Fractured Lines

by Jen McLaughlin

  What was wrong with me?

  “I’m not going to do that.” I gripped the gun tighter, refusing to let go. “I wouldn’t do something like that to you and Susan.”

  She nodded solemnly. “I know. But you drew your weapon without even knowing it. What if I made a sound behind you and scared you? What if you acted without thinking, and something happened?”

  I would never intentionally hurt her, but she had a point. What if I unintentionally hurt her? I didn’t think that would happen, but was I willing to gamble her life on it? Still, I hesitated. “I can just put it in my luggage so I can get to it if I need to.”

  She licked her lips, her eyes locked on mine. “I’d feel better if I knew it was gone, and if I knew where it was. For my own peace of mind, please?”

  “Don’t analyze me like one of your patients,” I said, my jaw tight. “I’m not them.”

  “I know, and I wouldn’t.” She held a hand over her heart. “I swear this is me, your wife, talking. Not the therapist. I wouldn’t bring that here. I don’t bring my work home with me, and you know it. Please, just give me the gun.”

  I hesitated. It was as if I was admitting I had a problem if I gave it to her. I didn’t, I was fine. I had to be fine. “Carrie…”

  “Please?”

  I closed my eyes and let go, trying to show her I was trusting her. That I wasn’t pushing her away, like I had before. She took the gun and walked away. By the time she came back, I’d pulled my shit together. I felt in control again.

  If such a thing existed in my life anymore.

  “Why did you pull your gun out?” she asked. “Is something wrong? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Remember when we first met?” I opened my eyes and looked at her. She watched me closely, not backing off. “Remember that night on the beach? You were escaping a party—”

  “And I found you.” She hugged herself. “Yeah. Of course I remember. It was the night that started the rest of my life.”

  Mine too. “Do you remember what I said to you?”

  “Every word.” She cocked her head inquisitively. I loved it when she did that. It was adorable. “Can you be a little more specific?”

  “I told you I was a Marine, and it was my job to protect people.” I shrugged. “That hasn’t changed. I might not be a Marine anymore, but I’ll never stop guarding you. Protecting you. Loving you. But I think you’ve stopped loving me.”

  Her bright blue eyes widened, and she shook her head. “You’re wrong. I could never stop. But you’re hurting, Finn. I can see it. This feeling that you’re in control and no one needs to help you?” She rested her hands on my chest, and my heart sped up. “It’s false. You need help. You need support. And you need love. I can be two of those things to you, but not three.”

  But I didn’t need another therapist in my life to get better. What I needed was her. If I had her again, I could get better. If I had her, then nothing would stand in my way. If I got back in her arms, she’d see I was better. She’d make me better.

  And I knew I would stop at nothing to get there again. Nothing at all. “I know.”

  “And you—” She broke off, blinking up at me in surprise. “Wait, what?”

  “I know I need help.” And she would give it to me. Her, and no one else. If I went to a therapist again, I’d be admitting I was weak. I’d been so strong for so long, and I refused to let a stupid fucking car accident break me down. “You’re right. I’ll get it.”

  I pulled her closer. She let me, because she believed my words. The tension between us was so thick I could slash it with a knife. I lowered my gaze to her luscious pink mouth. My entire body screamed at me to kiss her. To take away our worries and pain with a gesture so familiar to me that I could do it in my sleep.

  “I’m so happy to hear that,” she said. “I think you’ll feel so much better after you go back to Dr. Montgomery.”

  I didn’t correct her and tell her that I had no intention of seeing that doctor again. I’d said I needed to get help, and I would. But not like that. I lowered my face to hers. I knew what I needed to feel better, and it was right here. Tugging on a strand of her long red hair, I asked, “Can I come home?”

  “I never said you couldn’t,” she breathed, her grip tightening on me. “If you’re ready to get help, to keep me in the loop, then yes. You can come home.”

  “I will. I swear it.” I lowered my face even more. “I need you so damn bad. Let me kiss you. Let me make it better. I know how to make it all better.”

  I brushed my lips across hers gently, testing her reaction. She kissed me back. So soft I barely felt it, and yet I somehow felt it down to my soul.

  With a small groan, I closed my mouth over hers, crushing her against my chest and holding her so tightly I might have broken a rib. Man, I’d been waiting for this moment. For her to stop shutting me out. For her to want me as much as I needed her.

  And now it was happening.

  I slanted my mouth over hers, taking full control of the kiss. Backing her up against the wall, my tongue glided inside her mouth at the same time I slipped my leg in between hers. She gasped and opened her mouth wider, granting me full access.

  Without hesitation, I took it, and then I took some more.

  Like the greedy asshole I really was.

  Part of me knew I should stop kissing her until I was better, but the other part of me wanted her too damn badly to give a shit about anything else. When I closed my hands around her hips, my fingers digging into the soft sides of her ass, she broke off the kiss and took a shaky breath.

  I latched onto her neck, biting with just enough pressure to sting. It had been too long since I’d had her. Too long since I’d held her. Too long for everything. My injured leg protested against the weight I put on it, but I ignored the cry of protest it gave.

  Any pain I had to suffer was worth it, as long as Carrie was in my arms again, making those small sounds that drove me fucking insane.

  “I need you.” I hauled her leg up around my waist, pressing my cock against her hot pussy. “I need you naked, screaming, and crying out my name. Now.”

  She nodded. “I love you. I love you so much,” she whispered, kissing me again.

  And just like that, the guilt hit me. I’d promised to go to a therapist when I had no intention of following through with that promise. I was lying to her again.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  I pulled back, letting out a shattered breath. “Shit.”

  “What?” She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

  “We, uh, we need to slow down.” I rested my forehead on hers. “I don’t want to rush this.” Don’t want to hurt you again. I let go of her, even though it physically hurt to do so, letting out a ragged breath. “We said a lot tonight. Did a lot. Maybe it’s time to take a step back.”

  She nodded. “Of course. You’re right.”

  “See? I paid attention at all those sessions eight years ago.” I tugged on my hair, staring back at her. “I know when I need to pull back. When I need to stop. I don’t need to go back for her to tell me the same stuff. I’m fine.”

  “You might think that’s true,” she said, her eyes locked on mine. “And you’re saying all the right things, but now I can’t believe them.”

  “Because I lied to you,” I said lifelessly. It always came back to lies I’d told. All the fucking lies. “Again.”

  She nodded once, pressing a hand to her heart. “I understand you’re suffering, and I know it hurts, but you know how important honesty is to me, and yet you lied anyway. No matter your reasons, that hurts. It hurts a lot. And the fact that you refuse to admit you could benefit from help…that hurts, too.”

  “I’m sorry.” I tried to keep my voice as even as I could manage under the circumstances. Taking a step closer, I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. She let me. I rested my cheek on top of her head, sucking in a deep breath. Her red curls smelled delicious. They smelled l
ike home. “I want to get better. I do.”

  And I did. We just disagreed on what I needed to get better.

  She thought I needed a shrink. I thought I needed her. Why couldn’t we agree to disagree? As long as I got better, that was all that mattered. And I would. I was.

  Smoothing her hair back, I pressed my lips to her temple. Closing my eyes, I breathed her familiar scent in one more time. She still smelled like sunshine and happiness. Everything I’d ever wanted, and more.

  Memories of us laughing in the car, making love on the beach, riding my Harley, and surfing hit me harder than a bitch slap. I missed that. Missed the “us” we used to be so damn badly. The emptiness inside my soul was killing me. Even worse than when I’d been blown up by an IED on a mission overseas.

  Slowly, she lifted her face to mine and slid her hands up to my shoulders. “I think you can get better, and you will. I’ll be here for you, as your wife, for whatever you need. And as long as you’ve stopped with the pills and the drinking—if you were drinking?” I shook my head, and she continued. “As long as you can quit those things, and accept that you need to get help again, then you’ll get better. And I’ll always be here for you. You know that.”

  I rested my head on hers again. It was easier than looking at her right now. I felt like such a failure. So weak. “I miss you so much, Ginger. So fucking much.”

  “I miss you, too,” she said, letting go of me and stepping back.

  In that moment, I hated myself. For hurting her. For lying to her. For being me. She’d be better off if she hated me. It would be so much easier if she did.

  Even though I was trying to do the right thing by her, I wanted to go in that bedroom with her and make her want me again. If I made love to her, maybe she’d forget all about my troubles. Maybe she’d love me again and stop talking about how I needed help, if I had a chance at touching her. Maybe she’d forget about how much of a fuck-up I was and love me anyway.

  That was the most selfish thing I’d ever thought…

  But it didn’t stop me from thinking it.

  She walked toward the bedroom. “I’ll take the couch tomorrow night.”

  “No, you won’t.” I fisted my hands at my sides, fighting the urge to follow her into that room with everything I had. “I’ll take the couch every night, and you’ll sleep in the bed. End of story.”

  “Finn—”

  I clenched my teeth, rubbing my aching thigh. “Go to bed before I change my mind about letting you go to bed alone. I’m trying to do the right thing for once in my fucking life. Let me.”

  She didn’t say anything. Just shut the door behind her.

  And I was alone. Again.

  Carrie

  Early the next morning, I fluffed my hair and stared at myself in the mirror, critically measuring up my appearance. I had huge bags under my eyes from crying myself to sleep last night, and every other night before that. Ever since Finn had left, that had been my routine. Crying until I finally passed out from exhaustion.

  Sleeping with his pillow. His shirt.

  Anything that smelled like him, or used to smell like him.

  Every time he touched me, it got harder to remember why he’d left. It got harder to remember the pain he’d caused by his lies, and instead I remembered the pain I felt because he was gone. But he’d admitted he needed help last night. That had to count for something, and I knew it. It was a step in the right direction.

  One we’d needed very badly.

  I smoothed the soft cashmere teal sweater I’d chosen to wear over my stomach, took a deep breath, tucked my hair behind my ear, and picked up my phone.

  After taking a calming breath, I dialed my dad. It rang three times.

  “Hello?” Dad asked. “Carrie?”

  “Yeah. It’s me.” I gripped the phone. “How’s Susan?”

  “She’s great. Right now, she’s playing with Mom. She bought her a little pretend tea set, but Susan is more interested in stacking them up than she is in making tea.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, she’s a little too young for that kind of play.”

  “I know.” He laughed. “But you know how your mother is.”

  “I do.” I hesitated. “But Susan’s okay?”

  “Of course.” He fell silent. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” I paced across the bedroom. “This place is beautiful, Dad.”

  “Finn treating you like a princess?”

  I looked at the empty bed. Half of it was perfectly smooth, and the other half was a mess. I’d been tempted to sneak out last night to steal his shirt or something, but I hadn’t dared. I’d missed his scent last night. Missed him. Having him right on the opposite side of the door had only made that aching hollowness inside of me even louder.

  Swallowing hard, I tried not to get all emotional on my father. That wouldn’t help matters. “He always does.”

  “That’s why we all love him so much,” Dad said. “Now go have a romantic morning with your husband. Don’t worry about us. I love you, Princess.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. “I love you, too, Dad.”

  Straightening my spine, I walked to the bedroom door and opened it. Three steps into the living room, I froze. Finn had his shirt off, and he was tending the fire. His hard muscles flexed and rolled as he poked the wood, and his ink swirled over the sinews. The veins in his arms stuck out, and he didn’t see me, so I looked my fill while I could.

  Before he saw me looking, and realized just how easily he could get me to forget everything he’d done with a simple kiss, I glanced away. But I’d never get sick of looking at him. Of studying every single hard edge of his body.

  His light brown hair was messy, as if he’d just woken up, and his dark blue jeans were loose around his hips. He hadn’t buttoned them up, so the “just woke up” appearance must have been legit. I swallowed hard, watching him with a hunger I couldn’t deny.

  After he finished tending the fire, he set the poker next to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle on one hand. His shoulder muscles bunched and hardened as he rubbed his injured leg. He winced and stopped, pressing his hand against his thigh.

  And just like that, lust became concern.

  My heart clenched tight. Instead of admiring his lean body, I saw the bags under his eyes. Saw the exhaustion and loneliness echoing in those blue eyes of his. I saw how far he’d fallen, and I knew I needed to pull him back into the light. It was on me this time. I couldn’t fail him again.

  Not like last time.

  This time, he wouldn’t have to leave me to get better. I could be his rock. I could be his person. I would help him, support him, and love him while he sought treatment. And he’d get better. He had to get better.

  He hissed and rubbed his leg, paling as he did so. He was in pain, and he couldn’t take anything for it. I couldn’t imagine how that must feel. He was stuck in this endless cycle of pain from his injury and unable to do anything for it.

  “Does it still hurt?” I asked.

  He jumped, and turned to face me. As he swiped his forearm across his sweaty forehead, he nodded once. “Like hell.”

  “Want a Tylenol? I have some in my purse.”

  He flexed his jaw. “No.”

  “But I can—”

  “I don’t want any pills. You’ve got enough to hold against me. I don’t need anything else,” he gritted. “So, no, Carrie. I don’t want a fucking pill.”

  I bit my tongue. I hated that he thought I was so unreasonable that he couldn’t take a Tylenol, but I didn’t dare push it. He pushed off the fireplace mantle and sank onto the couch, still bare-chested. My eyes fell on the tattoo he’d gotten for us, way back when we’d been dating.

  It said: “The sun is finally shining.” Our code words for “I love you,” back when we couldn’t say it in front of my father. Our whole relationship had started with lies and secrets. It shouldn’t be a surprise that we were here again, but it was. It really was.

  I stared at him, not sure what to s
ay. My husband was pure muscle, hotness, and sex. Everything about him screamed pleasure—from his hard shoulders, to his chiseled abs, to his narrow waist that tapered down to that V that made smart girls dumb.

  That little V had worked on me all those years ago. It still did. And that wasn’t even including those bright blue eyes of his, and all that hot ink…

  “Ginger?” he said, his voice seductive and sweet.

  I quickly looked back into his eyes. “Yeah?”

  “If you don’t stop stripping the rest of my clothes off with your eyes, I won’t be responsible for my actions. I’m going to have to fuck you so hard, you’ll sit uncomfortably for the rest of the day.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Remember that time in Mexico, when we made love on the balcony, overlooking the ocean and the stars? This could blow that time away. Think about that.”

  I swallowed a moan, remembering that night all too clearly. He’d taken me from behind and made me come numerous times. I’d limped for two days afterward. It had been wonderful. But then I forced myself to remember something else: The way he’d pulled back from me yesterday. He hadn’t felt ready then, so he probably wasn’t ready now.

  Averting my eyes for a second, I muttered, “I’ll stop.”

  “Pity.” He glanced down at my mouth before moving back up to my eyes. “It would’ve been fun reminding you why we should be naked and in that bed where you slept all alone last night. Think I could make you come before I had you naked?”

  Heck yeah, I did. “Finn…”

  He stood up and came over to me, his hand skimming down my lower back and over the side of my butt. “I bet I could take these off and have you screaming out in pleasure within thirty seconds. Want to test me out? Take me for a test drive? See if I’ve lost my touch?”

  “We shouldn’t. Yesterday…” I broke off. “You weren’t ready.”

  “Yeah, well, today is another day.” He backed off, sitting down again. He sighed and glanced up at me sheepishly. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”