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He slides his ass forward in the seat, sitting lower in his chair and taking up even more leg room, with his leg against mine like he’s marking his territory by touching me. I refuse to let him weigh heavy on me with a flight home in front of me. I should be ecstatic. I should be planning my stay and preparing to notify everyone of my return, but I'm not. My family doesn’t even know where I’ve been. Hell, I’m not even sure I should call them before I walk in their door.
I need to though. Something is ticking away in the back of my head to contact my parents. I realize it has everything to do with me shooting a young child. No matter how I see it, he was someone's son, but he was a young man who was going to shoot Kaleb. Yet, I can’t seem to get his young face out of my mind. I’d give anything to be able to have my dad hold me like he did when I was growing up. He’d comfort me when I fell off my bike or when my brother Jason thought it would be fun to sneak up behind me, tackle me to the ground, and put a pair of his underwear over my head. I hated that more than anything. No matter how many times he was told to knock it off, he tortured me every chance he got by pulling sick jokes.
I laugh out loud, recalling the day I got him back. He was sleeping. I crept into his room, scattered unused tampons all over his bed, and of course had to dip them in red paint for effect. He freaked the hell out when he woke up. All I could do was laugh my ass off when he wandered into my room the next morning. His face was beat red and he was so pissed. Then he cocked his head to the side when he saw me sitting at my vanity, applying the little bit of makeup I wore.
“After all these years you paid me back. It’s about time you grew a set of balls.” We laughed and joked around about the balls thing.
“I think I’ll stick with what I have, thank you very much. Now, get the hell out of my room and keep your underwear off of my head, asshole, or next time I do pay you back, you’ll really be sorry.” At thirteen years old I had finally grown up, he had said as he walked out the door, laughing all the way to his room. Needless to say, after that night, I never saw a pair of his underwear again.
Shit, I miss him. I just wish I were going home to see him.
“What’s so funny?” Harris leans into my space. His hand goes to my leg, squeezing it gently. I lean my head back, shifting my body to face him the best I can. Being careful not to put too much pressure on my sore arm. I feel the effects of the pain pills kicking in slightly, although I’m not quite ready to zone out yet.
I’m afraid to sleep. I’m terrified of the dreams I’ll have. I try to tune those thoughts out and move a little closer to Harris to tell him the story. The entire time we’re talking, with my body facing away from Kaleb, I can feel his anger, jealousy, and frustration poking holes in the back of my head. He’s a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any second.
The truth is, I can’t bear to look at the man. He makes me want to feel things I’m not ready for. Mainly him. If we had started off normal, like a date, or getting to know each other before we fucked without me even knowing his damn name, then who knows, maybe things could be different between us, but it can’t be. He’s my damn Commander. This shit is off-limits and completely against everything we both know. Whatever happened needs to be left here, or should I say, back in Afghanistan.
I’m not sure how long Harris and I talk, keeping everything low-key. I talk more about my past while he brings up the things he wants to do when he returns. As my eyes drift closed, my head falls onto his shoulder, and I swear I hear him ask me to dinner when we return. I’m also pretty sure I hear a low rumbling growl of “fuck no” from behind me.
KALEB
No fucking way is he taking her anywhere. This shit ends the minute we step off this plane. She may not have taken Harris’ joke about spanking her ass seriously, but by god, the first chance I get, I’m spanking her ass. In fact, the more I think about it, the more it turns me on. I’m going to punish her in a way that will have her begging me to fuck her when I’m done. Then she’ll learn not to ignore my ass. Or to treat me like I don’t even exist. Fuck that.
I’m not sure what kind of game she’s playing, but this guy never played nice in the sandbox, and I’ll be damned if I start now. What’s mine is mine and Harris needs to know she’s off-limits for him.
Out of the corner of my eye I watch her sleep on his shoulder, her long blond hair enveloping her face. I glare at the motherfucker, who seems to be content with his head laid back and his eyes closed. He’s fucking sleeping next to her.
What I need right the hell now is a few shots of whiskey to kill the burn that it’s him and not me. Shit. I sound like a pussy, a defeated one at that.
“No!” She jolts up, scaring the shit out of me and several other people around us who gasp at her loud voice.
“Hey.” I place my hand over the top of hers. Her head whips around in my direction. Harris wakes with her abruptness too, but I couldn’t care less about him; my focus is on her.
“Are you alright, Miss?” The cute little flight attendant who has been flirting with me every time she walks past stops to ask.
“Yes. Bad dream. Sorry.” Jade sits up. Shit. I don’t even have to ask what she was dreaming about. I can see the agony in her eyes. She’s suffering over what happened more than I thought she would.
“Come here, please.” Removing my hand from hers and bringing it up and around her shoulder, I am careful not to cause her physical pain.
She’s carrying so much anguish inside of her, and it kills me to see her like this. She may hate me for what I’m going to recommend to my superior when I return, but Jade needs help. She needs to talk to someone about this. Someone neutral. One of the Army’s doctors who specialize in treating soldiers who have a difficult time when returning home from war or a mission.
I’m still her Commander, well technically not, but who gives a shit. I care about her and part of my job will be to discuss how everyone on my team performed. Jade did everything she was supposed to do, but this, this can’t be ignored. They won’t allow her to return or to recommend her for another mission anywhere if she can’t handle what happened out there. I know how hard she has worked for this.
This is her life. It will destroy her if she can’t handle it. She’ll be behind a desk, shuffling papers or worse yet, she could be discharged. That, I know damn well she’d not be able to handle. Fuck.
She starts to relocate her tiny frame from dickfuck to me. As she does, I lift the armrest up, giving her the comfort she needs to rest her head on my shoulder. This is where she needs to be, even though I desperately want to kiss her, to run my fingers through her hair, and calm her. I know I can’t, not yet anyway.
I play the part of her leader, letting her breathing calm. She stills in my arms, and I know she’s fallen back to sleep. I sigh heavily then shift my gaze to Harris who is watching us, or should I say me, with confusion smeared all over his face.
“What?” I mouth dryly.
Those damn eyes of his give him away. He wants to know what the fuck I’m doing. Better yet, he wants to know why.
“Is she alright?” JJ questions from his seat across the aisle and a row back. I tear my scrutiny away from Harris. My attention spins in the opposite direction.
“She will be.” That’s really all I can say.
“I hope you're right.” His reply is full of concern. He can’t say anything more, either. By the way he’s casting his look at her, I know the kid cares about her. He looks up to her. What man wouldn’t? She’s strong, courageous, and a damn fighter.
