Consolation (Consolation Duet #1)

by Corinne Michaels

  “He would’ve what?” he asks confused. His hands clench, and I step forward and give him some of the comfort he’s given me.

  “Wanted to die like this. To feel like it was for something or someone. If Mark or Jackson would’ve gone on that mission, he would’ve hated himself. Wishing he could’ve taken their place. He always wanted to go down in a blaze of glory. To die for a reason. I don’t know what the damn reason is though.”

  “Me either. I would’ve gladly changed places with him. He had you and Aarabelle to live for.” Liam’s hand grabs mine and he pulls me close. “Are you gonna be okay?”

  I do have Aarabelle and I have my entire life ahead of me. I deserve to be happy and it’s time I started to live like it.

  I look up and give a tiny nod, “I think I will be.”

  “I think you will too.”

  “Knock, knock,” I hear Reanell call as she opens my door.

  “What’s up, my love?” I ask, my voice radiating with delight.

  “You’re awful perky this morning,” she looks at me skeptically.

  I’m starting a new outlook from this day forward. I can continue to be sad and mopey or I can remember Aaron as the man he was. The husband, sailor, and hero, not the martyr I’ve made him. I go back to work in a few weeks, I have a great support system. It’s time to start taking baby steps.

  “Well, who wouldn’t smile at your beautiful face?” I ask sweetly.

  “Could it be the sex-on-a-stick outside shirtless fixing the shed?” She looks out the window as she moans. “God, men like him aren’t real. They’re sent to toy with us.”

  Looking behind her, I suppress a groan. She’ll take that as something it’s not. But seriously, holy shit. His back is taut and the muscles ripple as he lifts the two-by-four and then nails it into place. His arms flex and I gawk. He wipes his brow as the sweat trickles down his face and I fight the urge to keep looking. I turn my head but my eyes stay glued to him.

  Reanell clears her throat and stares at me with her brow raised. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

  “Nothing. What?” I pretend to sound confused at what she saw.

  “Right. Nothing at all.”

  “Nope. Nothing to see here.”

  She looks back out the window. “There’s plenty to see my friend. Plenty indeed.”

  I need to flip the attention. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a horny housewife who needs a job?”

  “A few times. Mason appreciates that I can shop without buying.”

  I laugh and slap her arm. “Yeah, it’s about the only thing you don’t buy.”

  She looks away and snorts. “Accurate. I’m also not buying your diversion. I saw you eating him alive.”

  “No, I’m not even ready to go there. Let’s change the subject, okay?”

  “No, not until you admit he’s hot.”

  “Why does it matter if I think he’s hot?” I scoff.

  Rea smiles and puts her hands on her hips. “Admit it.”

  “Fine, I won’t deny it. He’s hot.”

  “I knew you thought so,” she smirks.

  I roll my eyes and smother the desire to choke her.

  “Besides, if you did deny it, I would be worried,” she laughs. “How about while Aarabelle’s sleeping, we can do some stuff around here?”

  I look at the mantel and my heart falters. I can feel him everywhere and I’m not ready to lose that. Already I’ve lost so much. Just pulling into my drive without his car there will be one more reminder. Loss and anger are at war in me. I’m mad at everyone and everything, but then I have to go on day by day. I don’t get to sulk and be sad because there’s a tiny baby that we made together. I close my eyes and think of him.

  “Sure,” the word falls out.

  We spend the next few hours cleaning papers and things around the house. I’m sweating and huffing from carrying all the boxes up and down the stairs. It’s been a long day and I look like hell but feel a little lighter. We’ve got things organized, and as much as I want to stop, I also want to keep going. I worry the strength I’ve harnessed will be lost tomorrow.

  Before I can tell Rea my plan to keep on, she looks over and frowns. “I need to get home. Mason wants dinner early and I want a new purse.”

  She’s a mess. “How do those go hand in hand?”

  “He likes to eat. I like Michael Kors. If I don’t get a bag, he can starve,” she winks and grabs her purse.

  “Sounds perfectly reasonable,” I reply with a huff. “I’m going to finish up. Thank you for today.”

  Reanell kisses my cheek. “I’m proud of you. I know this isn’t easy, but it was time.”

  “Thanks, you know that it’s been seven months today?”

  “Since he died?”

  “Yeah, crazy, right? Aarabelle is so small to me that I forget.”

  Reanell sits on the couch with her purse in her arms. “I think we all do. You were pregnant when he died and then Aara kind of shifted time. It’s a good thing though. She’s given you a way to keep moving.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And Liam being around making you do stuff helps too, no?”

  I think about what she says and try to come up with an argument. But it’s true. Liam has forced me to handle everything in the last few weeks. In a short amount of time he’s taken care of months’ worth of things.

  “He’s helped a lot.”

  “I better bounce, but I’m glad you’re doing well. You look better too.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she winks.

  I nod and she leaves. Aarabelle is taking her afternoon nap in her playpen. She ate and played for a little and now I have about an hour before she’ll need to eat again. I decide to hang the curtains in the living room that have been sitting in the closet for months.

  Getting all my tools out, I grab the ladder and mark the spots where the new rod will go. I can do this. Take that, Martha Stewart. Once everything is up, I get the screw and it won’t go in. I try again and the screw falls and I fumble with the drill. “Damn it,” I curse as it falls to the floor. Grabbing the drill, I hear a laugh behind me. “Am I amusing you, Dreamboat?” I ask as I try to align the screw. I know using his call sign pisses him off . . . which is why I said it. Aaron used to lose his shit when I called him Papa Smurf.

  “I think you want to wound me.”

  “Never. I’m just . . .” I struggle with the stupid screw that refuses to go in. “Stupid damn drill is broken!”

  “You have it set to reverse,” Liam says chuckling and he climbs the ladder behind me.

  “Get down!” I yell as his weight makes the ladder tilt a little.

  “Push that button there,” he says against my neck. “You’re not going to fall. I’ll be the one who breaks their neck.”

  I suppress a shiver as he lifts my hand and pushes the back of the drill. “Fine, maybe I’ll elbow you,” I joke to try to keep my mind off how his body is pressed against mine. The body that I stared and marveled at. He’s only helping, Natalie.

  “I’ll take you with me. Now, push hard and screw.”

  I lose my grip on the drill. “That sounded so bad!” My head falls forward and we both laugh hysterically. “Oh,” I say as my stomach hurts.

  “You made it dirty!”

  “You told me to push hard and screw,” and I start laughing again.

  Liam rests against me and we both try to control our breathing. “Okay,” he breathes again. “Now, make sure it’s aligned in the hole.”

  “Oh, God. Get down. I can’t do this.” I giggle and snort.

  “You snorted!” he says as he grips my hips and helps me off the ladder.

  “You made me,” I reply incredulously.

  “Well, put it in the hole and screw.”

  “Stop!” I hold on to the ladder as tears fall from laughing so hard.

  Liam keeps going. “If you don’t know how to put it in, I can help.”

&n
bsp; We both laugh and I hear Aarabelle cry.

  “Now you’ve done it,” my voice is full of humor.

  Liam grabs the drill, “You get Aara, I’ll make sure you don’t have to re-plaster the walls.”

  I clutch my chest and reply dramatically, “Oh, my hero.”

  He gives a mock salute with the drill and I leave him to his power tools. Maybe he really is a miracle worker.

  After a little while, Liam has all the curtains hung and a few pictures I found during my cleaning. Aarabelle plays happily in her swing.

  “A little to the left,” I instruct Liam as he tries to align the photo.

  “Here?”

  “Ummm, maybe to the right? But just a smidge.” I laugh to myself as his head drops, clearly frustrated.

  “Lee, I’m going to nail this to the ground if you make me move it again,” Liam grumbles as he moves it back to where it was originally.

  I take a step back and try to keep from laughing because this is actually fun. “You know,” I muse. “I think maybe I should put it in the hall.” I bite my lip to keep from busting out.

  He groans and puts the photo down. I hear him take a few deep breaths. When he turns, I bat my eyes innocently. “I’m going to let this sit here for a minute.”

  “Oh, but I want to hang it.” I giggle and Liam bursts out with a loud guffaw.

  “You’re a giant pain in the ass.”

  “Yeah, but where else would you go for abuse?” I simper and shrug.

  “Work.”

  “True. I mean, they probably won’t call you fat or old . . . yeah, right, they totally will,” I tease, reminding him of our previous discussion.

  “Take it back.”

  I raise my brow. “Never.”

  “Do you really want to brawl?”

  “You’ll lose. I was trained.”

  He breaks out into a run straight for me and I sprint toward the kitchen laughing. He’s going to kill me, but I can’t back down. I lean against the door hoping I can keep him from coming in.

  “Why are you running, oh trained one?” he asks from the other side of the kitchen door.

  Shit. I’m trapped.

  “Liam, I want to remind you that I’m in possession of many sharp objects here in the kitchen.”

  I hear him snicker once. “You forget, I’m trained in knife fighting.”

  “Ugh. Okay, can I just say uncle?”

  “Maybe,” he says but then nothing else.

  After a few seconds of silence, I try to ask again, “Liam? Uncle.”

  No response. I wonder where the hell he went. I hear Aarabelle over the baby monitor and know I can’t stay here forever. “Liam?” Again, no response. I have two choices. I can try to keep myself blockaded in here or I can grow some lady balls and face him. I can do this. I’ve given birth naturally, buried a husband, and still manage to function. Screw him.

  Slowly I creep the door open and he’s not there. Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I take a step into the hallway and look around. These guys are stealthy and Aaron used to love to scare the crap out of me when I wasn’t expecting it. He’d hide behind doors and in closets then jump out so I’d scream.

  “Liam?” I ask, trying to sneak toward the living room. When I turn, I see him holding Aarabelle with a sly smile.

  “Saved by the baby.”

  “I wasn’t scared,” I say confidently.

  “Liar. But I’ll let you have it.”

  I laugh and extend my arms. Liam hands me Aarabelle and I pull her close.

  “I like that sound,” he says almost as an afterthought.

  “Huh?”

  Liam steps forward and brushes my hair back. “Your laugh. It took a while to get it to come back more.”

  My jaw falls and I stare into his eyes. He’s brought me back . . . almost. Given me back my smile and I hadn’t even known it. Liam’s been here and managed to help the old me come out. “I . . .” I trail off unsure of what to say.

  “I gotta get going, but I wanted to give you this. I found something in Aaron’s glove box.”

  “What?”

  Liam pulls an envelope out of his back pocket and his eyes tell me what it is. The If you’re reading this letter. When I didn’t receive one after he died, I assumed he shredded it when he got out of the Navy. Considering it’s usually left with your closest friend, and neither Mark nor Jackson had given it to me, I presumed. Then with Liam being around, I thought for sure Aaron threw it out, not thinking we’d need it. But here it is.

  I extend my hand and take it.

  “Was there anything else?”

  The one thing I wanted was our wedding ring. After the explosion, no personal belongings were sent back. Maybe he left it too?

  Liam looks at the other letters in his hand, and I hate the pain I see. “A letter for Jackson, Mark, and one for me were in there as well.”

  “I don’t know if I can read this,” I reply honestly.

  “You’ll read it when you’re ready. I’ve got some things I need to get done,” Liam says and grabs his coat. He kisses the top of my head.

  I nod and gaze at the letter in my hand. I want to read it, but I can’t right now. Not with Aarabelle awake. I have no idea how I’m going to handle this. I place it on the table and decide I’ll read it later.

  The night passes and I get Aarabelle to bed. I’m exhausted and worn as I flop on the couch and turn on the fireplace. The letter sits there and the need to read his words is too much to fight. I miss him and maybe this will help me feel close again.

  My throat is dry as my finger tears through the seal. My heart beats rapidly in my ears as dread begins to claw its way through my body. Can I read my husband’s final message? Inhaling through my nose, I count backwards as my hands shake.

  The wind blows and I know he’s here with me.

  Biting my lip, I think about Aaron and what he’d say to me right now. He’d tell me to “man up” and read it. I smile to myself as I hear his voice in my head. Tears blur my vision, but I wipe them away and read my husband’s last words to me.

  Lee,

  If you’re reading this, I’m no longer here. I’ve broken my promise to come home to you, even though it was a promise I knew I couldn’t really make. Know that I didn’t go willingly. I wanted a life with you—forever. There’s not a single part of me that ever wanted you to read this. First, because I’m not good at this crap. Second, because I’ve failed you on some level. I always told you I am a SEAL—the best, elite, and untouchable. I believe that. There’s a reason why we’re trained like we are—we do the shit that no one else could. So, somehow I fucked up. I got in a situation and my training failed. I’m sorry.

  My life was never the same after we met in Ms. Cook’s class. You sat next to me and I knew I was a goner. Then I saw you before the homecoming game and you had that damn skirt on. I almost fucked up the game thinking about how to get you to go on a date with me. After weeks of telling you how awesome I am, you finally caved. I felt like I’d won the lottery. You were the best prize. Hell, you are the best prize. We went to that awful restaurant but you smiled the whole time. When I walked you to the door and you kissed me before I could have done some stupid awkward shit, I knew one day I’d marry you. I knew you’d be the woman I’d spend every night next to. Because you’re my fucking world, Lee. You’re the sun, the stars, and the everything in between.

  Everyone says in these letters we give these great speeches about random things. I’ve probably rewritten this damn thing twelve times. I can only tell you this: I love you. I’ve always loved you and I’ll love you far past my death.

  I can’t tell you what to do because, well, I’m gone and you wouldn’t listen anyway. But, you made promises. You deserve to have the life you wanted . . . one with a man who loves you more than his own life. A man who will give you a family and the love that you need. If we have kids, I hope you give them a father. They’ll need that. Someone to teach them to throw a ball, how to ask a girl out, how to
keep the stupid boys who only want one thing away. If we have a girl she’s never allowed to date . . . ever. Make sure that no boy puts his dipstick anywhere near my daughter. Tell them about us. Tell them about how much I would’ve loved them. If they ask why, tell them I was protecting them. I’m not a proud man, but I’m proud of the life we’ve had. You’ve stood by me, pushed me, and made me a better man.

  I’ve made mistakes in my life, but you were the best thing that ever happened to me. You loved me when I probably didn’t deserve it. Know that when I close my eyes at night I always see you. And when I draw my last breath at the end, it’ll be your name I say last. Without you, there would be no me.

  Love me when I’m gone.

  Aaron

  The tears fall and I clutch the letter to my chest. “I’ll love you forever,” I whisper and hope somewhere, somehow, he hears me.

  “Fuck!” I yell out and punch the tree. My knuckles scream out in pain.

  I pick up my pace and start to run again. I need to work out and be ready for the team. I can’t be sitting around and then not be in peak physical condition, but every damn day I’m at her house. I can’t stay away or stop myself from checking on her. It’s like a drug. So I run . . . I run and try to stop my mind from drifting to her and Aarabelle. I think about the way she laughs, how her smile lights up the room, and how much I like being the one to put it there. This shit needs to stop.

  The music blares in my ears as I sprint. I count and breathe, focusing only on that. I can’t think about her blonde hair. I won’t worry about whether she’s read the letter. I refuse to worry about whether she remembered to call the mortgage company. Because I’m not her fucking anything. I’m the dickhead who won’t leave her alone because of a promise. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m nothing to her and I can never be. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this.

  I run faster and stop to do some push-ups. I’ll show her fat and old.

  My phone rings and it’s a California number.

  “Hello?”

  “Dreamboat, it’s Jackson.”

  “Hey, Muffin. What’s up?” I ask as I try to catch my breath. I’ve met Jackson Cole a bunch of times. Aaron worked for him when he left the Navy and our teams were both deployed together at the same time to Africa. We weren’t really close but drank together a few times.