Chapter 5
Leo
Jesus. I wasn’t expecting that.
Yes, when Charlie had called, nagging me to move to Copper Heights, he’d mentioned in passing that his younger sister lived next door to the place he’d be renting for me. He’d made a joke about knocking on her kitchen window if I ever needed to borrow a cup of sugar.
I'd hardly been paying attention during that part of the conversation. I'd been lost in my head trying to work out the logistics of moving my whole life from Seattle to Illinois with a cantankerous four year old in tow.
I’ll tell ya—I sure as hell wasn’t expecting Charlie's sister to look like that. The thick dark hair. The huge brown eyes. The pale skin as smooth as cream. The bold curves pressing against the fabric of her fluttery little blouse. Charlie's such a big, ugly motherfucker. I’d never expected anyone related to him to be so soft and petite and sweet-smelling.
Reese is pretty. Very pretty. The kind of pretty that lingers at the back of my mind for hours after our encounter. The kind of pretty that makes me forget to spend the night hating Mara like I always do. The kind of pretty that's distracting.
Now, I’m restless. I can't get her out of my head. Meeting Reese Hartley tonight was a shock to the system. I don't want to be imagining her breasts as I lie on top of my covers with my fist tight around my cock. I don’t want to be thinking of her lips as I jerk myself like a mad man chasing release.
My breath stutters and my pulse jackhammers. I try to convince myself that all this is normal. That a little fantasy never hurt anyone. That the distraction is good for my racing, chaotic mind. It’s just a break from the oppressive emotions that have been strangling me since my wife told me that she had someone new, that she was leaving, that she wasn’t coming back. On a scale from one to completely and utterly fucked up, what I’m doing—squeezing my cock, grunting low in throat, thinking about the girl next door—is nothing.
It’s normal, right?
Fuck—I know it ain’t.
But my balls tighten and my cock throbs when her face flashes across my mind. And it’s her face I see as my skin tautens from head to toe. My spine goes rigid, my skull lifts off the bed from the sheer power of the orgasm ripping through me. Damn—it’s been a while. My lust strains against my heated skin and my cum shoots from my cock into my cupped hand.
I collapse against the mattress and the weight of my guilt immediately stomps squarely into the center of my chest.
Charlie would kill me for having these thoughts about his sister. He's the only ally I've got. I can’t afford to lose his friendship over some inappropriate, misplaced lust. Grabbing my wet towel from the foot of the bed, I clean myself up then toss the towel onto the dirty pile in the corner. This is kind of pathetic.
Damn, I could use a smoke.
I crawl out of bed and pull on a t-shirt then tiptoe down the stairs, dodging around boxes on the floor. I grab my cigarettes along with a red plastic cup and the whiskey from the back of the kitchen cabinet. I head for the door. Right now, I just need to clear my mind.
Sliding the door open, I sink onto the cold back step. The sky is black. Not even the moon or the stars to keep me company.
Figures…
Everything’s harder at night. In the daytime I do the socially-required task of keeping my shit together. At night, not so much. At night, it's too hard. At night, I just can't swing it. In the dark, it all becomes clear.
I really am all alone.
Leaning my elbows on my knees, I let my head drop down. There’s a chill in the air that sinks all the way to my bones. I feel weary. Worn down. Much older than just 29. I swallow a fiery mouthful of liquor and then take a long drag from my cigarette. This is becoming a habit. A bad one that won’t serve Brent or me in the future. I know I should cut it but it’s my only escape right now. My only reprieve from the chaos.
There is no pain like the raw, gut-wrenching realization that you've been abandoned, left to fend for yourself, by the person who pledged that death was the only thing that would do you part. And every time I look at Brenton's innocent little smile, that pain sears my heart all over again. Mara—how could you walk away from that innocent, little smile? I never could.
With an unsteady hand, I bring the cigarette to my lips again and draw in more smoke. My lungs expand with the poison. I shouldn't be doing this.
Now isn’t the time to be running away from my problems. I’ve got to focus. There’s so much that needs to get done. I need to buy some real dishes. And groceries. Brent needs new clothes and sneakers. I have dozens of boxes to unpack. The thought of it all is overwhelming.
I’m a fucking soldier, for crying out loud. I should be stronger than this.
My head snaps up like a shot when I hear the sound of an engine approaching. The glow of headlights shines against the side of the house. I bolt to my feet, dropping my burning cigarette into my drink to extinguish the flame. Then I move stealthly to the corner of the house, peering down at the driveway. My systems are all on high alert and I’m ready for a fight. But when I stare through the windshield of the pickup truck grinding to a halt on the gravel, my best friend’s face comes in to view.
I exhale a sigh of relief. These overreactions are side effects of life on the battlefield. You don’t just lose those reflexes simply because you’re suddenly bunking on a king-sized memory foam instead of a narrow army cot.
Charlie jumps out from behind the wheel of his truck and grins at me. “Hey, man.”
“You should have called first,” I growl.
Initially, he seems taken aback by my hostile greeting. But once he examines the lines of my face, understanding dawns in his eyes. He’s seen the things I’ve seen, he’s experienced worse than I have. I don’t like being snuck up on. He understands what that’s like.
“You’re right,” he says easily. “I should have called. I’m sorry.” He leans against the side of his truck and pulls his baseball cap off of his head. “Just wanted to make sure you’re all settled in.” He throws a glimpse at the house that looms behind me, its cobwebbed windows and weather-beaten clapboards concealing the utter chaos residing within.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, too damn tired to try and sound convincing. “We’re fine.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t push it. For now. He pulls a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and hands it to me. “This is the address for the job site we’re working on this week. I know that you need tomorrow off to get Brent signed up for preschool and shit but you start on Tuesday morning. You’ll be there at eight?”
“I’ll be there at eight.” I unfold the paper and my eyes scan the information.
“The house is in Hoovertown, the rich-people part of town. A fucking mini-mansion. One of my sister’s friends owns it with her fiancé. Sophia can seem a bit high-maintenance, but ultimately, she’s good people. Her fiancé is a total square but he’s not around that much while we’re working so he shouldn’t be a problem.” I give him a nod as he starts back toward the drivers’ side door.
“Thanks again for doing this for me, man. It means a lot.” Not only did Charlie help me find this house to stay in and give me a job that will put food on the table, but he’s putting his neck on the line for me by allowing me to work in his business. If I fuck up, his reputation is on the line.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Leo, I wouldn’t even be alive right now if you hadn’t had my back when I needed you.” I nod solemnly, quietly reliving the horrific events that solidified our bond and made us the very best of friends.
Crickets chirp in the long stretch of silence that follows.
When his gaze snags on the whiskey bottle sitting on the back step, he sucks in a deep breath. “Are you okay, man? Because you’re sort of worrying me. I’m just gonna be honest—you look like you’re about to go off the deep end at any moment.”
I’d bet. I’ve been through the ringer. Not just with the whole Mara situation but with the things I saw—and did—while I was serving my country, trying to survive in that jungle.
“I’m fine, Charlie.”
“You sure? ‘Cause if there’s anything you need to get off your chest—”
“I’m good, man,” I insist.
He looks frustrated now. He grates his big hand down his face and stares at me. “When are you gonna talk to me, Leo? You need someone to listen to you.”
I feel myself getting defensive and I snap. “Lay off it, Charlie! I don’t need to talk and you’re starting to be really pushy. Since when are you a middle-school guidance counselor?”
He means well. I know it’s wrong for me to blow up at him but I just don’t need the added pressure of him hovering over me like a helicopter mom right now.
I’m fine. Or I will be. Eventually.
Shaking his head, he snorts out a bitter laugh. Thankfully, his phone buzzes loudly right then. The seriousness in his expression fades like a puff of smoke when he pulls it out of his pocket and reads the text message on the screen. That cocky smirk of his slips right into place. I know that look. All too well.
He gives me a rough slap on the shoulder. “I’m gonna get out of here. Can’t leave the ladies waiting too long now, can I?” I shake my head as he climbs into the truck. The guy is such a player, in no rush to settle down. He leans out the window. “You met my sister yet?”
The memory of Reese causes my stomach to tingle. I steel my spine and nod.
“Her fridge is always packed and she has a stockpile of toilet paper and paper towels and disposable napkins and every other kind of absorbent paper-based hygienic product you can imagine.” He chuckles. “Just knock on her back door if you need anything.” My fingers curl into fists at the thought of being near her. My body shifts into an entirely different mode. It’s almost like I feel the need to defend myself against her softness and her sweetness. Charlie must read the hesitation in my expression because he adds, “Or call me. Any time of the day.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He peels out of the driveway, off to the bed of whoever just texted him.
For a moment, I wonder if that’s what I need—a tight, little body to get lost in, to help me forget. I quickly dismiss the thought. What I need is to focus on building a life for my child.
My friend has already done more for me and my son than I have any right to ask. I have no intention of leaning on him—or on his sister. From here on out, I’ll be standing on my own two feet.
I can’t be running around, all caught in my emotions like some little boy. I’ve got some serious adulting to do.