by Selena Kitt
It hurt to keep herself aloof from him. It hurt when a request for his opinion, his advice, would bubble up to her lips; she shut her mouth and turned away to keep it from spilling out. Her questions to herself became increasingly more savage. Are you a wolf mama? Are you a soldier's wife? What kind of stupid bitch can't keep it together? He's been wounded, not killed. You have no reason to be so pathetic. She spent hours poring over the budget, attempting to figure out how they would manage with his disability payments. She assumed he wouldn't be able to provide for the family any more than that little bit, and stress burned her nerves. Irene began to have constant headaches—she was terribly overwhelmed.
Still. She couldn't ask him to lead. Couldn't ask him for more—what had he gone through? How did he manage? It had to have been horrific. I don't dare ask him. I've never asked him what happens when he's deployed; he doesn't want to talk to me about it. And even when I want to know I know better than to ask. This… had to have been so much worse. I can't do that to him, can't ask about it, can't know. She drowned slowly in her longing for his leadership until even his past dominance felt like a lost dream. She hated that she needed what he couldn't provide, and did her level best to pull back from him, to be even more fiercely independent. He can't be my alpha anymore, but I love him, so I will do my best to lead the family in his stead. I said forever, and I meant it. I will never leave him, not so long as I adore him from the marrow of my bones to the nerves in my skin.
* * *
Irene ran her fingers over the roses in the box. They were all different woods—different sizes, different shapes. Some she'd put on ribbons to wear around her neck. Some she'd glued onto pins. Some were crude, but others were delicate and beautiful. He'll never be able to carve like this again, will he?
* * *
Tony put his hand on her forehead one Saturday morning as she nursed a coffee. "Irene, you're going to work yourself into an early grave."
She pushed it away impatiently. "So? I don't have to live that long. I just have to live long enough to get the boys through college. Then they'll be okay."
Her mother was shocked. "Oh, honey."
Irene turned away, tears burning her eyes. "It's true. They won't need me after that. So it doesn't matter if I'm stressed out right now. I just need to get through the…" she calculated briefly, "next ten years. Maybe sixteen, if they want to be doctors or something."
She didn't realize Drew was standing in the doorway. His voice was low and dangerous. "What did you just say?"
Heat flashed over her skin, flushing her cheeks. "Nothing. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry to bother you."
He glanced at her parents. "Can you watch the boys today?"
Marianna nodded, relieved. "Of course."
Irene shook her head. "I don't have time for this. I have to stop by the Exchange for groceries. And I have to get packing. We're going to have to move in less than a week, in case you'd forgotten."
He shook his head. "I haven't forgotten. I'll help with the packing. And the groceries."
She stood up, yanking on her shoes. "No, don't bother. I don't want you to do anything too difficult for you."
He ignored her and sat down to pull on his loafers. They weren't boots, they weren't sneakers. She bit back her bile at the way he fumbled with the slip on shoes, the way his fingers hesitated over the buttons on his shirt to make sure they were all done. He'd shaved that morning, she could see—and it didn't seem to be going any better than it had when he'd first come home earlier that month, judging by the bits of toilet paper stuck to his chin.
She got in the car but he opened the passenger door, sat down heavily. She sighed. "I don't need the help. I'm fine."
"I think we need to talk."
She slapped the steering wheel. "No, we don't. You're wounded, you have a lot to deal with. I don't have the luxury to be paid to sit around on my ass. I have to figure everything out. I have to take the helm of this family, figure out what in hell we're going to do."
"No, you don't. I'm still head of this family. Talk to me. We'll decide what to do."
She threw the car into reverse, hit the gas and wrenched the steering wheel around, backing out of the driveway at a reckless speed.
"Slow down." His voice retained that commanding edge she heard him use for his men, the edge she loved to hear directed at her. Not anymore. He can't command me, not like this. She ignored him.
"Irene. Slow the car down."
All her frustration bubbled up and she spat the words at him. "Fuck you."
He was quiet the rest of the trip. It wasn't long—she parked with the same jarring braking she'd been using the entire drive and then slammed her door. She practically stomped into the Exchange. He followed, a little slower, a lot calmer. She had a cart before he caught up with her, and then he put his hand on it. His left hand. She stared at it. He wasn't wearing the prosthetic. She hadn't given him time to get it before tearing out of the house.
"Get your hand off the cart."
"Irene, listen to me. I know this is hard. I know this is a lot to ask of you. But I need you to work with me. We're a team, Irene. You've been avoiding me, and it's time that stopped. Talk to me. We'll get through this."
She shook her head, her tears blurring her vision. "No. I will get through this. You have no idea. You've got too much to deal with. I will take care of everything. I'm sorry I haven't done very well so far. I'm stressed, and I'm grateful you were the leader for as long as you were. I wouldn't be able to do it as long as you did. But I'll figure it out. I'll take care of us."
His voice was measured, careful. "Are you disobeying a direct order?"
She nodded. "Yes." Her heart thumped painfully. When have I ever disobeyed him? In our whole life together? Deliberately? Even when it hurt as badly as not seeing him for months, not helping him recover did, she still obeyed him. But I can't. Not anymore. Not when it would put a burden on him to do so.
"You don't need me?"
Her heart broke. Of course I need you. I need you more than air, than life. But I will not ask you to give me yours. "No. Of course not. I'm fine. I'll take care of the boys. I'll take care of everything."
"You don't want me to be the leader? You won't obey me?"
Why is he making me cry like this here? Why is he tearing my heart out in public like this? She shook her head, hating that it hurt to do so. "No."
"Very well." He stuck his ring finger in his mouth, started working off the wedding ring.
She stared at him, absolutely horrified. "What… what are you doing, Drew?" I'm doing what I can to step up so we can stay together.
He ignored her until the ring was off, and he spat it into his palm, held it out to her. "Here."
Her voice was hoarse. "What… Drew. What—"
"If you have no need for me, no use for me, I won't hold you back. Find someone else. I love you, but I will not tolerate half measures. You're in this, or you're not. I will not be another burden on you."
Her knees gave out. "No. No, Drew, no! No! NO! What are you saying?"
"You have two choices. You will obey me; you will follow me. Or you will not."
Her heart broke into little pieces. He's neglected me before, neglected his leadership duties before. Now… has he neglected them, or have I fucked up by not leaning on him the way he wants me to?
He stood there, the forgotten cart blocking the aisle. She was on her knees, horror suffusing her bones. Her head fell back as she stared up at him. "Drew, please."
"You either trust me, or you don't. I haven't pushed on you. I have let you have space to come to terms with my injury. It took me time to relearn how to function. I took that time, away from you, so I wouldn't be a burden on you. But if you can't see past it, if my missing arm bothers you so much you can barely look at me, if you can't trust me to do what's best for our family, it is better that we break it off now."
His voice sounded so calm, so collected. But underneath it she felt the tremor, the anguish of what it was
costing him to set her free. But I don't want to be free. I want to lean on him. I want to obey him. I want to love him. I'm just so very afraid. I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to be a burden to him, either. I could never want to add to his pain. I could never put the weights of this family on his shoulders when one is no longer as strong.
"Drew, please. Please. Put the ring back on. I… we'll talk."
"No. I asked to talk. I told you to slow down, in the car. Every time you have defied me. This last week, you refused to talk to me several times, refused to consider my opinions. Every time I've tried to touch you you've moved away. I will not tolerate it."
"Drew, please put it back on."
"I will not live my life with a woman who does not respect me."
"Drew, I do. Please. Please. Put it on."
"Do you?" He ignored the stares, the snickers of the others in the Exchange. "Disobedience doesn't equal respect, Irene."
"I don't… I wasn't meaning it that way. I was trying to be helpful! Trying to take the pressure off of you!"
"Irene, I just lost the command of 250 men. I went from the leader of Marines to a man whose own wife didn't care enough for his opinion on what house to move to that she didn't even ask him to come house hunting with her."
Irene's mouth dropped open. "Oh, gods. I… I wasn't trying to disrespect you. I just…" She hung her head, ashamed. "I thought it would be easier. If you didn't have to go out. If you didn't have to deal with all the viewings."
"Did you ask me what I needed?"
Her stomach filled up with dread. "No."
"Or did you take it into your head to erode what little control I still have over my own life?"
Oh gods. I did that. I made it worse. I hurt him. "I didn't mean to. I didn't know. I'm so, so sorry."
"Sorry?" he pulled her hand towards him, placed the ring in it. "No. You don't see me as your alpha anymore, and I won't fight you."
"No! That's not it." Gods, I hate sobbing so hard my snot drips down my lip. "No!"
He stood still, his face hard and cold. "It's easy to obey when things are going well. It's when things go to hell that you find out how much of a leader you are. Apparently I'm not enough of one for you."
Her chest hurt more than she could bear. I should be dead from pain right now. "No. Please. I'm begging you. Please. Stay. I was wrong." She held the ring back out to him, her hands trembling. There were people watching, other soldiers, other wives… what a scene she was making. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except proving that I will follow him, I will obey. "Please." She held it higher, shuffling forward on her knees. "Please, Drew."
He stood there, making her beg, letting her despair eat her heart out. When she was afraid she would collapse in agony, he stretched his hand out towards her again. "Tell me."
"I swear I will obey you. Please. Give me another chance." She fit the ring over his finger, worked it over his knuckle with shaking hands.
"I will give you another chance, because I believe you didn't intend to be disrespectful. But it's not up to you. I won't tolerate disobedience again. I love you." He cupped her face, his thumb smearing the tears on her cheek. "I love you, but you don't get another chance after this."
"I understand." Her heart hurt.
"Stand up."
She did, swaying. He pulled her close, wrapping his single arm around her waist. She cried on his left shoulder.
Another woman came down the aisle. "Do you need this?" He shook his head and she rolled the empty cart away.
For a long time they stood there together. A few soldiers greeted him as they passed. He nodded at them, acknowledging but not engaging. Instead, his focus stayed on Irene.
When her tears had slowed, she was exhausted. It was too much to take in. I almost lost him. I almost lost everything. How could I have shut him out like that?
They wandered around, picking up the necessary groceries. He took the lead, but deferred to her preferences, her commentary on what the twins would like, what her parents needed.
They paid, and he helped her load the car. The drive home was silent, and she realized she'd disobeyed him more than ever before—had been doing so, all month. I thought I was helping.
They talked. She learned to ask him for his opinion, opened up about her fears for their budget, for their move.
"Make an appointment. I want to see the top five houses you're considering."
"Yes, Drew." She obeyed. She sat beside him dutifully at the dinner table and asked him about the parts of his day he could talk about, told him about hers.
Marianna seemed relieved. "I'm so glad you two are talking again. It sounds like you had the discussion you needed." She beamed at her daughter and son-in-law. Tony didn't look convinced, but Irene smiled at him anyway. I've been trying to involve Drew, like he wanted. And he has had good ideas. It's been a relief.
Drew spoke up. "Yes, we did. And Tony, I need to talk to you about the motorcycle repairs. I know your shop is in Tennessee, but there's a market here in Jacksonville. I would like to learn as much as I can from you."
Tony looked surprised. "How's that?"
"I'm getting a new prosthetic soon. I opted for one of the pincher types—I'll be able to hold tools just fine. In fact, I'll have an advantage in that the pincers are smaller and not as heat sensitive as fingers are. I'd like to start working with you as soon as I have them, so I can practice with what I'll be using."
The boys looked up from the plates they were busy shoveling food into their mouths from. "More motorcycles? Sweet!"
Marianna ruffled their hair. "Aw, man, dad! You'll be like Cable, from X-Men!"
Drew leaned back, pleased. "Yup."
Tony nodded, tugging on his beard. "I kin teach you. But you better be prepared to work yer ass off." He leaned forward, glaring. "It's my business, so if I don' think you're cuttin' it, I reserve the right to tell you to git lost. Got it, son?"
Drew nodded, all seriousness. "Absolutely, sir."
Chapter Eleven: 33
Much as she loved him, discontent continued to ferment under Irene's skin. Their lovemaking was gentle, sweet. It grated on her nerves that the man who used to pin her down, who used to fuck her against a wall or spank her raw, couldn't do those things anymore.
It doesn't matter. He's not whole. His mind is as sharp as ever, and I need that. I need his ideas, his leadership, his support and encouragement. But I miss fucking him so damned much. I adore the fact that he is still my alpha, still the head of our little pack… but I need it to be tangible. I need to feel it. I can't pretend that he can overpower me. I can't be so careful with his body. I want it like it used to be.
They had a new house, off base. It was small, but it had enough rooms for Marianna and Tony to have their own room while they stayed and, more importantly, a big garage. She wandered outside one day, full of bitterness. Tony was outside, adjusting the chain tension on a young soldier's bike. She nodded to him, and he nodded back, nervous. She didn't realize why until she realized that Drew had been his CO at one point—and now he was in the garage with Tony, finishing up another repair.
She watched him for a moment, admiring the pull of his muscles under his skin as he lifted the tires he'd just changed. He'd retained the musculature of his chest through diligent physical training, even as the muscles on his upper right arm shrunk. Though it was still technically winter, both her men had their shirts off, their bodies gleaming with sweat from hard work. His utilitarian prosthetic glinted in the late afternoon sun—it was not pretty on a good day, and right now it was even worse, smeared with grease. He looked up when he saw her, and as always, his mouth curved into a pleased smile. She smiled back—how can I not? He's so gorgeous. "Irene, I need your machining expertise. Can you help me mill the heads for this bike this weekend?"
She nodded. "Sure." There was a machine shop, not far away, that let her use their tools in return for her filling in on weekends when they were short staffed.
"Thanks, apple cheeks.
"
She bit the inside of her cheek and turned on her heel, walking briskly back to the house before the tears of longing escaped from her eyes.
* * *
Tension mounted. They finished the heads that Saturday and came home together. She rode in the front of the Harley, now, and it was Drew who wrapped an arm around her waist. She loved riding, loved driving the bike for the two of them… but it made her miss riding behind him even more.
They walked in; she found a note from her mother. "Took the boys to the beach. We'll stay with Beth tonight. Thought you two could use some space."
She crumpled up the note. What's the point of space? I'll never cum like I used to on anniversaries. There's no point in having the boys out of the house so Drew can spank me… cause he never will.
Drew looked up from cleaning his hook arm. "What was that?"
She shrugged. "My parents took the boys to the beach and then they're going to spend the night with Beth. Apparently we need 'space'." She made air quotes at the last word.
He grinned. "Sounds like a good time to make sexy plans. Why don't we get showers first?"
She shrugged. "Whatever."
"Irene. Shower. Now."
Some sort of bitterness poisoned her tongue. "Fuck you."
He set the arm down carefully. "What did you say?"
She stomped away, not wanting to get into an argument that would go nowhere. He can't do anything about it.
Irene got in the shower and scrubbed off. She wanted to stay under the hot spray for longer, but he got in with her, so she stepped out to towel off. His voice was thick and seductive. "Come on back in, apple cheeks. Remember when we used to fuck in the shower, because that was the only privacy we had from the boys?"
She left the bathroom and slammed the door.
Drew found her in the bedroom putting on a faded cotton print nightgown. His voice was a growl. "Hey, sexy woman. What are you doing getting clothes on?"
"I'm going to bed early."
