Take 2 on Love

by Torrie Robles

  “Um…” I’m not sure how to answer him. “Yes?” I get up and walk back into the living room. “How did you know?”

  “It’s like my nose has turned into a bloodhound for all things I’m not supposed to have. Trevor hid a hamburger inside his backpack last night, and I called him out on it.” He shrugs. “I think the breeze might have brought the scent from the kitchen into here. Are they BBQ?”

  “I’m not going to answer that because I’m not about to torture you.”

  “Christ, woman, you know those are my favorite. Let me just suck the flavoring off of one. That shouldn’t hurt.”

  I shake my head. “You’re not sucking anything off of anything until you’re out of the woods.”

  “This is crap,” he grumbles as he digs into his salad and I sit back down to eat my sandwich…minus the chips.

  “You gotta want this, Heath,” Brian, Heath’s physical therapist, says as he pushes Heath to walk around the indoor track. Heath’s chest is heaving, and I’m a bit concerned that maybe Brian’s not qualified because I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.

  “How’s he doing?” Charlie asks as he takes a seat next to me.

  “Well, it’s been two weeks since your father’s surgery, so I’m not honestly sure. Brian is acting like your father’s a teen training for a triathlon, and Heath looks like he’s ninety trying to rush to Denny’s for the senior special.”

  Charlie laughs, which makes me laugh. We haven’t had that much laughter in the past few weeks. I know Charlie’s upset with me for my stance on the reconciliation with his father, but I’m not going to allow anyone to rush that. Not even my kids. I’m making decisions that make me happy as much as they make the rest of the family happy. That’s something that I need for myself.

  We watch in silence as Heath continues his walk around the track. His hair is wet from sweat, and the grey of his shirt is dark down the front of his chest and under his arms. I know Heath is trying, and I’m sure his body will get back to where it was before his attack.

  “The military denied my request,” Charlie tells me, which makes me take my eyes from Heath and look at my son. He’s not happy, that’s evident.

  “Well, maybe that for the best.”

  “It’s not.” He’s shaking his head. “It’s not going to do me any good being in another country when I know my dad isn’t in the best of health.”

  “He’s going to be fine, I’m sure of it. You need to do you, Charlie. There’s going to come a time sooner rather than later where you won’t be able to do you because you’ll have a family who depends on you. Live your life. Your dad, sister, brother, and I will be fine. We’re going to get through this. Don’t worry too much about it.” I pat his leg, and I bring my attention back to Heath who’s now looking at us with concern on his face.

  Without a warning to his therapist, he diverts from the track and makes his way towards us. “What’s wrong?” Heath asks as he approaches. Charlie looks at me for guidance.

  “Tell him.”

  When he looks back at his dad, he tells him his news. “They denied my request for early discharge.”

  “Good,” Heath deadpans. I stand up, walking a towel over to him so he can wipe down his face. He gives me a small smile of gratitude before he turns back to Charlie. “There isn’t any reason why you need to get out early. We’re fine here.”

  Charlie shoots up out of his chair. “Like hell you are. You just had a heart attack. You underwent surgery. You and Mom are living apart. The kids have school, and your company needs to be managed. How am I supposed to go back to Germany when I know that you’re going to be alone most of the time?”

  “Charlie, I know you worry about me, but you’ve got to remember that I’m the parent and I know what I can and can’t handle. I’m getting stronger every day. You still have two weeks of leave left, and by the time it’s time for you to head back, I’ll be even stronger. As for your mom and me, well, that’s on us, and that’s something that we need to work through, together. Not you, or your brother and sister are going to deter us on that issue. And my business will be fine. Alice has stepped up, and the guys in the field are supportive—they’re getting their jobs done. It’s a well-oiled machine, son, and it will be fine. You gotta trust me on this.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s hard for me to do that. I’m going to pick up the kids. I’ll see you at home.” He walks away, shoulders drawn up, so I know he’s upset.

  “Hey,” I call out, making him turn around. “Why don’t we have a family movie night? I know how much you enjoy them,” I say with a wink.

  “Oh, hell, popcorn sounds so good right now,” Heath moans.

  “You can have the popcorn, plain with no salt or butter.”

  This makes Charlie laugh, the mood instantly lifting. “She’s a ball buster, Dad.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I love her.”

  My stomach dips because I know he means it. They aren’t just words that I feel we’ve said over the years because it seemed the right thing to do. I don’t look at Heath, but I keep my eyes trained on my son.

  “I’ll grab a movie on the way home, then.” He throws his hand up over his head as he walks away.

  “Can I at least get some Reese’s?” Heath asks as I watch our son continue his walk down the hall towards the exit.

  “Nope,” I say with a smile even though I know he can’t see it.

  “Ballbuster.”

  “Kids, clean up the mess from dinner. I’m going to make sure your dad’s all right getting himself washed then we’re going to watch that movie,” I call from the hallway that Heath went down minutes before.

  “I don’t want to watch a scary movie,” Jenna calls out.

  “Too bad,” Trevor counters.

  “I’m the oldest, you two, so I get the say. Besides, I rented them.”

  I hear Charlie end the argument with him pulling the ‘oldest’ card. It holds a lot of weight in our family. Charlie got to sit in the front because he’s the oldest. Charlie got to open presents first because he’s the oldest. Age earns you privileges in this household. Maybe I should pick the movie.

  I stop at the door to our bedroom and take a deep breath before I push through. This isn’t the first time I’ve stepped foot in this room since I moved out, but it’s still like a punch to the gut every time I do. Visions of the night Heath walked out flutter through whenever I step foot in here. I’m not sure if it’s that night that I keep replaying because it’s the most recent, or if it’s because the bad times are easier to remember.

  “Heath,” I utter as I tap gently on the door. “You okay in there?” I hear the water swoosh from the tub.

  “Why can’t I take a shower?” he calls out.

  “Because the doctor doesn’t want you to wet the incision quite yet.”

  “Baths are for pansies,” he grumbles, and I can’t help but laugh.

  Taking a chance, I push the door open and peak my head around. The scene before me makes me laugh even more. “I think what you mean to say was that bubble baths are for pansies.” There’s my big, manly husband, sitting in a tub full of purple bubbles up to his waist. Three white strips of tape run down the length of his chest.

  “I wanted to see what the fuss is all about. If I have to suffer through a bath, then at least I can do it in style.” He swooshes his hands through the water, making the bubbles dance around.

  I take another tentative step into the steam-filled room. The mirror is covered with condensation from the heat of the bath, the mist floating around the light bulbs. “You aren’t getting your incision wet, are you?” I pull the hair off the back of my neck with one hand while I pull at my shirt with another. It’s freaking hot in here.

  “They’re not getting wet, thank you, Dr. Whitney.” He sinks down into the tub, closing his eyes.

  “Did you grab a washcloth?” I go to the cupboard where I used to keep the extra towels. “They still here?” I ask over my shoulder.

  Heath peels one eye op
en and looks at me. “Everything’s still where you left it.”

  I nod and open the door. I grab a new towel and washcloth before turning around and heading back to the tub. I quickly glimpse at the water, and luckily Heath’s lower half is covered by the bubbles. “Keep your head against the tub and relax. I’m just going to grab the soap and start washing you.” I lean over Heath’s body to grab the bar when I feel the warm wet finger wrap around my arm.

  “You don’t have to wash me, babe. I’m capable of doing it on my own.”

  I twist my head to look at him. His eyes are slightly hooded, and I can tell he’s tired. I’m not sure if movie night’s going to happen tonight. He won’t make it through the opening credits.

  “I know. I want to do it. Just lie back and relax.”

  He drops his hand from my arm. The water is right below the bottom of his incision, and I make sure not to jostle it too much when I sink the cloth. “I’m going to start on your legs.” I place my hand under his leg and lift it so that his foot is firm on the bottom of the tub.

  “This beats the wet wipe baths I’ve been giving myself.”

  I never thought I’d have the smell of baby wipes floating in the air of the house again once Jenna was potty trained, but turns out the doctors recommend those to use after surgery when you still can’t bathe normally. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it. As soon as you’re cleared, your butt is standing in the shower.”

  “Fine by me.”

  I continue to work my way up one leg, getting further up toward his thigh. Biting my lip, I take the washcloth up and around towards the inner area. My eyes glance at Heath, but he’s still lying back, with his eyes closed. I can see he’s trying to hide his smile by keeping his face relaxed, but I know him, and I know what’s going on in his mind. Bringing the cloth back towards me, my knuckles brush soft skin, and I know it’s not his leg. He lets out a moan, making me stop my actions. Thinking it’s best that I pull away and start on the other leg, I make my move only to be stopped by Heath’s hand.

  “Keep going. You’re fine,” he grits out.

  “Um, Heath…” I notice the deep purplish coloring of his cock starting to poke out of the water. “Heath.”

  He peels open his eyes. “Yeah.” His voice is throaty.

  “You’re getting hard.”

  “Your hand is near my dick, Whit. It’s going to get hard.”

  “But I’m trying to wash you.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s trying to say hello while you’re down there. Now don’t be rude. Say hi. He’s missed you.” His chest shakes with silent laughter.

  I am not amused.

  I try to stand, but when I pull my hand from Heath’s grip, the mat that I’m standing on, slips out from underneath me making me lurch forward. Because I can’t brace myself, I land in Heath’s lap, in the water and right on his dick.

  “Ah, fuck,” Heath moans as he all but jack knifes me off his dick. The water rocks at his movements traveling further up his chest then it should.

  “Your incision is getting wet,” I sputtering water all over his face. I try to scramble off his lap, I can’t seem to find my footing and my face lands in the water again.

  His eyes squeeze tight, and his nostrils flare, “Babe,” he grunts. “I don’t have the strength to lift you. Calm down before you do any more damage. Stop for a minute.”

  I do as he says and he adjusts his body in the tub, allowing me to push myself up into the sitting position next to him. “Sorry.” I try to smooth the hair from my face.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful.” His eyes dance over my face. I feel the water running down the length of my nose, dripping from the ends. I’m sure my mascara is running because my eyes are starting to burn. “The most beautiful woman my eyes have ever had the pleasure of seeing,” he continues with his compliments even though I’m sure I’m a mess.

  “Heath,” I whisper his name while I blink my eyes trying to elevate the burn from both my makeup and the tears that are threatening to spill.

  “I love you, Whitney.” He sits up slowly and then pushes himself closer to me. He brings his arm up, cupping my face. His eyes are so intense as emotions swirl. The bathroom is in complete silence, only the occasional drips of water breaks the stillness, and the air crackles between us. “I love you so damn much.”

  The water sloshes as he leans closer, capturing my lips with his. Butterflies run rampant in my stomach. I open my mouth to him. Keeping the connection, I gather myself to my knees before gently bringing my leg over him and setting myself on his lap. His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips as he forces my hips to rotate on his lap.

  “Heath,” my breath dances against his lips. I raise my hands, placing them on his shoulders and giving him a gentle push back. “We can’t do this,” I say before I pull back. “You can’t get your heart rate up like that. It’s not safe.”

  “I don’t care.” His lips meet mine again, deepening his kiss. “We’ll go slowly.” He nips at my lip, pulling it between his teeth. “Keep rocking, baby. Please. Don’t stop rocking.”

  And I don’t.

  I stand in front of the bathroom sink as I wrap the navy cotton of Heath’s robe around my body, tightening the tie around my waist. My face is free of makeup, and my hair is in a wet, messy knot on the top of my head. Studying myself in the mirror, I see a different woman staring back. She isn’t the same as the one who stood in this same place many months ago. That woman was lacking self-confidence and was shadowed with so many worries she was unable to feel self-reliant. But I no longer see her in my reflection.

  I feel the weight of Heath’s stare on my neck, and my body heats from the attention. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the entire world, and at the age of eight, I think it was, I had all the life experiences to determine that fact,” he says from the entryway of the bathroom. He’s wearing gray flannel lounge pants, a white T-shirt, and a smile.

  “I remember coming home from school and telling my mom the most beautiful girl started at my school that day.” He laughs. “I remember asking her if it was all right that I was going to marry that girl one day.” He pushes himself from the doorway. “Did I ever tell you what she said?” he asks as he comes up behind me. The warmth of his body radiates through the robe.

  Instinctively my body leans towards him. “No,” I say as I keep my eyes trained on him through the mirror.

  His hands come up, running along my arms. He dips his head down, kissing then biting my neck, making my knees weak. “She said she that she must be special if I was willing to risk the potential of a cooties infection.” He smiles with his lips still against my neck, his eyes now trained on me.

  “Well,” trying to keep my expression neutral, “cooties were some serious stuff back then. I’m glad I made the cut.”

  “You’ve always made the cut, babe. There was never any doubt.” He turns me around so that I’m facing him. “I’m sorry that I made you think otherwise.”

  I glide my hands up his chest, making sure not to touch his incision, I circle them around his neck. “I’ve learned a lot over these past few months, Heath, and it wasn’t just you. I’m to blame for how our marriage has been, just as much as you. For so long I thought you were the one taking me for granted, but I’m just as much at fault as you are.”

  “I can’t spend another night in our bed alone, Whit. I can’t do it. Not anymore. Not when we aren’t guaranteed a tomorrow. Not when we never know if the future is certain. I need you here.”

  “I am here.”

  “No, you’re not. I don’t want temporary, baby. That’s never been an option when it came to you, and even now that hasn’t changed. It’s time, Whit. It’s time that you come home for good.”

  My heart hammers against my chest. When I feel his arms tighten around me, I give him a bright smile. “Okay, Heath. I’ll come home.”

  His mouth comes down on mine. Preparing myself for an intense kiss, I’m taken aback by how soft and g
entle his lips feel against mine. “Thank you,” he whispers against my lips. “Thank you for not giving up on us.”

  I deepen my kiss, letting him know that in his arms is the only place I’ll ever want to be.

  “Hey, stranger.”

  I jump, hitting my head on the frame of my car. “Ow… Shit,” I say as I rub my head.

  “Damn it.” Liam reaches for me, turning me around. His face is covered with concern. “Let me see.” He moves his hand to my head, inspecting where my hand is rubbing. “I don’t see any blood. I’m sorry, Whitney,” He rubs his thumb over the lump, and I pull back.

  “Lord, that hurts.”

  “Shit–sorry.”

  My face scrunches as I pull from his hold, continuing to rub my head. “It’s all right. Damn, it hurts, though.”

  “How have you been? Well, besides the obvious,” he says as he points to my head.

  “Good. I’m here grabbing some more clothes and grabbing my laptop. Do you wanna come in?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” He follows me in.

  Opening my fridge, I pull out a beer for him and a cider for myself. Once I pop the top off both, I hand Liam his and take a drink of my own. “What’s been up with you?” I ask as I lean my hip on the kitchen counter. Liam’s at the bar, sitting on one of my stools.

  “Nothing much. I’ve been focusing on the kids. Priscilla was served with divorce papers a couple of days ago.”

  “What? Why didn’t you call and tell me?”

  He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer before putting it down on the counter. “I didn’t want to interfere.”

  “Liam, if you and I are going to have a go at this friendship thing, you need to learn to share. I would have loved to have seen that.”

  “Yeah, well then I’m sure you’re going to enjoy me telling you about the phone call I received after she got the papers.”

  “You need to spill, now.”

  And he does. He tells me about the drama that has been his life over the past few days. You’d think Priscilla had been served weeks ago with the shit storm she’s trying to bring into Liam’s life. She even went as far as complaining to his commanding officer. That’s just something you don’t do. I’m a civilian, and I know that. I catch him up on everything that’s going on with Heath. He asks about my feelings on my marriage, Charlie heading back overseas, and what my future might hold.