Laughter rises up from my belly like bubbles in a glass of champagne. It’s nice to be able to laugh over memories of dad now. When the heart attack first took him, every thought of him stung. Actually, it feels good to let loose and laugh about anything again. With the year I’ve had, I was beginning to forget what feeling anything was like. Unless you count numbness and exhaustion. I was starting to believe those would be the only sensations I would ever have again.
“That was dad,” I smile and hold my glass up in the air, “bless his soul.” Mack closes his eyes and nods in a silent blessing. “Why were you trying to t.p. my house anyway? We were friends for a while by that point.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was young and didn’t know how to talk about feelings and stuff back then. I guess some things never change, huh?” He looks over at me and winks.
Mack is many things, but an open book isn’t one of them.
“What were we,” he continues, “Chris’s age?” He slides his hand over my shoulders casually and resting my head against the crook of his arm feels like home.
“Yep, I’d say we were right around there,” I agree. Sitting back up, I swallow the last mouthful of my wine and put the glass down on the table. I quickly snuggle back against him, breathing in his scent shamelessly.
“I guess it’s probably because I loved you even then, but I didn’t know how to tell you.” His voice drops, but every word is etched into my eardrums and tattooed onto my heart.
Love me, even then? Does that mean he still…? I look into Mack’s face searching for meaning in the words he hasn’t spoken.
“Should I call you a cab soon? I don’t want my co-workers wagging their tongues about having you out all night,” I look over at the clock. It’s probably already too late for that, but him staying the night certainly won’t help.
“Why would they gossip about me being with you? Don’t you know I went to visit my great-aunt Mildred for the weekend? You’d love her, she’s such a sweetheart,” his eyes glint mischievously.
“Mildred? You don’t have a… oh, I get it,” I have a bimbo moment. I’m not sure if it’s because of the wine or if looking at Mack is distracting me. That’s not true. I know what’s clouding my head, not to mention my judgement, and it ain’t the chardonnay.
He’s gorgeous. I can’t pry my eyes off his blues. With a few drinks in him, they’re the color of a crisp autumn sky. Like a tumbling red maple leaf, I’m being tossed around, trusting him to safely place me on solid ground.
“Well, you can stay here then,” I look down at his lips. Why are they so damned distracting? “But, you’re gonna need to crash on the couch. I don’t want to confuse Chris.” I tell him honestly.
“I can respect that.”
His broad hand slides over the side of my face and under my chin. My heartbeat quickens as my eyes travel down to his pink lips. Suddenly, those perfect lips are crushing mine in a bruising kiss. I can feel the urgency of his desire and the longing on his tongue.
Can he feel how my body craves him?
How my soul aches for him?
How my heart beats his name?
22
Lauren
2014
Mack kisses a trail of burning desire down the tender spot on my neck. I close my eyes, making the heat from his lips build an electric buzz in my body. Each kiss sends pulses of electricity to my nipples, then down to my belly and it spreads down further, blossoming between my legs.
Damn, only Mack could make me so wet from a kiss. A simple kiss was all it ever took to make me crazy. I’ve never been able to resist his lips.
“I can’t wait to taste every single inch of you,” Mack growls. I can feel his teeth graze my neck and a little shiver runs down my spine.
“Every inch, huh?” I smirk at the idea. A girl could do worse than having Mack “Captain America” Forrester worshipping her body. I doubt she could ever do better actually.
“Every inch,” he continues kissing down along my collar bone, his fingers sliding up under the hem of my shirt. “From here,” his fingertip grazes over my bra and I press my breasts against him, greedy for more. “All the way to here,” he drags his hand down over my belly, over my ass and down my legs to my ankles. “Do you think I’m forgetting anywhere?” he teases me and my pussy clenches tight with anticipation.
“Maybe,” I breathe.
“How about here,” his fingers softly make their way back up my leg and stop between my thighs. “I’m gonna love eating your sweet pussy, Lauren.” Mack gives me a quick kiss on my neck and starts tugging my shirt up over my belly to free me. But my body seems to have other plans.
Please, not now.
“Uh, Mack?” I creak.
“Yeah?” He pulls my shirt up over my breasts, exposing my lavender bra.
“I, uh, I’ve had too much wine. I need to use the washroom.” I squirm, hating my pathetic bladder right now. Worst timing ever.
Mack sits back and looks up at me, “God, Lauren, you look horrified,” he smirks. “It’s no biggie, go pee. I’m not going anywhere.” He sits back into the couch looking like he’s been sitting on it since the day I bought it. He looks so perfectly comfortable in my home, like he’s always been there. Like he always will be.
“I’m not horrified,” I lie. “I just didn’t want to ruin the mood.”
Mack suddenly grabs my hand and pulls it between his legs, resting it on his hard cock pressing against his fly. I gasp, but don’t try to pull it back.
“See? You couldn’t possibly ruin the mood. Now go, hurry back.”
Reluctantly, I pull my hand back and get my feet under me. Seriously hating my bladder even more after that. Damn, it seems like his muscles, tattoos and ego aren’t the only things that’ve grown. His cock is hard, heavy and huge!
I scurry over to the stairs and jump up them like a gazelle, two at a time. I think I hear Mack laughing at me from the living room, but I hurry into the bathroom too quickly to say for sure.
Still cursing the wine and my bladder, I sit down and pee as fast as I can. With the toilet still flushing, I rinse my hands and see myself in the mirror for the first time tonight. I look ten years younger! I can’t believe how much youth has returned to my eyes, I can’t help but smile at my reflection. Mack isn’t just good for my body, he’s good for my soul. And my soul doesn’t want to waste another second staring at myself in the mirror.
Heading out the door, I start for the stairs but stop in my tracks. I should check in on Chris first. It’s not like when he was a baby and I used to stand over his crib watching him sleep. However, this has been a difficult time for him the past few weeks. I mean, seeing just tiny glimpses of my old son peaking through from behind the tumultuous clouds of pain he’s been hiding behind for a year has given my heart so much hope. I just pray that it lasts. I pad lightly down the hall and sneak a quick look in his room. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of his space as I search for his bed … it’s empty!
Wait, where is he? I look around his room, snapping my head around so fast that it hurts my neck. He’s not there. I flip on his light, “Chris? Chris!” No answer. Instead, his window is gaping open, like a mouth trying to shout the answers to where my son went.
His room is empty.
Cold fear spreads through my stomach as I turn on my heel and run to my room in search of my son. Flicking the switch to my light, it’s clear that he hasn’t been in my room at all, let alone to sleep.
“Chris?” My voice is rising with the panic rising in my chest. Lord, where is he?
I thump back down the stairs, and stop at the bottom. Mack is standing over by the mantle looking at our family photos. One family photo in particular. The large double framed collage of pictures showing the early years of my time with Chris. There is photo after photo of only my son and I at the park, on birthdays, Christmases, just enjoying life together. Just the two of us. That’s how it was until he was three. Mack’s eyes slide over to the next frame, the pic
ture of my wedding day, where Joel, Chris and I are smiling at the camera broadly. I remember feeling relieved when Joel and I got married. Relieved that he was a good man who wanted to take Chris and I on. Who wanted to look after us, care for us.
I don’t have time to wonder if Mack is putting the story together. I don’t have time to explain that Joel is absent from years’ worth of pictures because he wasn’t in our lives then. I don’t have time because right now, his son is missing and we need to find him.
“Mack!” His head snaps up at the edge in my tone.
“Sorry, I was just looking around a bit,” he starts to explain.
“That’s fine,” I hold out my hand to stop him from explaining. I don’t really care right now. “Mack, we need to call the cops! Chris is gone. Oh my God, it’s almost midnight! Where could he be? Oh my God!” Tears swell up in the corners of my eyes.
“Are you sure?” Mack doesn’t wait for me to answer, he lunges up the stairs and I can hear his prosthetic thump against the floor above as he searches the rooms.
I grab the phone wondering if I should call the police department or 9-1-1. I can hear Mack rush back down the stairs and close the distance between us.
“Lauren! Where is Joel buried?” Mack interrupts my disjointed thoughts.
“What?” My mind can’t process his words. They don’t make sense to me. I don’t care about Joel right now; I want to find Chris. “What are you talking about?”
“I know where he is, I’m going to go get him, ok? Tell me, please, where is Joel buried?” Mack lays a hand on my shoulder and it’s heavy. It brings me back from the edge. It calms me.
The grave is on Magnolia Lane, it’s only five blocks north. At the Lewis cemetery. You think he’s there? Why?”
“I know he is. Stay here in case he comes back, ok? I’m going to go get him. I promise. If he’s not there then I’ll call you, but I think he is.” Mack gives out his orders as he grabs his things and heads out the door. Once a soldier always a soldier.
“Ok, Mack, are you sure? I think I should call the police. What if something happened to him.” The tears spill over and wet my face, but I don’t care.
“Hey,” Mack grabs my shoulders and looks down into my face, “I told you, I promise I’ll get him. Ok? You can trust my word, you know that. Please, try to calm down a little and I’ll be back soon. I’ll take care of this. I promise.” He stresses and somehow it actually does slow my heartbeat a little from the borderline heart attack I’m having.
“Ok,” I answer and Mack gives me a quick peck on the forehead and disappears out the front door.
“I love you,” I whisper to the door shutting in my face. Please, Lord, let him bring back my baby. Please, let this all be ok.
23
Mack
2014
The pavement is thudding under my prosthetic as I run toward where Lauren told me the graveyard is. The cool air is rushing past my ears and I sweep my head from side to side for the first signs of the cemetery. I didn’t have time to get detailed directions from Lauren. I could’ve brought her with me, but I feel like if Chris is there, and I expect he is, then he’s not going to want to talk to his Mom. He needs his Dad.
Before Lauren came down the stairs, those pictures of her family … is Chris mine? When Lauren told me how old he was, I figured that she shacked up with Joel Brickman shortly after I left for West Point. Yet, I looked through a bunch of pictures of her and Chris by themselves for years. I mean, someone must have been taking all those shots, but it seems weird that Joel isn’t in a single one until the wedding picture.
My eyes try to squeeze shut with the wave of guilt washing over me. I should’ve been there for her. Not Joel fucking Brickman. God rest his soul.
Running up the street isn’t as easy without my blade. I’ve gotten so used to it now that I’ve been doing daily jogs and sprints. However, I can see the steel gate leading to the Lewis cemetery up ahead. I don’t need a blade; I need to get … my son.
Is he my son? Why would Lauren keep that from me? Was she that angry at me for going to West Point? They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but that seems ridiculous.
I should’ve been there for her.
You have no one to be angry at but yourself.
I slow my jog to a walk and stride in through the gate, searching the rows of headstones like and owl scanning a field for mice. Where is he? I don’t see him anywhere. Just hundreds of grave markers shining under the moonlight. Some covered in fresh flowers from loved ones who still ache for their losses. Some long forgotten, their headstones crumbling and neglected.
I stop and tilt my head to listen carefully. All I can hear is the faded noise of traffic a few streets over. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Chris didn’t come here. Maybe I’m wrong about everything. He might not even be my kid.
The pictures on the mantle flash in my mind, the only thing is, Chris didn’t look like Joel as a toddler. He didn’t look like Lauren either except for her beautiful skin tone. No. He looked like me.
A small movement catches my peripheral vision and I snap my head over to investigate further. Almost twenty rows away I can see a small figure in the shadows. It’s him. He did come here! I wonder what else I’m right about?
I want to yell his name, but I stop myself. What if he runs? Or I scare him? It’s probably better to just go talk to him. I walk up the end of the row, so I don’t trample on anyone’s graves, and close the yards between us.
With each step I get closer to him, the more I’m sure it is Chris. I can hear his voice being carried by the night air. “Need to let you go …” He’s sitting at the foot of the grave, talking to Joel. Just like Armstrong and I had suggested. I’m happy that he’s getting the closure he needs; I just wish he would’ve waited until tomorrow to do it.
I slow down, I’m not trying to sneak up on him, but I don’t want to interrupt him either. His back is to me, but I can hear the tears he’s choking back in his voice.
“Mom and I are doing ok. I mean, it’s been hard without you, real hard. I’ve been messing up a lot. I just get so mad sometimes that you’re gone, you know? Like, why did you have to leave us when we still needed you here?” his voice cracks.
I stop a couple a rows away from him and let him speak his mind. I’ve been where he is and I know how important it is to say your piece to get some peace.
“It’s been hard on mom.” He sounds like he’s accusing Joel angrily. “And, well, I’ve been hard on her too. I got expelled and then the cops picked me up. I know I’m making her worry. I just, I dunno, I just keep getting so pissed off. I mean angry,” he sounds defeated and I watch as his shoulders slump forward.
“But I think things are going to get better now. Mom has a cool friend. You’d like him, he talked to me about you and stuff. Everyone keeps talking about closure and I guess it’s important. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to tell you that I still miss you and think about you all the time, but I don’t want to be mad about it anymore. I want to go back to having some fun and doing stuff I like again. I guess I felt like I shouldn’t be having any fun without you, but I know you wouldn’t want that. So, I still love you, and I still miss you, but I’m gonna move on. I have to. I don’t want to be mad all the time anymore.” His voice breaks and so does my heart. Chris drops his head into his hands and his back rises and falls with his cries.
I walk over to him and he turns around quickly, wiping the tears from his face.
“Hey man, are you ok?” I look down at his tear streaked cheeks and wish I could do or say something that would take away his pain. I know from experience that the only true bandage is time.
“Yeah,” Chris sniffs and swallows hard. “I just needed closure. Like you guys said.”
I nod. I know he did. “That’s all right, you did what you had to do. I understand that. Your mom is a bit worried though. She thinks you snuck out to run away or something.”
I watch as his shoulders slump back down and he looks at
his hands. “I messed up again, didn’t I?” He sneaks a look up at me sideways.
“Nah, you did what you had to do. I’ll explain it to her. I get it.” I answer honestly. It’s not a lie. When I decided to go visit Corporal Thompson’s gravesite, I pulled a U-turn in the middle of rush hour traffic to do it. Sometimes things can’t wait until morning, or for traffic lights. When your soul tells you that it’s ready to heal, you listen.
“I’m just gonna give her a quick call so she doesn’t keep worrying, ok? I’ll let you finish up here.” I pull my cell out of my pocket and Chris nods at me.
I dial the only number that I’ve bothered to program into this thing and Lauren picks up on the first ring.
“Hello?” I can tell from her voice that Chris isn’t the only one who’s been crying.
“Hey, I’m here with Chris. He’s ok. He just needed to get some closure with Joel, but everything is ok.” I soothe her.
“Oh thank God! I swear every time I think he’s turning a corner he goes and does something like this! What was he thinking sneaking off in the middle of the night! Thank you Lord, he’s safe.” I can practically hear her crossing herself.
“He’s not doing it to act out, ok? Trust me, it’s a good thing that he came here tonight. He needed to talk to Joel as a man. It’s because of me and Armstrong that he even got the idea, so please, cut him some slack this time? I don’t think he’s sliding back.” I plead his case.
The phone is silent. I flick my hand over to check if the timer is still counting the seconds. It is.
“Lauren?”
“Ok,” she finally answers quietly. “But he still has to know that leaving in the middle of the night isn’t ok. Even if it’s to go to the grave.” I can hear the edge creeping back into her tone. I don’t think she knows if she’s relieved, happy, or pissed off. Probably all three. And then some.
American Bad Boy: A Military Romance Page 11
