by D. C. Stone
What Could Have
By DC Stone
Copyright © 2014 by DC Stone
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication and note to reader:
To life. To chance. To regret. To love. To friendship. To you. To me. To all.
Make each moment count.
Believe it or not, even though I’ve published four other books before this one, this is the first book I ever wrote. It’s not too long, and not quite short, but there is a powerful story woven in these pages that refused not to be told. Lucas and Annabelle bugged me for a long time to get their chance to show the world just how important things are, how precious life is, and how even the smallest things can have the biggest impact.
It’s an unconventional type of love story, and the ending is so outside of the normal that I had to change the genre classification. To me, the story isn’t about how it ends, but how the characters end up getting to a place where they understand the things I’ve touched on above. I hope you enjoy their story as much as I did writing it. This one will always stay close to my heart.
Happy reading!
XOXO,
Table of Contents
Part One
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Part Two
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Part I
She was going to kill him.
After weeks of sleep deprivation, being yelled at, waking to the sounds of ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ by Guns ‘n Roses, and now, eating sand as she low crawled in a deep ravine, she finally decided: she was going to find a way to make the old man suffer.
You’re a dead man, Dad.
She sucked in a mouthful of dirt and gagged as it went down her throat like rocks scrambling to find purchase over a falling cliff. Annabelle slammed her lips closed, ground her jaw together, and bit down on the grains of sand. She winced. Why did she relent to this? Her dad pushed and pushed until she agreed to join the military. “This is for your future, Anna,” he promised. “You’ll be making a difference.” She cursed him and wondered if she had the strength to see this through.
“Move it, Turner! Let’s go, get those hips in gear and dig in, Troop!”
The “T” in her last name and in troop was pronounced with a pop, like a snapper hitting the ground. Annabelle imagined spittle coming out of the drill sergeant’s mouth. Not that she could see him, of course. Her vision was filled with brown dirt, sand covered hills, red and brown ants probably marching all over her (yuck!) as she moved slowly, face-down in the dirt, in the military’s version of a low crawl.
Military’s version?
For crying out loud, she only knew of one.
Her lungs burned, her muscles screamed. Gasping and out of breath, her legs cramped in protest, she pushed up from the ground at the end of the course. Like a good trainee, she turned to cheer the next troop coming down the line when all she wanted to do was fall over and sleep for several hours.
Hell, sleep for several days at this point.
Basic training in the United States Air Force was both physically and mentally draining. Moments were never wasted, even when a trainee was just standing around. You were always moving, learning, and training through every spare moment of time.
Standing at attention? Better be running through the nation’s presidents, anticipating the drill sergeant asking a question.
At parade rest, waiting for chow (yes, that’s what they called breakfast, lunch, and dinner)? You better have your training book open and be reciting the Air Force core values, just in the event you were called upon.
In the dormitory waiting for the next round of torture? You better not be in bed sleeping, no sir. What should you be doing?
Studying.
And when you thought the drill sergeant wasn’t paying attention, that small bout of time you believed you could breathe out a sigh of relief…boom! You were wrong and punished through either busting out fifty push-ups, or being on the receiving end of one spittle-from-the-drill-sergeant rain shower. Drill sergeants snuck up unexpectedly, and she swore they had some quota on how many trainees they could get to quit basic training, or even piss their pants. Those were the moments that humiliation and fear rose sharp and fast, forced to do push-ups or even worse, forced to face the drill sergeant as he screamed and yelled within an inch of your face.
Annabelle hadn’t realized any of this when she signed up. If she had, well, she’d still be on the beach in sunny San Diego, instead of sitting here in the hot desert of Texas.
She could be feeling the sun’s rays warm her skin, laughing with her best friends, Lizard and Amanda, and doing all sorts of mischievous things to drive her father insane.
Instead, she stood in close to one hundred degree heat, wearing fatigues, heavy combat boots, a hard helmet, and about ten pounds of Texas sand.
She wanted to weep.
“You did well, Anna.” Lucas’ deep voice rumbled next to her ear. She snorted and glanced at him on her side while still clapping on her teammate. She didn’t know if he heard her as he focused his excitement on the next trainee, anticipation glimmering in his eyes. He looked like the model airman for the Air Force; bright eyes, fit body with trim hips, strong arms, thick legs, intelligence and power screaming from every inch of him. Yeah, Lucas was made for this stuff.
She met Lucas Angotta at the start of basic training as they were shoved out of buses at two o’clock in the morning, dreary eyed and exhausted from traveling nonstop. Forced to stand at attention, a position quickly learned as a drill sergeant basked your face in his spit while screaming at you as if you were his ninety-year-old grandmother who couldn’t hear; she caught a quick glance at Lucas and tripped over his bag on her way to the center of their training block. He caught her and passed a startling wink before steadying her and sending her off.
The joy across his face that night was so out of place, she thought she imagined it. Looking at him now, however, she realized it was all too real.
Outside of training, the instructors kept the male and female trainees separated. The unaccompanied time they got off, the small few hours a week they could escape from the watchful eye of instructors and breathe a sigh of relief was Sundays at church. Despite growing up in a house where church wasn’t a requirement or even spoken about, she savored that time to get away and connect with someone she thought would understand how lonely she was. She never missed a Sunday.
And in so, she never missed time with Lucas. He was big on belief, and dedicated to his relationship with a higher power.
He was an all-around a great guy.
Annabelle glanced up at him again, and took in his dark, all-American masculine looks. thick, dark hair buzzed down in a traditional basic trainee cut. The close shave emphasized his strong jaw, plump lips, and high cheekbones. That wasn’t what drew your attention to him, though. No, not even close. His eyes, the color of dark whiskey, drew you in like a spell and seemed to pierce right through her.
As if he sensed her regard, he turned his head and smiled. Wrinkles formed around his e
yes. Endearing.
“Whatcha thinking about, Anna?”
“Sergeant Gonzalez,” she said with no hidden amount of disgust.
He chuckled. “You got a thing for the drill instructor?” His eyebrows wiggled and his deep voice dropped to a conspirator whisper. “You know I hear they frown on that kind of thing, trainees and drill sergeants hooking up, but if you think it’s true love…”
“God, no,” she hissed. “I don’t have a thing for him, but I swear if he mentions my hips one more time…”
“You’ll do what, Turner?”
She froze and noticed Lucas had gone still as well. She didn’t expect the menacing voice, but should have. To let her guard down? Idiot!
Breath tickled at her ear as she stood at attention, and she cursed her dad once more. It was futile though, because this situation was entirely her fault. When he first talked to her about the future and what he wanted her to do, he made serving his country and signing up for the military sound like such a selfless act, an honor to do. Standing under the hot sun in week four of basic training, she had doubts about whether she’d make it through to the end.
“You gonna answer me, Troop?”
She flinched as spittle hit her cheek, but kept her mouth shut. Sergeant Gonzalez wasn’t asking her a question... Was he?
Ugh, it was hard to tell.
She tried to think back on what brought this entire situation to this point. All around her, activity ceased as everyone waited with baited breath for what was going to happen next, like two trains chugging toward one another at eighty miles an hour. You just couldn’t look away.
From day one, Sergeant Gonzalez had made nonstop comments about her hips, speaking not in a sexual manner, but more as if they’d hold her back somehow. She didn’t consider herself heavy. She was big boned and blessed with wide-set hips in a typical Marilyn Monroe form. It wasn’t today’s style on a woman, but she was comfortable enough in her own skin. Sergeant Gonzalez, however, was really breaking down her self-assurance. But then again, that was the whole point in basic training, wasn’t it? To break down someone’s confidence, then build it back up again, instituting honor and integrity for the rest of their lives. At least that is what her father had told her during week two’s five-minute phone call home.
“Not going to answer, huh?” Her ear buzzed as Sergeant Gonzalez screamed and brought the training class to attention. After such a shout, the silence was so loud it made her ears hurt. Wind brushed against her, sending stray tendrils of her hair tickling along her throat.
Don’t move, Anna. Don’t move.
Her hand itched with the urge to scratch.
The hair drifted up her neck as an eerie sensation crawled down her spine.
Oh crap, please don’t let that be a scorpion.
“Trainee Turner here seems to think the world revolves around her. That her hips are a popular topic of conversation. She seems to believe that is all I want to talk about. Since she is so sure of such a thing, I think we’ll continue to discuss them as we PT some more. How about it, trainees?”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” the training squad answered his question. She was hardly paying attention though as a piece of hair moved to her nose. Don’t move. Don’t itch!
She wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, cry and run away as Sergeant Gonzalez drew the entire class’ attention to her. He directed them all to their hands, push up position, eyes on her hips. She stood frozen, didn’t dare to scratch her nose or shed a tear. She didn’t do anything but stand there and take it, staying at attention, her form unmoving. She wouldn’t let this man break her. She was going to show him just how tough she was and take anything he could dish out about her.
But, God, she wanted to go home.
* * * * *
Lucas’ blood heated as Sergeant Gonzalez went off on a tangent about Annabelle’s hips. His arms burned as he powered through the push-ups and his temper surged. His gaze locked on Annabelle’s face brimming with unshed tears. He wanted to gather her in his arms and whisper words of encouragement. He didn’t know for sure, but had a strong suspicion she was self-conscious about her curvy body, and he suspected the Drill Sergeant damn well knew it, too.
They were drawn to attention again and fell into formation for a light run. Lucas focused on the female running next to him. If anyone asked his opinion, he would gladly tell them Annabelle had nothing to worry about. Built as a woman should be, lush curves, pert tits just screaming for a man’s palms to fill, a small waist. She had dark hair that normally trailed down her back when it wasn’t pinned atop her head. And her eyes, he swore they could see through him, like beacons in the night that scouted for any weakness in the enemy. Taller than most women, she stood out in a crowd of females and should hold a confidence many would kill for. Instead, she hid behind loose clothing that did nothing for her curves and tried to play like one of the tough guys when they hung out. It was damn funny that she chose to blend in with the boys, fitting her way in as if she was the president of the Boys Club. Because from where he stood, every single one knew Annabelle was all woman.
He’d give anything to make her see how beautiful she was.
Lucas shook his head, pushing away those thoughts. Basic training wasn’t the time for romance or relationships, not that there was time to do much of anything outside of training. More, he couldn’t think about that kind of stuff with Annabelle. They’d made an instant connection, something that drew them into a strong friendship. When they talked, he could tell her things he’d never told another. A new thing for him, a female as a friend. He enjoyed the companionship of women; but more, he enjoyed their time spent behind closed doors.
Spending a few hours in bed with Annabelle wasn’t something he could consider. Did he want to? Fuck, yes. But it wasn’t the time, and when they finished basic training, who the hell knew where any of them would end up. And didn’t that just confuse the ever-living shit out of him?
It was all so fucking foreign, so wrong, yet at the same time, so damn right.
The instructor ran them for three long miles, and Annabelle kept pace beside him. It didn’t matter, though. If she had been several people behind him, he’d still know where she was. He didn’t keep track of her purposely. He just gravitated toward her, and again, it confused the shit out of him.
They had to stay just friends, as there was no future for them. He was heading back to Florida and Annabelle planned to be stationed only God knew where. A total of eighteen weeks: nowhere enough time to start something with her. It wasn’t anywhere close to enough time for what he wanted.
Damn it, Luke, stop thinking like that!
Drawing the run to a stop, they all stood fast as the Instructor flapped his jaws again.
“I think that should keep those hips quiet, don’t you think, Trainees?”
A “huah” sounded, one of the military’s acronyms for heard, understood, and acknowledged.
“Fall out, hydrate, and get to the bus. You have fifteen minutes to get your shit together.”
Lucas turned toward Annabelle. The Instructor leaned down to whisper something in her ear. He couldn’t hear him, but judging from the hardening of her eyes and the clenching of her jaw, he had an idea.
Fucking asshole.
Gonzalez stepped away with a smirk on his lips. Lucas touched Annabelle on the shoulder. She swung around as if startled and looked into his eyes. Hers brimmed with unshed tears and her face flushed.
His heart damn near split in two. He wanted to comfort her, protect her from the mental game bullshit being pulled, care for her, and more, he wished like hell he could act on his feelings.
Instead, he offered a smile.
She smoothed her face into a granite mask. The transformation was a thing of wonder, and with each second that ticked by, she fought to take back her control.
A few tendrils of hair had escaped her ponytail and drifted across her face as she shook her head. “I need to be alone for a while, Luc. Maybe you shouldn’t be ar
ound me, he might target you next.” She turned to go.
“Anna, come on.” Her hand went up, cutting him off. He thinned his lips and fought to keep his mouth shut. She walked away, and the slight sway of her hips called to him. Even in BDU’s, combat boots, and covered in mud, she was so fucking beautiful he ached.
“You gonna pick up your balls soon and do something about that?” a thick, southern accented voiced asked.
Lucas turned toward Tony. Reaching just under six feet, Tony made up for his height with strength. Beefy arms crossed over his chest and dark green eyes narrowed and studied Lucas’ face. Who knew how long he’d been standing there, how much he’d heard. But even then, it wasn’t like much was said at all. Frustration boiled in his veins like his blood had been left on the stovetop for too long.
Tony chugged water from his canteen, his eyes cast in the direction of Annabelle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure ya don’t.” Tony lifted a shoulder and pegged him with a knowing stare. “You also don’t know how you look at her, do ya?”
Lucas’ jaw tightened. “That’s none of your fucking business. Let it be.”
“Yeah, because letting it be has worked out so well for you. Come on man, you got me wondering if you actually got a pair.”
He scoffed. “You spend time thinking about what’s between my legs, Tony?”
Tony snorted. “Hardly, but you get what I mean. Everyone sees the way you two look at each other. If it’s reciprocated, my man, just go for it. Have some fun while we’re in this hell.”
“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. And even if I did, now is not the time.”
“You’re a fucking chicken shit, dude.”
“Yeah, a chicken shit as opposed to pulling Anna behind a porta potty and kissing her for a few seconds?” Lucas delivered the snort right back. “That’s real classy, bro, and it’s also asking for problems. She’s worth more than that.” He clamped his mouth shut to prevent saying more, revealing more.
“Well, basic is only another two days, then we’re all heading off to tech school. At least there we’ll have some more time to ourselves.” Tony’s gaze searched and found Annabelle again. A slight smile tugged at his lips. Lucas wanted to punch that look right off his face. “If you don’t, maybe I will…”
