Chapter Nine – NOW

 

“Sorry we couldn’t be there for your party,” Mom says to Matilda the night after her party.  I try to organize Skype calls with my parents and my daughter at least twice a month, because we usually only get to see them three times a year.  With Matilda and I living in Florida, my sister in Italy, and my brothers in Germany and Australia, my parents travel to visit one of us siblings every chance my father’s work allows. 

“That’s okay, Granny,” Matilda replies.  “Look at my pony.”  She holds up her birthday present.

“Wow, that’s special. What other gifts did you get?”

Matilda rattles off the toys she received from her friends, and then leans in to the screen to show my mom the necklace with Brant’s picture.  After twenty minutes or so, we say our goodbyes and I tuck Matilda into bed. 

I pour myself a glass of white wine and curl up on the couch with a block of chocolate and scroll through to see which movies are showing.  There’s a Tom Hanks marathon on, so I stop on that channel, content when I find The Green Mile has just begun.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock on my front door.  I glance out the window on my way through the kitchen, noticing it’s dark and wondering who could possibly be visiting at this late hour on a Sunday evening.

I open the door and find Kyle standing there, looking handsome as usual.  He’s wearing blue jeans with an untucked navy blue shirt.  A black baseball cap covers his buzz cut, and his blue eyes pin me to the spot.

“Hey,” I say, leaning my weight on one hip against the door frame.

“Hey.”

Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous?  Why must my body have the same reaction every damn time I see him?

“Matilda’s asleep,” I tell him.  It feels awkward… at least on my behalf.  I feel awkward.  He, on the other hand, looks as cool and casual as ever.

“I figured.”

I swallow.  Silence surrounds us and the awkwardness ratchets up a notch.

His eyes sweep down my body, taking in my satin pajama shorts and matching camisole, then they reach my face again and he looks at me from under the brim of his cap.  My nipples pebble.  It could be from the intensity of his gaze, or it could be the night air.  Though, it’s warm out tonight, so I guess it’s the former.

“You gonna invite me in, Liv?”

“Uh,” I hesitate, my heart skittering in my chest.  “Sure.”  I swing the door wider for him to come through, and as his body brushes against mine, my nipples rejoice, and I wish I had just moved out of the way to let him through.

“Good movie,” he states, taking a seat on the couch.

I sit back down where I was, careful to leave space between us.

“You gonna share?”  He gestures with his eyes toward the chocolate, a lazy grin on his full lips.

“Nope.”  My blunt response shocks him.  I clutch the chocolate to my chest.  “Get your own candy, Westwood.”

“Never would’ve pegged you to be greedy, Liv,” he replies, his voice gravelly.  He stands, takes one step, and stops right in front of me.  Then he leans down, close enough for his warm breath to float across my face.  I inhale, my eyes fluttering shut as his scent washes over me.  My lids lift slowly, finding his intense stare.  “I like it,” he whispers.  Then he rights himself and casually walks into the kitchen to raid my candy stash like he didn’t just steal my breath and tilt my world.

 

Two hours later, my chocolate is gone, I’ve downed two glasses of wine and now moved on to water, and Saving Private Ryan is on.  It could be the wine loosening my tongue, or it could just be me caving the overwhelming urge to know more about him, but I can’t stop myself from twisting my upper half to look at Kyle.

“Is it really like that?” I ask, referring to the real war and the fictional one currently on the television.

“Basically.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but I don’t miss the darkening of his eyes and the uncomfortable vibe I’m getting from him.  I’m not sure if it’s because of the movie and the memories it must evoke, or just talking about war in general.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

He scratches the short smattering of hair shadowing his jaw and then shakes his head.  “I was honorably discharged after my last tour.”

“Oh?”  I want to know more.  I want to know everything about him.

His eyes flick to me briefly before returning to the television.  Even though he’s watching the movie, I can tell he’s not actually taking it in.  He’s lost in his thoughts, in his memories.

“My team and I were on a covert mission in the middle of the night, and we mistakenly believed we had cleared the enemy hideouts.  A sniper started shooting at us from the rooftop, and we returned fire, but not being able to see where the bullets were coming from made it hard to get a successful shot off.  My four brothers were wounded, and I knew we’d all be dead if I didn’t do something.  I finally got eyes on him and took him out, before dragging my brothers into the thicket for coverage.”   He pauses to swallow.  “Thankfully, they all survived, and I was given an honorable discharge and a medal for my efforts.”

“That sounds horrifying,” I murmur.  “I can’t imagine…”

“Scariest thing you can imagine,” he agrees.  “Having bullets flying at you with no idea where they’re coming from.  Knowing someone wants to kill you, will kill you, if you don’t kill them first.”

“Jesus,” I whisper.

“But that’s why we do what we do, babe.  So people like you never have to experience that fear.”

“From what Celia’s told me, you went on five tours, and I know you’ve been home since Matilda was eighteen months old.  Do you miss it?  Not the scary part, obviously, but the brotherhood, I guess.  The adrenaline rush… all that stuff.”

He is silent while he contemplates my question.  I wonder if he will give me the raw truth, or if he’s thinking of a way to sugar coat it.

“I did, at first,” he says.  “For the best part of ten years, my life was the military.  The first time I flew out to Afghanistan was the week before my nineteenth birthday.  I was gone a year, then home for eight months before I flew out again.  That was the routine I came to rely on, and when I was discharged, I felt… lost.  I didn’t have a back-up plan.  All I wanted to do was serve.  Hell, it’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“That must’ve been tough,” I say.

He nods once.  “Then an old instructor from my basic training days contacted me and offered me a position as a drill instructor at his training academy.  It gave me purpose, and still fed that need inside me.  I might not be fighting on the frontlines, but I’m the one who’s training those guys, pushing them to the edge of their physical and mental limits, ensuring they’re the toughest, most capable servicemen and women they can be.”

“That’s really impressive, Kyle,” I tell him honestly.  “I had no idea… I mean, Celia’s mentioned your job over the years, but I never took any notice,” I say, before realizing what I’ve said.  I clamp my hands over my mouth, horrified.  “Oh, my god, I’m sorry.  That sounded awful.”

He gives me an amused grin.  “Is there a reason you stop listening when people talk about me?”  He’s still grinning like he knows the answer, but wants me to say the words out loud.

“Nope.”  I stand quickly.  “It’s getting late, and I’ve got to work tomorrow.  You should go.”  I turn off the television and suddenly he is right behind me.  They heat from his front warms my back even though he’s not physically touching me. 

“I think it’s because when you hear my name, you feel things you think you shouldn’t,” he whispers.  With soft fingers, he pushes my hair to the side, exposing the back of my neck, and a tremor races down my spine.

“That’s not true,” I counter, but my words are as weak as the lie.

“And you know what else I think?” he continues.  “I think it’s about time you realized that you’re the only one fighting the inevitable.”

“What’s the inevitable?” I find myself asking, and I want to kick myself for playing into his hand like a lump of warm Play-Doh. 

“That sooner or later, you’re going to be mine.”

His soft lips meet the bare skin of my neck, eliciting a soft gasp from me as tingles shoot down my spine.  He sucks my skin gently and my eyes flutter shut.  Then as quickly as it began, his lips are gone, and I hear the sound of his boots moving across the floor.  The door opens and closes behind him.  His truck starts up and slowly drives away.  And still, I’m standing in front of the television with my eyes closed.