Kaelyn
Callen Sutherland arrived to the Douglas compound on Monday, and Hemming’s nerves have been high ever since.
“I don’t like that no one is physically there,” he tells me as he lifts weights in the spare room. He just got back from his morning run with the guys, and instead of showering and getting ready for the day, he immediately came in here.
There are worse ways to work on your nerves. Not that this is my kind of therapy.
I’m sitting on the black bench that’s situated in his upper body circuit thing, and he has one knee placed on a second bench, pulling a large weight up to his chest, and then back down toward the bench in a one-arm row.
“He bugged O’Ryans though, right? And didn’t he find Clay’s car, and bugged it too?”
“Yeah, but...” He switches arms and legs on the bench, and starts working his other arm. I watch as the muscles flex, each band of his shoulder on display depending on where he is in the motion. “I wanted someone there until Clay went to jail. Minimum.”
“Don’t you think... Now, don’t get angry, I’m just asking a question, but don’t you think that if Clay were going to have anything to do with this, it would have been done already? Like...when I was in Virginia? Why didn’t anything happen in the months between me meeting him and then meeting you?”
“I just don’t like it,” is Hemming’s answer, as he takes the weight and drops it on the rack.
“Did you tell Tucker that?” My eyes track Hemming as he looks over the large dumbbells. He then turns and waves me off the bench I’m on.
I walk to the one he just finished on and watch as he moves the weight pin down before straddling the bench.
He begins pulling the long bar down toward his chest, performing ten before dropping his arms, his chin falling to his chest.
“I did, but he thinks Callen’s better used here. Because I’m not deployable right now, if we’re called on by the state for a rescue, we need a five-man team, and we need the ability to rotate at any time.”
Over the weekend, Douglas Group was called to help in the mountains with a rescue turned recovery of a teen boy. Even though we were out of town—heck, out of country—Hemming felt guilty he couldn’t help.
Not that Hemming being in Montana would have helped the boy. From what I’ve heard in the news, the teen’s fall resulted in an immediate death.
“You know you don’t have to stay here with me. You could tell Tucker you’re open to being sent on missions outside of Stillwater and Yellowstone Counties.”
“But that leaves you here by yourself. That’s not happening, Kae.” He reaches up for the bar, and begins another set.
“I wouldn’t be by myself. I’d just tag along with someone else who’s not on the mission. I’ll stay on the property, and Kate or Kerrigan...they could run to town for me if I absolutely needed something while you were off saving people. I’m safe on the property.”
“Not. Happening. Kae,” he repeats, each word said during a pull of the bar.
I watch him for another set, quietly, before standing. “I’m going to go for a walk. Just around the pond. Maybe see Eeyore or the horses.”
Hemming lets the weight plates slam down as he turns to me, a frown on his face. “You mad?”
Shaking my head, I answer, “No, I’m not mad. Honestly. I just think you have things you need to work through, and I’m probably not helping.”
He stands quickly, lifting his foot to turn over the bench, nearly falling in the process to reach me. I can’t deny it’s amusing to witness.
“You promise you’re not mad?” he asks again, lifting my chin with his knuckles when he’s in front of me.
“Promise. I am not mad.”
“Hurt?”
“Hemming,” I laugh lightly and shake my head, “I am not mad, sad, emotional, upset... Nothing. I just want to go for a walk.”
“I can go with you?”
“Why don’t you trust the other guys with me?” I ask instead, curious.
The question takes him aback, and it’s a few seconds before he answers, his hand dropping to his side. “It’s not that I don’t trust them. I just trust me more.”
“Do you think maybe loving me hinders your ability to see clearly with this case? That loving me has you worried Clay and the O’Ryans know the truth about Kellie?”
His frown is quick, as is his, “No.”
“Okay.” I shrug. I know how the heroes are in my military romance novels, and Hemming shows all the classic signs, but...
I’ll let him think the way he does.
“Finish your workout, handsome. I’ll be back before you have to go down to Tucker’s.” I lift on my toes to kiss him briefly, and when he tries to take it deeper, I laugh, stepping away. “No! I’m going for a walk.”
“Better ways to exercise...”
“Hemming Johansen, finish your workout. I’ll see you in a little bit,” I tell him with a grin.
He pulls me close for another kiss but then releases me, slapping my butt as I turn away. I shake my head, my smile not leaving my face, as I walk to the foyer and slip on my shoes and grab Hemming’s discarded hoodie from the night before.
It’s getting chilly at night so the morning is brisk. It’s still barely reaching sixty-five during the day, but unless the sun is beating on you, I think it’s cold. I walk around the pond slowly, taking in the sights and sounds, while huddled comfortably in Hemming’s sweatshirt. At the southern-most point, I walk off the main pathway and head down the trail that will lead me to the pasture.
I don’t see Eeyore, but both Flash and Lightning are out grazing. I couldn’t tell you what kind of horses they are, but Flash is a red, rust color, and Lightning is tannish with a dark mane. Tucker’s other horse, Thunder, is white with black markings. Looking down the area, I see him off in the distance, walking along side what can only be Eeyore, based on the size difference.
The horses are friendly, but not as much as Eeyore. I could talk to the horses and get the occasional boop of their noses, but the moment you talk to Eeyore, he’s chattering back.
I lean against the post, watching Flash and Lightning for a few moments, enjoying the early morning breeze.
As the birds sing overhead, I wonder how the sounds will change when snow hits. Will it be quieter? Or will there be new sounds?
I’ve never been the biggest fan of winter, and I know it’s about to get really bitter out here in the plains of Montana. I’ve heard that in this part of the state, winter is considered “mild” but I think “mild” is relative.
With a sigh, I move away from the fencing and continue my walk. As I near Tucker’s place, I see he’s outside stacking firewood. I lift a hand to wave, but instead of just waving, he waves me over.
“Good morning,” I say when I’m within earshot.
“Morning. Hey, I’ve got a question for you.” Tucker places another log then brushes his gloved hands together. “Hemming seem off to you?” he asks, pulling a glove off to scratch his forehead.
“Not off. But he’s worried.”
“About Callen being here.” It’s a statement, and I nod.
“Yeah. He doesn’t like that no one is in Virginia. We literally just talked about it this morning after your guys’ run.”
“He was especially quiet during that.” He sighs heavily and rolls his head on his shoulders. “I just needed him here. I can’t have all my men just...sitting.”
His frustration is clear. “Growing pains of the business, ‘ey?”
Thankfully, Tucker chuckles at that. “Yeah. Growing pains. Everything else going good with you two?”
I nod. “Yeah. Great.” I shift in my spot, not sure how much to share with him. “So, um.” Swallowing hard, I frown. “Can I ask you a question? While you’re here?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“I don’t know if it’s against the rules or if it’s like...against some policy or something...but I know you heard Hemming say he loved me when he was drunk, and you didn’t say anything then, and we weren’t really... you know... Not then, but—”
Tucker holds a hand up to stop me from my ramble.
“I know, and I’m more than okay with it. I already told Hemming that.”
“Oh,” I say with a sigh of relief. “Okay, good.”
“It’s also probably why he’s taking the situation so badly. Because he loves you for real, right?”
“Right. And, like... I’ve told him I know I’m safe here, and we’ve had so many conversations about it but... He’s just worried.”
“I’ll send someone else out there.”
My jaw drops at the sudden statement. “Really?”
Tucker shrugs, taking off his other glove. “The trial’s in four weeks. I have two more guys I’m trying to get to join, and they’ve nearly agreed. We can handle it. Hemming expressed his frustrations during meetings, but I didn’t realize... I should have. I know you two crossed into the real thing some time ago, and I should have paid better attention to what he was saying. Hemming...” Tucker frowns momentarily. “We weren’t incredibly close in boot camp, but I’ve always known he was dealt a shit hand at life, and he pushed to persevere through it all. When your case came up, he was the only person for the job. Even if you guys didn’t take it where you have, I knew it would give him a moment of normalcy and the guy needs it. Normal. He’s a good man and you’ve been gold for him, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying about him. As a person.”
It seems to me that Tucker understands Hemming’s low moments, too, and I nod at my husband’s friend.
“For what it’s worth, as unconventional as this entire thing was... You’re a good friend for him, to put him on this for the reasons you did.”
“And you’re a good wife for him.”
I shrug a shoulder but can’t stop the small grin that fights free. “Can I ask you one more question?”
“Go ahead.”
I think about the land. The security. The fact he’s enlisted every family member and friend, and they’ve willingly come. “Why did you start Douglas Group?”
“Well... I was given two options. Either not re-enlist and allow a claim against me to be swept under the rug, or re-enlist—because I knew I was innocent—but have my name dragged through the mud during a military trial.”
“What...happened?” I interrupt. I can’t imagine this man doing anything that would warrant a negative claim.
“I was accused of rape.”
I gasp and take a step back. Tucker doesn’t make any motions to stop me though, as if he expected the reaction.
“I didn’t do it. Never saw the woman in my life before the accusation. I had an alibi and the woman was unable to pick me out of a lineup, but I knew in that moment that if someone could accuse me of something that was so against my character, and my upper command believed it... It wasn’t the spot for me. I’d always wanted to do something like Douglas Group, but it was the perfect opportunity to leave and just start the damn thing.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is. But I’m pretty damn proud of what Douglas Group has accomplished in its short time, so I don’t regret anything.”
We finish our conversation on a much lighter note, joking about Judge and Jury as they take a moment to playfully romp in fallen leaves, before I head back to the house to see my husband. He’s showered and dressed, and I find him feeding Wilson.
“Good walk?”
Nodding, I smile and reach for his hips as he stands. “Great walk.” I bring my body flush to his and tip my head back. He grins crookedly and presses his lips to mine once, then twice.
“How’s your head?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Doing better. I won’t ever stop worrying about you, though.”
“That’s probably that pesky thing called love.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re probably not wrong.”
A few minutes later, as he’s walking out the door for Tucker’s, he stops and turns, his brow drawn.
“What’s wrong?” I lean against the laundry closet.
“Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking... It’s been a while since I’ve been in a tattoo chair.”
Knowing his tattoos have all been part of his mental healing process, I immediately worry. “Are you okay? What can I do to help?”
But he shakes his head. “I want your mark on my skin.”
My heart tumbles in my chest. “Oh. That’s... I think that’s really sweet. Are you positive?”
“Absolutely positive.”
“All of your tattoos have so much meaning for you, though. What... What are you thinking?” In a canvas of perfection, I have no idea what word or drawing he’d use for me. He’s not a “letter on the heart” kind of guy. I could see him being the type of man to tattoo his ring, but he so rarely takes the actual ring off that I’m not sure that’s up his alley, either.
“You ask it as if you don’t hold a lot of meaning for me.” His voice is light and matches the grin on his face. “I haven’t quite figured that out yet, but I’m leaning toward your lips between my shoulder blades.”
“Why there?”
Of course, he has an answer. “Any time I’ve been low, you’ve wrapped yourself behind me and pressed your lips there. It’s burned in my memory. Your mark has lifted the bad.”
“I like that. It’s...subtle.”
“I can go bigger.” It’s clear to me he’s joking, but I widen my eyes and shake my head all the same.
“Totally not necessary.”
“You want a tattoo?”
I shrug, both with my shoulders and facially. “I’ve never given thought to it.”
“Maybe give it some thought...” he says with a wink, pulling open the front door.
Suddenly, I know what I’ll be doing today—researching tattoos.
Besides, if he’s marking me on his skin?
I might just have to do the same.