“What the hell is going on, Melissa?” Brandon yelled. My eyes flashed in anger.
“I got a job after graduation is what the hell. It’s not that far, and it’s a good fucking opportunity!” I yelled. There was silence on the other end. “I didn’t want to ruin your big day, and I was going to tell you soon before Bonnie decided to handle that for me.”
“You’re both leaving us, Mel. I don’t want that, and Nick doesn’t want that,” Brandon said, and I rolled my eyes. “Can we talk?”
“I am leaving in a month and a half. I wasn’t just going to leave, Brandon,” I told him, as I sunk onto my bed. “I just wanted to tell you myself.”
“Can I come over?” Brandon asked, and I shook my head.
“Not tonight, Bran. We’ll have dinner soon and talk this out,” I told him, as exhaustion and pain hit me hard. I said that I needed to go and hung up as I started crying.
It wasn’t Brandon but Nick that showed up at my door the following day. Bonnie was out running some errands, and I stared at him.
Chapter Nine
He looked like he hadn’t slept in several days and I stared at him. “My sister is leaving, and now you’re going to be gone.” He stared at me with dull eyes, and I pressed my hand to my lips. “You said that you’d always be there even when we were over. I haven’t seen you at all, Mel. Now you’re just moving?”
“I was going to tell you both myself after all of this stuff with the game was over. I was putting it off even longer when you lost. I didn’t want to make things worse,” I started to cry as pain crossed his face and he stepped inside. Nick pulled me into his arms and held me tightly. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You hurt me the day you ended things with us. Not having you living here anymore…I love you, Mel. I love you more than I’ve ever loved a woman. I think that I always have. Please stay with me and give us a try.” Nick’s voice was soft, and I closed my eyes as my hands locked behind his back. “Please. I lost my dream, and I can’t lose you as well.”
“Nick, there’s something…something that I need to tell you.” I hated myself as I prepared to make his life harder. “I’m pregnant, about three months now.”
He pulled away and stared at me.
“What?” Bonnie said behind him, and I closed my eyes. “Pregnant?” She stormed past us and slammed the door. “Were you even going to tell me?”
“Or me? I’m the father, aren’t I?” Nick asked as her mouth dropped open.
“You’re the girl that he was talking about? Oh my god. How long has this been going on?” Bonnie demanded, as I took a deep breath.
“Not long. About four months or so,” I told her, as I looked at Nick. “This baby wasn’t planned, and it just happened. I was going to move away and raise it on my own since I know that you don’t want a baby.”
“When did I say that?” Nick asked, and I narrowed my eyes.
“The night the condom broke. Don’t you remember?” His eyes grew dark in thought, and he shook his head. “You said it.”
“I was nervous. I knew what I was feeling for you, and I was just scared. I didn’t think I ever wanted a relationship with anyone, Melissa, and now I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want this baby.” He stared into my eyes and leaned down to kiss me.
“What’s going on?” Brandon asked, as Nick and I parted. “Are you kissing my sister?”
“Should I break the news or do you want to?” Bonnie asked, and I gave her a dark look.
“I have been seeing Mel for a few months, Brandon. Roughly since our party.” He looked at my brother. “She just told me that she’s pregnant, and I am hoping that she is going to stay here and let me prove to her how much I love her.”
“Well, fuck. This has been a weird few days,” Brandon said, as he sat beside Bonnie. “Are you staying, Melissa?”
“I haven’t really had time to think about it, but…” I stared at Nick. “I love you, too. I love you, and I’d like to give us a chance if you’ll have both of us.” I looked at Brandon and Bonnie. “Are you mad?”
“How can I be when I’ve seen the good changes, Mel? He’s become a better man, happier. I have to wish you all the best,” Brandon told me as he looked at Bonnie. “You?”
“I had never seen him so sad about anyone before. It was like he was when mom died. That was about you, wasn’t it?” Bonnie asked. I nodded slowly.
“I tried to end things with him. I didn’t think he’d want me like this.”
“I want you any way that I can have you and I believe that you're going to be a sexy pregnant woman,” Nick growled. I laughed and he pulled me back into his arms. We felt someone come up and wrap their arms around us, and I heard Bonnie start to cry.
Two months later
Bonnie ended up moving to Colorado and Nick moved into the apartment with me while we were house hunting. I was happy with him attending appointments with me to check on the progress of our baby, and I watched his face carefully when the doctor told us at the ultrasound that we were having a boy. Nick cried and held onto my hand, and I saw his pure joy and love for both of us.
I was thrilled when he proposed to me in the house that we bought that backed up to Lake Washington, where we’d started.
I didn’t need Portland to make a new start. I just needed Nick, and I probably always had.
*****
THE END
Bonus Book 3: The Soldier's Secret
Description
A curvy doctor who doesn’t need a man PLUS a steaming hot soldier with an injury PLUS a dark secret that needs to be told!
Beckett Mitchell is a man born for war. He’s a damn fine soldier and hates anything that takes him away from the battle. After an injury in Afghanistan gets him sent stateside for recovery, Beckett Mitchell just wants to get the rubber stamp from the doctor and go back to the front where he belongs.
Cecily Williams has spent her life in the military. An army brat who was raised all over the world, she’s known soldiers her entire life. As a doctor, she’s dedicated herself to helping returning veterans transition back to civilian life.
When Cecily hooks up with a hot biker in a bar parking lot, she’s sure it’s just a one-time thing and she’ll never see her bad boy again. Then she goes to work the next morning and sees that her first physical therapy patient is her motorcycle lover from the night before.
At first, Cecily thinks Beckett is just another macho soldier, until she starts to see cracks in his armor. Beckett has a secret. He saw something terrible in the war, but he won’t tell anyone about it.
Now Cecily must find a way into the heart of her bad boy. She must get him to open up to her and tell her what he saw the day he got his injury. But it won’t be easy. Beckett isn’t a man who shows weakness easily. Cecily will have to earn his trust first, and Beckett trusts no one.
Chapter One
The motorcycle’s engine roared in Beckett Mitchel’s ears. He interrupted conversations and turned heads as he rounded the corner and headed down Sixteenth Street. He had been riding his bike since around eleven this morning and it was nearing eight o’clock at night, but he still wasn’t ready to be done.
His back ached and his eyes were strained, but he didn’t want to stop. The sound of his motorcycle was the only thing he wanted to hear. The unnatural, guttural roar of the bike drowned everything else out, including his own thoughts. His body went into autopilot when he got on the bike; he only felt the air rushing past him, the balance of his body, his hand on the throttle.
The neon sign for O'Neil’s bar flickered in the dwindling light. It was a dive. A spot for military guys to get a cheap beer and play old standards from the seventies on the jukebox. The bar was bland and nondescript, a squat brick building with a few blacked-out windows that scared any non-regulars away. It was one of the few places in town where you could still smoke inside, and Beckett appreciated that.
He parked his bike out front, adding it to a line of gleaming motorcycles. He t
ook his helmet off and just sat there for a moment. He was still fuming. Anger was radiating through his body. His hands kept forming fists, clenching and unclenching, without him even realizing he was doing it.
What did they know? Physical therapy. Beckett didn’t need that. He needed to get back out there. He needed to be on the front lines defending his country. He could still smell the deserts of Afghanistan, feel the hot sand blowing on his face. When he closed his eyes he still saw the cold, barren mountains with insurgents hiding in every nook and cranny.
Beckett was a fighter. He was made to fight. He was good at it. He had a strong gut instinct and he always trusted it. He could look at a building and just know if there was a bomb or insurgents inside. He could see footprints others couldn’t, he knew how to track, he knew how to kill. He didn’t belong here in this side street in New Mexico. He needed to be there, where the action was.
“This is not a demotion. I cannot be clear enough about that,” his commanding officer, Captain Williams, said. He was an older, serious-looking black man, and Beckett had always liked him. Captain Williams had been in Nam and Desert Storm. He knew what war was like. He knew how hard it was to switch back to civilian life. “But that last tour-” He stopped and shook his head before continuing. “You saw some bad shit out there and you’re still not up to fighting stuff. You need to rest and recover and recuperate. You're on leave for at least the next sixth months. At that point, the doctors will evaluate you, and then we can discuss the future of your military career.”
“Sir, permission to speak freely,” Beckett said.
“You’re at ease, soldier,” Captain Williams said, with a long sigh. “You can speak freely.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say.”
The Captain gave him a curt nod.
“This is bullshit!” Beckett said. “I don’t need therapy, I’m fine. Yeah, I took some damage to the shoulder, but I’m back to full movement on it. I don’t need to rest; I need to get back out there. A cortisone shot is all I need. Not six months. Everyone else has forgotten, but I remember there’s still a war going on out there. My friends are fighting it, and I’m just expected to sit back and watch TV and act like everything is fine? No, I can’t do it. I won’t.”
“So, you’re going to disobey a direct order and get a dishonorable discharge?” Captain Williams asked. “Is that really how you want your military career to end?”
Beckett threw his head back and took a moment to squash down all the anger that was simmering inside of him. “Captain, I’m asking you to reconsider. Look at my career. I can do good over there; I can’t do any good here.”
“I have looked at your career. I saw the report from Kabul. I’ve seen the x-rays of your shoulders. The fact is, you’re not ready to go back. Having an unstable soldier in the field doesn't help anyone, not your fellow soldiers and certainly not the Afghani people. It’s only six months, Sergeant. Six months to let your shoulder heal and get your head right. No matter what the politicians claim, there’s no way this war will be over in six months. When you get the OK from your doctors, you can go back into the field. But not a moment before. So if you really want to help your brothers, you’ll focus on your recovery.”
Beckett stormed out of the room with all the respect he could muster. The second he was out he slammed his hand against the wall. He was facing a bulletin board and he stopped short when he saw the picture that had been tacked up.
‘Killed in the line of duty’ and, underneath it, Andy’s military picture, with the high and tight haircut he was always complaining about. In the picture, Andy’s face was expressionless. He stared into the camera, and right into Beckett's eyes.
“Hey, leave the wall alone, what it ever do to you?” He could still hear Andy’s voice in his head. He could still remember the way he walked, the cocky grin he would give when someone said something stupid.
Andy had been dead for three months and Beckett had been waiting for the memories to fade. Wasn’t that a thing that people said all the time? They moaned and cried about fading memories, forgetting their wife’s face or their father’s eyes. But Andy refused to fade. He was always there, just out of frame, scoffing at something someone said, cracking a joke, craning his neck to get a better glimpse of some girl’s ass.
Now, on his bike outside of O'Neil’s, Andy was still there. Beckett could hear the conversation in his head. Andy would pull out a cigarette and Beckett would remind him that they were poison and an expensive one at that. Andy would crack that he spent his life dodging bullets, and what was one more cigarette compared to Afghanistan?
It wasn’t funny anymore. Afghanistan had done the job, as Andy always predicted it would. Now Beckett had to drink alone.
Beckett got off his bike and walked to the bar, pushing open the door. Smoke wafted through the air, just barely covering the odor of stale beer. Heads turned when he entered. Men lifted their beers, gave him a nod and then went back to what they were doing. Here they all were, Tommy who drove long-haul trucks, Marge who waited tables at the diner, Mic who didn’t have a job but scraped by hustling tourists at the pool table. All of them were vets.
Beckett pulled up to the bar and ordered a double bourbon, neat. He took a heavy sip of his drink, enjoying the feel of the burning liquid as it fell down his throat. He could feel it in his belly. It warmed him, making his head feel fuzzy, and his limbs like rubber. There was nothing like that first sip of bourbon.
He was on his third drink when someone sat down next to him. He was a little drunk already and, through bleary eyes, he did a double take. It was a woman, a gorgeous woman. She was all curves. Without meaning to, he found himself staring at what were possibly the most beautiful pair of breasts he had ever seen. They were pert and perky and big and Beckett wanted to grab them and bury his face in them.
“Seriously, dude? Am I going to have to move?” the woman demanded.
He blinked, looked up into her face and felt a flush come up his cheeks. When was the last time a girl had made him blush? But this was no girl, this was a woman. Her brown eyes were piercing and her long dark hair was curly and bouncing around her shoulders. She had full lips that parted into a smile, and he was lost.
“Can I buy you a drink or a house?” he asked, letting his eyes slide down her perfect figure one more time.
“It’s the least you can do and I’m only saying this once: my eyes are up here.” Her voice was sultry and she smelled fantastic.
Beckett motioned for the bartender to bring her a shot of bourbon, and he was impressed when she downed it in one gulp and ordered another. Beckett did too.
Chapter Two
He was cute, she had to give him that. He had an actual, straight-up dimple on his chin that appeared when he smiled. He was a military guy, she could tell. His head was shaved, there was the remnant of an old burn wound on his neck and he was sitting in a seat that gave him a view of the entrance and the exit.
It was really his confidence that gave his military status away. He wasn’t afraid of anyone in this bar and this was a sketchy bar. This was a man who had seen a real fight. He had been to war and he had lived through it.
He was charming, too.
“So, you from around here?” he asked. He was leaning against the bar. He had removed his leather jacket and was in nothing but a tight, black t-shirt. Tattoo sleeves peaked out from under his shirt. She could only see the sharp edges of the design, but Cecily was curious to see the rest.
“I just moved here about two weeks ago,” she answered. “I used to live up in Washington.”
“That’s a pretty big move. You must really hate the cold.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s the worst,” she said, with a shake of her head.
He leaned forward to better see the inside of her forearm. He turned her arm over and ran a finger over the tattoo there. “I’ve seen this before. It’s on ambulances, right?” he asked.
She bit her lip and
nodded. She had goosebumps from his rough fingers on her sensitive skin.
“Someone told me it was the Roman god of healing,” he said. His voice was low. They were leaning towards each other as if they were sharing a secret.
“Kind of,” Cecily said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s basically the symbol of medicine. It was the symbol of Hermes, who was the god of medicine. The two snakes symbolize health and rebirth. It means the same thing everywhere. Any country you’re in, if you show someone this symbol, they know it means doctor.”
“You’re a doctor?” he asked, looking up at her appraisingly.
“Almost,” she said. “I’m doing my residency now.”
“Aren’t you worried this is bad karma?” he asked, stroking his hand up and down her tattoo. “You aren’t a doctor, yet.”
She smirked at him, “No, but I will be. When I set my mind to something, I don’t stop until it’s done.”
“I like that in a woman,” he said and her heart fluttered.
He was cute, he was way too cute. His hand was still on her arm. Another drink appeared, but he held onto her as they did the shot. Pins and needles were shooting up and down her body. She was pretty sure she was about to do something very bad.
“You’re pretty brave to come into a bar like this all alone,” he said.
“I’m not alone,” she said, shaking her head, “How ya doing, Marve?” she called over to a stooped man nursing a beer bigger than his head.
“Alright, doc. They finally sorted out my paperwork after six damn months of fighting with ‘em. This is my celebration.” His shaky hand raised a glass, and Cecily and Beckett did the same. They cheered to his success, and then Cecily turned back to Beckett, who looked impressed.
ROMANCE: Older Man Younger Woman Romance: Daddy’s Business Friend (First Time Virgin Pregnancy Taboo Romance) (Alpha Male Contemporary Romance Short Stories) Page 15
