“Let go and let God, that’s my motto.” “How quaint. My motto is fuck the fucking fuckers before the fucking fuckers fuck you.” “How…quaint.” I can’t say it with a straight face.
He searches my face, silent for long minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this soul-deep connection with another person in my life. This all-consuming sudden importance of someone else’s existence, like it’s the most meaningful thing in my life. It’s absurd and yet makes total sense. He makes total sense. There’s a small corner of my dark heart that now belongs to Nashville Sommers, and I don’t ever want it back.
“The plant was your relationship indicator?” “Basically.” I laugh. “I know it sounds inane, but it makes sense. It takes discipline and sacrifice and selflessness to keep something alive, to take care of it every day. To cultivate it. If you can take care of a plant,just maybe, you can take care of yourself and possibly someone else.”
The longer I stare, the wider my smile grows, until it stretches from cheek to cheek. Brewer catches my grin, and his eyes grow wide. “Oh, jeez, I didn’t mean to order for you, it just slipped out…because I know with your stomach, and the meds… I’m so sorry! Did you want something else?” I’d eat liver pâté if he ordered it for me, just because I like his caretaking and ownership of me. But, “Tuna fish salad?” I ask, wondering where that came from? Brewer looks chagrined. “In case Valor wakes up.” My heart. My motherfucking heart. It’s melting. “Good call.”
“Brewer, I can’t keep fighting it. Every machine needs fuel, and you’re mine. Your touch is what fuels me, gives me the energy and the strength and the determination to get through each day. I want to keep going, but just give me something. Just a little taste.”
“You fixed something inside of me today. Something I thought would forever be broken.” My chest tightens, like a heavy weight is crushing me, making it difficult to breathe. Fuck, he’s going to make me cry. “With the loss of my sex drive, I’m starting to realize that intimacy isn’t about sex, it’s about truth. When you find someone you can tell your truth to, when you can bare your soul and know you’re safe with them, that’s intimacy. That’s the kind of shit I held onto when I was down there. When I thought I had nothing left to live for, somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d hoped that if I made it out, I would find that someday with someone. Someone like you. I would find what we have.”
“Nash, how can you love someone else when you don’t even love yourself?”
Between sweet nips and pecks on my lips, he says, “I may not love myself completely, but I love the things you love about me.” Then a longer kiss, the glide of his velvet tongue along mine, a kiss so deep it robs me of breath. Nash lifts his head and grips my chin, staring into my eyes, into my soul. “You’ve painted a picture of me through your praise that I don’t see when I look in the mirror, but I believe you see it, and I believe it’s there, somewhere, buried under all the layers of shit I’ve been through. Eventually, I’ll find that man. He’ll rise to the surface because you called him.”
Swiping my tears away, I lean in close, holding his gaze. There’s so many emotions in his haunted sapphire eyes. Guilt and shame, defeat, exhaustion, anger. I’m trying so hard to find some hope, just a trace of it, but I can’t seem to find any. “Don’t look too closely. It’s dark inside there.” “Nah, you just need someone to shine a bright light so you can find your way through the darkness within.” “I thought you were my light,” he sobs brokenly, drowning my heart in his tears. “I am your light. It’s still inside you. I’ll hold that fucking flashlight for you every single day and night for the rest of your life. But you can’t see the light if you don’t open your eyes, Nash. You’ve got to open your eyes and trust that the light will be there.”
Warriors Walk
Ain’t no feeling in the world like free falling. Nothing compares to the thrill of flying through the air, hundreds of feet abovethe world, watching the ground rush up to meet you. It’s like tempting fate, like daring God. Every time we jump, we’re gambling with our lives. So far, I’ve had a flush hand—knock on wood. I’m addicted to the gamble—like an addict with a wad of cash and no morals—I live for my next fix. To feel the wind burn my face, to feel the force of gravity peel my skin and lips back from my bones. To feel weightless; like I can fly, like I can drift away on the wind. Not many people get to see Earth from this angle. They don’t get to fall through a cloud or soar higher than an eagle. Only the lucky few, and the 82nd Airborne.
My body hits the ground hard, jarring every bone in my body, and before I can think to tuck and roll and grab my gun, blinding white-hot pain rips through my legs, dulling every other sense and thought. The sound of my bones breaking echoes through my ears and head. It’s a sound I can feel, and I know it’s a sound I’ll never forget. When I come to a halt, I can’t see shit as my chute drapes over me, blanketing me in darkness.
My protective instincts fire up. “You’re not going to die. Not on my watch.” I stab the top of his thigh—the only part of his leg left intact—with an injection of morphine. His face is ravaged from pain and grief, and I lean over him, looking directly at him. “You know, all this blood really brings out the color of your eyes.” He cracks his eyes open and squints at me. They’re hazel. Muddy green with flecks of gold. I was only making a joke to take his mind off the pain, but his eyes really are beautiful. “They’re my best feature.” He tries to smirk, but his mouth pulls into a tight, straight line.
“You can hold mine instead,” I offer. I’m surprised by the strength of his grip in his condition. “Don’t… Don’t let me go.”
This is my fourth deployment in thirteen years. I’ve saved many lives, and I’ve lost many lives, but I absolutely refuse to gamble with this man’s life. “I’m right here, soldier. I won’t leave your side.”
I recall the B on his dog tag. “Let me guess, your middle name is Butler? Like Rhett Butler?” I’m just cracking dumb jokes because I want to see him smile again. A full one this time. “You guessed it. But don’t tell anyone. That’s my darkest secret.” “Get the fuck out of here,” I choke. “For real?” This time, both corners of his mouth curve. “Cross my heart.” “By God,” I breathe. “A real southern gentleman.” I think he tries to laugh, but coughs instead. “Never said I was a gentleman.”
Why am I so afraid of losing you when you’re not even mine?
Rhett turns his head away. “I’d rather fuckin’ die.” Red-hot anger surges through me. I grab his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare! I busted my ass to keep you alive, and you’re gonna fucking live, dammit. Don’t cry like a pussy over a broken leg, soldier. The rest of you works just fine. I know plenty of guys who live a full, happy life with just one leg. Be grateful you’re still alive!” Tears stream from his bloodshot eyes and I feel like a world-class prick. “I’m…” he coughs and then winces from the way it shakes his body. “I’m scared.”
I stayed away because it felt too personal. “Whatever you want, soldier. Maybe I’ll stop by your room tomorrow, and we can fold paper together.” Fuck, as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know I’ve given myself away. A satisfied smile spreads slowly over Rhett’s face, and the look in his eyes changes to oneof understanding. He knows I’ve been stalking him. Or at the very least, checking in on him. “Sounds good. Bring a handful of brochures with you. I’ll save you a cup of ice cream.”
Everything she’s saying sounds wise and logical, but I don’t hear a fucking word because when I want something, I go get it, and what I want is Navarro Riggs.
Fuck that. Rhett Marsh is a bisexual man. Rhett Marsh was a soldier in the 82nd Airborne. Rhett Marsh is… I don’t know how to answer that last one, but I’m gonna fucking find out.
That fucker Riggs put kids’ sheets on my bed! The beige background sets off the Army-green paratroopers jumping from helos. Shaking my head, I don’t even try to hide my smile. Why should I? I fucking love them, and there’s no one here but me.
“Riggs, I gotta sit.” “The only seat you’re gonna find is when you fall on your ass and hit the floor, soldier. You’re not going backward and you’re not quitting. Even if it takes all day, you’re going to get to the end of those bars.” Rhett is a passive guy, genial, fun. He’s not an angry guy, so when his face pulls tight, the prelude to his hissy fit is unexpected, but totally understandable. “I can’t fuckin’ make it to the end!” “Eventually, you can. You just might need to sit down first,” I insist calmly. “That’s what I fuckin’ said!” he screams. “No, you want to sit in a chair. I told you that’s not available. If you sit on the floor, you’ll have to get yourself back up again.” His hazel eyes turn the palest shade of green I’ve ever seen them as he glares angrily at me. I know he’s dying to tell me to go fuck off, but he wouldn’t dare.
“You think you’re a badass?” I continue, adding insult to injury. “You’re not. You’re just another soldier who got hurt. My gym is full of them; look around. Most of them wear a bigger chip on their shoulder than you do. You’ll have to try harder than that, kid, if you want to be a badass, and if all you want to do is write my name next to the notches carved into your headboard, it’s not going to happen. Go get your dick wet somewhere else, and when you’re done, you can come back here and show me what you’ve got. Don’t step foot in my gym again unless you’re ready to get your ass kicked and you’re ready to work.”
How many nights did he lie here wondering what he would be when he grew up? Unfortunately, he’s still trying to figure that out. I can feel him here, like a dominating presence in the room, as if he crawled under the covers to lie beside me. I may be thousands of miles away from him tonight, but I’ve never felt so close to him. Except maybe that first night we met, when he refused to let go of my hand. When he cried with me and begged me not to leave him alone. I bet he feels alone tonight, lying in his bed, wondering why everyone he loved left him. I haven’t left you, Rhett. I’m coming home.
“My crutches? You gotta be kidding me! How am I supposed to get around?” “With your own two feet. The more you use them to walk, the quicker your leg will strengthen. As long as you’re distributing your weight on crutches, you’re slowing your recovery.” “Come on! Can’t I at least get a walking cane? One of those badass ones with a hidden knife inside!”
The urge to touch him is strong. When he mouths off like this, I find him irresistible, with his dimples popping, framing that lopsided grin. Fuck. I sit beside him, and I don’t know if I’mimagining it or not, but I can almost feel the pull between us, like a tangible thing. “What?” he asks, suddenly looking shy. He feels it too.
The voices in my head become loud, coalescing into a deafening roar. I hear my conscience, or maybe just my insecurities, telling me to back off, to push him away. I also hear Brewer telling me to indulge in moderation, and Retta selling me on her son’s virtues. I hear my body begging me to touch him. I hear his voice, through the filter of pain and tears, the first night I met him, asking me to hold his hand, to never let go. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I’m begging to get burned.
There’s a spark between us—more like an inferno. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t choose him. My heart did. The harder I fall for him, the more I hate myself for being so gullible and careless, but I feel it. It’s happening. My heart is getting wrapped up around him. No matter how much I try to fight it, it’s inevitable. This is going to fucking hurt.
I squeeze him tight and breathe his scent in deep, getting my fill of him before I have to let him go. Dropping my forehead between his shoulders, I whisper, “You’re worth every lonely night I waited for you and dreamed of you.” Rhett’s head drops to the mattress with a blissful sigh. “Yup, every fuckin’ one of ’em. You’re so worth it.”
