Chapter Twenty-Nine

Katy

Gavin sleeps next to me on his stomach, his fingers curled around my hip as I stare out the window next to our bed.

Did he lock the front door?

Sliding off the mattress, I tiptoe across the carpet and look back to find him undisturbed. My eyes trail along his form, to the sheet wrapped around his waist. His muscular back lays lax, and his bare feet hang off the edge of the bed. He’s bulked up since I left, a sign of the stress he’s endured. I know he’s sleeping better than he has in months, and I envy him. I haven’t slept a second, trying to draw comfort in the subtle way he’s holding me without pressuring me for more.

Does he know?

Dismissing the thought, I make my way downstairs to check the windows and doors before curling up on the bench in front of my bay window. Our neighborhood is only a couple of miles away from Fort Hood. Gavin and I moved a few years ago to claim a little independence from the army. In my haze of getting through my first day home, I hadn’t even noticed the Christmas lights stapled to the roof of the neighboring houses.

My son doesn’t have a stocking up.

Tears threaten as I scramble off the bench and crack open the garage door. Plastic bins full of decorations I’ve kept over the years sit stacked neatly in the corner. This is something I can do for Noah. I won’t miss this.

With my good hand, I drag the bins inside, flipping on the radio, and keeping the music low. “Deck the Halls” comes on as I pull plastic branches from a container and sort them out on the living room floor.

He needs presents. I’ll buy him everything on his list. Whatever the hell he wants, he’ll have it, no matter the cost.

After resurrecting our tree, I struggle with the lights, checking each strand while I try to detangle them. Frustrated after minutes of getting nowhere, I begin to panic. Anger bubbles below the surface as sweat begins to trickle down my spine. Gavin has always been meticulous about packing them away.

“Dammit to hell,” I snarl, continuing to wrestle with them until I hear his low chuckle behind me.

Instead of humoring him, I give him a hard look.

“You always twist-tie them up. Why didn’t you do it last year?”

He’s leaning against the kitchen entryway, bare-chested, in his pajama bottoms, his arms crossed and his eyes alight with mischief.

“Think really hard, Katy.”

Sweat beads on my forehead as I rip at the lights. “Why do I have to think? Why couldn’t you just have done it the way you always do?”

“Because,” he whispers, closing the gap in two strides before gently taking them from my hands. “Things got a little freaky the last time we took them down.”

Seconds later, I’m immersed in a memory that seems like a lifetime ago. Noah had spent that night at Grandma’s, and we’d taken full advantage of it.

“Oh, yeah. Well, why didn’t you put a tree up? Noah needs his tree.”

I can’t ignore the tinge of hurt in his voice. “He wanted to wait for you.”

“And what if I hadn’t come back?” I snap. “What then? Christmas is canceled? He’s a baby.”

“Not anymore. And he knew you would come back. We both knew.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I retort.

“Then tell me,” he offers softly.

I ignore his prompting question. How can he not know I’m not ready? He’s no stranger to deployment, though I’ve heard his stories in detail and can’t for the life of me find them anywhere near similar to mine. He’s never slept in his own shit or sat and watched a scorpion sting his leg just so he could feel something. He knows nothing.

He unravels the lights with ease, and it only fuels my frustration.

“Of course, you can get it done.” I fake an apologetic smile. His eyes scour me, and I turn away, dotting the branches with the large bulbs, the kind from A Christmas Story, my favorite holiday movie. Last year, I even bought the leg lamp. It sits in the corner, ready to be set up.

“This will be a good surprise in the morning. We’ll leave the ornaments for him to put on.”

Gavin stays silent as I turn to look back at him.

“Don’t you think?”

He nods, his features twisting with a pain he’s trying to mask. There’s no mistaking what he’s trying to convey.

“You know.”

“Yes.”

“Roger?” We lock eyes, and I hate the look in his—devastation and sympathy—a warranted reaction, the perfect reaction. I hate it.

“Yes.”

“Figures,” I say, turning to look up at the glowing tree.

“Talk to me, Katy.”

“I’m not ready,” I say in a dull voice. “And you know it.”

“Okay.”

“Will you help me put these bins back? I’m tired.” It’s a lie. My whole body is covered in sweat, and I want away from his watchful eyes. I feel like I’m under a microscope.

Gavin remains quiet, waiting.

“Please, just help me get the boxes back.”

Without a word, he gathers the bins and takes them to the garage. I watch him go and am waiting for him when he comes back inside the house.

The look of surprise on his face stuns me momentarily as I stand in wait, my intent clear. I close the space between us, lift onto my toes, and press my lips to his. His reaction is instant. His hands cup my face as he kisses me gently, taking his time to explore my mouth.

I need more…more than this. I need to recapture what we had.

Spurring him on, I palm his cock and rub up and down his growing erection as his whole body tenses. “Fuck, baby. Katy—”

More, I need more.

I’m tearing at his back as I attack my husband with dire need.

“Gavin, now,” I order. He rips himself away, panting. “We can’t.”

Instantly furious, I step up to him. “Why not?” All of the reasons swimming in my head—I’m ruined, I’m tainted, I’m impure—aren’t the ones he gives.

“You have a week-long physical starting tomorrow.”

I’d completely forgotten.

“Fine.” I kneel down at his feet and rip at his pants until his erection springs free.

“Katy,” he hisses as I grip him in my hand. “Baby, let’s wait, okay?”

“How ’bout you let me decide what I’m up for?” I pump his dick in my hand and stare at him. Just before I can wrap my mouth around him, he backs away, out of reach. Still kneeling, I hang my head.

“Don’t do this,” I whisper, pressure building behind my eyes. “Don’t.”

In my peripheral vision, I can see his body shaking. I’ve just destroyed my Captain by trying to give him a fucking blow job.

“Don’t do this,” I beg. “Don’t, Gavin.”

His voice is a thousand miles away. “I just want to give you a little time.”

Rising to my feet, I shake my head. “American heroes get to come home to a parade and a nice piece of ass. I’m a POW, and I can’t even give my husband a blow job.” I laugh sarcastically.

“I want you, Katy, like I always have.” He wants her, but she’s not here.

“I believe you.” I flash him another fake smile and can’t miss the slice in his chest when he recognizes it.

I’m hurting him. The first night I’m home, and I’m hurting him. I betrayed him. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Trust me?” he whispers, and instead of taking his words as comfort, I feel condescension. Anger consumes me, and I walk away without a reply.