Disarm

by June Gray

  I stared at her as I absorbed her words.

  “Henry could have handled it better, but also had the added pressure of losing his best friend.” She touched my arm. “Of course the boy came unhinged. Did he act rashly? Yes. Was it understandable under the circumstances? Probably so. It took me a while to finally see that.”

  Her words squeezed at my insides. “Why didn’t you tell me before? It could have saved me so much heartache.”

  “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, sweetheart,” she said.

  “But you told me in the car in Monterey, on the way to the airport, that the story wasn’t over yet.”

  “It’s not,” she said, giving me a tender look. “I just didn’t want you to hold your breath while you waited for that next page to turn.”

  * * *

  Henry and I made our way back to Oklahoma at around six o’clock that night. Mom and Dad wanted to stay another day in Texas but I had to get back home to finish my last week of work and start the dreaded packing process.

  “About last night,” I said somewhere between Ardmore and Pauls Valley. “I really don’t mean to question everything you say.”

  “If you never believe anything else I ever say, just please trust that the way I feel about you never changed,” he said, his voice tender and deep. “Do you remember what I said on the tape, about the day you cut my hair in high school?”

  “That you were sure I was going to be your happily ever after,” I said, remembering how he’d said the same thing the night he’d broken up with me.

  “I’m still sure,” he said. “That one fact has been the only constant in my life.”

  My eyes were fixed firmly on the road, my knuckles white as I gripped the steering wheel.

  “Believe me,” he said. “Believe in me.”

  I nodded, choosing to lift the wall around my heart and let that little confession slip under. “I do.”

  He reached over and tenderly cradled my cheek in the palm of his hand. I leaned into his hand, relishing the strength and vulnerability of Henry.

  A little over an hour later, Henry and I arrived back at my apartment and said our good-byes at the parking lot.

  “So about this morning,” he said, gathering me into his arms. “Does this mean . . .”

  I looked up at him as I contemplated his question. “Maybe,” I said with a tiny smile.

  “Right now?”

  I bit my lip. “I’m not sure. When the time’s right, we’ll know.”

  “I can live with that.” He gripped my hair and crushed me closer, kissing me with the passion that had accumulated since this morning. His tongue swept into my mouth, his other hand grasping my ass and pressing me into his erection.

  I wanted to stay there forever, our mouths locked in an exchange of breath. My mom’s words echoed in my head, weakening the walls around my heart, shedding new light on Henry and his actions.

  We pulled away when someone walked by and cleared their throat. Henry was breathing heavily when he said, “I have to go take another cold shower.”

  I bit my lip, trying to catch my own breath. “Me too,” I mouthed.

  “How about now? Is now the right time?” he asked.

  I shook my head. As much as I wanted Henry, there was still a part of me that was holding back, that still hadn’t completely forgiven him.

  “Worth a try,” he said. He retrieved the car keys from his jacket and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work?”

  I nodded and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him down for one last, lingering kiss. “Good night, Henry,” I said against his lips.

  “Night, Els,” he said as he walked away with a smile on his face. “I love you.”

  It wasn’t until after he had driven away that I whispered, “I love you too.”

  * * *

  The week went by in a blur. Henry came over every night but we did more talking or horsing around than packing. Henry had a story for nearly everything, reminiscing about each object before packing it in the box. Those he hadn’t seen, he asked about. Needless to say, what would have taken a day lasted an entire week. I had a feeling that had been Henry’s plan all along.

  The relocation package from Shake Design allowed for a moving company, but I opted to keep the money for an apartment deposit instead and move everything to Colorado myself. Mostly it was just a thinly veiled excuse to have Henry come with me. He had agreed to drive the truck while I followed in my Prius, and I’d purchased a walkie-talkie so we could talk nonstop during the drive.

  On Thursday, I picked up the moving truck and invited friends over for a moving party. They brought beer, pizza, paper plates, and their muscles. Everyone helped load boxes and furniture into the truck and afterward, we all went back inside the empty apartment and said our good-byes. Beth and Sam were the last to leave, lingering long after the others left.

  “I’m going to miss you, girl,” Beth said, giving me a warm embrace. “Come back and visit, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Maybe we can get stationed in Colorado next,” she said and shot her fiancé a questioning look.

  “It’s possible,” Sam said, giving me a quick hug. “Peterson Air Force Base is on my dream sheet.”

  Beth turned to Henry. “You too, Henry. Good luck over there.”

  He frowned. “I’m just driving her up there, then coming right back. I’m not staying.”

  Beth smiled like a Cheshire cat, making me wonder if she knew something I didn’t. “Oh, my mistake,” she said.

  Whatever it was she knew, Henry was not in on it. We just shot each other confused looks as Beth and Sam left.

  I stayed at Henry’s house that night, slept in the same bed nestled in his arms. He didn’t try anything sexual, didn’t even want to talk before we fell asleep. He simply kissed me, told me he loved me, and fell right to sleep.

  * * *

  The next morning he was gone when I awoke. After I showered and dressed, I found him at the kitchen counter with breakfast already made. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, not meeting my eyes as he sipped his coffee. He turned his attention back to the newspaper, to whatever article he was so engrossed in.

  Swallowing down my disappointment, I sat with him and ate quietly, stealing glances at his face. He looked weary, with dark circles under his eyes, but he forced a tight smile when he caught me looking.

  “Did you sleep okay?” I asked, trying to get his attention.

  “Wonderful,” he said, keeping his eyes on the newspaper.

  I set down my coffee mug. “We don’t have to say good-bye yet, Henry. We still have the long drive together.”

  He finally looked up from that damned newspaper. “I’m not saying good-bye yet.”

  “Then why does it feel like you are?” I felt the pressure of tears behind my eyes and took deep breaths to keep from breaking apart.

  His blue eyes bore into mine. “My heart is breaking here, Elsie,” he said softly. “I’m doing everything I can to keep from begging you to stay.”

  I looked down at my plate, hiding the tears that were threatening to slip out.

  “Helping you pack and letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I mean it when I said I wanted you to fulfill your dream.” He motioned to himself. “This, what I’m doing, is just my way of internalizing everything so you won’t have more sadness to bear.”

  But the weight was already too much for my tired heart to carry on my own, so I got to my feet and stumbled to Henry. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his neck, letting loose the tears that I’d been suppressing the past week. “I love you, Henry.”

  His arms were like bands of steel as they came around me, holding me tight.

  “You won the challenge,” I said. “You won me over.”

  He grasped the
sides of my face and looked at me with red-ringed eyes and damp cheeks. “Thank you,” he said, kissing my lips over and over. “For trusting me again.”

  * * *

  I followed the moving truck out of my neighborhood and onto the interstate with my heart lodged firmly in my throat. I silently said my good-byes as we passed by landmarks, taking in the sights for the last time. I had experienced so much heartbreak while living here, yet Oklahoma was the place I had grown the most and become my own person. This place would always have a special place in my heart.

  On the way out of the state, somewhere along I-35, Henry’s voice suddenly crackled over the walkie-talkie. “There’s a rest stop coming up. Pull over,” he said in an urgent tone.

  “Why? Is something wrong with the truck?”

  “Quick, just pull over! It’s an emergency.”

  I followed him into the rest area with a pounding heart and parked my car beside the truck. My heart jumped in my throat when the truck door flew open and he jumped out, rushing toward me. I scrambled with the seat belt and got out, wondering what the hell fate was throwing our way now.

  “What’s wrong?” I cried a second before he grabbed the sides of my head and kissed me so thoroughly it literally took the breath from my lungs. He pressed me against the car, his hard body trapping me in place as the kiss went on and on.

  I didn’t know how long that kiss lasted before he finally pulled away. “Nothing” he said, biting his lower lip as he smiled. “I just needed to do that,” he added before striding back to the truck.

  That wasn’t an isolated kissing emergency.

  According to Google Maps, the drive up to Denver was supposed to take nine hours and thirty-five minutes but we stopped at nearly every rest stop to make out, adding an extra two hours to the trip. Still, it was well worth it. It reminded me of the beginning of our relationship, when we couldn’t get enough of each other even if our time together had an expiration date.

  We arrived at the Holiday Inn hotel in Denver at close to ten o’clock that night. We were so exhausted from the day that we just fell into bed, skipping dinner altogether. I meant to seduce him, to finally make love to him again like I’d been fantasizing the entire day, but the moment my head hit the pillow, I was out.

  I awoke the next morning to my cell phone ringing and buzzing on the nightstand. “Hello?” I croaked.

  “Miss Sherman?” said a male voice. “It’s Ian Lang, the manager at Heritage Creek Apartments. I believe we had an appointment at nine o’clock?”

  I sat up with a start, noting that the clock on the nightstand read nine fifteen. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I cried, rolling out of bed. “We overslept.”

  “No problem, Miss Sherman,” he said. “If you can make it here by ten, I can still fit you in.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I threw my phone into my purse and slipped into my jeans that had lain crumpled on the floor. I rummaged through my luggage and pulled out the first shirt I found, which was blue and had a faded Captain America shield on it, and pulled it over my head. I finished dressing before I realized that I was forgetting something, or rather, someone.

  I looked over my shoulder at Henry who was still softly snoring, and made the decision to leave him be. The poor guy needed the sleep, and besides, what apartment I ultimately chose was not his business. So I left, not bothering to leave a note.

  The apartment complex was in Glendale and was modern and bright. Even though it was slightly overpriced, the amenities included a pool, a hot tub, and a fitness center. What sold me though was its close proximity to work and the park across the street with a running path.

  So it was with a pounding heart that I signed on that dotted line, taking one step closer to my shiny new life.

  When I made it back to the hotel, Henry was already showered and dressed, drinking coffee and watching something on television. “Hey,” he said a little stiffly. “How did it go?”

  “It went. I signed.”

  He frowned at me. “I thought we were going together.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you,” I said. “Besides, you didn’t really need to be there. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  He nodded, his jaw muscles working, but he said nothing.

  It was bothering him, being left out of my decision process, but we both knew he had no say. This was my life we were talking about. “Are you angry that I didn’t bring you?”

  He gave a nonchalant shrug that was anything but. “I just thought I was going to look at it with you. So I could give you my take on the place, on the neighborhood, the state of the apartment.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of doing all of that myself. I have done it before.”

  His face was stony as he turned back to the television.

  I hugged myself, painfully aware of the chill that had descended upon the room. “I don’t know how to explain this without hurting your feelings, so I’ll just say it: You weren’t needed in the decision process.”

  He turned back to me, and instead of icy blue eyes, I was instead faced with a dismal look. “I know,” he said. “It kills me that you don’t need me in your life.”

  “We’ve lived years without each other. We can do it again.” And even as I said those words, I recognized them to be completely true.

  He shook his head vehemently, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. “Those years without you, that wasn’t living. I was barely surviving,” he said. “I just want to experience as much of your new life as I can before I have to go back to Oklahoma and go back to just surviving again.”

  I walked over to him and held out my hand. He took it and squeezed. “Well, let’s go then,” I said, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go see my new place. You can experience unpacking with me.”

  5

  RETURNING HOME

  Unloading my stuff was not nearly as tough as I’d feared, since my furniture was lightweight and I had chosen an apartment on the ground floor. Only the large bookcase and bedroom dresser gave us trouble, but with the help of a hand truck we were able to maneuver them inside the apartment with only a few scratches and dings. It was strenuous work but we worked well as a team, knowing instinctively when the other needed a hand. We placed the furniture in their permanent placed, set up the bed, and stacked boxes against the wall.

  “And the pièce de résistance,” I said, hammering the nail into the wall and hanging Henry’s painting above the mantel. “Is it crooked?”

  Henry cocked his head and smiled. “It’s perfect.”

  I climbed off the ladder and stood beside him, holding his hand as we admired his work. “Don’t stop painting. You have something wonderful here.”

  He gazed down at me. “I do have something wonderful right here,” he said, bringing my hand up to his chest and holding it against his heart. He yawned. “I’m beat. Let’s take a nap,” he said, leading me to the couch and pulling me down.

  I lay in front of him, burying my face in his neck, molding myself into the hollow spaces of his muscular frame. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and focused on the thudding of his heart, and soon the steady beat lulled me to sleep.

  I woke up a little while later with my legs and feet cold. I tried to wriggle out of Henry’s arms, but they tightened around me. “Stay,” he murmured into my hair.

  If only he knew how close I was to asking him the very same thing. “I need to take a shower,” I said instead.

  “Mmm, good idea,” he said, letting me go and stretching out, his hands and feet hanging over the arms of the couch. “I could use a good soaping down.”

  I chuckled as I stood up and found the box labeled bath stuff, grabbing everything we’d need for a shower. I was loose-limbed and relaxed from our nap until I entered the bathroom. Finding Henry in there, taking up more than his fair share of the space, gave me a sudden case of the butterflies. It had
been over a year since we’d had sex; what if it wasn’t as good? Or worse, what if it was mind-changingly fantastic?

  Able to read the hesitation on my face, Henry said, “We don’t have to do anything.” He took off his shirt, revealing his muscular torso. “I just thought we could shower together to conserve water.”

  I had to laugh to hide the fact that my fingers were shaking. I set the towels on the counter and made a big production of putting the toiletries in the bathtub. Henry was beginning to unzip his jeans when I cried out, “Oh, we don’t have the shower curtain up!”

  He grinned, reached behind the door and produced a rod with the rings and curtains already in place. “Taken care of,” he said, stretching the tension rod to fit above the tub.

  I watched him twisting the rod, the muscles in his back jumping with each movement, until I could no longer help myself. I leaned forward and touched my lips to the center of his back.

  He froze. I felt a shiver travel across his skin. He went back to the task at hand, twisting the rod with more urgency. I ran my nails down his back to get another reaction. “Oh, you are asking for it,” he growled through his teeth.

  My anxiety melted into playfulness; I pulled down his jeans and pinched his ass through his boxer briefs.

  “Why is this rod so hard to put in place?” he muttered.

  I reached around and ran my hand along the hard length of him. “Yes, the rod certainly is hard; as for putting it in place . . .”

  He moved faster and faster, then with a final cry of triumph, twisted around to face me. “Get over here, you brat,” he said, catching me around the waist. He bent his head and tickled my neck with his stubble, his fingers dancing along my sensitive sides relentlessly. I threw my head back and laughed, half-heartedly trying to wriggle out of his grasp.