Taylor

The silence between us has a physical presence. I know he's angry, and that he's trying to not let me see it. But it's more than just that, he's trying to block the anger out. My mind is full of questions, but I'm afraid to ask any one of them, afraid he'll lash out at me for real like I think he might be capable of. Yet, I feel like he wants to talk too, and it's a maddening mix.

In the end I stay quiet for the rest of the drive, and while we're bringing the groceries in.

"I'll start dinner, I guess," I say once everything is put away. "I got some chicken and potatoes."

He's avoiding my eyes as he nods, folding the shopping bags into very neat little squares. "I'll go find something else useful to do."

I want to stop him, hug him, kiss him, tell him whatever's bothering him will work itself out, that it can't touch us here. He’s right. We should be enjoying what we have because it's great, the best I ever had. But I have no idea what exactly is bothering him, and I don't want to step over the line again. I listen to his footsteps creaking on the way to the bedroom, trying not to panic over the fear that the next time I see him he'll be all packed up to go.

So I busy myself with peeling the potatoes, the garlic, salting the meat, and getting everything ready for dinner.

I don't hear him come back into the kitchen, just sort of feel him. He comes over to the counter and wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head, not saying anything, just holding me. The sentiment is beyond words anyway, and I'm suddenly calm, no longer fearful or doubtful, no longer needing to get anything more from him than this.

"I would tell you everything," he whispers. "But it would just make you leave."

I place my hands over his and squeeze. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. But if you do, it won't change a thing. I’m staying."

It's not even really me speaking, it's someone deep inside me, someone I always wanted to be. It's eerie to say the least.

He kisses my cheek and hugs me tighter, then releases me.

"So you sure there's nothing I can help you with?" he asks, looking over the stove.

"You can keep an eye on things while I go change," I say. Somehow I've managed to mess up my shirt while cooking, which never happens to me.

In the bedroom, I do see that he did in fact put away all his clothes. He also made the bed, all neat and nice.

I find the one shirt that doesn't hang down to my knees, put it on, and return to the kitchen.

"You have some serious skills making the bed," I say and smile at him. "That can be your job from now on."

He's leaning on the counter, grinning at me. "You saw that? I was thinking I could totally get a job as a maid at a motel or something."

"Why'd you say that?" I cringe and cover my eyes. "No! Now I can't stop seeing it!"

His arms are around me again, and he pulls me closer by my lower back, kissing me on the lips this time. I don't open my eyes, because I don't want to ruin all the other things I'm seeing him doing to me later.

"So are you looking for a job?" I ask once we sit down to eat.

His hand freezes in the motion of spooning mashed potatoes onto his plate, but it's a momentary thing.

"Well, with the way they discharged me from the Marines, my prospects aren't that great," he explains, not meeting my eyes. "So I've started to consider appealing it, see if that fixes anything."

"So you are going back?" I ask, and the panic in my voice is evident.

He smiles a little, and squeezes my hand. "The appeal would just be over how I was discharged, I think. That letter that you found…well, the general says he can help me if I put in the paperwork for the appeal. Though they might make me serve out my term."

I nod, finally letting out the breath I've been holding. "You should."

"You think so?" he asks.

I nod again, harder this time, mostly to dispel the feeling that he's telling me to just shut up. But he's talking about it, so that's gotta mean he wants to, right? "I think it's what you want to do."

He stays quiet, cutting off a piece of his chicken and chewing slowly. I suppose that means the conversation is over. At least he didn't tell me that I don't know him well enough to say that. But I sure am thinking it, and I certainly have no right telling him how to live his life.

"I mean, if the alternative is staying here and seeing my dad every day…" he says, letting his voice trail off.

"I know, dads can be so judgmental. Mine thinks I’m wasting my life with my studies, and just everything in general." I stop myself just in time from mentioning Henry. "He’s downright mean sometimes."

He looks up sharply like he’s looking for something in my face, but he clearly doesn’t find it as his eyes turn dark again.

"That’s just normal dad stuff. Mine’s way worse," he says. "So I’m also thinking I shouldn’t leave mom here alone with him, she’s not well."

"Is she very sick?" I ask, feeling a little stupid for telling him all that, since clearly it doesn’t compare to whatever he’s dealing with. The shadows in his eyes are starting to scare me a little too.

"Yeah," he says and chuckles, but it’s a cold sound. "She can’t really take care of herself anymore. Brain damaged from all the beatings."

He looks at me again as he says it, the shadows gone, replaced by something a lot softer, childlike even. Like he’s looking for my understanding.

"Your dad beats her?" I mumble, still trying to wrap my mind around it. I don’t want to think about how hard you have to hit someone to give them brain damage.

He nods. "But I’m trying to make him stop. Enough is enough. So maybe I should stick around."

I don’t know what to say, mostly since my whole mind is locked in wishing my mom was here so I could hug her, tell her how much I love her.

"Besides, I'm still pretty pissed off about the way they treated me at the end. Not sure I want to go crawling back."

"The military you mean?" I ask breathlessly, sounding way too happy and relieved the bad part of this conversation is over, which I probably shouldn’t be. "But you're not doing that, right? I mean you were good at it."

It has to be that way, judging by his fast promotion and his medals.

He laughs. "Yeah, I was like the best of the best…of the best."

I smile too, don't say anything so he can keep talking. But he just looks at me, his eyes very soft, no sign of that anger before left.

He reaches out and strokes my cheek, cupping it in his palm.

"What?" I ask, because my cheeks are growing warm and I feel very naked under his gaze, very visible.

"If I could do this with you over again, I would've like bought you flowers and held your hand more." I have no idea where this change of subject is coming from, but his words, his touch bring a warm, soft feeling deep in my stomach. "And told you how beautiful you are more."

"Because that's what all girls want, right? Flowers, and being told we're pretty."

He chuckles, brushing his fingers across my lips. "Well, yeah, don't you? But you are beautiful."

"And I suppose all guys want to hear that you're strong and brave?" I ask, matching his soft tone.

"Exactly…and that we have big dicks." He laughs again, probably because I'm blushing real hard. Damn my pale skin betraying me all the time.

"Well, you do," I hear myself say, but it's someone new again, someone inside me just waking up.

He laughs again, and I'm literally tingling all over for him to touch me some more, but he lets his hand drop and goes back to eating.

"It's a clear night tonight, and a full moon," he says while chewing. "We could go down to the lake. Like on a date."

"A date in the woods at night?" I ask, my heart rate rising with each word. "Sounds scary."

"Oh, right. You’re a city girl," he says and laughs again. "Don't worry, I'll keep you safe." And I know it's the absolute truth, I know I can trust him with my life.

* * *

"We're walking?" I ask once we're standing outside, and he's holding my hand, pulling me off into the trees.

"Sure, it's not that far, and it's mostly in a straight line from here," he says. "I brought a flashlight."

He turns it on and shines it into the trees, then turns it back off. "But we can see by moonlight just fine."

"OK, if you're sure," I mumble and let him lead me off.

It's hot and humid under the canopy, and my skin soon turns all clammy. He's not even winded, and I'm already panting a little. He keeps checking the compass on his watch, adjusting our path through the trees from time to time.

"Is it far still?" I ask, not even sure why. I love the moonlight spilling through the trees all around us, the silence that’s only broken by our footsteps and my breathing.

"Just a little further," he says and looks at me. "Do you want to rest?"

Henry would be calling me an out of shape fatty by now, but Adam, he's asking sincerely.

"No, that's OK," I say and keep walking. He's still holding my hand, and I hope the clamminess of mine isn't repulsing him right now.

I shriek as the ground suddenly drops beneath my feet, but he catches me in his arms before I tumble down.

"I'm fine," I whisper, but he doesn't let me go as he guides me down the incline. The trees open up, and a gorgeous lake glimmers in the moonlight before us, hills rising above it on all sides but the one we came from. The full moon is directly above us, reflecting in the still waters of the lake.

"Wow," I sigh. "This is like breathtakingly beautiful."

He smiles at me, his perfect white teeth reflecting in the moonlight. "Told you."

"I never knew this was here," I say, taking a step toward the water. "But you, I bet you take all your girlfriends here."

"I wish," he says and chuckles. "There's an even nicer place that I've never managed to take any girl to just over that hill and then down some."

I look at where he's pointing. That hill is not quite as tall as the others surrounding this lake, and there is a wooden construction that looks like a cross is perched right on the edge of it.

"Is there like a church up there?" I ask.

He stares up at it too. "No, that's part of an old mine up there. Hunter's Point that peak is called."

“Like the tattoo on your wrist,” I want to ask, but the words die in my throat. It's in his voice, the way it dropped into a monotone when he told me the name, and I know this is something he has to tell me on his own.

So I just nod and look back over the water.

He lets go of my hand and starts pulling off his shirt. "Wanna go in?"

His voice is all light again, playful, so maybe I just imagined it all before.

"Umm, not really," I say, eyeing the water more warily this time. It's pitch black under the light dancing across the surface, and who knows how deep.

"OK, suit yourself, but I’m going swimming," he says, and kicks of his shoes, then pulls off his jeans.

I'm hot again, and all I really know is that I want to touch him, want him to touch me.

"Sure you won't reconsider?" he asks, standing in front of me in just his boxers.

"You only live once, and all that, right?" I say and pull off my own shirt. He's having trouble keeping his eyes off my breasts as I pull my jeans off too.

I unhook my bra and let it fall down at my feet, enjoying his eyes on my naked skin.

"You're right, we should take it all off," he says, grinning at me and taking off his boxers. I bite my lip as his erection comes into view, and he chuckles.

"It won't be as impressive once we're in the water, so don't freak out," he informs me.

I smack his arm instead of answering and pull off my panties before I lose my nerve. He's seen me naked, but not like this. I can see myself as he sees me, the moonlight reflecting off my too pale skin, the shadows revealing more than they’re hiding.

"Wow, I take it back. You're not a princess, you're one of those elf women," he says, his breath catching in his throat.

"Like in Lord of the Rings, you mean?" I ask.

"Yeah, and you're glowing," he says and scoops me in my arms, kissing me slowly, and gently, with no urgency.

I'm lightheaded by the time he releases me, and I stumble after him as he pulls me towards the water. It's cold, but fresh, feels like velvet around my calves, my thighs as he leads us in further.

He finally releases my hand once we're waist deep. "Ready?"

I shake my head.

"Well, I am," he says and dives in, barely making a splash.

He doesn't resurface immediately like I expected him too, and the ripples from his dive begin to fade. He's gone, and however irrational it is, my heart starts beating fast in fear that he won't come out at all.

I shriek as something brushes against my leg, and then he's standing in front of me, laughing.

"You're so easy to scare."

I smack his arm. "Don't do that again."

"OK," he whispers and pulls me to him, his cold skin against my hotness making me whimper again. "You need to go in too. The water's fantastic."

"It's too co—" But the rest of my sentence is lost as he pulls me underwater, holding me tight so I can't stop him.

"See?" he asks once we resurface, but I'm still catching my breath so I can't reply.

He kisses my neck, and I lose all the will to argue. Heat spreads through me from the touch of his lips on my nipples, the soft flesh of my breasts, my neck, my lips, until I'm burning again, and I'd probably melt if we weren't standing in the cold water.

"God, you're so beautiful," he whispers, and lifts me up. My legs wrap around his hips on their own.

"Not really," I whisper, not even sure why.

"What? No, you’re fucking gorgeous," he says in a voice that won't stand any arguing.

So I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, soft at first, but harder later as he kneels into the water with me in his arms, making me gasp again.

His body is warm even in the cold water, and the moonlight spilling over the calm water all around us makes me think we're the only two people left in the world. And we found each other.

I shiver involuntarily.

"You cold?" he whispers into my hair.

"A little," I admit, though I really just want to stay right where we are.

He lifts me up and carries me out. And I must be too heavy, I know I am, but it doesn’t seem so, and he's not even winded when he sets me down on the shore.

"We should get dry before we put our clothes back on," he says and lies down in the sand, tapping the spot beside him. I sit and tuck my feet under.

"Aren't there snakes here and stuff?" I ask, because I'm suddenly very aware that we're deep in the woods in the middle of the night.

"Only one snake you gotta worry about," he says, winking at me, and I glance at his cock automatically, feeling myself blush.

"I'm being serious," I admonish. But he's so naked and wet in front of me, and we're alone, so I don't know why I'm even worried about anything else.

"Yeah, we can go back if you want," he says.

I shake my head and lie down beside him, resting my head on his chest. I don't even want any more than his hand resting against my hip, his heartbeat filling my ears. We're so alone here, and the feeling that we're the only two people in the world, the first humans still lingers. I want it to stay that way forever.

"My middle name is Eve," I blurt out. "Well, Eva, actually."

"Whoa, that's downright creepy," he says tensing a little under me. "But it suits you. Maybe better than Taylor."

"You think?"

"I think any name would suit you." And I know he's telling me the whole truth.

"I was named after my great-grandmother," I tell him. "She was Italian, moved to the States after World War II."

"Must've gotten your looks from her," he says. "Italian women can be real lookers."

I raise my head a little to stare at him. "So you've known a lot of them?"

"You're actually asking something else, I think," he says.

I gasp, open my mouth to deny it, but he lays his finger on my lips to stop me.

"I'm just gonna answer it…" he says and grins. "I've never actually dated anyone yet and I've slept with six women before you…no seven."

"How's that even possible?" I ask through his fingers, which are still touching my lips.

"I was too busy being a soldier, I guess," he says and finally drops his hand. "Hell, I was still a virgin at nineteen."

I know he's lying, he must be. But his voice sounds too honest.

"What, you don't believe me?" he asks, grinning again.

I shake my head.

"It's true. When the guys from my unit found out they got me a hooker. Had no idea what to do with her, but she did. And I'm a fast learner."

"Yes, you are,” I say and lay back down on his chest.

"So the rest were also hookers?" I ask, not really sure if I want to know.

"No, only that first one. I don't exactly need to be paying for sex."

"No, I imagine you don't," I say.

"I got called gay a lot by my Dad and brothers growing up… actually their favorite nickname for me was Eve. I think that kinda stunted my development in that regard. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being gay…it just isn’t me. But I had my doubts whether they were right for awhile."

"You’re not gay, I can vouch for that," I grin, trying for lightness, but I’m all bogged down with the hurts of his past. I wish I could make it better.

"Enough about me…" he adds, sounding like he’s still stuck in some memory.

This would be a good time to tell him about Henry, maybe.

I’m trying to find the right words to bring him up, when something creaks in the trees behind us. I jerk up, breathing erratically, my heart thundering in my chest. The moon's almost gone behind one of the hills, and it's nearly pitch black where we are. Yet I'm seeing a thousand dangers in the dark.

"It's just the wind," he says, peering back to see.

But I can't get my breathing under control. I'm actually petrified of the woods at night, a city girl through and through. The only reason I came is because he’s with me.

"Do you wanna go back?" he asks and this time I nod.

I dress so quickly I'm done while he's still lacing up his shoes.

I grab his hand as soon as he straightens up, and he leads me out, back up the bank, shining the flashlight in front of us.

I'm walking too fast, matching his pace, since I just want to get back home. A sharp pain stabs through my ankle as I twist it on a root I didn't even see, since I've been too busy scanning the trees around us. I cry out, and fall down onto my knees. And I want to keep crying, because I'm such a damn klutz.

"What happened? Are you alright," he asks, crouching beside me.

"Nothing, I'm OK. Just twisted my ankle a little." I try to put my weight on it as I stand up, and it hurts but holds. "I'll be fine."

"You sure? Let me see."

"No, I'm fine. I do this all the time, it's no big deal."

I start walking and he follows, but I'm slow now because I can only step on my toes, not the whole foot. Damn, I haven't twisted it this bad in awhile.

He stops again after a few steps, halting me too. "You're hurt. Let me carry you."

I smile at him. "You can't. I'm too heavy."

"You're not too heavy," he tells me. "And you can't walk if you're in pain."

"Henry…my ex…would be yelling at me so hard right now," I whisper, confused that I'm even telling him. "He always gets pissed when I twist my ankle."

"What an idiot," he says and crouches in front of me. "Here, just get on my back."

"You sure?" I ask, eying him skeptically. "I weigh a lot."

"Don't worry about it. Seriously, you're what 130?"

"140," I tell him truthfully, since in this case it matters.

He clucks his tongue, grinning over his shoulder at me. "Shit, that's nothing. I can lift twice that."

He's probably boasting and exaggerating, but I love everything about this scene, except maybe the throbbing pain in my leg.

"Don't make me beg now?" he says and hands me the flashlight. I take it and wrap my arms around his neck, let him lift me by the back of my thighs.

"If you get tired, you can put me down anytime," I tell him.

"I won't get tired," he says, and I know he's not boasting, that even if he does get tired, he'll still carry me all the way to the cabin. So I relax and stop protesting, let him take care of me.

"I would punch that boyfriend of yours for going around saying shit like that," he says later, only a little out of breath.

I'm not even sure how to respond.

"He's not my boyfriend anymore," I finally manage.

"Good, because if he treated you like that…well, I never would," he says.

"He only pushed me hard so I'd get better," I say, the words, Henry's words actually, just spilling out.

"What a douche. You don't need to get better. What is he, like some sort of personal trainer?"

I laugh it's so outrageous. "He's an assistant history professor and not really into sports. Which is fine, because I can hurt myself walking on an even surface."

His words, not mine, spoken when I last twisted this ankle the one time we went out for dinner in France.

"So he's older than you?" he asks, and I do want to stop talking about Henry, but I can't tell him so, not after all my prying questions before.

"He's thirty eight," I admit.

"Shit that's like my parent's age. What do you even see in him?"

It takes me a second to come up with an answer. I had it all figured out before I returned from France and met Adam. Henry and me were going to move in together in the fall, start a family. I was sure he was the man for me, the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I can’t even find that knowledge anymore. It’s like someone else possessed it.

"He's smart, I guess, and he knows what he wants in life. And he loves me," I say. But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize just how little it all means to me now.

Adam doesn't ask anything more once I finish speaking, but his silence is speaking volumes.

"But we're not together anymore," I add. "Because I’m not in love him anymore."

I love you now. The thought just pops into my brain, but at least I didn't blurt it out. Because it's childish and kinda scary, since I've known him for like four days. Still feels right though.

"Good," he says and leaves it at that. I wish he'd say more, tell me that he loves me, but why would he? How could he?

The silence is growing thicker now, and I don't know how to break it. So I concentrate on his strong body holding me up, his arms on my thighs, the wonderful, manly thing he's doing for me by carrying me. And that's love in a way. More than I ever dared to expect.

The porch light of the cabin is shining though the trees in front of us. He doesn't put me down until we're inside.

"Let me look at it now?" he asks, kneeling in front of the sofa where he placed me. His forehead's covered by a sheen of sweat, and his cheeks are a little pink, but that's about all that shows of the exertion of a hike through the woods with me on his back.

His hands are gentle as he takes my shoe off, and touches my ankle.

"Doesn’t look broken, but we should put some ice on it," he says and stands up. "You just lay back. I'll get it."

"OK, thanks," I say in a very choked up voice. I don't remember the last time anyone took care of me like this. My family's no better than Henry when it comes to showing affection. They would all sooner make fun of me for twisting my ankle than try to make it better. The contrast of this to that makes my eyes sting, a lump rising in my throat.

"Why are you crying?" Adam asks when he comes back with the ice. "Should we go to the ER?"

I shake my head, wiping my eyes.

"It'll be fine, I'm just being silly," I say, wiping my eyes with the edge of my shirt. "It's just that you're being so good to me."

Another tear rolls down my cheek as I say it. He kneels down in front of me and kisses it away.

"You deserve it," he says and I pull his head to me with both my hands, kiss him right through the tears flowing freely now.

Later, once the tears give way to soft pleasure, I let him prop my leg up on a pillow and hold the ice pack there. Later still, he finds a bandage and wraps my ankle up for me like he's done it a hundred times before.

"You a medic too?" I ask, watching him work.

"I had some basic training in dressing field injuries," he says. "Is it too tight?"

I shake my head, smiling at him. "It's just perfect. Wanna help me get to bed?"

He grins at me, and I know he knows what I'm thinking. It's past midnight, but I'm not tired at all. And I want to finish what we started at the lake.