A Force of Nature

by Kara Liane

  It was his turn to feed me another bite when my freaking phone went off with that goddamn alien ringtone again. I dropped the fork by accident while reaching for my phone to silence it. Go fork yourself, Stuart! I yelled in my head. Ugh. The loud clang of the metal hitting the surface of the floor echoed loudly enough to be heard by the other nearby patrons, and the spell I was under was broken. Brent did not look pleased, but I didn’t know if it was because of the interruption or because of something else. I ground my teeth, turned my phone to silent mode, and stuffed it back in my purse.

  Crap, how am I supposed to relax again?

  Brenneth

  Dammit, something is up. I was pissed because I had just gotten Ev right where I wanted her, and then I got fucking cock-blocked by her phone. I knew she was nervous and freaking out because she was worried about our impending talk, hence my need to calm her down. Then that piercing ringtone broke through the progress I was making. I would damn sure get answers tonight because, once again, she did not seem happy about whoever was on the other end, texting.

  I wiped my palms on a napkin and reached for her hand. Her fingers grasped mine willingly. I always needed to touch her. I could be patient and try to start all over again with the feeding, but I think both of us lost our appetite when that text came through. It was time to do this, before I lost my nerve.

  “Listen, Ev, we need to talk about some things. The very gritty, hard shit I’ll save for when we’re alone—either in the car or at your apartment. But the minor shit we’re going to get out of the way now,” I began. Then I sighed.

  I turned my head to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard. Thankfully, we were far enough away from other tables that we would have privacy if we kept our voices down.

  “I’ll kick it off by telling you that the fucking condoms need to go. That’s not the most important thing on this topic train, but it’s an easy one to start with. I hope to hell you can get on birth control soon, because I want to feel you and be inside you—bare. I haven’t slept with anyone since before I left. I get tested often because of the military, so there is nothing you need to worry about from me,” I conveyed honestly.

  She blew out a breath and then told me words that were music to my ears. “I’m already on the pill, so no worries there. I haven’t been with anyone either—in a long time, actually. I want you to be in me too, with nothing between us.”

  She said it with a little hesitancy, and I had a feeling it was because there was an underlying second meaning to her statement.

  “Thank fucking God. Okay then, that’s settled. Moving on. Next order of business. You need to understand something. You’re. Fucking. Mine! Normally I’m not a possessive bastard, but I can’t help myself when it comes to you. You make me crazy at times, and other times I need you like I need my next goddamn breath of air. I may not always know if I’m coming or going with you . . .” I winked at her to make sure she got the double entendre of “coming.”

  She just stared at me, not knowing what to do, so I continued. “I don’t know where we’ll end up or what you want to happen between us, but I’m going to put this out there: I want to be with you. I’ve wanted you since you fucking ran me down at the graduation. I haven’t stopped thinking about you from the moment I met you. You overtook my thoughts the whole time I was deployed. Now if that makes me a giant pussy or pussy-whipped, then so be it. I need you, Ev.”

  She was breathing heavily, and I saw a visible tremor work its way through her body. I felt it, because I still had her hand clasped in mine. She trembled at my words. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. She looked down. I would give her all the time she needed to either arrange her thoughts or take a breather before responding.

  “I got your letter,” she admitted as she bit her lip.

  At first I was quite confused. I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then my eyes probably widened to the size of saucers, and I fired back with, “What the fuck?”

  Everly

  Well, what did I expect, really? Of course I knew he’d be pissed. If he had wanted to send the letter, he would have. I knew that going into this. I didn’t expect to lead with that, but I didn’t know how else to respond to his profession of commitment. And now it was too late to call back the words. I wanted to tell him so badly about the letter because I didn’t want to start our relationship off with secrets or omissions pertaining to important matters. How the hell do you react when someone tells you “you’re fucking mine?” I wanted to tell him I had been his from the moment he ran into me. But I couldn’t do that, and my mouth once again got me into a predicament.

  He started sweating. Oh no. I recognized the symptoms. I remembered how, when I first met him, he was sweating. He came bolting from that entrance and tore down the corridor in the auditorium like a madman. If I suspected he had PTSD before, well, this only confirmed it. I knew he was going someplace else in his mind; I couldn’t figure out what the trigger could have just been, though. Maybe the letter reminded him of something that happened over there?

  I began to worry about the frequency of his mental retreats. He dropped my hand. Losing that contact stung my body and wounded my heart. I wasn’t going to let him have an episode alone, though. He had helped me through my panic attack before—I could help him through this. I reached for his hand again and squeezed it hard. He looked at me as if desperately trying to stay in the here and now.

  “Talk to me,” I implored him.

  He didn’t respond, so I tried again.

  “I’m sorry to blurt it out like that. I know you probably have a lot of questions as to how and why I have it in my possession. I realize that letter was private, that you probably had no intention of sending it, but I’m glad it came to me. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed that letter. That’s why I reached out to your sister to find out when you were coming home. Brent . . . I need you too. I want to be with you. I don’t know where we’ll end up either, but I want to try.”

  That was probably the closest thing he would get to an “I love you” tonight. It would hopefully be enough for now, especially since he hadn’t said it either, even though I knew it was there on the tip of his tongue.

  He still hadn’t snapped out of his attack. I figured he heard me and could probably process my words, but he was lost. The sweating persisted too. I wished he would come back to me.

  Okay, time for more confessions. I downed the remainder of my wine in one gulp. I needed the alcohol to be flowing through my bloodstream for the next part. I bet it was going to get his attention.

  I bit my lip and forged ahead. “So, I’m an orphan.”

  Chapter 18: Tripped Up

  Everly

  And just like that, he was back. He shook his head to clear it, used the back of his hand to swipe across his brow and remove the sweat, then he squeezed my fingers using the hand I still held. I was so relieved to see him come back to the moment, even though it had gutted me to reveal a piece of my history I had no intention of ever imparting to anyone. No one knew I was orphaned in infancy. When I left that shitty, parentless life behind me fourteen years ago, I never fucking looked back, and hopefully never would have to. I hadn’t told a single soul about my past. Brent was definitely my future, and I knew it would be necessary for him to have a glimpse of my history in order for us to move forward.

  “What just happened there? Where did you go? Tell me,” I begged him. The “please” I should have said stayed silently in my mind.

  God, I can’t stop being a harsh bitch even for one second.

  “I know you probably still need a minute to process everything. I also realize I just dropped a big surprise in your lap, but you looked like you needed something to pull you back. I guess it’s no secret that we both get too deep into our own heads sometimes. I know you said to save the hard shit for later, but you know me. I can never seem to follow the rules . . .” I tried to add a little humor to lighten the somber mood.

  He let go of my hand and sat
back in his chair. His mouth was hanging open as if he was in a state of shock. Then he moved his hands to his head and grabbed his scalp. I felt terrible, because I didn’t like to see him so unhinged. It was also very disturbing to watch because I felt so helpless. I knew I had pulled him back from wherever he went, but I had also been the one to send him there in the first place.

  God, we’re quite the pair. Matching fucked-up head shit.

  I was done talking for the moment. I would wait him out.

  He let go of his head and slowly dragged his hands down his face, rubbing at his eyes as he went. A very tired, exasperated sigh escaped his lips. I didn’t think he was frustrated or upset with me, just the situation. I don’t know how long we sat there in silence, staring off in different directions. Finally the waiter came by and dropped off the check.

  Brent pulled out his wallet and dropped cash inside the check holder, then placed it back on the table. I didn’t know if that signaled we were done and should stand up, or not.

  Fuck this shit.

  I was getting more pissed off with each second that passed by.

  I realized this was hard for him, but it was hard for me too. Baring my soul had not been on the menu for the night. I folded my arms across my chest to let him know clearly how huffy and pissy I was getting; this was my favorite universal sign of indifference. The scowl on my face was probably not the most attractive expression, but suddenly I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  He finally looked me in the eyes. I had to swallow hard to get rid of the knot in my throat. His eyes spoke volumes about the torture he was going through. I knew he was agonizing over what to say when it was right there, deep in his orbs. I felt like an ass again. My temper always got the best of me. It’s difficult. You don’t understand what it’s like.

  I didn’t want to give a crap about anyone—that’s how you get hurt. But he, along with his family, had to go and win me over with their ways, and in such a short time too. With caring comes painful shit that’s sometimes hard to deal with. That was why I needed to remind myself that he was worth it.

  All this was new and foreign to me. I was struggling.

  “I know you probably don’t want to discuss your parents putting you in the system, and that’s fine. That was completely unexpected to hear, and it caught me off guard. But I guess it snapped me out of whatever that was.” He groaned and shook his head.

  “Look, Ev, I’m sorry. I’m sure there’s a lot more to your childhood than I ever thought. I suspected something was complicated, since you were so reluctant to talk about it. Believe me, there are some things I don’t like to talk about either. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I probably have a case of post-traumatic stress disorder. I have never been diagnosed, nor do I plan to ever be diagnosed. The military claims it won’t mess up your future career, but I don’t want to take the chance anyway. Once you’re labeled, it’s game over. I can’t jeopardize everything I’ve worked for. I’ve been doing my best to deal and cope, but I realize I probably can’t do it on my own. I just feel fucking weak and pathetic. I mean, I’m a dude, for Christ’s sake. I’m not supposed to be fucked up like this.”

  He seemed so defeated by his admission. I admired his strength and determination, though. He kept going in his come-to-Jesus moment, only taking a slight pause in between his confessions long enough to formulate what he wanted to say next. I choked back the knot because I knew this was difficult and painful for him. Sharing yourself is not easy; obviously, I knew that better than anyone. You feel naked, exposed, and vulnerable. I didn’t want that for him per se, but I knew he needed to get it out. It was like a wound that needed to be lanced; you have to let all the junk seep out in order to rid yourself of the harmful bacteria.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said solemnly.

  I nodded in acknowledgment.

  He went on to say, “I don’t think you realize this, but usually you’re the one who calms me. I know that sounds weird given the fact that we were just reunited, but it’s true. That letter was my . . .” He broke off.

  He looked off to the side for a moment before continuing. “God . . . the letter. It’s certainly true that I never meant to send it. It doesn’t matter how it got to you. Half of me wants to be happy you did get it, but the other half doesn’t. I needed that letter too. It probably sounds fucked up, but it was like having a small piece of you over there with me. The letter kept me sane, and I went nuts when I thought I lost it. Thinking about what I did when I couldn’t find it sends me back to places I don’t want to revisit. I don’t want to venture down that path anymore.”

  He returned his gaze to me and looked me straight in the eyes, unblinking.

  “But I have you now. You can truly give me comfort. You’re all I need,” he croaked.

  Tears probably glistened in my eyes, but I didn’t want to wipe them away and call attention to the little traitors. Damn, I don’t like doing this. I don’t like this emotion thing. I hated this part of opening up to someone. There’s a host of feelings that accompany love, because love simply isn’t enough. If you signed on for one piece of somebody, well, you agreed to it all. Am I ready? I kept telling myself I was. I couldn’t keep torturing myself by second-guessing—that wasn’t fair to him or me. I needed to put my big-girl panties on, a laughable thought considering I wasn’t wearing any, and suck it up. Deep breath, Ev!

  “Brent, you’re far from weak. Don’t you think I also feel like shit at times? And I’m not trying to add more stress to your already-full plate, but I haven’t had a panic attack in years. Yet for some reason, that night, I did with you. Crap, I’m messing this up. What I’m trying to say is, I think we both bring out the good and the ugly in each other. I’m scared of letting this happen between us, but I’m also scared of not letting this happen. I’m not running from you. Would it probably be easier to just walk away from each other? Of course it would, but I can’t. This is just so complicated.” I said the last part mostly to myself.

  I shifted in my chair, but not to adjust for the lack of covering between my legs this time. I needed to fidget so I would have something to do besides rub my necklace. We really needed to get out of there. I didn’t want the walls to close in on us any more than they already had. We both needed some air, and I needed to be somewhere I could get truly calm.

  With the bill already settled, I excused myself and made my way to the ladies’ room. After doing my business in the stall, I stood at the sink and washed my hands. I looked into the mirror and didn’t like what I saw. It’s a hard truth when you can’t make heads or tails of what is staring back with absolute clarity—pure irony at its best.

  Was I worthy of Brent, truly and fully?

  I had to believe Brent and I were good for each other. Sure, neither one of us wanted to dredge up all this horrific shit, but maybe that was part of the healing process. I also had to believe we could heal each other. I had to believe we were meant to be together. I was not a rainbows, leprechauns, and hokey shit kind of girl; nevertheless, I believed there was a reason we had found each other. I dried my hands and made my way out to the vestibule.

  He was waiting for me. As I was passing by the crowd of people waiting to be seated, the hostess turned from her station and inadvertently bumped me, causing me to trip. That bump sent me flying right into the back of a man dressed in a suit.

  Ugh, why do I always have to be running into someone these days?

  I made a mental note not to ever tell Brent I admitted that I had run into him that day! I could see the hostess in my peripheral vision, continuing to walk off; clearly, she hadn’t noticed the chaos she caused. I practically bounced off the man. Thankfully, I managed to avoid falling on my ass. He didn’t stumble in the least because of my mishap.

  Anyway, as I was actually about to apologize, for once, to the gentleman I had run into, he turned around.

  I sucked in my breath.

  Holy shit, it’s Stuart!

  Brenneth

  Ev excused
herself to go to the restroom as I headed for the door. I think she needed a break from me for a minute, and in theory I got that. But being apart from her didn’t make me happy, because it meant she was trying to distance herself in some way. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the idea that she was seeking out space away from me. I didn’t want to give her any opportunity to run. She was already skittish, but I knew trying to corner her or going all alpha was probably not the way to convince her to stick around. Going forward, I knew I would have to approach her carefully.

  I thought standing by the front entrance would somehow make me feel better, since I could catch a breeze as people came and went. I hoped the fresh air would relax me.

  It did not help. I still found myself jittery from our conversation. The people milling about and acting lost had formed a crowd, making it impossible to even breathe. I don’t do crowds. I don’t like crowds. Crowds remind you of things you don’t want to remember. Crowds remind you that you would be helpless to react in a situation because there would be too much going on, too many people in your way. No one in the military really talks about it, but I think it’s an unspoken thing that crowds are a trigger for some of us, if not most of us.

  I had to admit to myself that I suffer sometimes. I just hoped and prayed those around me didn’t notice. Small things bothered me. For instance, I especially didn’t like movie theaters. They annoyed the shit out of me. Usually there’s only a few exits, and they’re dark. The element of surprise would be on the enemy’s side; you’re a sitting duck basically. I also hated having people behind me. If I couldn’t find a seat in the very top row, then forget it. Out.

  Restaurants are okay; I just prefer not having my back to a plate-glass front window or something like that. I prefer to be able to see out and around, to gauge the atmosphere. My eyes darted around every room—it’s not that I’m disinterested in what someone might be saying, or that I’m not paying attention. I was just constantly on high alert and observing the perimeter. These behaviors came with the territory.