only caught up with her for what? Fifteen minutes after six years?

  “It’s hair.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Babe, don’t discount yourself. It’s the kind of hair that makes men want to…”

  Deep grooves littered her forehead. “What?”

  “It’s sexy as hell.” So earthy, and raw, tousled. “You have fuck-me hair.”

  Her jaw dropped. “That’s bullshit. It’s hair. I haven’t even washed it in, like, three days.”

  What, did she sleep on a pillow stuffed with peaches and honey, then? How the hell did she smell so delicious?

  She shook her head, brushing aside her taken-for-granted strands that blew in her face. He could remember alternative styles: the straight half-ponytail with not a strand out of place, the symmetrically intact part—her school-going ’do, or the careless, free, devil-may-care messy bun when she was just spending time on her own—typically near him and Jake, away from her mother’s critical judgment.

  Lush locks just perfect for gripping and wrapping around his hand to tilt her head back, exposing her neck for some gentle bites and licks. How would it look splayed out on a pillow, sweaty from—

  Okay… Been way too long since I’ve gotten some. Still, this was Sammy. She always was in his mind, tucked in with good memories of carefree days before war and the military. But she didn’t belong in his gutter. Then or now. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Not trusting his chain of thoughts with fantasies she didn’t need to know about, he directed his attention to the remnants of the metropolis they were leaving. “So do you have a schedule for this trip? Jake only said you were heading home.”

  “I’m not heading home. I’m stopping by.”

  For the first time in over a year, he noticed. “What the occasion?”

  “I need to speak to Edgar.”

  Adam absently stroked the dozing dog on his lap and stretched his legs out.

  “My … deadline is Friday, so we’ve got all week to get there. It should be a total of forty-six hours of driving, couple more if we count in dropping you off in Vermont.”

  Right. His destination of choice. His deceased CO’s cabin to fix up and fool around with while he waited for some kind of sign that he should reenlist with the Army. Vermont offered nothing but another adventure—distraction—to occupy him from making a real decision about his future.

  “How we split up the shifts and take turns doesn’t matter to me. I planned for a good seven hours of driving a day and then staying the night somewhere.”

  “Lead the way, my lady.” He leaned toward the door, crossing his arms and getting comfortable. “You tell me when I’m up.”

  Chapter Five

  Mesquite, Nevada

  No sooner had they driven past the Strip and encroached on desert-decorated highway than Ink and Adam found a compatible position to doze off in.

  Ink, she wasn’t surprised about. The pocket-size girl was pooped. She’d run around and frolicked for a good hour at an empty park before they collected Adam from the MGM. Sammy had needed the time to both tire out the dog and to overanalyze her fears about allowing Adam to join her in the car.

  Checking him out now, as he slept like the dead, she revisited her initial woes—compounded by the vision of him in the flesh.

  Being in the military, at least to pass the physical requirements of boot camp, he should have been fit. Not huge. Not hulk-ish. Not radiating strength and muscular physique in the stealthy way he did. At first glance, he was ripped, beyond sinfully sexy, but in a moderate, non-bulging, Popeye-straining-his-shirt way. Or, he might just know how to dress accordingly—unlike the steroid-loving, I’m-a-big-guy-now, college guys she’d known previously, the ones who chose tops two sizes too small to boast of being a couple sizes larger than reality.

  She peeked at him again, tracing the dips and cuts of his toned body beneath his light-blue t-shirt. He exuded strength, but not overly so.

  A strong man, no longer a lean and growing teenager, Adam was capable of causing harm with likely little effort. But did that mean he’d ever extend such power over her?

  She thought again of his comments. “Fuck-me hair”? Hair? Seriously? That was a turn-on? Probably watched too many pornos during dry spells wherever he was stationed.

  She never styled it, never invested time into her tresses because her fashion sense fell under the goal of look the other way, gents.

  So he’d noticed her, or the top of her head, she mused as she steered with her knee to pull her hair back into a ponytail. Out of sight, out of mind, maybe. Being in a compact vehicle for three thousand miles, it’d be damn hard for them not to notice each other. Hair, muscles, skin, anything.

  She’d felt the itch of his earlier stares, fidgeted under the idea of him studying her, assessing her. But he didn’t trigger the warning system that was highly keyed in after Dartmouth—the hairs raising on the back of her neck, the short pants of too-quick breaths, and the barely suppressed desire to whimper before she followed the instinct of fight or flight. He might have been looking, but he hadn’t been outright leering.

  Still, her nerves were frayed and jumbled, just as she’d anticipated they would be. Sure, she knew Adam. His friendship with Jake should dictate the majority of how he should treat her, like a kind of sister, she’d wager. Adam was vetted in the sense he wasn’t a complete stranger. The insistent attraction she felt toward him and the too-easy desire to trust him might only be an adult version of her childhood crush.

  Familiarity, though, was no safeguard for her deepest sources of trepidation. In fact, well versed with researched statistics, Sammy ceded that women were often raped by men they knew, people they were already close to and comfortable with.

  Comfortable with Adam… It’d take her a good while to lower her walls to allow so much ease.

  But she’d have to make a leap equidistant of the sun to the moon tonight. Stifling a yawn, as though on cue with her nagging rambling notions, she surrendered to the fact she coul
dn’t drive all night. Nor could Adam, if he’d already passed out to the lull of the speeding Honda.

  Stay up all night gambling and partying, buddy?

  She’d need to be secure enough in her decisions to find a motel and spend the night with him. Separate rooms, preferably. Each in their own bed, of course.

  After another hour of burning miles in the faint umbra of the sunset, she took an exit ramp for what promised to be a worthwhile location to stay in. Six motel logos were plastered on the highway signs. One of them had to have decent cheap lodging.

  Luck was on her side as she found the last available vacancy at the second motel she tried. One room, but two double beds. She paid in cash for the room, accepted the keys, and returned to the parked Honda. Adam was still out, but Ink wagged her tail.

  “I know, I know. You want out,” Sammy whispered as she started the car to drive it closer to their door.

  Parked again, Sammy stared at Adam, in awe of his rugged masculinity, appreciative of just how fine of a specimen he’d shaped up to be.

  She whistled and nudged his bicep, barely moving the dead weight of his solid arm. “Wake up, Adam.”

  He frowned, not opening his eyes yet, and shifted as he woke. “Huh?”

  “I couldn’t drive anymore. I got a room for us for the night.”

  His green eyes shone in the light from the hallway outside, exterior bulbs to guide visitors to their rooms. His lips and brows downturned, he flexed his arms into the space near the dash, stretching. Looking around, it was clear he was trying to place their location.

  No surprise he’d be confused, sluggish waking who knew where. But he seemed awfully lost, as though he was trying to calculate how he’d arrived at a motel, or even in a car with her.

  Jake had hinted at Adam being low-spirited. Was he referring to a shade of PTSD? Mood shifts? Amnesia from a head injury?

  There was every tangible chance and even a guarantee Adam could have faced bodily danger on deployment. Was he suffering from a head injury? He hadn’t limped when he’d met her in the lobby in Vegas. No slashes of scars showed on his visible, taut skin.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Jerking back, she felt the tips of her ears warm. Caught red-handed. She wasn’t checking him out. She was scanning him for issues of concern.

  Right. “Yeah. Bit tired. You okay?”

  He sighed and shrugged. “Sure. You should’ve woken me up to drive. Don’t go easy on me.” With a wink, he lightened the mood like a snap of his fingers. There was the charisma she’d associated with his younger self.

  They got their bags out of the back, waited for Ink to find a spot to pee, and then entered their room.

  “I would have gotten two rooms, but this was all they had left.”

  “No biggie. I’m a good roommate.”

  Uh-huh.

  “Really, it makes sense to save money and get one room. I won’t trample your space.”

  See that you don’t.

  Because now that they were in the single room, new dilemmas flooded forth like a wave of dread.

  How was she going to undress in front of him? In the bathroom, of course, but she hadn’t packed any night clothes. Not initially planning on him being with her, she’d foregone pajamas because she never wore them, always sleeping by herself. After forcing herself to tough out the extremes of long pants and sweatshirts to cover her body every day—though San Francisco could be a chilly city and layers actually often did help—it was pure bliss to shed her garments at the end of day, secluded in the comfort of her own space and company. Panties and a cami were her bed attire, and there was no way she could reveal herself to Adam like that. Maybe she could change after him and make sure the lights were out? Run into her bed before he could look?

  Why not Mace him and blind him, too, freak?

  Then there was the fact he’d change too. Adam being in less clothes freaked her out almost as much as having to disrobe herself.

  “You hungry?” he asked, cutting into her strategies of sleepwear.

  “Actually, yeah, I am.”

  “I saw signs for a Chinese place next to the motel’s parking lot. How about I run over and grab some takeout? Make up for sticking you with all the driving tonight?”

  She nodded. And then he could be out of the room for her to get ready for bed. “I won’t argue that.” She gave him a simple idea of what she’d like to dine on, and as soon as he left, she hurried to get ready.

  Frumpy clothes off, bag stashed on top of the dresser, and food and water bowls for Ink filled, she dove under the sheets, dragging the hem up to her chin. Her black t-shirt covered as much as he’d seen in the car, her Mace was tucked against her hip under the sheet, her phone was charging but arranged next to her pillow, and since Ink had a full belly, the dog jumped up and curled into a ball at her side.

  As far as protection went, it would have to do.

  Adam returned fifteen minutes later, fumbling a bit at the door by the sound of the rustling bags. “Couldn’t leave a light on for me?”

  Shit. She’d forgotten. “Sorry.” Blinking at the harsh illumination from the lamp on the nightstand between their double beds, she caught him appraising her position.

  “You going to eat in bed?” he asked, moving from the lamp he’d turned on to set the bags on the table at the opposite side of the room.

  “Yeah.” When he raised his brows at her, she shrugged. “I, uh, I don’t have any pants on.”

  Way to go, Sam. Brilliant confession to draw attention to yourself. Why not stand up and wiggle your ass at him while you’re at it?

  To her surprise, he smirked and then laughed lightly. “Not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

  On her, or all the ladies in his life?

  “We used to go swimming all the time,” he said.

  She sat up more, keeping the sheet over her. “We were kids then.” Well, she was, mostly.

  He tipped his head side to side as though to cede her point. “True. Can’t say you look like a little girl anymore”—he piled cartons in a stack and hugged two drinks to his chest—“at least from what I can see.”

  Meaning he was anxious to see more? Uh, no.

  He set her dinner on the nightstand and then sat on the edge of his bed, facing her. “I don’t remember you being quite this modest.”

  She opened her Styrofoam tray and refused to answer.

  “Is it just me, or something else?”

  Damn his questions. Why can’t he just put food between those sexy lips and shut up? “What do you mean, is it you?”

  His eyes didn’t meet hers as he played with his food, his fork twirling noodles. “Because we knew each other growing up?”

  “No one has seen me without pants.” She deadpanned. Not a lie, but not a truth, either.

  He reared back to face her, a smile creeping across his stunned expression. “Not even boyfriends?”

  She shook her head, avoiding further eye contact.

  “All this time? No one got lucky? Or even close en—”

  “How come you ended your time in the Army?” She inhaled sharply after her blast of a question.

  “Right. No questions about you. Forgot. I, well, I wanted something else for a change.”

  “Too many rules to obey?” she asked.

  “Not really. Just wasn’t sure if a career in the service was right for me.”

  When he’d told her and Jake that he was signing up to serve right out of high school, Sammy wasn’t surprised. Saddened to have to miss him, and dejected that her crush would be gone and in a dangerous area, but not shocked. His father was a lifelong solider, a brusque, taciturn, never-smiling, career Army man. Like father, like son, she’d assumed, Adam following his dad’s footsteps and likely trying to make the man proud. Adam probably hadn’t suffered the constant instructions of how to spend his days and plan his future in the dictatorship she and Jake put up with all their lives, but there was no denying an unspoken, innate need for child to p
lease parent.

  “But you enlisted past your first tour.”

  “Yeah. I did. I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it. Well, I liked the good parts and tolerated the hellish parts. But something told me to try something different.”

  “And that’s what you’re doing in Vermont? Renovating a cabin, that’s your something different?” she asked.

  “For now.”

  “Then what?”

  “No fucking clue.”

  He had no plan? Was he a drifter now? Was that the low-spiritedness Jake was referring to—a lack of ambition? He’d had plenty of drive when they were younger. The Adam she knew put every effort into his goals, whether it was to pass a wicked chemistry test or hit a homerun. Readjusting from the military to ordinary life… Yes, it sounded a challenge. Reshaping lifestyles was something she had experience with. No easy overnight feat.

  “Ah.” She didn’t push the matter, deducing it simply wasn’t her business. If she were to prod and poke for explanations from him, she’d be a hypocrite to refuse to share details about her life.

  “I’m too young to decide,” he said. Forks scraping foam trays had filled the silence while they ate, and his admission caught her by surprise.

  “Decide what? To go back in the Army?”

  “Anything. I’ve been offered a slot in a different unit, actually, in Kuwait, but I’m not sure I should take it—if I want to go back at all. If there’s a job I’d be perfect at filling. If I can find one place, one home to want to make my own.”

  Restless. Adam wasn’t down in the dumps, he was indecisive.

  “I spent my whole life moving around. Camps, one right after the other.”

  “But you stayed in Concord for school.”

  He snorted, taking her empty food tray, plastic utensils, and napkins, shoving them with his in the bag he’d received them in. “Yeah. Only because Mom couldn’t take it anymore.”

  When Jake introduced Adam the summer before they started seventh grade, he explained that Adam’s parents had just divorced. Mrs. Fallon, a PhD-holding professor in history, had said enough was enough. No more moving around. The Army wife role wasn’t working for Jenny any longer, or never had in the first place. So the Colonel returned to base and left Adam with her, thus allowing Adam to attend the private academy where Sammy and Jake went to school. Because Jenny was hired in the history department, her son was granted permission to enroll in the prestigious institution’s classes. Otherwise, his middle-class normalcy would have sent him to a regular public school.