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How could he not?
Oh, the thoughts… The blurred thoughts that plague me, steal my sleep from me. And once I do find sleep, the nightmares…
So much I don’t remember. So much I’ve blocked from my mind. I have to face it all. I have to face it all if I want to heal.
And lying next to Buck? My head in the crook of his shoulder, as I breathe in his warm and masculine scent?
I almost want to.
I almost want the memories to return, so I can heal fully.
I jerk upward in bed, covering my ears over the noise.
The shrieking, God, the shrieking…
Then someone shaking me. Gripping my shoulders.
And I realize…
The shrieking is coming from me.
“Aspen. Aspen, wake up. It’s okay.”
The voice. The deep and comforting voice.
I recognize it, but the eyes staring at me? I don’t recognize them at all.
My throat is raw. Raw and hurting and burning. And I’m still screaming, screaming, screaming…
“Aspen. Baby, it’s me. It’s Buck.”
Buck…
Buck…
The howling shrieks. Again, again, again…
“Aspen… Please… Baby…”
Buck. Buck.
Beautiful, muscular Buck. Buck, who keeps me safe.
The last shriek is softer, and it leaves me with a scratchy throat.
Then strong arms are around me, strong fingers massaging my back, soft whispers in my ear.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”
I grab onto him, hold on for dear life.
“It’s okay. You were having a nightmare. It’s okay. Breathe, baby. Breathe.
His hardness. His strength. His calm and deep voice. It’s all like a lighthouse on the darkest night. A beacon. A beacon with a heartbeat.
I find I can breathe. In, out, and in again.
My heartbeat hammers against my sternum, but still I breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Again. Again.
Buck’s lips against the top of my head. His strong heartbeat that overshadows my own. His warm skin, his hard, taut muscles.
Enveloping me. Enveloping all of me. Warming me and soothing me, like a comforting salve.
Then—
“Aspen, baby. What have we gotten ourselves into?”
15
BUCK
I swear to God my heart is pounding as quickly as hers is. When I woke up to her shrieking, I was back in the foxhole. Saving my own damned skin instead of someone else’s.
Never again.
My poor baby.
But she’s not my baby. I barely know her. Yet I feel closer to her than I’ve felt to anyone in a long time.
She’s clamped onto me, only my large T-shirt between us.
I kiss the top of her head again and stroke her soft hair.
“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”
She’s quiet now, still clamped against me, but then I feel her movement. Her fingers trailing up my back, and though she can’t see what she’s doing and neither can I, I know she’s tracing the images of my fallen friends.
I’m not sure how long we lie there clinched together. I know only that I’m relaxed now. Relaxed with this woman clinging to me for safety.
The thought is frightening. Frightening and yet so consuming.
“Try to sleep,” I say softly.
She doesn’t reply, just closes her eyes, still snuggled up to me.
Nightmares. My old friends—except not my friends. No more nightmares for Aspen. Not on my watch. I need to protect this woman.
And I can. I will. I will protect her physically.
But what’s going on in her head? I can’t protect her from that, no matter how much I wish to.
It’s a few hours later before I finally fall asleep.
I open my eyes and stretch.
Then I jerk upward.
“Aspen? Where are you?”
I rise, wrap a sheet around my waist, and head into her adjoining room. From there I hear the whoosh of the shower.
Part of me—a very hard part of me—wants to join her in the shower. Sure, we engaged in the act last night. We were as close as two people can be.
But we know so little about each other. We’ve both been through so much. So I can’t. I can’t join her in the shower no matter how much my body is commanding me to.
Instead, I head to my own shower, and as much as I hate cold showers, I need one. I need to get rid of this constant hard-on. It’s not helping either of us.
Today is big for Aspen. She’s going to see her old boyfriend. Her parents. Whoever she wants to. I’ll either go with her or I won’t. Scratch that. I will go with her. I just may sit outside in the car while she does her thing. It’s her call.
My sources came through with an address for Brandon Page. Turns out he’s still unmarried, which bugs me more than it should. But that doesn’t mean Aspen wants him or that he still wants her. In his mind, she disappeared five years ago.
Most likely he’s moved on.
Damn. I hope he’s moved on.
But who am I to say? Whoever this Brandon is, he was willing to put a ring on her finger, and she accepted.
All I know is that she wants to speak to him. I don’t know what about. But surely… If she wants him back…she wouldn’t have let me fuck her last night.
