Morning . . . Sickness?

Reggie

 

 

 

Email. April 29, 2016. Las Vegas.

Dear Calder,

Your folks told me the news. Congrats! Although Remy and Meg sure would’ve loved hearing about it from you firsthand instead of from ESPN, we’re all so proud of you. Carolina Crush draftee! Big move.

 

Guess what? I bought a house. Vegas, baby. Permanent. My own place. I know, it’s not as earth shattering as what you’ve been up to, but it’s a step forward. I’m starting to breathe again, live again.

 

Hey, remember when we were best friends and we told each other just about everything? Haha. That’s rhetorical since I know you’ll probably delete this email along with all the others I sent you and never heard back from. But I don’t care.

 

I miss you so much. I don’t feel like I should have to miss you too. And I care about you. Just know that.

 

With love,

Reggie

 

Present day

I SHOULD’VE BEEN ASHAMED in the morning, bright winter sunlight slipping beneath my closed eyelids as I stretched in the warm bed. I’d pretty much begged Calder to eat me out. And, boy, had he ever. Unnnh. And he’d been hurting, wanting, afterward. Still wasn’t enough to convince him to make a real move on me. I’d have blown him, happily, sloppily, and probably come again. The man was fit, big, and so often on my mind these days I didn’t wonder anymore when he’d become the fantasy lover after such a long dry spell.

Then the nightmare from hell, Calder comforting me. His hand smoothing up and down my back, his husky-toned whispers in my ear. His body covering mine.

For solace. Not sex.

And it wasn’t just sex I wanted from him either.

I’d run my brain ragged thinking about him.

Maybe Chris had been a force of nature, but Calder was the quiet storm. The beacon, sometimes bright, sometimes bleak.

I rolled into a warm cave of covers, Calder’s imprint and scent on the dented pillows.

I felt . . . cleansed.

But apparently always for Calder didn’t mean breakfast in bed.

I peeked my eyes open and brought my fingers gingerly to the lids, swollen and sore. Those weren’t the only parts of me swollen and sore. Hot from Calder. My pussy hadn’t had a seeing to like that for a long damn time, and I was just sensual enough to revel for a moment longer in the body-ache. The one that resulted from near-sex, not nights on the stage putting the glamor on.

Listening for Calder, I finally sat up. Emerging from the bedroom, I brushed my teeth, did my business, pressed a cold washcloth over my eyes. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, I felt a little shy, swallowed in the Crimson Tide T I’d taken from him years ago on one of those damn fishing trips. But shy wasn’t usually my thing.

I breathed out when I found the house empty. Coffee started. Two mugs on the counter, Sweet’N Low packets next to a souvenir cup from Tucson. He’d probably bought it for me from one of his trips and never sent it. He knew I had collected a crazy set of mugs.

A note by the Mr. Coffee boasted his scrawl:

Hey, R.

Out for a run. Be back soon. I’ll pick up some breakfast.

C

My heart fluttered at the little courtesy. Imagining his tiny note as a daily occurrence.

Shivering in my T-shirt, I poured a cup of java before jacking up the thermostat. Mr. Hottie kept it at a cool sixty-five degrees in the dead of a South Carolina winter, and this girl needed at least seventy-five all the time.

The door banged open just as I was warming up, bringing a cool gust and a huge man in sweats and a hoodie, bearing bags on both arms like the weights he easily lifted. Sweat sprinkled Calder’s brow, and he shoved the hood back. Placing the bags on the counter, he pecked me on the cheek.

“Get off. You’re cold!” I shoved him away. “And sweaty. Go take a shower.”

Cheeks ruddy, eyes piercing, beard shadowy . . . And I didn’t mind the sweat at all, but I hadn’t composed myself just yet.

Oh Lord. He’s delicious. Ripe. Ready. Heady.

Then he broke the spell, saying with a smirk, “Yes, Mom.”

“If you look at your mom that way, we really do have a problem.”

“Hmmm. What about my sister-in-law?”

“We’re not related by blood.” And no longer by marriage either.

Calder’s silvery-grey eyes shuttered down at that unsaid truth. He backed away, his scent swirling like a cold fog as he retreated to the shower upstairs.

I grabbed what looked like a sandwich that was marked with my name from one of the bags. A bagel with the works—lox, cream cheese, and capers.

He knew exactly what I wanted. Always.

I refilled my coffee, meandered into the living room. A big TV, another iPhone dock-speaker set-up, photos on the mantle of the fireplace.

Pictures I knew so well my heart tripped.

There was Chris, in his dress blues with an American flag in the background.

Another—my favorite—showed Chris and Calder with me sandwiched between them on a bright sunny day. Smiles plastered on our faces.

Love surged in my heart.

I wiped my fingers off and took the photo in my hands.

“That’s my favorite too.” Calder snuck behind me.

“We were all so young.” I set the frame back then swiped my eyes.

“Hell. We were wild.”

“That too.” I turned, and Calder stepped back, his coffee mug held between us.

A barrier.

“I miss him.” He shrugged, once again in jeans.

Shirt open at his chest, shoulders stretching the seams, and an ache spread from him to me.

I set my cup down. “Me too.” I traced his cheek, his jaw. “But I miss you as well. You’re alive, Calder. So am I.”

“It’s not right to feel this way.”

Whereas I would’ve called complete bullshit on him last night, I felt softer this morning.

I sat, patting the cushion next to me.

I wondered how hard I’d have to go at him before he understood or if the softer approach worked better.

My eyes flicked low just briefly enough to realize Calder was already straining in his jeans, the buttery soft old fabric tested by his cock when he sat beside me.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said.

“Are you referring to my breakdown or my orgasm?”

He straightened up.

His jaw hardened. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

I forced a laugh. “So I made you tongue me until I saw stars?”

“Goddammit, Reggie.” He stomped to his feet, slammed his cup on the coffee table. “What the hell do you want from me here?”

“I’m not sorry about last night.” He opened his lips to speak, but I hushed him. “Not one single bit of it.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I rose.

Flummoxed, Calder kept putting space between us. “What exactly are you saying?”

“Is it really that much of a mystery?” I tucked my hands in his, turning my palms so his fingers fit mine. “I know Chris emailed you, probably more than he did me. I know he told you things weren’t working between us.”

Calder’s fingers clenched mine. “It doesn’t matter. He was a damn good man. My brother. Your husband.”

“Yes. He was. He was all that.” I let go. Sat down. Buried my fingers in my hair. “Our marriage was over. Last tour. He knew it.” I couldn’t bear to look at Calder. “The constant unknown. His withdrawal. Our timing was never right. He didn’t want to start a family . . .” I raised my eyes. “He was never coming back to me.”

Tight tension strung out between us.

Silence nearly pulled me apart, and I watched Calder crouch in front of me. “You and Chris . . . you both told me things I didn’t wanna know.” He looked up, lips stretched thin. “You were unhappy.”

“He was too.”

“He wanted me to take care of you.”

“I’ve always been pretty good at taking care of myself. I had to be after my parents died,” I said. “Then I met the Malone brothers.” I clasped his face between my hands. “Whatever happens, I don’t want you to hate me,” I whispered, twisted up inside.

“I never would.”

“Even if I said I figured out you always wanted me?”

Calder spun away. “You can’t say that.” He pounded a wall. “Fuck’s sake!”

“Am I wrong?”

Head hanging, he wheeled toward me. “You’re my friend.”

I gulped. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

After lifting my face, Calder searched my eyes. “Is that what this is all about?”

“No. Never.” I blinked at him. “You read his last emails. You know Chris was in a dark place. That shouldn’t be you too. It doesn’t have to be you too.”

“So I’m another person you need to save.”

“You’re such an egotistical asshole!” I stomped away, about to hit the stairs when Calder drew me back into his arms.

“You got me pegged.” He chuckled.

“Don’t you dare laugh.” I sniffled against his neck, wrapping my arms around warm, live, man. “I wasn’t a good enough military wife. Maybe if I had been, Chris’d be alive.”

“No. Hell no.” Calder crushed me to him. Rocked me in his embrace. “You ever take that blame on yourself again and I’ll be really pissed.”

I felt the silent wracking of his body as he covered my head with his hand.

He’d never let go of Chris. Never mourned. Always lived with guilt he could’ve done more.

And now I understood he thought he was responsible in some weird way for wanting me for his own.

Guilt was toxic. Shame poisonous.

No wonder he’d turned to drugs.

The big clasp of his arms loosened, and he dried tracks of tears he didn’t ever want me to see.

So young. So old.

So honorable.

“I have to get to practice.”

“I hope so, flabby.”

“You did not just say that.” Calder, back in control, coiled back.

“Seems you got a little extra here.” I pinched his ass, and he yelped, smacking my hand away.

“Bullshit.” He picked up his gym bag.

“Really?”

His eyes glimmered, frost melting. Then he handed me a visitor’s pass to the Carolina Crush Stadium. “You’ve been vetted.”

“So you want me to watch you practice?”

Wide shoulders filling the doorway, he turned back. “Up to you, sweetheart.”

“And it’s okay if I’m still here when you get back?”

He hit me with a sudden searing look that made my legs wobble. “I’d track you down if you weren’t.” His eyes scanned up and down my body, pooling warmth settling between my legs. “P.S. I know you turned up the thermostat while I was out running, desert rose.”

“Maybe I like it hot.”

“I’m sure you do.” He left with a wink.

He left me completely breathless.