Wrecked

by J. B. Salsbury

  Still pacing, I hit his name on my contacts and press the phone to my ear before I can change my mind.

  It rings and with each one my pulse pounds harder behind my ribs.

  “Colt’s phone.”

  My feet still. “Jenkins? It’s Celia.”

  “Know that, it’s why I answered the phone.”

  “Right, um . . . Is Aden around?”

  “He is . . . and he isn’t.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but then shut it, not sure exactly what to say.

  “You coming over?” He asks almost like I’m late to an expected arrival.

  “I . . . should I?”

  “Yep.”

  “Um . . . so, Aden is there, with you, correct?”

  “He’s here.”

  “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  Weird.

  I grab my keys and purse and after a short five-minute drive to the marina I’m greeted by Jenkins who’s sitting on the bench by the parking lot staring at the water. When he sees me coming he stands and the movement looks painful, although his face doesn’t register it.

  “You didn’t have to meet me out here, Jenkins.”

  He shifts on his feet and the handful of gray hairs he still has on the top of his head blow in the mild offshore breeze. “Came to let you in the gate.” He stiffly turns toward it and we both move in that direction. “And warn you.”

  My stomach turns a little at the seriousness in his voice.

  “Colt’s three sheets to the wind.”

  “Is he okay?”

  He shrugs one bony shoulder. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t have invited you over but he seems upset. You seem to be able to calm him.”

  Sergeant Psycho.

  “Upset. Is he violent?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.” He punches a code into the keypad and I push the unlocked gate open. “Colt’s a complex son of a bitch.”

  I stare at his boat while we walk down the dock. It takes some restraint to keep pace with Jenkins when part of me wants to sprint to see if Aden is okay. “I’m not sure what you think I can do. We hardly know each other.”

  “Funny. That’s what he said.”

  I turn to look at the old man just as we make it to the back of the Nauti Nancy. It’s dark except for a dim light hardly noticeable from outside.

  “Good luck.” Jenkins continues down the dock toward his boat.

  “Whoa, wait. You’re not coming with me?”

  “Nah . . . you got this.”

  I can’t believe he’d leave me alone with a drunk and upset ex-army sergeant who may or may not be furious with me. Not that Jenkins would be much help if Aden really is Sergeant Psycho.

  The big step onto the boat is easier than it used to be and when I get to the back door of the open cabin I knock. “Hello?”

  No answer.

  I go inside and my eyes are immediately drawn to the hulking man on the couch, his knees spread wide, arms propped on the back cushions, and a mostly empty bottle of booze hanging from his hand. His head lolls to the side, his lazy eyes fixed on me.

  “Aden, what happened?”

  The corner of his mouth lifts on one side. “You tell me, freckles.” He’s slurring, and as often as I’ve seen him drinking, I’ve never heard him slur.

  I nod to the bottle in his hand. “This a party for one?”

  He swings his arm out toward me. “Always room for one more.”

  I take the bottle from him and place it on the counter and spot a bag of coffee next to the coffee maker. Aden remains quiet while I get a pot started, but I don’t miss that his eyes track every move I make. I hit power, praying for a quick brew, and move toward him, then sit on the couch close enough that our knees touch.

  “I shouldn’t have snuck out on you this morning.”

  His eyes narrow and he seems almost shocked. “Was that only this morning?”

  “It was. I couldn’t sleep, I was thinking about . . . everything, and then I went home and thought about you all day wishing I’d stayed.”

  The corner of his mouth lifts in an almost boyish way. “You mess me up, you know that?”

  “Is that why . . . I mean, you didn’t call.”

  His smile falls and he leans in close. “Neither did you.”

  “I wanted to, I thought you’d be mad.”

  He cups my jaw and the heat of his palm sends goose bumps down my neck. “I was, but it all went away when you walked in here. I look at you and I forget.”

  “What do you forget?”

  He leans in and brushes his lips so softly against mine. “Everything.”

  I hold his hand against my cheek and close my eyes. “Aden, why are you so drunk?”

  He nuzzles my neck, kissing a path from my collarbone to my ear. “Shh . . . I just want you to make it go away.” The whiskey from his breath is overpowering.

  I pull back and stare into his hazy eyes. “I won’t sleep with you if there’s a chance you won’t remember.”

  “No way I won’t remember.” He rests his forehead against mine and whispers, “You’re branded inside me.”

  Wow . . . he must be drunker than I thought. I pat his hand and pull back a little. “How’d you like to join me in a cup of coffee . . . or seven.”

  He scrunches up his face adorably. “Then you’ll let me kiss you?”

  “Yeah, then I’ll let you kiss me.”

  “Deal.”

  ADEN

  Hours have passed since Celia showed up and between the cups of coffee and full glasses of water I’m finally starting to feel somewhat sober.

  “Omelet, extra cheese.” She places a plate in front of me with steaming eggs and a piece of buttered toast. “Eat up, it’ll make you feel better.”

  As if I didn’t already feel pathetic enough, now she’s babying me. I’d tell her she doesn’t have to, but I fear if I do she’ll find no other reason to stay.

  “This looks amazing. I didn’t know you could cook real eggs.”

  She props her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “Just eat . . . smartass.”

  I shovel a bite into my mouth and moan. “This is great.” How long has it been since I’ve eaten?

  “So finish your story, the one about LaRoy.” With two hands wrapped around her coffee mug she stares intently at me.

  With the booze loosening my lips I’ve been blurting old war stories, nothing too graphic, just things that happened between me and the men I served with for what seems like the better part of my life.

  “Right, so me and the other guys had Private Schmitt in the body bag. He was lying so still, ya know, I’m still shocked he pulled it off.” I smile to myself thinking back to how hard it was for him not to laugh and blow the prank. “Me and three of my guys had on rubber gloves, we made it look like we were mourning, hats pulled down low, shaking our heads. Asked LaRoy to come help us identify the body, that it was someone from our base camp.” I chuckle at the memory. “Probably seems like a shitty thing to do, but death was such a normal part of our day-to-day . . .” I trail off as I consider all the death we dealt with and how desensitized we became to it. I blink that away and stall by taking another bite before I continue. “LaRoy knelt down, he unzipped that bag and we were all fucking acting like we were tearing up, sniffing, soon as he got it down to Schmitt’s waist the fucker jumped out and scared the piss out of LaRoy. He flung himself back so hard he cracked his head on a rock and cut it open.”

  “That’s awful!” Celia’s laughing, but yeah, she’s right, it was fucked up, but also funny as hell.

  “We never let him live that shit down.” I fork another bite into my mouth.

  “I bet he’ll never forgive you. Do you still talk to LaRoy?”

  My fork screeches against my plate and the all too familiar ache flares in my chest. “No. He didn’t make it back.”

  She places her mug down. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  “Hey.” I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing the inside of
her wrist. “It’s okay. Thank you for coming over tonight.”

  “Of course.” She seems to sag a little and then pulls her hand from mine to get up and start rinsing dishes into the sink.

  I go around to her and push up behind her, resting my chin on her shoulder and wrapping my arms around her waist. “Stay with me.”

  “Aden, I—”

  “Please. I missed you this morning. I’ve been missing you all day. That earring . . .”

  She turns to me, but I stay pressed to her. “You don’t have to explain. I just, this thing between us, it’s happening so fast and it’s not fair to put demands on you, but . . .” Her chin juts out as if she’s forcing a strength she’s not feeling. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone else while we’re together, and I’d like to know you don’t either.”

  “I already told you, since our first kiss, it’s only you.”

  She breathes out as if in relief and smiles. “Good.” Her eyebrows pinch together. “Aden, why did you get so drunk tonight? Was it because of me?”

  Now I step back, putting space between us because I don’t want her to know I’m a fucked-up mess who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air she does. “Nah . . . it was a lapse in judgment. It won’t happen again.”

  Her expression says she doesn’t seem convinced, and I can’t stand to see the questions in her eyes. I hit the light on the wall, plunging us into darkness.

  Gripping her by her hips, I spin her around, lift her to sit on the counter, and step between her knees. “Now . . . about that kissing you promised.” I slide my fingers into her hair and tug at her bottom lip with my teeth. The earthy scent of coffee on her breath swirls around me washing away the tension of the day.

  Her breathing speeds and she scoots to the edge of the counter, pressing the heat between her legs against me I grasp her thigh and moan at the friction against my hardening dick. “A deal is a deal.”

  Our mouths mold together and we make out like teenagers in the kitchen. In a frenzy of hands and tongues and teeth, I carry her to my bed and sink deep into her body, losing myself again to the spell she casts over me.

  SAWYER

  My eyes dart open. It’s dark. My pulse races as I try to place myself.

  I’m on Aden’s boat—a stabbing pain shoots through my thigh. I reach for it. There’s a cry of anguish, but it’s not mine.

  I rub my leg and kick the other to move away from— Heat slices my shoulder blade.

  I cry out and attempt to scurry off the bed. Powerful hands grip at me so tight I whimper.

  “Let me go!” I kick and he releases me so hard I’m thrown off the bed. My back slams into the wall.

  Another guttural whimper comes from the bed and everything comes rushing back.

  “Aden?” What is he doing?

  He thrashes violently and I back up to avoid getting caught up in it.

  Tears burn my eyes as he mumbles something incoherent and buries his fists into the bed.

  “Stop it!”

  “. . . killed them . . . you . . .” another cry of agony. “. . . they’re dead . . .” He pushes up and punches the mattress.

  Tears fall, streaming down my cheeks as I watch the big powerful man I’ve come to know dissolve from a feral animal to a broken and fragile man.

  He’s on his knees, his body hunched over, fists dug into the bed. His tattoo gleams in the dim moonlight with sweat-soaked skin. The rise and fall of his shoulders slows.

  I approach him cautiously. My hand shakes as I reach up and lay it on his back—

  He moves so fast that when my back hits the bed I don’t know how I got there except for the fire burning in the eyes that bore into mine. His grip on my arms is so tight I cry out in pain. “You’re hurting me.”

  He snarls. “I trusted you. You fucking . . .” He chokes on a sob. “. . . killed them.”

  “Aden, no. It’s me. Sawyer . . . I mean.” Fuck! “Wake up.” I stumble over my words and he blinks. His grip lets up. “Wake up, you’re dreaming. Ow, Aden . . . please.” The tears are falling faster now. “You’re hurting me.”

  I watch in shock as his eyes go from unfocused to clear, his jaw from rock hard to slack. He pushes himself off me and scrambles to the end of the bed, his eyes tracking around the small space.

  I push up and put one foot on the ground, not sure if I want to run or stay. What the fuck just happened?

  “Aden . . .?”

  “Are—” His voice cracks. “Are you okay?”

  I’m sore, and scared, but I’m not hurt. “You were dreaming.”

  He runs two hands over his head and rocks back and forth. “Fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  I crawl to him and reach around his big body, pushing up on my knees to hug him close. I expect him to pull away, to push me off, but instead he clings to me as if I’m a life ring in a hurricane. He buries his nose against my neck and the moisture of his sweat and tears cools my skin. “Don’t leave me.”

  My heart beats frantically and nausea builds in my gut, but he’s crumbling in my arms and there’s no way I could walk away from him like this. “I won’t.”

  “I want to forget.” His lips run from my earlobe down to my collarbone and I shiver in his unrelenting hold. “Make me forget.”

  “How?”

  He lays me down on the sweat-soaked sheets as if I’m made of the most fragile china. “Let me inside.” He crawls between my legs and presses his bare chest to mine.

  “Your heart, it’s . . .” It’s thunderous behind his ribs. “Aden . . .” I run my hands up and down his back in soothing stokes. “Breathe.”

  He takes a deep but shaky breath. “I need you.” An animal-like sound claws up his throat when I widen my legs and flex my hips.

  I have so many questions, but this isn’t the time. For now, he needs me. This powerful soldier needs me to save him from the nightmares in his head.

  “You have me.”

  He holds his weight up to reach over me and grab a condom off the nightstand. Ripping it with his teeth, he rolls it on and enters me slowly.

  He gives me his weight then, and we lie there connected until his pulse slows and he kisses me like a man desperate for a kind of healing only I can provide.

  And then, he starts to move.

  Pushing up he pulls my hands above my head, pressing them down into the pillow. He holds them there, towering above me, and when he’d usually keep his gaze fully focused on mine, now his eyes are closed. His brows pinch together as if he’s in pain and he grunts with every forceful thrust.

  His jaw ticks and the sound of his teeth gnashing together mixes with his panting breath. My heart throbs as I watch him wrestle with his own mind, as if he’s pushing out the negative thoughts with every push inside my body.

  Tears spring to my eyes as I find it impossible to look away from the anguish he wears so plainly on his face.

  I flex my hands, wanting to free them from his unyielding grip. “Aden . . .” It’s as if there’s a wall between us as he refuses to even acknowledge my voice, and my chest seizes at the thought. “Please, let me touch you.” I give another tug of my hands only to have him clasp them tighter.

  “I don’t deserve your comfort.” His hips jack forward. “I don’t deserve your hands on me.”

  His movement becomes uncoordinated and he whimpers as he fights to purge the memories.

  Sickness turns in my gut coupled by a pleasure that I’ve come to associate with Aden. This shouldn’t feel good, this isn’t for me, and yet I’m powerless against the moan that tumbles from my lips.

  He stills and looks down at me, his expression softening. It’s then I realize that my cheeks are streaked in tears.

  He releases my hands and presses his chest to mine, burying his face in my neck, he moves with more deliberate strokes.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” He bathes my throat in wet kisses. “It’s okay. Please, don’t cry.”

  I wrap my arms around him and hold on, hoping it’ll keep
him with me, that I won’t lose him again to the darkness I managed to help chase away.

  SIXTEEN

  ADEN

  I fucked up.

  Watching the sun rise from the back of the boat I’ve gone over what happened a million times in my head and one thing is clear.

  Whatever chance I had with Celia I blew last night.

  After I scared the shit out of her she selflessly let me inside her, allowed me to do exactly what the therapists say I should never do.

  I used her as a diversion—a warm body to help wash away the images of all the dead ones that haunt the backs of my eyelids.

  I haven’t had a night terror that bad in a long time. I don’t know what brought it on. The downed helicopter I obsessed about yesterday was the farthest thing from my mind when I finally fell asleep last night. Maybe that was the problem, that I’d let myself relax more than I should have. Who fucking knows, but it doesn’t change the fact that I woke up beating the shit out of my bed with Celia beneath me.

  I clench my fists. I was stupid to think I’d be able to be with her for even a few days without her knowing what a fuckup I am. Wrecked beyond repair. Not fit for civilian life.

  My skin crawls as I hear her feet padding through the boat’s cabin, knowing I’m going to have to face what went down, drag the ugly into the light. Her footsteps get closer until she’s outside and I can practically feel her breathing against my shoulder. Fuck, but I can’t even look at her I’m so damn ashamed.

  “Good morning,” she whispers.

  I lick my lips, and as much as I wish I could avoid her, I can’t. She deserves to know what happened last night. I peer up at her and she’s wearing shorts and the tank top she put on after I selfishly used her last night. Another thing I hated, having to watch her cover her body before crawling back into bed with me, putting a barrier between us. Not that I didn’t deserve it. “Hey.”

  Her eyebrows are dropped low as if she’s worried. She turns to pull a chair close and the sight of her back has me grit my teeth so hard I see fucking stars.

  “Aw shit, Celia.” Unable to stomach the evidence of what I’d done I turn away. “Fuck.”

  “What?” There’s concern in her voice.

  “Your back.” I spit the words to the bay, avoiding the purple bruise that mars her shoulder blade.