by Tiffani Lynn
“I need you to come pick him up or I’m calling the cops and he’s a vet so I hate to do that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lady, he’s drunk as a damn skunk and passed out on my bar face-first. He’s been going on and on about you all night so I figured I’d try you before I call the cops.”
“How’d you get my number?”
“He left his cell phone sitting on the bar with no lock screen. I just typed in Quincy and this was the only name that popped up. Now are you gonna come get him or should I just call the police?”
I huff out a frustrated breath and reply, “Give me your address and I’ll pick him up.”
He rattles off the address and I realize it’s a bar not far from the interstate, which I’m sure means it’s close to his hotel.
I climb out of bed, yank my hair into a ponytail, and pull on a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and flip-flops. I’ll probably freeze my toes off, but I don’t want to dig around for matching socks right now. Then I leave a note for Ms. Polly and head towards The Golden Leprechaun, where I’m told Judson has taken up residence I don’t know how he has the energy to be out drinking, after all the work we did today. My body is exhausted. I also wonder why he’s drinking; I thought the Colonel said he was clean and sober.
As I walk through the doors I realize quite quickly this place is a dump. The clientele is shady and all of the scuzzy men without a bleach-blond bimbo glued to them clocked me the second I rolled through the door. It doesn’t even matter that I look like I did when I was up all night studying for finals, it only seems to matter that I’m fresh female meat. Great.
I can drop an asshole in one move if I need to, I’d just prefer to keep things civil tonight. I squeeze through the crowd and allow my eyes to roam the length of the bar, still not seeing Judson. A shrill whistle draws my attention to the other end of the room where a burly, bearded man is drilling holes into me with his eyes. In front of him is Judson, face down on the bar exactly as the guy described. His hand is still wrapped around an empty shot glass. He’s wearing a long-sleeved Henley so I at least know he’s been back to the hotel to shower since I saw him this afternoon.
“Hey, I’m Quincy,” I comment to the barkeep.
“Yeah, I figured. We don’t get many classy women in this joint so I knew it had to be you.”
“How long has he been here?”
“Couple of hours, but he was hittin’ the booze pretty heavy. As big as he is I thought he could hold his liquor a little better, but I guess not. He’s been in here off and on several days over the past week and I’ve sent him home in a cab two of those times, so I know he likes to tie them on, but he seemed particularly wound up tonight. I’m not sure what kind of issues you two have, but he didn’t want to let it go. Give the boy another chance, he obviously cares and he sure don’t belong in a place like this.”
I look at him skeptically. “Isn’t this your bar?”
He shakes his head, “Nah, it’s my brother’s and it’s an okay place, but a man like him shouldn’t be here every night drowning in the juice. He should be warming the bed of a woman like you.”
“Okay, thanks. Can you help me get him to my car? There’s no way I can lift him if he won’t walk.”
He places two fingers between his lips and gives another ear-piercing whistle. Everyone stops what they’re doing to look over at us. The bartender catches the attention of two large, hairy bikers and asks, “Frank, can you and Joey help carry the big guy to her car?”
The two frightening men lumber over and slide under his armpits, then easily drag/carry him to my car. Once they’ve gotten him inside I pass them a 20-dollar bill and thank them for their time. My question now is, how am I going to get him inside the hotel? After a few minutes of contemplation, I give up.
I’m not going to even try. One of us would end up getting hurt so I drive him to Ms. Polly’s and pull into the garage. I run into the house and grab a couple of blankets, my fuzzy slippers and a bucket just in case he decides to puke. I cover him up and lean his seat back. Then I do the same for myself, shifting the best I can to my side so I can keep an eye on him. After about a half hour, light snoring sounds drift from his parted lips and instead of being annoyed I find it cute. He reminds me of a little boy. The skin on his face no longer has lines or grooves as he reclines, totally relaxed. His full lips and five o’clock shadow call to my fingers, begging me to touch him. I fight the urge, afraid if I start, I won’t stop and that’s just creepy since he’s sleeping. It takes me at least another 20 minutes before I doze off.
I wake a couple of hours later when warm fingers trail across my cool cheek. My eyes flutter open to find Judd watching me closely. “Where are we?” he asks in a whisper.
“Ms. Polly’s garage.”
“Why?”
“Because you were passed out drunk and I’m not strong enough to haul you inside your hotel.”
“How did you know I was drunk?”
“The bartender called me, said you’d talked about me all night so he looked for my name in your phone and wanted me to come get you or he’d call the cops. I decided I didn’t want to bail you out of jail so I just picked you up.”
“You should have left my dumb ass in the car.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t leave you out here alone. I was ready to hold your hair should you need it. I do believe I owe you that.” I lift the bucket and smile at him.
He groans. “I’m sorry. I… I… I…”
“It’s okay. I recall you had it much worse when you took care of me. I just had to sleep in a car. You okay? I’m a little worried. The bartender said you’ve been there several nights in the last week. I thought you weren’t drinking anymore.”
He tilts his head away so our eyes are no longer locked and answers, “I’m fine. It’s been a rough week, nothing more. Nothing you can do, Quinn. It’s just life.”
“I’m not trying to be your savior, just your friend.”
“Yesterday you didn’t even want to be that. Why the sudden change?”
“That was never the case and you know it. I was only pissed that you didn’t make the effort to see the Colonel when you knew what it would mean to him. I care about you, Judson. I have for years, so lose the attitude and talk to me.”
“I have nothing to say. It’s just life, which is nothing like I expected it to be.”
“Yeah, well most of us can say the same thing.”
“Whatever, Quinn. Your life could be whatever you want it to be, there’s nothing holding you back.”
“I’m not going to sit here and play the poor-me game with you, Judson. Bottom line is, I give a shit about you. I have since college. I didn’t stop caring because you stopped caring for me. I lived for every bit of information I could scrape out of the Colonel about you over the years. I dropped everything like a damn hot potato when you were hurt, not because I had to, but because I couldn’t be anywhere but where you were. I needed to know you were going to be okay. Now you can keep acting like a self-involved asshole or you can give me your hand and let me help you up. It’s your choice, but I won’t beg you.”
You can cut the tension in the air with a knife, it’s so thick. He says nothing so I open the garage door with the press of a button and back out. I drive toward the interstate and ask, “Which hotel?”
He gives me a quick one-word answer like even that’s too much for him. I’m so pissed at him right now I could slap him upside his stubborn head, and I’m equally pissed at myself for letting him get to me. I should know better than to think he could care even a little for me when he was able to walk away all those years ago and send no more than one letter over all that time. Hoping for anything else is stupid.
I pull up to the front entrance of the hotel. He gets out without even a thank you, shuts the door and hobbles inside, pissing me off further. I smack my hands on the steering wheel in frustration and give a little scream. Once I realize I’m acting like an idiot I drive back to Ms. Polly’s and go straight to bed.
<
br /> Chapter Four
Quinn
Warm hands travel slowly up the outside of my thighs and I squirm in anticipation. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched so reverently. Calloused fingers brush the edges of my hip bones and tug my panties gently down my legs. He hooks his hands behind my knees and spreads me wide. Warm breath flows over the lips of my sex and I whimper, hoping for relief soon. A wet swipe of a tongue parts the sensitive flesh and my back arches off the bed as I beg to be taken. I want to see his expression as he tastes me, but it’s pitch-black.
“Please let me see you. I want to watch,” I plead, but I know it won’t change a thing. We continue on in the dark.
Forcing myself to relax again, I allow my legs to drop open more and his appreciative growl reverberates against me. Another swipe with that teasing tongue and I demand, “Again! More!”
“Always so greedy. The answer is no. I’m in charge, now lie back and relax and if you’re a good girl I might let you watch me.”
I moan at the vision I conjure in my head. His fingers spread me farther as he begins a steady twirl of his tongue and my hips push against his forearms, which are effectively holding me down. It feels like this goes on forever and I’m on the cusp of release when he sucks my clit into his mouth and flicks quickly with his tongue. The world spins and stars explode in a brilliant light show behind my eyelids. I shoot straight up in bed, crying out, only to realize it’s a dream. I’m panting, almost breathless and so turned on. It’s not unusual for me to have these dreams that Judson stars in, it’s been a while since it felt so real though.
Seeing him must have triggered this one. I pad into the bathroom and splash some water on my face, hoping to cool my libido down a bit. I take a gulp of water and crawl back in between my sheets, praying I’ll be able to fall back asleep after that.
We pull into the driveway after running all of Ms. Polly’s errands to find the AMVETS truck still in the driveway. Judson is standing with his arms crossed talking to a man with a clipboard. The man shakes his hand, grabs one last box, closes the rear door, climbs in the truck and pulls away.
Ms. Polly gives Judson a hug and thanks him for helping. I go straight to the front door without a word. After dealing with Mr. Asshole last night I’m not in the mood for his shit, even if Ms. Polly thinks I’m being rude.
I go to my room and curl up on the couch with the book I’ve been reading for a few days and wait for him to leave.
Thirty minutes later Ms. Polly comes into the room and sits on the love seat next to me. She drops her head to the back of the couch, looks at the ceiling and says, “Gene was a real asshole before he figured out he loved me.”
My mouth drops open. I’ve never heard her cuss before.
“I’m not blind, honey. The two of you have been in love for years. I just wish you’d do something about it. I’m thinking it will have to be you who makes the move though. He may not be strong enough to do it on his own. He is a man after all.”
I haven’t said a word, still in shock. Her head rolls on the back of the couch so she can look at me.
“I’m old, not dead. Gene read me each and every letter Judson wrote and some you wrote too. We talked extensively about it. We both feel you two are meant to be together. Why are you fighting it? Is it because of Jeff?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before she continues, “Let me explain something to you. Jeff is not the man for you. If he was, you never would’ve left Denver when he brought up marriage. And he would’ve been here to visit while Gene was sick. Don’t get me started on the fact that he wouldn’t have left you to sit alone at a funeral.”
“He didn’t come to visit or to the funeral because I told him not to. He asked, but I didn’t want to have the discussion about marriage during all of this and if he were here in person he would bring it up. As for Judson, I think you’re mistaken. He doesn’t feel anything for me. We were friends for a while before he went into the Navy. He saved me and I loved him for it. And then…I just loved him. I mean, really loved him.
“I wanted to beg him to stay, but knew I had to let him go. We had one night before he left and I swear it was the best night of my life, but it didn’t mean enough to him for him to stay. I prayed every day for 10 years that I’d get more than the one letter, but I never did. I accepted the fact that he doesn’t feel the same about me a long time ago.”
She opens her mouth to interject and I stop her by holding her hand and continuing what I have to say. “When he came back for the funeral I was still pissed at him for not making the effort to say goodbye to the Colonel so I gave him some lip. He got mad and gave it back. We’ve been snippy with each other that way. Then last night I got a call from a bartender saying he was drunk and kept talking about me and I needed to come get him so they didn’t have to call the cops on him. I got out of bed and picked him up.
“I stayed with him to make sure he was okay. He woke up and before the conversation was over he was a jerk again. It’s been too many years of hoping for a response from a man who doesn’t feel anything for me and I’m tired of being disappointed. As for Jeff, I don’t want to marry him. I plan to break things off completely.”
“I understand. I won’t tell you all the ways Gene was a jerk to me and how bad things got after Colin died, but I will tell you that I learned when you love a man like him you have to be prepared to fight. Those kind of men have the souls of warriors and tend to fight everything in life, not just for the things they want, but also at times against them.
“I’ve known Judson since he was a junior in high school, so I know him better than he thinks. He’s fighting for his life right now. That bomb took more than his leg. It took his direction and his confidence, it took the future he expected and the family he’d made amongst those men. He’s no longer part of them and no longer part of civilian life.
“He needs you to help him find his way just as he helped you all those years ago. Now,” she pats my leg and instructs, “quit feeling sorry for yourself and pissed at him. Go fight for him. Show him he’s worth it even without the leg. If I were 50 years younger, I’d certainly be trying to show him something.” She gives me a playful wink, pats my leg again and stands. Right before she walks through the door to leave she advises, “Call Jeff and tell him the truth. You don’t love him and won’t marry him. If your first instinct isn’t to say yes a hundred different ways, he needs to find someone else.” She taps the doorframe twice to punctuate her point and strolls back out of the room.
Did that really just happen? Could what she’s saying be true or is Judson being an asshole and she doesn’t want to see it? Could he really feel that lost and out of place? I never thought of that. I can’t imagine Judson, with his steady strength, having the problems she’s talking about even after the physical trauma he’s been through.
I pick up my phone to call Jeff.
“Hello?”
“Hey, we need to talk,” I say.
“Okay,” his voice is hesitant. “Go ahead.”
“I don’t want to get married. I know that’s what you want. I won’t ever want that. I can’t have kids and I see no reason to do it. I think it’s time we split up for good. I care about you and I want you to have all the things in life you want, but I won’t be the person to give them to you.”
A frustrated sigh fills the quiet before he says, “Why are you doing this, Quinn? You know we’re good together.”
“It’s the right thing to do. We want different things and that’s not going to change.”
“Is this because of that SEAL guy?”
“Judson?”
“Yeah, the one you went to Germany for last year.”
“No. This is about us being wrong for each other.”
“He showed back up when the Colonel died, didn’t he?” Jeff’s voice is dripping with contempt.
“This has nothing to do with him. Yes, he’s in town for the funeral and Ms. Polly, but that has nothing to do with this conversation.”
“Th
at’s bullshit and you know it, Quinn. You’ve had it bad for the guy for years. Now that he’s a cripple and can’t go back to war he’s ready to be around for you, right?”
“Why the hell would you say something like that? No, that’s not the case. You’re an asshole for saying that though. I’m done. I refuse to argue and listen to your insults. I’ve been honest. Can you say the same?
“I’m guessing you haven’t spent every night alone while I’ve been gone. I wasn’t going to call you on it because I’m not a bitch, but you want to act like Saint Jeff, let’s just keep the record straight. You only want me because you want to break me, like a wild horse. You want to prove to everyone in the department who told you I was a hopeless case that they were wrong and you’re the better man. You don’t want to marry me for the right reasons. You can fuck off. I’m done feeling bad for hurting you, because we both know it’s not your heart. It’s your pride.”
“Quincy, that’s not true. It was only a couple of times. I figured you wouldn’t care since you didn’t want me.”
A bitter laugh escapes me as I reply. “It’s funny, I was just guessing about other women and got it right. If you love me like you say you do then you wouldn’t want anyone else, no matter how long I’m gone.”
“You’re not being fair.”
“Yeah, I am. Know how many people I’ve been with since I left Denver?” I ask as the sarcasm coats my voice. He’s silent, unable to respond because he knows the answer.
“None. Not one. If you really love me, being loyal wouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t want to turn this into a fight, but I don’t think it’s me that you love and you’re not going to make me feel bad for being honest. You can drop my stuff off to Gemma if you want. If not, I’ll have her go by your place and pick it up. We’re done.”
“That’s not the end of this. I understand you’re upset, but give it a few more days and we can talk again.”
“No. This is it. The end. Let it go.”
I don’t want him to say more. “Goodbye, Jeff,” are the last words I utter before I hang up.
