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“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I whisper just as frantically as I take hold of his wrists, stroking his skin up in down, trying to calm him.
“I didn’t mean to,” he continues, practically groveling, and I take him in a hug, my arms wrapping around his head. “I just… I was back there. I don’t know how I believed I was back there and not in bed with you, but I blinked and then that’s all I saw.”
“I know, baby. I know you didn’t, it’s okay.”
I’m not sure how much time I spend reassuring him… I just know it goes on until we both fall asleep.
* * *
I wakeup after I don’t know how much time asleep and reach over to the space beside me to find nothing but rumpled sheets. It’s dark outside, but it can’t be too late as it was still light out when we came home.
My stomach lets go of a deep growl, and I’m reminded we didn’t eat since the funeral. That’s probably what Kaleb is up doing, making something for dinner. My starving appetite pulls me from between the covers, and I go over to the dresser to pull out some pajama pants and a t-shirt to go help him.
Only after making my way down the hall to the kitchen, I don’t find what I expect. No lights are on except the one above the stove, and Kaleb sits at the center island, his leg propped up on a stool and an open bottle of whiskey and a glass beside him.
Dammit no… not this.
“K?” I try to get his attention as he brings the half full glass to his mouth and sips. “What’s going on, are you okay?” I ask with concern, knowing that ripping into him about drinking with his pain meds is only going to push him away further.
“I’m fine,” he barely grumbles staring into the glass as he sets it down. “Just been doing some thinking.”
“Yeah?” I ask cautiously as I casually slink over to the island and grab up the bottle, twisting the cap back on but leaving the glass with him. By the looks of things, he’s not too deep into the bottle, and I want to keep it that way. Fortunately he doesn’t protest and just nods at my retort. I place the bottle back up in the cabinet above the fridge and come to lean my arms across the island from him. “K, if this is about earlier, I told you there’s nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t mean to get carried away; I know that one hundred percent. You’d never hurt me.”
“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head sadly down at his drink. “I mean, it’s going to be a while before I forgive myself for that, but… no. It’s not that, it’s about… us. Me.”
I bow my head, examining the tiles of the counter top while I collect my thoughts. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, Kaleb. We spent a long time apart and we – you – went through a lot during that time. It’s going to take a while for us to reintegrate.” I shake my head, willing him to see my reasoning.
It’s no secret that we haven’t been the same since he came home, but it also hasn’t been very long. “These are growing pains, and if we see it through, everything will level out again.”
He lets out a sigh heavier than the world before shaking his head and finally looking up at me.
“I think we should get divorced.”
32
KALEB
Luna’s face goes stone still and those brown eyes seem to zone out. She swallows hard and sets her jaw, and it’s hard to tell in this dim light, but I think she goes a little pale for a moment.
I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but it’s for the best. I can’t go on like this, the way we’ve been. I’m going to be beating myself up for the rest of my life over what happened in the bedroom. I didn’t think I was capable of such a thing; letting some monster take over me and scare her like that. But I wasn’t lying when I said it wasn’t about that – at least not all about that.
Since I came back, she’s been looking at me like some poor loser she’s stuck taking care of. I may be a bit off-kilter from all the pain meds, but I’m sure that’s what I’m seeing. And why shouldn’t she? That’s all I am anymore.
And she’s changed, too. She’s not the sassy, free spirit I found my way back to in that bar in Indianapolis. The one that rooted for herself as much as she did me. What drew me most to her was the way she was living life for herself and was making herself happy before I even came along.
Now, it’s like the life has gone out of her eyes, and she’s resigned herself to a sentence of taking care of a broken-down excuse of a man just because she married him. I didn’t stop to think that becoming an Army wife, waiting for her man, only to have him dumped on her at not even half of what he was, but I no longer see the cheerful, radiant girl with the purple in her hair. Just like she probably doesn’t see the hardcore, aspiring tattoo artist that bravely went off to war.
I stay silent, letting her process what I’ve said, but what happens before my eyes is not what I expected. She squares her shoulders before the color returns to her face – no, more than returns to her face. It’s almost taken on a radiance, but not the kind I’ve seen before.
“No,” she finally speaks, her voice low and deliberate. I expected a little denial in rebuttal, but as her eyes refocus on mine, she looks dead serious… So I try again.
“Luna, this isn’t turning out how either of us thought. I think we should cut ties and move on,” I say huskily. Or at least she should.
But she straightens up to her full height and levels me with another hard glare. “Yeah, no, I don’t think so,” she says plainly before turning and stalking towards one of the cupboards and pulling out a mixing bowl and an egg beater.
What the fuck is going on here? I instigate a conversation with divorce and she blows me off?
“What are you doing?” I crinkle my forehead at her and shift forward to ease my leg down off the stool.
