Disarm

by June Gray

  I would much rather have spent those forty-six hours in bed with you.

  So life at Bagram Air Base is not so bad. It was information overload the first few days, but now my team and I have the hang of it. I oversee the airmen who guard the base, while I myself go to a lot of meetings and briefings. The food in the chow hall isn’t half bad (it’s not half good either) but beer here is plentiful. The only problem is that it’s nonalcoholic beer. It’s pure torture but we drink it anyway. I will be such a lightweight by the time I come home.

  I’ve found that we have a lot of free time here. Most guys watch movies, read, hang out. One of my guys, Hanson, is learning how to play the guitar. I run a lot and go to the gym. I’m hoping to be ripped by the time I get back to you. I know how much you like to touch my muscles, one in particular. ;)

  I miss you. I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone this much. I think that look on your face as the bus drove away will forever be embedded in my brain. I hate that I’m putting you through all of this unnecessary worry and pain. I know that my telling you my feelings right before I left was selfish, but I just couldn’t leave without saying anything. I couldn’t bear it if I were stuck here day after day, while you were back there not knowing that someone loves you with all of their being.

  I love you, Elsie. I’ve been crazy about you for as long as I can remember. Every douchey thing I’ve done to you in the past, everything I did to keep you from other guys, that was just me trying to save you for myself. But something always held me back, whether it was Jason, or that scary look your dad gets, or maybe it was just the thought that if we’re together too soon, we would end up ruining what could be in the future. So I waited for the perfect time, and waited and waited. Obviously, I couldn’t wait anymore. I wouldn’t say a week before a deployment was the perfect time, but sometimes the truth has a way of coming out whether you want it to or not.

  Do you remember the first time I came back from college? You told me I’d gained the freshman fifteen and I told you you’d gained the junior-junk-in-the-trunk. The look on your face was hysterical, but you really got me back when you just wiggled that ass at me as you walked away. You thought I was mad at you because I rushed home. I was actually just trying to hide my hard-on!

  I’m laughing right now as I think about that. I think that’s why I was so drawn to you from the beginning—you were the goodness and light when my life was so full of darkness. And you really know how to tickle my funny bone (insert other bone joke here).

  You are the sweetest, kindest person I know, and even if we weren’t together, I’d still think that. I still can’t believe the past week before my deployment really happened. My biggest teen fantasy has been fulfilled.

  You have no idea how hard it’s been, watching you parade around our apartment in only a towel or when you wear shirts without a bra. You thought I didn’t notice, but trust me, guys have a sixth sense when it comes to breasts and the amount of fabric covering them. But I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, so I tried to ignore you and your innocent seductions, until you sexy-danced with me at the bar. That night I knew I couldn’t hide my feelings anymore, couldn’t pretend that you’re just my figurative little sister. Basically, I couldn’t keep my hands off you any longer. That was a dangerous game you played, but I guess, in the end it paid off.

  I’m in pain here. I’m in a constant state of arousal because you are always in the back of my mind, teasing me in that way that you do. I love being inside you, feeling you tighten around me. Somebody needs to bottle that feeling and sell it because it’s fucking fantastic and I’m not sharing you with anyone, so.

  These six months are going to be hell. I’m going to ravage you a hundred different ways when I get home. Count on that.

  I love you, Elsie. I can’t say it enough. I’m a very lucky guy to be coming home to you.

  Henry

  My tears landed on the lined paper as I folded it up, feeling like I’d had a glimpse of the past, to what Henry used to be. It made me physically ache to see the stark differences between the two men, to know that the man in this letter wasn’t the same one that came back.

  I hugged the paper to my chest, hope renewing me. Here was proof, a map to the man I had fallen in love with, and I would find a way back to him no matter what.

  * * *

  One Friday night, after a particularly trying week, we went to Tapwerks to belatedly celebrate his homecoming. I invited everyone I could think of, including Beth, Sam, and Dave. In the end, there were about nine of us, all standing around a table and talking over the loud music.

  I kept glancing up at Henry, too occupied with his enjoyment to really enjoy the atmosphere myself. But he seemed content, laughing and joking around with his buddies, so for a moment, I allowed myself to hope that maybe all he needed was a night out with friends to restore him back to himself.

  I could really be naïve sometimes.

  I’d almost forgotten the Dave incident, being too consumed by Henry, but Dave apparently hadn’t. He stood as far away from me as possible and refused to look at me, probably under the impression that if he didn’t acknowledge my presence, then that kiss never happened.

  When Henry went to the bathroom, Dave pulled me away from the table and asked if I was going to tell Henry what had happened.

  “It’s up to you,” I told him, filled with the happy buzz that came with good friends and good drinks. “Either way, I think he’ll be fine.”

  “But you’re his girlfriend,” he said with a frown.

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” I insisted, waving the issue away. “Really.”

  “What’s not a big deal?”

  We both turned to find Henry standing beside us, his eyes flicking back and forth between Dave and me.

  Dave shrugged. “Nothing, man. I was just asking Elsie if she wanted another drink,” he said and walked off toward the bar.

  I couldn’t bear to feel the weight of Henry’s stare, so I excused myself and headed to the bathroom, mentally kicking myself. I should have just told him right then instead of avoiding the question like a guilty idiot.

  I emerged from the ladies bathroom a few minutes later, resolved to tell Henry everything, when a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and pulled me into a dark alcove. Hands flattened over my mouth and I was pressed against the wall, my heart thumping right through my chest to the painted concrete. I struggled, tried to push away from the wall, but I was pinned into submission by a large body.

  I opened my mouth to scream when a voice whispered against my ear, “It’s me.”

  My body relaxed at the same time Henry loosened his hold. I twisted my head to look at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Interrogation,” he said with a chuckle. His hand slid from my stomach down into the waistband of my jeans. Before I could ask him what he meant, he rubbed his hand over my panties, making the fabric damp with my arousal. “Does this feel good?” he asked huskily.

  I melted onto his hand, enjoying the sensation but not getting nearly enough. “Yes, more.”

  He flipped me around to face him. I wrapped one leg around his waist just as he began to grind his hard length into me, the pleasure muted through too many layers of clothing. I tried to kiss him, to get more of him, but he dipped his head and kissed my neck the way I liked. “What were you and Dave talking about?” he said with his teeth on my earlobes.

  I closed my eyes, unable to think past the haze of desire he had me under. It seemed like such an innocuous question that the red flags didn’t go up immediately. “It’s nothing. Just what happened a few months ago.”

  Henry kept nuzzling me as he asked, “What happened a few months ago?”

  I moaned when his erection hit me in a particularly tender spot. “It was nothing.”

  Henry pulled away, his face completely still except for the storm in his eyes. “What happened?�
� he asked again, his jaw tightening.

  I grasped the back of his head and tried to pull him in for a kiss but he resisted.

  “Damn it, Elsie, tell me.”

  I sighed. “He kissed me.”

  “What?” Henry set my leg down and took a step back, looking at me as if I were a stranger. “Dave kissed you?”

  “He didn’t know we were dating,” I said quickly.

  “That peckerhead kissed you?”

  “Yes, but it was nothing. Just lack of information.”

  Henry turned on a heel and took off, leaving me suddenly cold and bewildered.

  I ran after him and rounded the corner just in time to see Henry pull Dave away from the bar by the collar and punch him in the face. I dove in between them, somehow still hoping to salvage the night.

  Sometimes optimism can be my biggest weakness.

  Henry pulled me behind him as Dave regained his footing.

  Dave touched the blood on his lips and wiped it with a shirtsleeve. “I take it Elsie told you.”

  “Yeah, she told me,” Henry said, huffing.

  Dave seemed relaxed under the circumstances. He just shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, man. It was a mistake.”

  “A mistake is asking you to watch over my girlfriend.”

  “You always said she was like your little sister,” Dave said, motioning to me. “I didn’t know.”

  “Well, now you know,” Henry said, his hands fisting at his sides. “You gonna fucking kiss her again?”

  Dave held his hands up. “Look, man, you got your dig in. I deserve it. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Come on, let it go,” I said, holding tightly on to Henry’s arm.

  He turned to me with a chilly look that froze me in place, then turned back to Dave. “Stay away from her, Novak,” he spat out before wrapping a possessive arm around my shoulders and leading me away. I twisted away and mouthed an “I’m sorry” to Dave and, with a heavy sigh, followed Henry out the door.

  4

  SHOCK AND AWE

  Throughout our teenage years, Henry was always there, like a shadow looming over everything I did. For the most part his presence wasn’t an intrusion, more like a comforting blanket. I knew I was safe with an older brother and his best friend always watching out for me.

  Sometimes, though, he could be such an overbearing jackass, even more than Jason. One night in particular, Henry crossed the line and caused a rift in our friendship that spanned two weeks. It was during the homecoming dance of my sophomore year, when I’d gone with a senior named John. Henry, Jason, and the rest of the football players were also in attendance with their own dates.

  John was the second-string quarterback and was good-looking. He wasn’t as popular as the other first-stringers, obviously, but he knew how to charm the pants off a girl, or so I’d heard.

  I was actually kind of nervous that night, worried that he thought I would put out after the dance. I wouldn’t say I was a prude, but well, I was still holding on to my V-card, still waiting for the perfect guy to come along and sweep me off my feet. John, as nice as he was, just wasn’t that guy.

  Still, try he did. We were on the dance floor, swaying to a song by the group 98 Degrees, my arms around his neck while his hands were on my waist and sliding slowly down.

  I gulped when they reached their intended destination. “John,” I said in warning, tugging his arms up higher.

  “You just feel so good, babe,” he said against my ear, and in that moment I could see why most girls went gaga over him. John had a way of making you feel like the sexiest girl in the world. “You have such a nice ass.”

  Well yes, I did have a nice rear. “But people can see.”

  He dipped his head and touched his lips to my jaw and my knees just about buckled. His kisses felt so good as they traveled down to my neck and his hands returned to my butt, and even though I didn’t really want to go all the way, I at least wanted to get partly there. So I let him grope me, right in the middle of the dance floor of our high school gym.

  My eyes were closed and I was enjoying the sensations of John, when all of a sudden he was ripped away from me. I opened my eyes to find John stumbling backward, Henry standing off to the side with a murderous look on his face.

  “What the hell, Logan?” John shouted when he regained his balance.

  Henry ignored him and turned to me, his entire face flushed, but before he could say anything, John grabbed him by the arm. Henry pushed him away and John pushed back, neither boy wanting to throw the first punch since two students had been expelled for fighting just the week before.

  A crowd gathered around us, and I swear, I must have blushed ten shades of red.

  “You were practically molesting her in front of the whole school,” Henry shouted.

  “It’s not molesting if she wanted it!” John yelled back.

  Jason pushed his way into the center and that was about the time I decided I’d had enough. I turned away and dove into the crush of people behind me, hoping enough egos were being flung around that nobody would notice I was gone. I made it as far as the hallway before Henry and Jason caught up with me.

  “What the hell was that about?” Jason asked. He touched my arm and looked me over. “Was he hurting you?”

  “No!” I cried. “We were just dancing when Henry came and ruined the night.”

  Henry shot me an incredulous look. “What? He was fucking manhandling you out there.”

  I stomped my foot. “He was not!”

  Henry’s nostrils flared and his jaw muscles worked as we stared each other down.

  “So let me get this straight,” Jason said, looking at the both of us. “You and John were dancing like horny toads, and Henry put a stop to it. Is that right?”

  Henry gave a curt nod.

  Jason snorted. “You two are ridiculous. Like children,” he said and walked off, shaking his head, leaving Henry and me alone to fight our own battle.

  Henry’s eyes were nearly black in the dim hallway as he glared at me. “You shouldn’t have let him do that.”

  I was fighting back tears when I said, “We were just dancing.”

  “Now the whole school will see that you’re easy.”

  My heart stopped and my mouth dropped open. I felt like I’d been slapped.

  I wanted to tell him that his words were hurtful and untrue but I couldn’t bring myself to speak, so I just turned and stomped off toward the exit.

  “Elsie. I didn’t mean it like that,” he called after me, but I was done. He was dead to me.

  “I hate you,” I said and flipped him off over my shoulder.

  * * *

  The ride home from Tapwerks was tense. Henry drove, and even though alcohol usually made me chatty, the night’s events had actually stunned me into silence. I found my words again as soon as we were behind the apartment door, and boy, did I intend to use them. “What the hell was that?” I demanded, rounding on him.

  Henry just gave me a weary look. “He shouldn’t have been kissing on you.”

  “That’s not what happened and you know it.”

  “Do I? How do I know you didn’t actually sleep together and you’re just downplaying it?”

  My hands itched to slap him on that jealous face of his but I held my fists at my sides. I’d seen enough violence for one night. “You’d better choose your next words carefully, Henry Mason Logan,” I said in the most even tone I could muster. “Because I don’t appreciate being called a lying whore.”

  “I didn’t call you—”

  I fixed him with a glare that could have fried a thousand eggs. I wanted to remind him of that homecoming dance, of his careless words that had almost ended our friendship, but the look on his face told me I didn’t have to.

  “That’s not what I was saying,” he said, looking absolutely wretched
.

  “Then what are you saying?” I asked, throwing my hands up in frustration. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours anymore.” Somewhere along the road, I had lost Henry’s frequency and hearing nothing but static was starting to drive me insane.

  He sat on the arm of the couch and shook his head. “Nothing. I’m not saying anything,” he said. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

  “You are not fine. The Henry I knew never came back from Afghanistan.”

  I shouldn’t have said it. I wanted to take the words back immediately, even before they registered in his brain and hurt spilled out all over his face. He rose to his full height, his face red and jaw clenched but he said nothing. He merely stood there and glared at me.

  Fear seeped into my muscles and forced me a step back. He was so angry, so alien to me in that moment that I felt like I was faced with a stranger. “Do you have PTSD?” I breathed.

  His head snapped up. “Hell no. Why would you even think that?”

  “Then what the fuck is going on?” I asked, completely losing it, no longer caring if the neighbors heard. Henry’s anger had infected me, had seeped into my brain and turned everything red. Maybe if I yelled hard enough, Henry would come to his senses. “Are you done with us? Do you want to break up, is that it?”

  “No!” He grabbed me by the shoulders, an anguished look on his face. “Why the hell would you even ask that?”

  “Then what the hell is your damage?”

  He released me and paced, all scowl and coiled muscle, a terrifying vision of a man at a loss. “I don’t know, okay? I just . . . I’m just so angry. I’m just fucking furious. I want to kill that motherfucker that killed my best friend,” he said, piercing the air repeatedly with a finger. “And I want to put back together that asshole who blew up the gate and killed Jones and mangled up Hanson’s leg just so I can tear him apart limb from limb with my bare hands. And I’m mad because you let Dave-fucking-Novak kiss you while I’m off defending the country. And I’m mad at my mom and dad for being such shitty parents that I had to grow up in someone else’s house. And I’m fucking pissed off with myself for punching a friend and potentially ruining my career.”