Page 63 of Silver Brewer

“No. That’s not what I mean.” He spins me in his arms and holds my shoulders again. “I didn’t want to share you with anyone. Not yet. You’re mine. Not mine as in possession, but as in just for me, and selfishly, I wanted to keep you all to myself.”

“That’s bullshit. I met your family this weekend.”

“My siblings. My parents. But my girls…it’s different.”

There are so many things I want to sling at him, but I bite my lip. His girls should be the most important people I meet, but maybe that’s why I haven’t met them. Maybe he didn’t want me to ever meet them. An introduction would be another crossover between me and his past.

“I didn’t know how they would react, and then I didn’t want their reaction because I knew it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t give you up, no matter what they said. Then they surprise me and like you, which shouldn’t have been a surprise because you’re amazing. It’s just been strange for me...”

“Because this is where you lived with Clara, and now I’m here.”

“Yes. No,” he says, his brows lifting. “I don’t know.” His tongue-tied chatter could almost be endearing, charming even, but I’m no longer looking to be charmed by him.

“I don’t intend to replace her.”

“That’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He tugs me as he walks backward until he slumps down to sit on his bed. His hands come around my lower back, trapping me between his open thighs. “I-I loved my wife, Letty, but she was nothing like you. I don’t want to compare the two of you because you are both unique women, but Clara and I, we fell into a routine. We fell into silence, and then she got sick. I…I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m not explaining this right. All I know is you come along, and you’re just life to me, Letty. Noise and energy and just everything I didn’t know I was missing. It isn’t that I don’t want you here. It’s that I don’t want you to leave. Ever.”

My hands come to his shoulders, hating how much I want to hold him. How much I love the feel of him under my palms, and how much I want to believe him.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I think I’m in love with you, and I don’t want you to go home.”

“Giant,” I begin, looking up and around this room. “You can’t even make love to me in this room. Her picture is jammed in your dresser. She’s all around you.”

“No, no, Cricket,” he says, lowering his head into my stomach.

“I can’t stay here,” I whisper. “I need to go home.”

He’s already had all I’ve been longing for, and the last thing he’ll want to do is do it all over again. And I don’t want to settle for jumping in midship. I want to fall deeply in love, get married and have children. I’m selfish, I guess.

I push back at his head and cup his jaw to tip his face up. Leaning down to kiss his lips, I intend to keep it tender, but the moment our lips touch, his mouth opens, devouring mine with tongue and teeth. We gnash and spar and nip until I need to pull back before I give in. Before I let him take me on this bed where he can’t make love to me.

“I…I think you’re pretty amazing, Giant Harrington. The best.”

I step out of his embrace, allowing our fingers to be the last connection before releasing him. Then I return to packing, keeping my back to him. I won’t let him see the tears because crocodile tears have no place in this bedroom any more than I do.

+ + +

“Letty, may I see you in my office?” Uncle Frank’s tone warns me, and a cold ripple runs down my spine. It’s been ten days since I saw Giant. Ten days since his first email and I worry Frank has broken through the intra-net and scoped out the letter.

Cricket,

I spent long periods of time without talking to people. Times when I wasn’t allowed to communicate. I can be silent and quiet and still, but you make me restless, and I want to talk. You aren’t speaking to me, and I’m unnerved by it. I miss your voice. Your chatter. Your laugh. I miss the beat of your heart and the warmth of your body next to mine.

I’m not an expert with words, so I’m going to ramble here. Bear with me a bit.

When I was eighteen, all I wanted was to join the military. I wanted out of my town, away from my dad and his business. Pap understood. I was quiet and large and not good at much. Clara was similar. Shy, bookish, and interested in me. I was shocked. Pap was not. He told me she was a good woman, but I needed bigger things.

The CliffsNotes version is this. I enlisted. Clara went to college. We eloped. I went to basic training and was deployed. Home on leave, she got pregnant. Motherhood was what she wanted more than anything. Another tour. Another baby. I’d moved up the ranks. Pap warned me I was going too far and gone too much. I didn’t know how to explain myself. I didn’t know what I wanted. I wasn’t certain I could come home. Then he died. I got shot months later and didn’t have any choice. I was surly and upset, suffering from PTSD and guilt. Clara stood by me. Then she got sick. I stood by her.

I don’t want to romanticize us, Clara and me, but I don’t want to defame what we had either. On the other hand, you’re special to me, different, and I felt guilty. For wanting your wild nature and craving it. Guilty for knowing the sensation of being with you—inside you—and having it be some of the best moments of my life. I miss your touch. I miss your kiss. I miss the way you look at me as if you see me and understand what I need. You’re the opposite of me, yet we mesh.

You’re always on my mind and in my heart, Letty. I want us to work, and I know we can.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about them. I’m sorry I didn’t tell them about you.

I’m just sorry.