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Am I thinking of her as a child, sad for her that she missed out on what those boys are getting from their mother, what I got from mine? Or am I thinking of what could be, seeing us playing the role of mom and dad in this happy little foursome, but unable to trust that a future so bright could be mine?
I want it. I want to come back and make a life with someone like Grace. I want to build a house for us, a home where we can raise our children. I want soccer practice, I want camping trips, I even want midnight feedings and dirty diapers.
A curse slips past my clenched jaw when I feel a hand on my shoulder. “You all right?”
I breathe out, letting go of the anger and regret while telling myself that everything is good, that I’ll have all of that and more someday. “I’m fine. Just thinking about something I don’t want to be thinking about right now.”
Grace’s hand makes a slow trail down from my shoulder and then rubs her thumb over mine. She gives me the opening but doesn’t demand that I talk about what’s troubling me, and I’m grateful for it. She just keeps hold of my hand and leans in to plant a soft kiss on my cheek when I stay quiet. “C’mon, let’s head back.”
We’re on a secluded trail heading back to our site a few minutes later, and within those ten or so minutes Grace has slipped and fallen on her ass twice. “I am such a spaz,” she says once she’s upright, brushing the leaves and dirt off her backside.
“Flip flops and hiking don’t mix.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I did plan on packing boots. I know I took them out of my closet.”
“You actually own a pair of hiking boots?”
“More like furry-lined suede boots. Probably ridiculous for this,” she lifts her arms to the sides as she looks around. “But I’d give my firstborn for a pair of comfy kicks right about now.”
She squeals in surprise when I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, and then shifts to a sexy as hell purr when I run my free hand over her ass. She’s laughing as my steps have her bouncing down the trail, but my heart is racing and my thoughts are heavy. I need something right now, something from her and I don’t think I can wait.
I slow my steps and slide her down off my shoulder, her body brushing against mine as I lower her to the ground. Does she feel it, the state my body is in right now? I think maybe she does. I have one arm around her waist as I back her up a few steps to rest against a tree.
“Hey,” I say absently, and she whispers back, “Hey what?” as her eyes drift down and over my body.
I don’t answer. Don’t need to. I kiss her like she’s mine, dip my head down and nip her lower lip before licking and pressing my way into her mouth. When her arms come up and she laces them around my neck like she’s holding on, her chest presses against mine and I let out a low moan. I don’t even think it through before taking one of her hands and guiding it back down to stroke me. My hand over hers, I use her to ease the ache that’s been building up to the point where now I’m damn near ready to explode.
Grace does me one better, freeing her hand to work at the button and zipper on my shorts and then slipping her hand inside so that we’re skin on skin. It feels so good but I whisper, “No,” knowing I’ll come in her hand if she keeps this up.
She moves her hand, but only to undo the button on the little jean shorts she’s wearing, then guides my hand inside and past the bikini bottoms she’s got on underneath. She leans her head back against the tree and closes her eyes when I make contact, but then her hand is back on me a moment later. Kissing her and touching her as she gives the same back to me is almost as good as what I imagine fucking her will be like. She’s warm and wet and rocking her hips as she moans into my mouth. Heaven.
I do come in her hand like a teenager, and she comes on mine, and after it’s done I still can’t stop kissing her because I’ve never been so devastated and wrecked by a girl in my entire life. I want to fall on my knees before her, swear that I’ll give her everything just so I can have this forever. I don’t even know who I am anymore, but I know I’d make a damn fool of myself for this girl without a second thought.
Breaking apart from her, I strip out of my shirt and use it to clean her hand as best I can. Grace blushes when I’m done and looks away as she buttons her shorts. But I don’t want her to feel embarrassed for this, for wanting or needing. With my finger on her chin, I coax her back to me. “I’m crazy about you, Grace.”
I want to tell her that I love her, because I’m pretty sure that I do, but my better sense prevails. I’ve been around too many lost young men, so desperate for connection that they latch on to the first girl who shows interest.
I never understood what made some of them do it, the ones who got married on the eve of a deployment.You don’t even know her, I told Coop.You don’t know a thing about this girl.But he did it anyway, the both of them smiling like lovesick fools in the wedding picture he stared at every night in his bunk before lights out.
I’m not a fool, I know that, but I could see myself doing some pretty stupid shit to keep the love of a woman like Grace. Maybe I’m no better than Cooper. Maybe I’m as weak as he was. I think I’m above it, that I would never crack the way he did or the way Eli almost did, but maybe I’ve just never been put to the test.
She pulls me back to the present whispering, “I liked that.”
I imagine we’re both sporting the same shy, lopsided smile when I tell her, “Yeah, me too.”
Grace hops up when I gesture for her to ride piggy-back. It’s another ten minutes until we’re at our site, and we make the journey back in silence. Talking with Grace never feels awkward, and being quiet with her feels the same: comforting and easy.
“So, what’s next on the agenda?”
“Now we get to the fun part.” And right in the middle of her making some ooh-la-la sound, I add, “I’m going to show you how to clean a fish.”
“Gross. And why would I need to learn how to do that?”
“It’s good to have survival skills. Knowing how to start a fire, to purify water, to hunt...One of those skills could save your life someday.”
“The odds of me being dropped off in the middle of nowhere and having to fend for myself are slim to none, Damien, but go ahead...Teach me.”
To her credit, she doesn’t flinch when I scoop the innards out with my fingers, and once I show her how to hold the knife at a forty-five degree angle, she does a decent job of separating the filet from the spine.
