Chuckling, he responds with mirth, “Oh, nothing, just discharge papers for you.”
Narrowing my eyes, I shoot him a mock glare as I cross my arms over my chest. Both Alex and my father laugh loudly at my playful attempt to lighten the mood.
“That doesn’t look like discharge papers,” I say, jutting my chin toward the bag.
“Oh, you mean this?” He holds up the bag.
Nodding my head, I say dryly, “You know that’s what I mean.”
“Ahhh. Always the spoiled princess.” He smirks, striding closer.
Scooting over, I push up close to Alex, bumping my butt into his groin, making room for my dad to sit. Alex groans in my ear, whispering, “Be nice.” Chuckling, I wiggle my bottom a little more until his firm hands grasp my hips, holding me still. With a small amount of room cleared, I pat the bed, motioning for him to have a seat.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looks at me with love and affection, a genuine smile gracing his weary face. “You got me. I did bring something for you.” He passes the bag to me as I scoot into a sitting position.
Opening the bag, my eyes grow misty as I pull out the contents. A demure, 1940’s style, knee-length black dress caresses my fingertips. The artfully designed dress is breathtaking with its carefully pleated bust and faux buttons. The flawlessly classic design of the dress is incredibly chic and made to hug the curves of my slender frame. Clearing my throat, I continue uncovering the contents. My fingers deftly retrieve a pair of black, patent leather, peep-toe Mary Janes.
Peering up from the bag, I meet his saddened blue eyes. My heart lurches in my chest. Everything inside me screams to take that look away, to replace it with happiness.
He nods toward the bag. “There’s more, Princess.”
Without removing him from my sight, I reach into the bag and brush against something soft and fuzzy. Gasping, a small sob escapes past the tight confines of my lips. I don’t even have to look to know what he’s done, who he’s brought to me. Slowly pulling my hand out of the bag, an old, worn bear comes into view. The fuzzy brown bear still wears his military uniform with a name patch, just like any soldier, that says Tango Bravo.
His dog tags hang loosely around his neck, his little hat sitting atop his head. It’s a wonder his BDUs aren’t tattered after all these years. A jolt runs through me as I stare at Tango Bravo, the bear he gifted me to help me remain strong all those years ago. The deep love and affection I have for my father knows no bounds. A fact clear with the message he’s sending me today . . . he’s bringing Tango Bravo to me again. He’s a symbol of our relationship—the strength and courage we’ve been required to carry just to endure.
Tears fall wildly down my face as I lunge into my father’s arms. Without hesitation, he pulls me in, engulfing me with his warmth.
His husky voice is riddled with emotion as he says, “I just thought you could use an old friend.” Pulling back, I blink away the tears and kiss his cheek.
“I will always need you, Daddy. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”
He hugs me closer as he whispers, “I’m so sorry, Princess.” I nearly groan. Not him too. Noah was right; they aren’t as strong as they appear.
“Stop.” My voice holds an edge of steel. Shock registers in my father’s blue irises as he looks at me warily.
“Do not apologize. It’s not your fault. It’s hers and hers alone. No one could have prevented it. And if you say you never should have met her, then I will smack you because that means I wouldn’t exist. Now, I do not want to hear another word about it. Am I clear?” I give him a look I reserve for my rowdy ten-year-olds.
Stifling a laugh, he replies, “Yeah, we’re clear, Princess.” Squeezing me tightly once more, he places a kiss on my head before releasing me.
Standing, he points to the clothes on the bed and demands in his fatherly tone, “Now get ready. We have somewhere to be.”
With a mock salute, I slide off the bed, my muscles no longer as sore or tense from the trauma.
Stepping into the bathroom, I avoid the mirror, no longer willing to look at the scars that make up the expanse of my body. Thoughts creep into my mind one at a time as I get ready for one of the most emotional days of my life. But above all, I have to ask myself: Do I have what it takes to hold them all together?
DEATH. AN INTEGRAL PART OF life we cannot avoid, no matter how hard we try. It eventually comes for us all in some shape or form. The question is, when? Kylee’s slender fingers wrap around my large, calloused hand. She squeezes gently, grounding me, reminding me she’s here.
I can’t stomach the thought of looking at her right now. I don’t want her to see the pain swirling around inside of me. Unable to ignore her completely, I gently squeeze her hand in return while I stare at the city passing us by. I’ve always loved Korea, the bustling city, the amazing culture. But now . . . now when I look upon the city, all I see is the pain and suffering, the blood spilled and the loss we’ve all endured. Thoughts swirl around my mind, questions playing on a continuous loop.
What happens at the end? When we pass from one life to the next? Do we really get to see the loved ones we lost along the way or the friends we’ve had to part with? The questions roll around, breaking my heart a little more each time. My hand trembles as I think of all that I’ve lost, of everything that’s been ripped from me, a child that I will never have the opportunity to hold, to watch that child grow into something so beautiful . . .
It hurts to breathe.
I can almost picture it: a child with skin like hers, eyes like mine, hair the color of freshly ground cinnamon. An arrow of pain shoots through my heart. Closing my eyes, I will away the thoughts of what will never be, trying everything I can to ground myself and grab onto what I have here and now. It’s an impossible task . . . My grief threatens to swallow me whole.
As if she is able to read my internal struggle, Kylee’s soft fingers graze the line of my jaw. Expelling a breath, I open my eyes, my gaze landing on her beautiful face. How am I going to get through this? Understanding passes across her vision. Quietly, she whispers so only I can hear, “Together, we get through it together. One day at a time.”
My stomach quickens, the love I have for her expanding as I relish her strength and wisdom. Bending forward slightly, I place a chaste kiss on her head.
“What would I do without you?”
“Be a miserable man whore hell-bent on destroying yourself with women and booze?”
Choking out a laugh, I peer down at her deceivingly innocent face. “Is that right?”
“Mmm. Most likely,” she replies.
“Thank you,” I say honestly.
“What for?”
“Grounding me. Showing me that I’m not alone.”
“You will never be alone, Alex. I will always be here. Plus, you have all of those pesky, protective brothers I just inherited.” She scrunches her nose playfully. I love that she is so at ease with the guys. They love her nearly as much as I do.
Kissing her head one last time, I respond, “Yes, I do have all of you. I’m glad you’re here to remind me.” She smiles as she pulls back from my embrace, echoing the words I once said.
“It’s you and me. Nothing will change that.”
Nodding, I turn my gaze back to the window, losing myself in thought once more. It’s strange not having that friend you always counted on to be there. The one that you know is the glue that binds it all together. Noah’s death means everything has to change, and I’m not so sure that any of us are ready for that.
Brighton looks up in the rearview mirror as he pulls the vehicle to a stop. “We’re here,” he mutters. The underlying pain in his voice is hard to ignore. It’s one we all feel, only his goes beyond what I could imagine. Noah was to Brighton as Sam is to me . . . Irreplaceable.
That friend that you’ve grown with, done stupid things with, and more than anything, has become a part of you, has become your family. Filing out of the vehicles, we make our way to the tarmac to say our farewells to
our friend and colleague. I’m stuck, rooted to the spot as we round the corner. The sight before me is one I’ve heard about but never experienced firsthand. All of the air expels from my lungs as my eyes grow damp with tears. Each breath is forgotten as I stare at the men and women in arms.
What I expected to be a small affair has turned out to be quite the opposite. Active duty military personnel line either side of the C130, ready to send our brother home with honor. General Nolan stands off to the side, wearing a solemn expression as he gazes out over his troops. The Honor Guard stands at attention, waiting silently for the moment when they send the body of our fallen comrade home. The surreal emotion of it all hits me as a pang of sadness ricochets through my chest. This is real. He’s really gone. I have to march up there and send him home.
Kylee squeezes my hand briefly before letting go. She steps away and mouths the word “breathe” to me. Nodding, I step up with my brothers, taking our place among the Honor Guard. We asked . . . no, we pleaded for permission to send our brother home ourselves, a request that was easily granted.
Replacing our somber expressions with one of honor and respect for our friend, we step forward as a unit. Moving through the ranks together as one, never missing a beat, is the Colonel, a constant companion at our side. I’m happy to see that he joined us when asked. It was an easy decision for all of us. He’s become part of our tight-knit group. Someone we’ve all come to care for in our own way.
As we approach the guard and take our places, music sounds from somewhere in the distance. Pressure builds behind my eyes as I stand at attention, listening to “Amazing Grace” play on the bagpipes. The transport slowly wheels out the casket, an American flag draped elegantly across the glossy wood. As the casket comes into view, every service member slowly salutes our fallen brother. My heart surges with pride at the honor my brother is receiving, the love and respect he’s being given for his sacrifice.
Each and every service member remains rigidly poised, saluting Noah and his heroic actions as his casket comes to a stop before us. Inhaling several deep breaths, I steel my nerves for what’s about to come. The order is given, and we slowly lower our hands, marching up to him. Pivoting, we face the casket and offer another slow salute, honoring my brother once more. A wave of heat pelts me as my chest constricts, making it difficult to breathe. I drag in a breath as we lower our salutes and slowly hoist our brother into the air.
With the final order given, we turn and slowly march our friend into the back of the C130 that will take him home to his final resting place. The cadence of our boots is soothing to my ears as we march across the tarmac and into the back of the plane. When Noah’s body is secure, we salute him for his honor and sacrifice one final time before the guard is dismissed. It’s bittersweet; I’m not just losing one brother today, I’m losing two.
Brighton’s accompanying Noah home on his final journey until we all convene at his funeral, then we will return to Korea together as a unit . . . as a family, but missing an integral piece of our hearts. I step off the back of the transport and look to Kylee, who is embracing Brighton. Striding over to them, I hear her whispering in hushed tones.
“Please, Brighton, for me. Reassure her, tell her I’m okay.” Brighton stares at her for a moment before reluctantly nodding. Swiftly, she places a kiss on his cheek before pulling away. Coming up beside them, I clap Brighton on the shoulder. Raising his somber gaze to mine, he gives me a sad smile.
“Be safe. We’ll see you in a few days.”
He nods, slapping me on the shoulder before turning to enter the plane and relieving the temporary guard. We watch in silence as two of our brothers leave, one of them taking a piece of us with him forever. The ride back to the apartment is filled with a somber stillness, an emptiness that engulfs us, encapsulating us in its tight embrace. Entering the lobby, Kylee trails behind me as we move quietly to the elevator. The moment the doors slide close, the painful tightness in my chest returns.
The heartache is so strong, it threatens to split me open for all to see. Blowing out a breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, resting my head on the back of the elevator. Her scent surrounds me as she encompasses me in her embrace. Soundlessly, she slips her arms around my waist, resting her head on my chest. Tears sting the corners of my eyes as I squeeze them tighter. Desperation infiltrates me as I frantically try to hold all of my emotions at bay.
Swallowing, my arms sweep around her slender frame, dragging her closer. The need to have her next to me has only grown as the days have passed. I’m not sure how I’ll survive when I have to go back to work. And it will happen. Duty always calls; I swore an oath to my country, one that I must uphold. But the thought of leaving her alone or unprotected does vile things to my insides.
The elevator dings, announcing our arrival. We exit, making our way down the hall. Stopping in front of my door, I fish the keys out of my pocket and unlock it. Kylee nervously fidgets, shifting from one foot to the other. Peering out of the corner of my eye, I catch her glancing at her door.
“If you think for one moment that you’re leaving my side . . . you’re wrong,” I growl.
She heaves a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be alone.”
“You and I . . . we’re stuck together like fucking glue from now on.”
“Good, because I really don’t want to be alone.” The sadness in her voice urges me to make a move, beckoning me to replace it with something sweeter. Threading my hands into her long, wavy hair, I bring her closer until our lips are but a breath apart.
“You will never be alone again,” I breathe out before crushing my lips to hers.
The kiss is soft and gentle, a slow build up, a reacquainting of old friends. Rubbing up against my torso, she molds her body to me as she sighs, melting into the embrace. With her lips softly parted as an open invitation, my tongue glides in, tangling with hers. Her essence explodes on my taste buds, giving subtle hints of mint and cherries. Taking control, she thrusts her tongue savagely into my mouth, turning the soft, mellow kiss into a raging fire of lust. Reluctantly, I pull back so that our lips are barely touching.
Whimpering, she presses her breasts into my chest. An involuntary groan slips into the air between us, making her giggle. Resting my forehead on hers, my voice is winded as I taunt, “Goddess, we have to get inside now. It’s been a while, and you’re about to have me embarrass myself in the hall like some horny teenager.”
Her soft, melodious laughter soothes the broken edges of my heart. Shoving the door open with my foot, I drag her inside, releasing her into the apartment while I lock up. All of the moisture evaporates from my mouth as I turn, catching sight of my Goddess. Before me, she is displayed in all of her naked beauty. Gone is the silhouette hugging dress that clung to every dip and curve. She’s laid out before me like an offering to her God.
My eyes take a slow perusal of her olive skin, drinking in the natural beauty of my woman. Long slender legs, tone and taught, connect perfectly to subtly flared hips. Her petite midriff stretches into a long torso with small, etched lines of definition, begging for the flat of my tongue to run across it. Small, ample breasts, pert and waiting for the sting of my teeth to graze them. My eyes continue their heated trek along her skin, noticing a subtle shift in her stance. She slightly covers herself as if she’s unsure of what to do or whether she wants me to see her like this.
The corner of my eye twitches in irritation, not for her but for what she’s suffered. This self-doubt is something she shouldn’t have. Closing the distance, I take her face in my hands and stare deeply into her rich brown eyes.
“What is it, Goddess? What made you uncomfortable?” Her eyes dart away like she’s afraid to say anything.
“Look at me, Goddess.” She blows out a hesitant breath before shooting her gaze back to mine. Smiling, I place a kiss on the tip of her nose. “That’s better. Now tell me, what is it that you’re afraid of? I can see it in your eyes.”
She shifts unc
omfortably, and I’m terrified she won’t open up to me when she finally speaks. “M-My body isn’t the same. There are scars everywhere; I can barely stand to look in the mirror. So, I’ll understand if y-you don’t want to . . . to touch me.”
The heart in my chest splits, cracking wide open at the pain in her voice. Swallowing hard several times, I clear my throat, trying to rid my voice of the hurt and excruciating pain I feel for my Goddess. “You are perfect. There is nothing that would keep me from touching you. These scars, they’re a reminder that our past is real and only makes us stronger. You are more beautiful now than the first time I laid eyes on you.”
A small sob passes her lips as tears flow freely from her eyes.
Using my thumbs, I wipe them away when she says, “Alex, I need you.” Quick breaths heave in and out of my lungs as an unsettling feeling comes over me.
Can I do this? I don’t want to hurt her. She’s been through so much. The last thing she needs is me pushing her before she’s ready. Reaching up, she places her petite hand over mine.
“Are you sure?”
Instead of responding, she leans in, slanting her lips over mine, her tongue thrusting its way into my mouth ferociously. The carnal desire that sweeps over me nearly knocks me off my feet.
“Why are you . . . wearing so many clothes?” she breathes out between passionate kisses. Grasping onto my Dress Blue jacket, she desperately shoves at it, trying to push it off my shoulders. Chuckling, I step back, putting some distance between us.
The wild, wanton glow of her heated gaze rakes over me, dousing the already burning flames inside of me. Quickly shucking my jacket and pants, I place them on the back of the chair. Making quick work of the shirt and tie, I lay them with the remains of my uniform. Now down to just my boxer briefs, I smirk as her gaze soaks in every square inch of my body. Suddenly, I have an intense urge to flex and show her all of my muscles. Grinning, I jut my hips forward, thrusting my cock in her direction.
Her eyes light up as the tip of her tiny pink tongue darts out, wetting her lips. Groaning, I eat up the distance with quick strides, sweeping her into my arms. Bounding up the stairs as swiftly as I can, I place her in the center of the bed. Her eyes follow my hands as I slowly remove my briefs, discarding them without a care. Like a lion stalking its prey, I stride over to the bed. Grabbing her leg, I start placing open-mouthed kisses along her ankle all the way up to her inner thigh.
Bound By Blood: (The Betrayed Series Book 2) Page 24
