by Katie Ford
“Okay,” she says softly.
“Brent and I were together for years, so many good years. I mean, we were happy, but his home life was really bad. He was an orphan and had been raised in the foster care system by some really terrible people. His last foster family had used him for the money he brought into their house, and once he turned eighteen, they kicked him out.” I sniffle. “Can you imagine—eighteen and on the streets?”
“He tried so hard to do right, but the anger was like a volcano in him, bubbling over at unexpected times and getting him into so much trouble.
“With no family to look out for him, he worked odd jobs to survive, to eat. He did as much as he could, but that volcano of anger would just bubble over again. Brent broke things. He stole. He got into fights. Eventually, the sheriff got tired of throwing him in jail every so often and just gave him an ultimatum: jail or join one of the armed forces. He chose the Marines.”
“And then he disappeared.
“I know he got deployed to Syria, but he never phoned or texted or emailed me ever again.”
“Days had passed when I didn’t leave the bed, didn’t stop crying, didn’t stop thinking about him. It was a struggle just to shower and eat and pretend my whole life hadn’t ended when Brent disappeared and took my heart with him.
“Everyone tried to tell me that this sort of thing was fairly common with military relationships. But I couldn’t handle it. What if he came back to town with a new girl and pretended that we’d never meant that much to each other in the first place? If he did something like that to me, I wouldn’t survive. So I moved far away from home to college and swore to never return again.”
The last words of my confession rang out in the house, leaving a silence as deep as the grave. Mandy sat across from me with a French fry clutched between her fingers. Ketchup from the fry dripped down her fingers to the knee of her pajama pants.
“I... I can’t believe you kept all of this from me for so long,” she says softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I thought we were best friends. I thought you trusted me.”
I shake my head and wipe the snot dripping from my nose with the back of my hand. Tell someone before this? Never. “It hurt too much to even think about this time in my life. Talking about it, no matter with whom, it was just...just impossible.” It nearly killed me telling her this story just now.
“So, why are you telling me this?” Mandy asks. She looks down and seems to suddenly notice the fry and the red mess on her pants. With a look of disgust, she tosses the fry onto the tray and wipes her hand on a napkin. “I mean, why now?”
My lips begin to tremble, and suddenly, I just know that I can’t hold back the sobs any longer. A loud and ugly sound bursts out of me. A percussion of deep sadness and pain.
“Because,” I gasp out a soggy breath, “I saw him tonight. Outside the bar.”
Mandy’s jaw drops. “Are you sure it was him?”
“Yes,” I croak, my voice a ragged mess. “But he didn’t even know who I was.”
Inside, my heart is hurting so badly that it feels like it will shatter into a thousand pieces. And if I shatter, if this heart of mine explodes and blows away on an indifferent breeze, Brent Wilson will never know about it. He won’t even care.
Chapter 5
Brent
After a later than necessary shift at work—cutting out at nearly eight o’ clock instead of five-thirty—I feel good and tired. But not tired enough to wear down my over-active mind. You name it, and I’m thinking about it.
Work. My best friend’s wedding. The last chick I had sex with. The last time I felt whole and complete as a person.
Sometimes this civilian life is harder to get used to than getting used to being in the Corps had been. The Corps was discipline and action, days and night in Syria on constant alert and putting your life into the hands of the guys on your team. My adrenaline was always pumping, even when I was just sitting around with the guys, my finger near my trigger, waiting on something to happen. Some days, there wasn’t much difference between Syria and my days before the Corps—struggling to make do in the streets of Virginia and keeping an eye out for somebody who could either save me or try to take me out. I got used to both of those situations really quickly. Both were a kind of warfare.
Now, I’m just a regular Joe at a nine-to-five job. I have some shitty work days, a small apartment that feels too big for my thoughts, and truly shitty days of wondering why it feels like there’s something missing from my life. Something important.
Hell.
And sometimes I just want to feel like a fucking human being.
The door to my apartment shoves open with a turn of the knob. I yank the key out of the lock and hang the whole set of keys on the hook by the door. The wallet in my back pocket goes on the bookshelf. Footsteps that sound like a herd of elephants thump up the stairs toward me, but it’s probably the lady down the hall and her six-foot tall teenager who can’t walk to save his life. The kid is always running someplace, stomping up and down the stairs and through the hall.
“Dude, are you deaf or what?”
I jerk around at the sound of Nick’s voice. “What the hell?”
“I’ve been calling you, honking my horn, and blowing up your cell for about six blocks.”
“Seriously, dude? You were following me?”
“Yeah. What have you got on your mind that you don’t see a grown ass man chasing you through Fredericksburg?”
I had to chuckle, weak as it was. Even though I hadn’t seen his crazy ass, it was funny imagining Nick with his bright red hair and giant body in that Cadillac of his weaving through traffic to get my attention. I bet he had looked like a damn fire engine. I chuckled again.
“I’ve got my mind on money, my friend,” I say in response to his question.
But Nick knows that’s bullshit. I don’t give a damn about money, except for the fact that it pays for the decent life I have in this town. I don’t have any expensive habits, hobbies, or whores. Nick is the one who is about to get married and will need all of the dough for his honeymoon trip, a new house, and the kids he wants to start having right away.
“Tell me another one,” he huffs, coming up behind me and pushing his way into my apartment.
“What’s up, anyway?” I head straight for the kitchen.
Lunch time was far back in my rear view, and now that the bullshit from work wasn’t keeping me busy, I realize how hungry I am. But the fridge is a wasteland. A couple of bottles of beer, bread for sandwiches, and cheese that I don’t have much faith won’t give me the runs, it was so damn old.
“I’m trying to get you to come out with me for a drink.” I feel him come over my shoulder and stare into the fridge along with me. “And some food too, since you’re living on moldy bread and bad beer in this place.”
It’s a tough one. A diuretic sandwich or drinks and eats with my best friend and groom-to-be.
“Cool,” I tell him after a serious internal debate. “But you’re buying.”
I don’t really want to go anyplace. Truth be told, I can just open up a can of beans and have that for dinner. I’m not fussy. But it’s obvious Nick wants to talk.
Nick squeezes my shoulder and gives me one of his killer smiles. “Damn, who’d ever thought I’d have to chase a guy down to buy him dinner.”
Smiling hard, I slap him on the back. “You just like to hear yourself talk, don’t you?” Keys in hand and wallet back in my pants pocket, I head toward the door. “Come on. My belly doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
We take his car and end up at the same bar as last time. My gut turns over as we pull into the familiar parking lot.
“Come on!” I mutter, looking around the lot that’s getting fuller by the second. “This place again?”
But I’m not mad exactly. The last time I was here, I had left mad enough to chew nails. But as I was leaving, I’d nearly bumped into this girl. Curly brown hair, soft doe eyes, and a curvy shape in jeans and one of those fri
lly type shirts. She was gorgeous.
For some reason, she stuck in my mind, hard. In my truck on the way home, I just kept seeing her face and the kind of, I don’t know, shock in her eyes when she’d looked at me. She’d probably thought I was going to mow her over in my rush to get out of the bar. After I left the bar, after I climbed into bed, hell even after I woke up, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
We hadn’t said a single word to each other in the parking lot. I don’t even know what her voice sounds like, but there’s something odd about her that I can’t put my finger on. Something unforgettable.
It’s weird as hell. Obsessing about chicks is not something I do, ever. But something about this particular one stuck with me.
Just to check that she’s not around, I do a quick visual of the bar. Nope, she’s not here.
Across from me, Nick is still defending his choice to come here. “You know this bar is one of the few places that has the beer I like.”
Nick is acting like a damn princess. But I don’t really mind. Even if the girl from the other day isn’t here, at least the bar has decent food. Bar food, but still decent.
We grab a high table and pretty soon order everything we want from the perky waitress. I’ve only been here a couple of times, but the look she gives me—a little suspicious and wary—lets me know she remembers me.
Good. That means none of that annoying flirtation shit from her. She scurries off to the kitchen with our order.
“So, what’s up with you, Nick?” I ask him once the waitress drops off the beers, nachos, and chicken wings and we start to dig in. “You don’t have enough going on with your fiancée, you gotta come wrangle me too?”
“Screw you, man!” But he’s grinning at me like a giant, red-headed sap. He sinks his teeth into a chicken wing and tears off a chunk of the meat. Barbarian.
Nick is so completely gone over this chick he’s getting married to. He met her, Lacey, at some engineering conference thing they forced him to go to at work. The two of them had started arguing the second they met. It was love at first sight.
Nick called me that evening, telling me that he had met the girl of his dreams and that I’d better be ready to stand up as his best man. I’d thought he was crazy, but a year later, he’s still crazy for her, and she acts the same way. I’m really happy for him. But sometimes...an ugly emotion pops up to sock me right in the gut. It took me a long time to realize it was jealousy.
“But you know, I didn’t think this whole thing through,” he says around a mouthful of chicken.
“What are you talking about?”
“I want Lacey, man. To be mine forever and always”—God, the sap! “But I didn’t count on this crazy wedding prep. Her ma and sisters are acting like that—that thing they say on TV,” he waves his arms toward one of the TV’s in the bar that has a soccer game on.
“What, a bridezilla?”
“Exactly. I knew you’d know what I’m talking about.” With a mocking grin in my direction, he tosses aside a bone and grabs another wing. This fucker may not be as big as me, but he can eat me under the table in two minutes flat. “Her ma and sister are calling me every five minutes, asking about color choices and doilies or whatever the fuck.”
I shrug. “Just tell them that you trust them to handle it all.” I start on the nachos before the big guy can start vacuuming them into his giant pie hole.
“I do! But they still keep on calling. Just last night—”
It’s that girl. She’s walking in with a friend. The two of them are laughing like they’ve known each other for years. Just behind Nick’s head, I notice her glossy brown curls and pretty eyes. Instead of jeans, this time she’s wearing some kind of dress. It drapes really nicely over her thick shape. The high-heeled shoes on her feet are high enough to look like ankle-breakers, but she walks gracefully in them, delicate and floaty like she’s moving through water.
What the fuck? Why would I even think some shit like that? She’s a stranger and, worse yet, a woman I’ve never even talked to before. She could be any Jane in this bar. Why am I mooning over her?
I blink hard to try to get it together, but on second glance, the girl is even prettier. Red lips. Warm smile. A soft neck I could kiss for hours. Her shoulders look round and lush under that dress, and I clench my teeth together.
What would it feel like to bite into that soft shoulder? Does she like it rough? Would she giggle and squirm? Or give back as good as she got by sinking her sharp little fingernails into my back while I fucked her into the mattress?
Damn. Under the cover of the table, I adjust my bulging package and force myself to listen to what Nick’s talking about.
But it’s still wedding crap. How he wants to just kidnap Lacey and take her in front of a judge so they can start their lives together, drama free. But her family would probably track them both down and kill him slowly and painfully.
I grab my beer and gulp it down until it’s empty. It’s nice and cold and goes down really easy. The perfect drink with my nachos and chicken wings and my very best friend who’s about to marry the woman of his dreams. There’s nothing else I want right now. Right?
But my eyes slide back to the girl. And stay there.
She’s a gorgeous girl, so it’s no surprise that I can’t keep my eyes off of her. But damn, there’s something strange going on with her too. I just can’t figure it out.
Nick is telling me everything he’s nervous about with this wedding of his. Dealing with their parents. Worrying about being able to get it up on his honeymoon. Wanting to make Lacey so happy that it keeps him up at night worrying that he can’t be the man she needs. I’m hearing all of this, but my eyes won’t let the girl go.
She and her friend sit at the back of the bar, talking with their faces close together while drinking beers and doing shots of something clear. Probably rum. It doesn’t look like they’re having fun. Not really. The gorgeous girl looks sad and a little scared. Her friend keeps grabbing her arm, like she’s trying to stop the pretty one from doing something stupid.
But people will do whatever they want to in the end. That’s one of the lessons this bastard thing called life has taught me so far.
“You even listening to me, dude?”
I grab my nearly empty beer bottle and guzzle the rest. “Of course I’m listening. Lacey’s folks just bought her a ten-thousand-dollar wedding dress, and you’re about to lose your shit because what if she expects that kind of extravagant bullshit from you once you’re married. Yeah, I get it. I heard all that.”
My ears are always listening, even when I’m not always paying attention to what they’re picking up.
Nick makes a rude noise. “You forget that I know who I’m talking to. Not to mention that I can see you eying that girl over there.” Nick moves aside so the waitress can pick up our latest pair of empty bottles and replace them with full bottles of his precious IPA.
“What girl?” I ask, trying to go for innocent.
But although I’ve been a lot of things in my life, a good actor was never one of them. Nick laughed in my face, nearly spraying me with chicken juice. “Dude! You are—”
“Hi, there!”
A soft and throaty interruption cuts Nick off. We both turn our heads at the same time, and I nearly choke on my tongue. It’s the strange girl that I can’t take my eyes off of.
Up close, she’s even more smoking hot with hair as sleek and soft-looking as mink. Her lips are red and juicy, and her boobs are big enough to make my eyes go wide and my dick get instantly hard.
Holy fuck.
Under the table, I’m sprouting enough wood to make my third leg stretch all the way down to my knee in these loose jeans. My mouth is desert dry, and all I want to do is suck on her lips to see if they taste as sweet as they look. With shaking hands, I grab my beer bottle and bring it to my mouth to get some moisture back to my tongue. But damn, it’s empty.
Across the table from me, Nick sounds like he’s choking on some chicken
. His version of laughter.
“Hey, there,” he finally says to the girl, but she’s not even looking at him. Her big brown eyes are laser-focused on me.
“Hey, there,” I echo Nick’s greeting because this girl has me tongue-tied in ways I can’t even begin to explain. Sweat pops up all over my body, and I wipe my damp palms along my thighs.
“I’m Claire,” the woman continues as she sticks out a hand for me to shake. She’s breathing hard and is a little unsteady on her feet. Her other hand braces against our table like she’s trying to find an anchor of some kind. Her fingernails are a pale blue, and she’s not wearing any kind of ring.
So, she’s single then?
“I’m Brent,” I give her my name in response and reach out to shake the hand she offers.
The woman, Claire, licks her lips and swallows hard. Her pretty neck moves up and down in a motion that makes me think immediately of bedroom things. Dick sucking. Me fucking her hot little throat. Jesus, I need to get a grip.
Her cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and she seems nervous as hell as she hovers at our table. Her fingers bend and stretch against the table’s wooden surface, and the hand in mine feels freezing cold. She doesn’t pull away.
“Nice to meet you, Brent,” Claire says. Her sweet red lips close like a sexual promise around my name. “You wanna get out of here?”
My dick’s already made the choice for me, so hard under the table that it actually hurts. Grabbing it hard, I will the thick ten inches to calm the fuck down. At least for now. I shove aside my apparently empty bottle of beer and stand up, making sure my button-down shirt covers my rampant crotch. “Sure. Want to come to my place?”
Chapter 6
Claire
It hasn’t gotten any easier since I first saw Brent. If anything, it’s worse.
Now, I know for sure that he’s here in Virginia. He goes to the same bar my best friend is really into right now. He’s in America. He’s alive. And he doesn’t know who I am.
An earthquake of feeling—pure agony—rumbles through my chest, shaking me from head to toe.
