Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  His knees buckled, and we collapsed onto the mattress. My limbs draped over him like a throw rug. His breathing was slightly labored, and his heartbeat was so strong it pulsed through his back, practically lifting me up and down.

  “That was fucking unreal,” I said dreamily.

  Trent inched his way out from underneath and headed toward the bathroom without saying a word. The sound of running water was the last thing I heard before I dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

  When I woke up, Trent was handing me a bottle of ice-cold brew. He’d thrown on his briefs but nothing else. His hair was still damp, and droplets of water clung to the dark auburn locks. I blinked several times, trying to knock the cobwebs from my brain. The beer was refreshing, and it slid down my parched throat.

  “Thank you,” I said after consuming half the liquid.

  He continued to stare without saying a word. There was something going on behind his serious façade, something that hadn’t been there when we’d parted ways earlier this evening. Christ, now what?

  “Is there a problem?” I prodded, knowing there most definitely was an issue of some kind.

  “I met an old friend at the club tonight,” Trent said. He was scraping the label off the amber bottle in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, an Army buddy from back in the day.”

  “Fuck buddy?”

  Trent shook his head. “Nah… he was one of my commanding officers.”

  “So why do you seem a little disturbed?”

  “He said things have been really different since they repealed DADT.”

  “Different how?”

  “Guys are open about their relationships with other guys. He says the brass are a lot less judgmental.”

  “That’s nice,” I said, wondering where the hell he was going with this. “But how does this affect you?”

  Trent put his now empty bottle on the nightstand and leaned forward. He cradled my face and brushed my lips with a tender kiss. Then he leaned back again and said, “You know how much I love you, don’t you?”

  “Yeah…,” I said warily. “What’s going on, Trent?”

  “I’m thinking of trying it out again.”

  “Trying what?” I was clueless. Did he want me to fuck him again?

  “The Army.”

  I was horrified and opened my mouth to protest, but he quickly covered my lips with his hand. “Hear me out before you blow a gasket.”

  I nodded, feeling the screams swelling up in my throat. What the fuck?

  Trent stood and began pacing. “Joe says I can hire on as a mercenary for a six-week run to see if I can get back into the swing of things.”

  “Why would you want to put yourself in harm’s way again?”

  “I don’t see it like that.”

  “If it’s excitement you need, then take up race driving or mountain climbing or sword swallowing for Christ’s sake!”

  “Those are all great choices, but meaningless.”

  “Is your life so empty you’d prefer dealing with land mines and maniacal jihadists?” I asked the question but already knew the answer. Modeling had lost its appeal a while back, and pushing numbers around as a financial consultant left him cold. Trent hadn’t attended West Point for the prestige. He’d been one of those little boys who played with G.I. Joe action figures and aspired to serve his country. The only reason he’d left the Special Forces was he’d gotten tired of lying. Now, apparently, things had changed, and he could get back into the game without compromising his sexual orientation.

  “You know why I walked away.”

  “Yes, but that was a few years ago before you were in a relationship. How can you think about leaving me? I’m not some Army wife that’s going to trail behind you.”

  “First of all, you can’t follow me out there, and secondly, I’d never ask you to do it even if you could.”

  “Then what in the hell do you expect me to do while you’re away? Skype sex isn’t all it’s cut out to be. I’m not going to sit by the phone with my heart in my throat while you’re out there in some godforsaken place getting your balls shot. Hell no!”

  “Look, I know this is coming out of left field.”

  “Ya think? One minute we’re exchanging mock wedding vows and planning our future, and the next thing I know, you’re thinking of reenlisting? I’m sorry I pushed you on this wedding extravaganza. I’d be more than happy getting married at city hall if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”

  “The media event has nothing to do with my decision.”

  “Have you been pretending to be happy for my sake?”

  “I’ve never pretended with you, Sloan. You’ve made me happy and continue to do so. I love you more than anyone else in my life, but it’s the other stuff I miss. I feel like my career was cut short. Whenever I read news about the Middle East, I want to jump on the first plane out of here and HALO down to the desert. You can’t know what it’s like unless you’ve been there. Don’t you want me to be fulfilled? I hate what I’m doing now.”

  “What in the fuck is HALO, Trent?”

  “It’s a military term for high-altitude low-opening jumps.”

  “From a plane?” I must have looked horrified because he laughed and nodded.

  “Yes, from a plane.”

  “That’s fucking great. Not only do I have to worry about bullets, now I have to think of you being splattered all over the desert like roadkill.”

  “I’ve made hundreds of jumps and never splattered.” He moved and gathered me into his arms. “You know I’d do anything to make you happy. Hell, I’ve even thought about Max’s wretched new plan, and I’ll wear the goddamn tights if it’s what you want. But….”

  “There’s always a ‘but,’ isn’t there?”

  “I can’t see myself doing this modeling gig indefinitely.”

  “But you can picture yourself as a five-star general some day?”

  He shrugged. “That’s not the reason I want to go back. I actually care about what happens to this country and feel I can make a difference.”

  “Spare me the fucking flag waving.”

  He pushed me, anger sparking in his eyes. “Don’t you dare mock me, Sloan.”

  Oops… I hadn’t seen that look in a long time and really never wanted to see it again. Last time he incinerated me with that furious gaze was when I’d hooked up with Cole at the funeral home. Thinking about my ex-partner reminded me that I hadn’t even addressed this latest episode in the Cole and Sloan soap opera. Trent would split a gut, but this new move of his might actually buy me some time without major fireworks. On the other hand, now wasn’t the time to put Cole’s needs first. My priority had to be Trent and his safety. I refused to let him put his patriotic ass on the line without a fight.

  Backpedaling, I quickly apologized. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’d better be,” he said, eyes still blazing.

  “What if I forbid you to go?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “If I tell you that our marriage is off until you decide I’m more important than your career, will you reconsider?”

  “Don’t make idle threats, Sloan.”

  “This isn’t a threat.”

  “You’re actually making me choose?”

  “I don’t have any other way to stop this madness.”

  “Your buddy Max will lose millions in deposits.”

  “The publicity alone will make up for the drain.”

  Trent glared at me. “You’re dead serious, aren’t you?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  Chapter 3

  PARALYZED BY the enormity of my threat, I buried my face in my hands and prayed for Trent to come back. He’d thrown on some clothes and stormed out of our apartment without saying good-bye. I was reasonably certain that he was probably heading back to the club to flog the hell out of some willing sub or find a whipping pole he could mutilate. He’d sworn long ago to never tou
ch me in anger. Since I could never match him in strength or fighting skills, it was just as well.

  What was I thinking by giving him an ultimatum? Did I honestly feel he’d cave? Christ, the man was a Dominant and he’d been a captain in Special Forces. Threats were as useless to him as crucifixes on vampires. It was the stuff of fables, and if there was anything that could have made this situation worse, it was backing him into a corner.

  Sliding out of bed, I spun around in a quandary, trying to decide what to do first. A shower was a good place to start, but then my eyes lit on Trent’s cell phone, which he’d casually thrown on the sofa earlier. I picked it up and noticed a missed call from me. It was the one I’d left before going over to Cole’s place. Trent had never retrieved the message, so I deleted it immediately. He was probably too intent on his own dilemma to even realize he’d left his phone at home. In a way, it was for the best. Trent not knowing what was going on with Cole would keep this discussion fair and square between Trent and me. If we muddied it up with the kidnapping, things would end up being about Cole, the children, and me. Nothing would be resolved about Trent’s career choice. And dammit to hell! He had a choice to take it or leave it, and the stupid son of a bitch was actually eager to get on a plane and risk his life. Dodging bullets beat mindless photo shoots any day. Didn’t I know that?

  Could I really blame him? He’d taken his first job with Max as a lark, an experiment to pass the time, and then he’d met me. I was the only reason he was still in the business. How much longer would he have lasted even if this hadn’t come up? The last three years had been one crisis after another, starting with our meeting at Max’s place in Montauk. Trent had walked into my life, shaken me up, and caught me on the Cole rebound. There was no denying he’d been in the right place at the right time. Despite Max’s concerted effort to keep us apart and Cole’s change of heart and dramatic suicide attempt, Trent and I had managed not only to thrive but fall deeply in love.

  Trent’s deep involvement in BDSM had scared me initially, having had a bad experience when Max first introduced me to the scene. What set Trent apart was that he treated me with respect. He listened to my concerns regarding the lifestyle and, instead of brushing them off as insignificant, set out to prove me wrong. I’d felt like an equal partner in all our endeavors and, up until now, not once had he made me feel insignificant or undervalued—sore subjects that had eroded my relationship with Cole. Maybe it had to do with his military background and his ability to lead. He figured out all my triggers easily and showed me how to deal with my insecurities in more productive ways.

  I’d been a cutter as a teenager and young adult due to my poor body image and feelings of insecurity at home. Resorting to the blade to relieve my internal struggle had been my default for a long time. Cole understood my addiction to cutting on an intellectual level, but he’d always felt that willpower and control were more than enough to conquer the demon lurking so close to the surface. It didn’t take much to throw me off-kilter, but I’d improved steadily throughout our relationship. Cole had taught me the importance of good nutrition and healthy living, which naturally led to an improved physique and mental stability.

  Five years of happiness had turned to shit when Cole decided to have children without running it past me. By the time he’d thought to mention it, the wheels had already been set in motion and it was pretty much a done deal. Unsurprisingly, I spiraled out of control, and Trent had been there to catch me.

  He’d guided me through one of the most traumatic moments of my life using BDSM techniques to get me out of my head and into a much better, more secure place. Ironically, it had taken the same knives I’d used to mutilate my body to help me find my safe zone, my subspace—lifestyle-speak for paradise.

  And yet, ten days away from making our union legal, I found out I didn’t really know my husband-to-be. The man I’d become familiar with over the last three years was only the tip of the iceberg. Trent, the soldier, had been submerged in the frosty waters of denial. He’d purposefully walked away from a career he’d trained for since he was in high school so he could love whomever and live however he wanted without fear of repercussions. I knew nothing about the man who’d served his country and put himself in harm’s way for over ten years without hesitation.

  The undeniable truth of this sad predicament was that once again, fate had thrust a big “fuck you” in my path, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I did know, however, that I wasn’t going to reach for the blades. Of that I was certain. A more appealing choice was getting my hands on that former Army buddy of Trent’s and turning him into roadkill. That motherfucker! Why’d he have to show up and ruin everything?

  Of course, the timing couldn’t be better. Cole’s current dilemma had no wiggle room, and making sure Trent was out of the picture could actually be a godsend. Still, the thought of him being hurt—or worse yet, killed—because he was craving excitement was hard to ignore. With no idea what to do or say, I took a three-minute shower, dressed, and headed toward Bryce’s bar. Maybe he’d give me some insight since he’d had a lot to do with our getting together after one of our memorable tiffs.

  I’d stumbled into his Irish pub and gotten shit-faced one cold winter day after Trent and I had had a major blowup. Bryce had mopped up my tears, let me pass out on his sofa, and then called Trent. Bryce and I had ended up becoming fast friends. The best part was that I introduced him to Cole and they’d started dating a few months ago. Bryce would know what I should do, but I’d have to watch my tongue or Cole’s secret would be out and everything would go down the shitter.

  It was half past eleven by the time I strolled into Bryce’s place. It was crowded, as usual, but I found a stool at the bar and slid on, raising my hand at the old leprechaun in greeting.

  Bouncing over, he rewarded me with one of his special smiles, the kind that reached all the way up to his Irish green eyes. “You’re late, laddie.”

  “It’s been a long day.”

  “Aye.” He nodded. “For me as well. Where’s himself?”

  “Out.”

  Bryce cocked his head and raised a quizzical brow. “Trouble already and no wedding ring to show for it.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “What’s your pleasure, Sloan?”

  “A Guinness will do.”

  He poured some off the tap and swiped the foam with his finger. Sliding it toward me, he nodded. “Do you want company, or shall I bug off?”

  “Actually, I came to talk to you.”

  “Oh, aye? What’s the problem?”

  I told him most of it, leaving out Cole’s part. He listened with a sympathetic ear, as I knew he would, and nodded at appropriate intervals. “And that’s why I’m here at this late hour while my fiancé is at Wilde hooking up with some poor sub who’s looking to be flogged.”

  “Jaysus.”

  I looked into Bryce’s kind face for advice. “Well? Any words of wisdom on how I should handle my anam cara?”

  “Tell him how you feel.”

  “I already tried and threatened to cancel our wedding if he didn’t change his mind.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yup.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He slammed the door on his way out.”

  “Perhaps he needs to get this out of his system. Better now than after you’re married, aye?”

  “Do you really think I should let him go?”

  “What can you do to stop him?”

  I shook my head sadly. “Squat.”

  “He needs to get back in uniform to see if it’s really what he wants. It’s been a long time for him, Sloan, and he’s built it up in his head like some glorious mission he’s missed. Reality might put things back into perspective, and he’ll never bring it up again.”

  “What if he gets killed or maimed?”

  “There’s that, but if he doesn’t go, he’ll be thinking about it constantly and resent you for holding him back.”

  “Bu
t this yearning of his could destroy our relationship.”

  “Pull up your knickers and take this like a man. Let him go and hope to hell he comes back in one piece.”

  “That’s easy for you to say since your boyfriend is tucked away safely in bed.”

  Bryce paused for a split second, and I caught a look in his eye that could only spell trouble.

  “Is there a problem between you and Cole?” I asked, wanting to hear something positive.

  Bryce shrugged. “It’s over.”

  “What?”

  “Aye. He broke it off a few days ago.”

  “Why?”

  Bryce wiped down the counter, rinsed out a few glasses, and topped off a few customers. When he couldn’t avoid me any longer, he came back and finally looked me in the eye. “He’s not the easiest man to understand, is he?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “He’s got layers on top of layers.”

  “Aye, that’s true. I was very interested in digging deeper, but he pushed me away before I got to the second layer.”

  “Maybe he’ll come to his senses in a few weeks.” When we get back from Japan and all is right in his world again.

  “You never know,” he said, giving the counter a few knocks before walking away.

  Chapter 4

  TRENT WAS hanging up his jacket when I walked through our front door. He looked surprised that I’d been out instead of sound asleep in bed.

  “Where were you?” he demanded.

  My anger spiked as soon as I heard his tone. Did he actually think I was going to be waiting by the door with his slippers in my mouth like a fucking beagle? I brushed past him on my way to our bedroom.

  “Hey,” he said, trying to stop me, but I wrenched my arm away, certain I’d lose my cool if I stood there for another minute. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. Trent was so absorbed with his military resurrection he hadn’t even noticed something else was going on. His antennae were down, and I think that, more than anything, made me angry. Usually astute and uncannily intuitive about my feelings, Trent could normally tell at a glance when something wasn’t right in my world. Now, he looked right through me. I was hoping he’d tackle me and wrestle Cole’s secret right out of my head, but he was intent on getting me on board with this stupid scheme to become a mercenary and oblivious to anything else.