He watched the expression on Cathy’s face change, hardening into a mask he didn’t recognize, didn’t like. I did that. I changed her. Echoes of his shouted insults rang through his head, and he cringed inside. He’d been such an ass to her, trying hard to drive her away, because he hadn’t felt worthy of a woman like her. Whole, loving, with so much potential. He’d been convinced it would be better for her if he dropped from her life entirely and let her move on with someone else. Someone not crippled, not chased by demons every moment of the day.
“When you—”
“Wait, before you—” He butted in before she had a chance to say anything, giving her words that were inadequate and small, but all he had. Setting his mug down, he fumbled for her hand, the left one, the one that had made her his all those years ago, he blurted, “I need you to know I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Her voice rose on the end of the word, until the sound lashed through the air like a whip. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I didn’t do right by you.” Hands shaking, he tightened his hold, trying to hide the reaction from Cathy. She hadn’t moved out of his grip, so he anchored himself with the feel of her under his palm, heat and flesh, the body of the woman he loved, a body he knew so well. Memorized every inch of her with touch, caresses, and love.
“No, you didn’t. You need me to know you’re sorry?”
He nodded, since those words meant at least she’d heard him. Even if she turned and walked out right now, he’d know she’d heard him and understood a small part of what he’d wanted to say.
“Well, I need you to know a couple of things, too. You ready to listen to me?” Her jaw firmed as she waited for his response, chin jutting forwards in that expression her father had called the “oh shit” look. That was the same look little Katie had given him not ten minutes ago as she’d made clear her determination to help him walk with the crutches.
“Yeah, Cath. I’m ready.”
“Fuckin’ finally,” Kirby muttered as he turned away, facing the coffeemaker.
“You were the worst kind of jerk, and I hated you for a hot minute.” Her words cut so deep it was a wonder he wasn’t bleeding out. “You made me doubt my role, my place in your life. Made me doubt the things I knew about you, because you weren’t the same man.” She shook her head. “I’d never seen you mean, but, Nathan, you crafted words like weapons and aimed them right at me, and that…” She pulled in a breath and he felt every suppressed sob as her chest hitched. “That hurt more than you will ever know. You knew all my weakest points and attacked them ruthlessly. Every time I saw you in the hospital, you pulled the rug out from under me and laid me out. Then you took away even that when you told them I couldn’t see you anymore. You barred me from bringing our daughter to see you, banned me from your presence without a word of explanation to me.”
He barely remembered those days; they had become a muddle of dark memories, lost hours of deadly impulses twisting inside him until he could scarcely recognize himself. He knew he’d done everything she recited now, but it seemed like someone else had said those things, made those demands—and, in the process, cut his family into pieces.
Loud, voice ringing through the room, she gave him another sliver of hope. “But that wasn’t you.”
He rocked back on his heel at the force of her declaration, using the angled foot piece of his prosthesis to balance.
“That wasn’t you. That was this monster created by the terrible, terrible things that had happened to you. And I don’t blame you, Nathan. That’s what I need you to hear and understand. You had a life-changing event happen. The injury took so much from you without your permission. Your leg, your job, your place in life—and your family. The Nathan I know and love, the Daddy that our Katie loves—that man would never have intentionally hurt us. That Nathan was stripped from you, from us, by circumstances beyond our control.” She leaned in, conviction blazing from her eyes, a look of firm determination emblazoned on her face. “I want that Nathan back.”
He opened his mouth, and she shook her head, cutting him off.
“No, not what you’re thinking. I know we can’t go back to before your injury. But we can go forward to what we can be together. Our relationship, my love, Katie’s love—none of that is dependent on you having two feet, two legs, or any single physical characteristic. It’s built on the man you are inside.” She thumped his chest with the back of her hand, and he took the blow, ready to take on much more than that if she needed him to. He’d take anything from her if it meant she kept talking like this, kept forgiving him when he’d said and done such inexcusable things.
“The man you are in your heart and mind, that’s what I want back. You told me a few minutes ago that you love me. Is that really true?”
He nodded quickly, not caring what it said that a deep sense of relief drove the motion.
“Well, I love you, too. So much, Nathan.” Her face softened, eyes warming as she stared at him. “You want to know why I’m here?”
“Christmas?”
She rolled her eyes, and he swallowed, suddenly terrified. If she wasn’t just here for the holidays, then that might open the door to what he wanted most in the world. He needed his family, but he needed the brotherhood he’d found in the club, too. “Why are you here, Cath? If not for Christmas, then why?”
“I want my family back.” He nearly shouted with joy at her words but held back, still not believing. “I’m willing to work to make it happen. Willing to do whatever it takes. You like what you’re building here?”
He stared at her, then gave a slow, single nod, hoping she’d understand that it hadn’t been about doing it without her but that the club gave him something he couldn’t do without. “Like’s an understatement.”
“I get that, and after being here just the little time I have been, I see how much it matters. That’s fine. I think that’s something that’s outside the us I want back.”
“How did I get so lucky?” Rocked by the roller coaster of emotions, he shook his head as he pulled her a little closer. “I don’t deserve you.”
“I don’t deserve you.” She repeated his words back to him immediately, and they struck deep because she was right.
“You’re right. You do deserve so much more.”
She rolled her eyes again, that expression somehow managing to convey irritation and amusement. “God, you’re so dense sometimes. I didn’t mean it that way. I meant it how you said it to me. The same, Nathan, the same. I don’t feel like I’ve done enough good in the world to deserve to have you in my life. That’s what I meant, not that I felt like you were a burden. You’re not, never have been.” She laughed, but the sound of it was wet, thick, and he knew she was close to tears. “Oh, you’ve been a pain in my ass sometimes, but you’re my pain in the ass. No one else’s.”
“You still want me? All of that, and you aren’t kickin’ me to the curb?” Although she tried to blink it away, from this close, he could see the welling moisture in her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, Cath.”
“Then let’s figure this out together.” Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch higher. “You and me, just like it’s always been.”
“You and me.” He glanced around the room, ultra-conscious of the sideways glances from the men. Dana was staring unabashedly, even offering him a grin and a tiny wave when he looked at her. “You hungry, or you up for getting out of here?”
“Let’s go talk somewhere private. You said you can go a few blocks without too much trouble?” He nodded, gaze focused on her. She smiled and rested her palm on his chest. “Then let me show you where Katie and I are staying for this week.”
“A week?” His heart leapt in his chest. Not a day, not even a couple of days, which was all he’d allowed himself to hope for when he’d granted the thought enough space in his head. A week was outside of anything he could have dared dream, and the way things were going on day one, it boded well for him. “I get you for a week?”
“Yeah, then I’ve got work and Katie has preschool.” She paused, then the tips of her ears blushed when she said, “We should make the most of it.”
“I’ve got the kiddo,” Dana called, followed by a growling chorus of men’s voices offering the same assistance.
There was a tug at his pant leg, and he looked down into Katie’s eyes. “How about you, punkin? You think Daddy should walk Mommy back to the little house?”
Her nose crinkled. “Do I hafta go, too? Mr. Oscar said he’s got vibeo games.”
“Video,” Cathy prompted, and Katie nodded in agreement.
“Vibeo.” Her eyes grew round. “Do you need me to help you with the thingies?”
Nathan shook his head. “No, sweetheart. Daddy can manage the crutches without you this once. You want to stay here, then?”
“Oh, yes.” Katie cut her gaze up to Cathy’s face. “Is that okay, Mommy?”
“Yeah, baby. That’s fine. We’re not going far.” Nathan looked at her to find Cathy was studiously staring elsewhere. “You sure you’re okay here?”
“I promise we’ll take good care of her.” Kirby walked up beside Nathan. “Katie, do you remember how to pinkie promise?” She nodded eagerly. “Okay, I want you to pinkie promise me you’ll be a good girl, and then I’ll pinkie promise Mommy that you’ll be safe here.” He held out his hand, and Nathan choked up unexpectedly at the sight of his little girl reaching up to grasp Kirby’s smallest finger with her own, curling her tender flesh around that scarred and rough digit easily four times the size of hers.
“I promise.”
The words echoed through him, shredding his confidence with the thoughts they stirred.
I promised so many things.
Promised to be a good husband, and he’d failed miserably. Promised to keep his little girl happy, and she’d already cried today. Promised to protect and serve, and instead had wound up crippled and useless.
A familiar wave of darkness rolled over him, and Nathan turned away from the scene, grabbed the crutches, and shoved them underneath his arms. He’d known it was too good to be true. I was right all along. Cathy would be better off without me. He rocked his way to the front door, and without waiting, lurched through it, slapping the outside door closed behind him with a brusque movement. Whole world would be better off. Navigating the steps one at a time, crutches and bad leg first, then the rest of him, until, hunched over like a bell ringer, he got to the sidewalk and realized he didn’t know which direction to go.
“Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Cathy skipped down the stairs, navigating them nimbly, surefooted on the broad steps.
“Nothing.” He swallowed the rest of what he wanted to say and stared at the concrete underneath his feet. Foot. “Where’s this guest house?” It was safer to set things up for how he expected them to go. No matter what had been said so far, he knew better than to think Cathy had come all this way for the possibility of a reunion. Guest house, not a home. Not something he could share with her and Katie. Blackness swirled around his thoughts. She’s probably got divorce papers in her suitcase, ready for my signature.
Her eyes narrowed and she frowned, then lifted her chin, and he nearly swung her into his arms right there. That woman staring at him was his Cath, the one he’d expected to spend the rest of his days adoring.
“Left one block, then left again, two blocks.” She didn’t move, holding her position on the bottom step, still just shorter than he was. “And whatever that was in there”—she gestured behind her to the closed door, the house lit with Christmas lights, now dim in the day’s sunshine—“it wasn’t nothing. But I want you to tell me in your own time, so I’ll let it slide for now.” She stepped down, took a few strides, and then turned to look where he still stood in his tracks. “Are you coming with me?”
He took her in, standing there with a fierce expression etched on her face, as if she were a warrior ready for a battle. This wasn’t a woman who was willing to throw in the towel. She might have been taken off guard inside, that unbalanced moment gifting him a glimpse of the softer side of his Cath. Through the years he’d watched her change personas as needed, going from pleasant to sweet, determined and strong. He’d seen her hurt and confused, backing away from the venom spewing from his mouth, retreating. He should have known it wasn’t a real withdrawal. No, Cath might have needed a few months to gather herself, but so had he.
She swallowed, and he watched the muscles in her throat move in that surrender to whatever nerves she held at bay. Her eyes softened, and before she could say anything else, he pulled himself upright, no longer leaning on the crutches. “Yeah, Cath. Yeah, sure. I’m with you.”
“You don’t get to do that, Nathan Smith.” She advanced on him, covering the few paces between them quickly. He didn’t flinch when she slapped him hard in the chest. “You don’t get to be mine, and then gone, and then pretend to want to be mine again.” She poked him. “You don’t get to give me all of you, and make me love you, and then take yourself away from me and Katie. You wanna know why I’m here, today? Do you?”
He nodded, slowly dipping his chin toward his throat. He knew, but he still needed to hear it.
She didn’t disappoint, her tone steely and certain as she told him, “I’m here because I love you. I love you and I want you in my life. In mine and Katie’s lives. I want you to pick us.”
“It’s dark in my head sometimes, Cath.” That was more than he’d admitted to anyone. How the depression could overrun his thoughts until all he could see was a final ending to everything. How it hurt so badly to know how he’d fucked up and the only thing he could think of was making that torture stop. How the phantom pain fucked with him and fucked with him until he’d try to stand on the damn leg, since if it hurt so much, if the burn was so real, how could it not be there for him anymore?
“Then let me in, baby. Let me in, because you can’t do this alone.” She gestured towards the building behind them. “I know you’re not alone. You’ve got all those men who have your back, and there’s a bond there that even a blind woman could see. They know, on a level I can’t fathom, what you’re going through.” She spread her palm on his chest, and the heat from her touch grounded him, centered Nathan in a way he hadn’t known he needed. “But I know you, and I know us, and I have a place in this. They have your back, that’s their place. Mine?” Her chin lifted, and she stared into his eyes. “Mine is at your side. If it’s dark, then let me in, and I’ll spread light so far and wide you won’t remember what that darkness looked like. Let me in, Nathan.” Breath puffed from her mouth in tiny clouds, and her lips trembled when she added a single word. “Please.”
“I don’t want to lose you.” She stared at him, her gaze evading interpretation, even when he needed to know what she was thinking in this moment. He laid bare his fears. “I don’t want to lose Katie-bug. To lose us. I’ve missed us. I don’t want to lose everything, Cath.”
“Then don’t.” She stated this as if it were that simple. As if he could just choose to turn off the pain.
“I wanna tell you…things.” Unpleasant things. Things she’d never heard him discuss. A conversation they should have had after his first deployment, or his second. A story about the man he’d had to become while on enemy soil, parts of that alternate personality having come home to roost as lasting changes to the man she’d married.
“I’m not some shrinking flower, Nathan. You should know that. If you want to talk—” She stepped to the side and looped her fingers around his wrist, as close to a handhold as they could manage while he crutched along. “—then I want to listen. You want me to get your coat?” He shook his head, spellbound by the look on her face. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
They moved up the sidewalk without speaking, the click and groan of the crutches a muted addition to the near-silent day. It shouldn’t be surprising that the tiny town was quiet this early on Christmas morning. Kids would still be happy to play with their presents or the boxes they came in, and parents wouldn’t yet be tired of the noise and activity. Nathan supposed the story would be different in a couple of hours, families spilling outside to wear off sugar-fed energy and holiday excitement. Right now, however, it was so quiet he could hear blood pounding inside his own head, the low-level headache that never seemed to go away steadily beating at his skull.
The house where Cathy paused was set back from the street, with just enough front yard to feel slightly isolated from the neighbors on either side. It was a single story, and he noticed the doors were wider than normal, which meant it had been modified to be accessible. “Oscar bought this?” She cut a glance over her shoulder at him as she fit a key to the lock and shrugged. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Bland conversation to get them over the threshold and shut away from the rest of the world. He had to have a barrier of some kind to be able to do to her what he needed, because Nathan knew telling her the many truths he held close to his chest would tear her down. His confessions needed privacy, and this little house offered exactly that.
The front door opened into the dining room, and he looked around as she walked through and led him farther into the house. With every step, he found another thing to like about this place. Every detail of the living room was just one more thing that told him it could be a home. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that Cathy’s family and job were both back on the coast, not in bumfuck Texas.
“You want anything to drink before we settle in?” Cathy knew him, and he loved that tiny burst of remembered intimacy, the fact she’d understood how once he started talking, he wouldn’t want to stop until it was all out there and transparently visible for her to see. “I’m going to grab a bottle of water. You want one, or something stronger?’
“Water’d be good.” He clipped off the rest of what he’d been about to say, then shook his head at himself and forced the words out. “Liquor doesn’t go well with the meds.”
“Water it is.” She breezed out of the room as if him admitting he’d had to resort to medication wasn’t a huge announcement.
Maybe it’s not. He lifted his chin. Maybe my stubbornness taking a backseat to becoming healthier is the bigger deal. He shook his head. It couldn’t be that simple.
A bottle of water smacked down on the table beside the couch, and he watched as Cathy took a chair at right angles to the piece of furniture she evidently expected him to claim. She opened her water and took a slow drink, then stood and shrugged out of her coat and reclaimed her seat. He watched as she worked with the lid again, taking another extended sip. She stood again suddenly, closing and settling the bottle on a different table before swirling out of the room without a word.
Back at his side in a moment, she had a blanket in her hands. Walking in front of him, she gestured towards the couch. “Sit, Nathan.” He looked at the couch and out of habit evaluated the height, a little surprised when it was the same kind they had at the clubhouse. Taller than normal, with firm cushions, it was an easy piece of furniture to climb off with a prosthetic. A glance at the chair told him it wasn’t the same and would have been a challenge to vacate. How could she know that? He shook his head, and she made an impatient noise. “Please, Nathan. You’re chilled through. And I…” She trailed off for a moment, but before he could explain the headshake, she picked up the conversation. “I want to sit with you. Can I?” Her gaze lifted and met his with a weight that could have staggered him backwards. Pain and hope, and the softness she’d only ever had for him.
Wordlessly, he shuffled around until he could lower himself to the cushions, depositing the crutches and tucking them alongside the furniture so they’d be out of the way. The flames curled down his thigh and around his calf, burning deep into nonexistent muscles until he must have groaned, because Cathy asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I fell earlier.” In case she hadn’t seen how he’d deposited himself on the floor, this would give her an inkling of what his world was like now. The man who previously could run twenty clicks with a full pack on his sweating back was gone with the wind, leaving him stumbling along in the acrid wake of loss. “In doing so, I jammed the socket up on my stubbie. Somehow that jammed the lock pin. I haven’t used the leg much since, but even a little use without the proper vacuum seal is enough to irritate the skin.” He shrugged and turned his head. Water in hand, he spoke to the far wall. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Why didn’t you take the leg off?” She settled onto the couch, her back angled against the far arm, legs folded and curled underneath her. The blanket was tucked around her waist, draped over the space between them.
He was struck by another wave of nostalgia and longing. They’d often sat like this, before. Watching TV and playing footsies under the cover, close enough for him to steal a kiss with every commercial break. They’d always end up those evenings with Cathy sprawled out over his legs, head cradled in the crook of his arm as he watched her sleep. Then he’d wake her gently, guide her sweetly-drowsy, half-aware self into their bedroom and help her undress for bed. By the time he had her naked, she’d be wide awake again and ready to love on him.
“It wasn’t a good time to deal with it.” He turned to face her, doing his best to ignore the phantom pain.
“I don’t remember you being a liar.” She said this so quietly, with no specific inflection, that he nearly questioned her, thinking he’d misheard. “Nathan, tell me why.”
“Because I didn’t want Katie to see, okay?” He jerked his head to the side, studying the curly ornamentation around a sconce on the wall. “I didn’t want you to see.”
“Is that why you tried to run me off from the hospital?”
“Worked, didn’t it? You left and didn’t come back.” There were some antique-looking sepia-toned portraits on the wall, and he frowned because one of them was very familiar. “Is that my grandparents?”
“Probably.” She drank from her water. “I sent some things for Oscar to use here.”
Nathan studied her carefully. She was too calm, too collected. Together after months apart, she should still be raging at him. Instead she…what? Walked with him, doing as much as she could to settle him, even creating this false sense of intimacy by setting a scene certain to stir up old memories. Why is she really here?
He took a page from her book of stalling tactics and sipped from his water, looking around the room.
Everywhere his gaze landed, he found something familiar. A painting they’d bought while wandering around at an artist market, both of them loving the crazy depiction of a cat driving a cab. There was a desk along one wall; made from dark wood, it looked suspiciously like the one passed down to Cathy from her grandfather. More photos of family and friends, his squad. There was even one of—
“Is that my ceremony?” He tipped his chin, then lifted the bottle to point. “How did you get that?”
She twisted to look at the framed image of him on a stage, ass in a wheelchair since he hadn’t been approved to walk yet, taking a thin case from a man in a suit. “I was there.” Cathy looked at him, resting her chin on her shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to stay away just because you told me to, did you?”
“Did Katie…was she…” He scratched at his chin fiercely, feeling the burn of raised welts his nails left behind. “Did you bring her?”
“No.” She shook her head, the movement slow and somehow sorrowful. “If she’d been older, and understood what it was, I would have. If she could know what you’d sacrificed for us, I would have. But it was easier to leave her with daycare and just come by myself.” She scrunched her nose. “Coward’s way out, I know.”
“No, it was loud and crowded. She wouldn’t have had a good time.” Reaching and stretching towards her, he threaded his hand underneath the cover and trailed a finger along her leg. “Thank you.” He made another pass with his finger, tracing a line along her shinbone. “For coming, even after I’d been a dick to you. It means a lot.”
“Why did you mail it to me?”
He stared at her, confused. His brain was lost in the feeling of touching her, the heat from their bodies making the hidden space underneath the blanket feel safe.
“Nathan? Why did you send it home, if you weren’t coming back?”
“Oh.” He sat back and brought his hand up, placing it on top of the blanket, palm spread over his thigh. He vaguely remembered mailing it, taking the box to the post office and begging a few pieces of tape to seal the package.
Hands shaking, he scrawled Cathy’s name on the flat rate envelope, followed by the address he knew by heart. He stared at the words and markings for a moment, then added “For Katie” almost as an afterthought, crowding it in at an angle beside Cathy’s name.
The chill morning didn’t have anything on the cold lump in his stomach. He’d been out all day, riding by himself, loosely aiming towards a charity donor for a late afternoon pickup. Not that he’d tried hard, but not being able to talk anyone into joining him had really been freeing.
He walked to the counter and dropped the envelope on the scale, waited forever for the clerk to punch in all the information, and paid his money. Only after the package had been swept away and into a bin in the back did it dawn on him to put a letter inside, a note even. His brain soothed him. Cath would understand.
He straddled the bike and scowled down at the gauges as he tugged on his gloves. Back on the road, he hadn’t gone more than five miles when he saw a bar, neon lights blazing in every window. A sign bolted to the outside wall proclaimed, “Breakfast is served,” and by the smell coming from the building, they weren’t lying. The scent of crisply fried bacon wafted through the air.
Once inside, he sized up the customers, slotting each group into tidy little columns in his head. The old farmers held court at a big round table in the corner, mugs of coffee in front of each. The semi parked alongside the road belonged to the man at one end of the bar, smiling at and chatting up the bartender as she washed glasses with rhythmic movements that set her tits jostling around inside her loose shirt. The other two bikes outside belonged to the black-jacketed duo straddling stools on the other end of the bar, beers and empty highball glasses within easy reach.
No real choice then, because like called to like. He left a stool between himself and the other men. The bartender walked his way, and the closer she got, the younger she looked, until he wasn’t certain she could even be old enough to work behind the pine this way. He pointed at the bottles and glasses and, pushing down the advice of the doctors, said, “I’ll have one of those, darlin’.” She smiled and set a glass on the bar top as she slammed open a cooler, then brought out a beer with one hand, the other gripping and tilting a bottle, metal spout glugging quietly as she poured.
“Be eight bucks.” She slid the beer onto a coaster already lying in front of him.
He pulled out his wallet, fishing around for a couple of bills. He handed her one and laid the other next to the beer. Lifting his glass of whiskey as she walked to get his change, he tipped it towards the bikers. “Mornin’,” he offered, taking a healthy swallow. “Colder than a witch’s tit out there.”
Laughter and returned salutes set him at ease, and for the next hour, the three of them traded stories, Army versus Navy, all branches versus the Marines, and finally club versus club, since they were patched into a national MC. He’d gotten comfortable, and in doing so, became comfortably numb. Fuckin’ finally.
“I’m Donald,” a man said, interrupting the story Nathan was currently screwing up telling. He’d relayed the punch line twice now and kept having to circle back around for the setup. Donald held out a hand. “And you are?”
Narrowing his eyes, he reached out and gripped the man’s hand, taking his stance behind the bar as someone with an official standing here. Nathan glanced up at the clock to see it was just gone eleven o’clock. He shook his head as he responded, “Nathan. Pleased ta meet cha.”
“Nathan, you’re drunk in my bar on a weekday, and it ain’t even afternoon yet.” Donald gripped tighter. “You and me, we’re gonna set this to rights. Faye,” he called over his shoulder towards the little bartender Nathan realized had stopped coming his direction a while ago, the empty state of his glass and bottle testimony to her attempts at slowing him down. “Bring me a couple of coffees, yeah?” She nodded nervously, and Nathan wondered if he’d gotten her in trouble. “Get an order in for my good friend Nathan here, tell Jimmy to make a boatload of fries, the greasier the better, then smother ’em with gravy.”
“Thanks, Don,” one of the bikers said, standing and shrugging on his jacket. “Sounds like you got this handled.” The other man stood too, yanking on his gloves. With a lifted hand to Nathan, they made their way outside, and he heard the unmistakable rumble of pipes as they started their bikes.
He looked back at this man, this Don, who’d walked in and run off his friends. “What’s happening?”
Don swung around the end of the bar and laid claim to the stool closest to Nathan. “What’s happening is you’re drunk in my bar, and my friends called me about you. See, they said you sounded like you wanted to do something stupid and were on a bike.” He pushed a mug of coffee closer.
Nathan stared at it, confused. He hadn’t seen Faye drop it off, focused as he’d been on Don.
“I’ve lost friends to wrecks over the years and wished I could have done something for them. Family and friends, and I’ve lost customers, too. I didn’t feel like dealing with the shit that comes with all of it. Not today. ATF all up in our shit about serving a man lying dead in a bloody pile on the road.” Don shook his head. “Not today. If you’re gonna do something stupid, then you’ll pick somewhere else to launch from.”
Nathan stared at him, not finding it in himself to deny the pull of the promised peace.
Sure, the idea was almost always there, hovering in the back of his mind, a viper just waiting for an opening. But Nathan didn’t give it the time of day. He kept his shit tight and right, and kept it at bay. “What did I say?”
“You that drunk you don’t know?” Don’s gaze was heavy, piercing through Nathan even as it held him in place. “You told Faye it was your little girl’s birthday yesterday, and you didn’t call. Didn’t see her. Said it would be better if she never saw you again. Then you gave sweet Faye all the money in your possession, said you didn’t need it anymore.” Don’s head swung back and forth slowly. “If that ain’t a cry for help, I don’t know what one is, brother.”
“I—” Almost he said he wouldn’t, couldn’t have told the little bartender those things, but a memory, already fading, told him maybe he would. Maybe he already had. “I love my little girl.”
“I do not doubt that, man. No doubts. But life, she can suck balls sometimes.” A pause, then Don asked the most intrusive question Nathan hated to answer. Strangers feeling they could own a little piece of him, taking his service and sacrifice and changing it into something they merged with their own lives and expectations. “Where’d you serve?”
Nathan stared at the man, noting for the first time the tidy haircut. High and tight, and dusted with gray, testimony to a life well lived. Nathan saw the well-known insignia inked into the muscles and skin of Don’s forearm, flexing underneath the art as he lifted the coffee. Military knew military, always. It didn’t matter if their service had been separated by decades and delivered on different foreign lands. Military knew military.
A couple of hours passed then, as they talked about their jobs, their squads, their families. Don had a shrapnel wound in his bicep that had taken the service unexpectedly, much as the loss of Nathan’s leg had ripped it away from him. By three o’clock, Nathan was sober and ready to climb back on the bike. He still had the meat of the run ahead of him, traveling one town over to pick up a donation check for the club and foundation.
Don walked outside with him and stopped with his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan turned at the touch, staring into the face of this unexpected friend.
“Son, if you ever find yourself in that place again…” Don paused, and Nathan knew he wasn’t talking about the bar they’d just exited, but the dark state of mind Nathan carried around. “Give me a call. Don’t do anything stupid.” A squeeze and a wave, and the door closed behind him.
Nathan stared at the bar for a minute, feeling better than he had in a while. Might be time to come clean to Kirby and Oscar about where his head was. Circle the wagons, because he knew all he had to do was mention the emotions swamping his mind and they’d be on him like flies on shit. Invasive as hell, but that was why they had such a good success rate. Intensive involvement, aggressive intervention, and determined support.
No matter his mind was tangled up in the past, ideas shooting through his head as fast as his brain could conjure them, like the bullets from a gun set on a hill to make a stand. Mad minute, it was called, where the gunner let loose, sixty seconds of unrelenting assault to clear the way for friendlies to do what was needed. Either advance or retreat. “I need a mad minute.”
Kirby would know what he meant. All he had to do was say so.
“Nathan?” Cathy’s voice sounded flat, far away. “Baby?”
He blinked.
Her hands rested on him, palm to skin, fingers tracing tiny pathways along the ridges of clenched muscles. Nathan turned his head and saw fear on her face—not for herself; this was sorrow mixed with terror, and he knew he’d caused that look. “I wasn’t going to come home.”
She froze for a split second, a stutter of movement he would have missed if he weren’t focusing a hundred percent of his attention on her. She hadn’t expected honesty from him, and that hurt. “Okay.” Her tongue swept out and across her bottom lip, and he wanted to capture it with his mouth, wanted to know if she still had any desire for his touch, his kisses. “What were you going to do?”
“Stay here, long as I could.” He leaned back against the couch, comforted when she eased closer. “Was gonna stay until I couldn’t anymore.”
“And now?”
She’d asked the thousand-dollar question of the week. Maybe the year. “I know you gotta go back. There’s work and school, and everything. House.” She didn’t respond to any of his prompts, and he remembered his thoughts of her coming here to seek a divorce, something to finalize the unwilling limbo he’d forced her into by leaving as he had. “So, you don’t want a…divorce, make it legal or something? Really?”
“What?” The shock was real, unfeigned, and he sagged in relief. “No, Nathan. No.”
“I can’t go back, Cath.” He shook his head. “Every part of our lives back there is wound up in the man I used to be, and when I’m there, that’s all I see. Then versus now. And, baby, the differences are haunting. Here—” He gestured back towards the street, in the direction where the clubhouse stood. “I can be me. The one I am now.”
“You’re still both of those, Nathan. In my eyes, there are no differences between then and now, but I think…I think I understand.” When she looked at him this time, it was with glinting wetness in her eyes, and a hopeful upwards tilt of her lips. “No, I know I do. I understand.” She touched his face, the caress gentle and soft. He closed his eyes as her fingers trailed along his jaw. “I understand.”
“I fuckin’ love you.” Nathan twisted to face her and reached out, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her into his lap. She adjusted, slung a leg across his thighs and straddled him, holding herself slightly off his legs. “Do you love me? Can you still love me, like this?”
She didn’t answer him with words, left them both in an oasis of quiet. Instead, she leaned close and pressed her mouth to his. Chaste and soft, this wasn’t a lead-in for romance but an effective affirmation of the nonverbal kind. Nathan gave himself over to it, the tip of his tongue tracing along her lips in his own silent request, and she opened so sweetly he groaned, long and low. Hands on his shoulders, she met him kiss for kiss, until they were both breathing heavily. He broke away and stared at her, the flush of arousal giving her face color. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown with desire.
“This place got a bedroom?” Her lips bowed when she gasped at the question, a surprised intake of breath that told him she was entirely onboard with the idea. “There’s never been anybody for me but you, Cath. Always you.” He tightened his fingers, holding fast to her, letting the knowledge bolster his courage that she might love him still. “If you want me, still want me, that is.”
“You silly, silly man.” She kissed him again, this time leading with hot and wet action, their tongues twisting and stroking, teeth biting gently. She pulled back, then kissed along his jaw until she was whispering into his ear. “Always and forever, my love. I want you more than you can know.”
He remained still while she climbed off him, her every movement sinuous and sensual. Then she turned all business as she leaned down, fingers grasping his belt. She braced and out of habit, he put his hands on her shoulders, ready to balance himself. “On three,” she muttered, then counted down. The height of the couch worked in their favor, but she conducted the lift as smoothly as Oscar could have. A moment later and he was balanced on his good leg, thigh muscles complaining. Crutches retrieved, he nodded at her.
“Lead the way, beautiful.”
“I love that. I don’t think I ever told you, but when you call me beautiful like it’s my name? I love that, handsome.”
“Same, baby. Same.” Crutch wedged under his arm, he reached out and gripped the back of her neck to pull her close for another kiss. He whispered, “Show me the bedroom,” against her mouth and felt her quiver. “Come on, baby, light my fire.”
“You’re so cheesy.” She was laughing now, which was his intent, because he had to slow them down a little. There were things to discuss before he’d be sleeping with his wife, and even as he mentally acknowledged the reality, he knew how fucked up that was, since there had been months and months to get it right and he’d been a coward and run, fled into the middle of the country, leaving her hanging on behind him, making her responsible for their whole lives even as he abandoned her.
The therapist had used the term self-loathing during a session. It’d been one single time the man had slipped up, mentioning how hard Nathan was on himself, and he’d latched on to the word. He did loathe himself, because there were so many ways he could have reacted to what had happened, to losing his leg, to having his brains scrambled—and none of that shitty talk about how that exempted him from being responsible for his own actions. Nathan was a fan of owning your mistakes, and so many months ago, he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.
He followed her up the hallway, seeing more homey touches everywhere he looked. They passed the room Katie slept in, and he stopped short, looking around at the princess theme. “Looks like something pink exploded.”
Cathy came back and stood next to him, laughing softly. “Oscar didn’t know what else to do with it, I think.”
“Seems a lot of work to go to for a weeklong visit.” Her laughter trailed off, and he thought again about all the small personal touches he’d already seen. “It’s not really just a visit, is it?”
“Nathan—”
“Tell me, Cath.” He didn’t turn, kept his eyes on the room his daughter would sleep in tonight, and the next. There was a picture on the nightstand, him holding her in his lap. From here he couldn’t see the wheelchair he knew was there and couldn’t remember Cathy ever having a camera the couple of times he’d allowed them to visit him in rehab. Katie was smiling at him, hand on either cheek as she smushed his face for a kiss. The absolute joy in his daughter’s face caught at his breath, and he ground out the demand again. “Tell me I get to keep you.”
“I want my family. Katie wants her dad. And I know, deep in my gut, Nathan, I know you want us, too.” Her voice quavered, and he dropped his weight onto a crutch for support as he reached out for her hand. Cathy’s fingers were tight around his, cold as ice and trembling. “I wanted to wait to tell you, to make sure you would be okay with it, but we’re set to move here at spring break. My job’s willing to let me work remotely, with just a couple of trips a year back to the main office. There’s a good school here in Mayhan, and Katie? She just wants to be where you are. Where we both are.”
The barest glimmer of hope that he could have everything made his throat tight, and he blinked away any evidence of moisture before he turned to face her.
Nathan nearly strangled on the words but pushed through because he needed to know. “You heard me earlier, right?” She nodded. “You know what it means, all of it? You heard—” He paused a moment and gulped desperately at the choking knot in his throat. “You heard it all, right?”
“Nathan.” Her eyes swept closed, and she pulled in a shallow, quick breath. “I heard everything you said, every word. I heard all that, and the things you didn’t.” She took a step backwards, and his heart stuttered in his chest, thinking it a retreat. Then she smiled, and it felt as if the sun had broken through the clouds overhead, beaming down on him. “I heard your love, and your fear.” Shadows crawled over her face, but then that smile blanketed him again. “I’m choosing to hang on to that love, Nathan. I want to hold tight to that, want to use it to wedge my way back into your heart, your life. I want you. I’ve missed you.” Her voice broke, cracked through the middle, then firmed back up as she visibly pulled herself together to finish. “Missed you so much. You’ve missed us, too. And just you saying that tells me that this is the first step back to where we need to be. This, you and me, right here, this is us choosing each other and choosing to move forwards. This is us picking us.” She held out her hand, fingers curled in invitation. “Pick us, babe. I will upend our world if I get a chance to rebuild it with you. Gladly move across the country if it means we’re together. I’ve done it before.” He nodded. She had, too many times. Him in the field and her handling the whole shebang. “We’re here for a week, then gone for about eight. Can you wait that long to be us again?”
“Oh fuck no.” He swept the crutches in front of him, and now she was moving faster, leading the way towards the bedroom. Nathan pursued her, body swinging in an arc as he tracked his willing prey until they were in the bedroom and she was poised in front of him, eyes shining with so much love.
Standing close to her, he rested one crutch against the edge of the bed and leaned in, cupping her cheek in his palm. “I want us.” He kissed her, lips moving across hers softly. “Want us, so much.” Her fingers circled his wrist, holding him steady. She’d always been there for him in every way. “I don’t…” He paused for a breath, then finished, “I don’t want to disappoint.”
“You. Oh, you. My Nathan. You’d never, ever disappoint.” She shifted against him, lithe body pressed tight to his. “I want only what you can give.” Her fingertips scratched aimless patterns through his hair, nails dragging against his scalp, something he’d loved, something she’d always done, something he hadn’t realized he’d missed like fuck until he had it back. Like everything else about her, the memories of how good they were together had been stuffed deep into a dark corner of his mind. “The most important part of anything that happens between us is it’s you and me. Us.” She offered her lips again, and he took them harshly, with bruising force, stirring sweet moans from her throat. “Us.”
“I’ll need a minute,” he whispered against the column of her throat. “There’s prep time we didn’t have before.” She hummed soft and low, the sound stirring through his cock, providing an unexpected stiffening and shifting against the loose pants he wore. Maybe not so much prep as I thought. “And I don’t want to put a damper on this.” He slipped his hand across her belly, catching and caressing her breast, lifting and plumping the flesh. “But there are parts of me that won’t look the same.”
“Nathan Smith,” she mock growled, running her teeth along the edge of his jaw. “You think I’m only in this for your looks?” The laugh she gave was light, trilling with humor, and bright with love. “While on the outside you are the handsomest man I know”—he endured an eternity waiting, and she gave it to him with another nip, another sweet kiss—“I’m all about how you are inside.”
“How am I inside?” With his crutch wedged into his pit, his fingertips found a way under her shirt, and he curved around to pluck at the fastening on her bra. Restricting clothing loosened, he tweaked and pinched her nipple into a hard bud, peaked and ready for his mouth. “What do you see when you look at me?” Face dipping to her chest, he nuzzled her shirt up so his mouth was against her skin and he could draw her deep, flicking the hardened nipple with his tongue, laving softly across the puckered flesh. “What do you see, baby?”
Hands gentle as she cradled his skull, she held him to her breasts, back arching as she offered herself to him, moaning softly when he suckled hard. “I see the man I married.” A flick followed by a gentle bite set another moan free, and he smiled against her skin. “The man I love. I see the man I chose to create another human with.” Nathan breathed in the scent of her, the woman he’d known for years, the aroma of her arousal something he’d missed. His brain had recognized her even before his body, back at the clubhouse, the pattern of her indelibly etched on him.
He matched the crutches together and shoved them under the bed, pivoted on his good foot until his ass was against the mattress, and sighed in relief as Cathy slipped between his thighs. She pressed close, as if she’d never been absent from his life.
“I love you.” He cupped her jaw in both hands, pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips had shed any chill from the outdoors and were warm and supple underneath his mouth. Again and again, he kissed her, working side to side, then focusing on her full bottom lip, plucking and nibbling until he drew gasps and moans from her. His words were punctuation for each caress, tokens of love and faith spoken for her ears only.
His arms lifted at her urging, and his shirt joined the crutches on the floor. Cathy’s fingertips trawled lines across his chest and shoulders, drawing strands of fire along his tattoos and scars, but this fire left him hard and aching instead of groaning in pain. “You’re real, Cath. Really, really here.”
“I’m here, babe, always will be. There’s nowhere else I want to be.” Hot and wet, her mouth moved across his chest, teeth dragging a rough path over his nipples. “Always you.” Her clothing floated through the air, both of their hands in constant movement. Connecting, reassuring, arousing.
The clink of his belt buckle broke the bubble surrounding them. He covered her hands with his. “Hold, Cath. I want to.”
“I’ve seen, Nathan. I’m not afraid of what happened to you. I’ve seen, and I still love you.” Her head lifted, fingers threading between his as their gazes locked. “I’m not afraid.”
“Maybe I am.” Nathan struggled to control his breathing, suddenly deep and quick as if he’d run blocks at a sprint, something he wasn’t able to do anymore, but he could sure fuck things up fast. “Maybe I am, Cath. I don’t want…” Her head swung back and forth slowly. “You gotta just…give me a minute.”
“I’ve read about the surgeries, Nathan. I know what happened. What you’ve endured.”
“That’s…clinical. Not the reality that I live with every day.” He blew out a shaking breath. “I wanna show you my way.” She gave his hands a squeeze and nodded, standing nude in front of him. He let his gaze map her stunning curves, each inch of exquisite flesh so well known. “You’re gorgeous, baby. Gorgeous. My beautiful wife.” She shrugged, and he dipped his head, lapping at her nipple. “I want you.” His dick gave a twitch behind a still-closed zipper. “So fucking much.”
She stared at him, and her eyes narrowed, giving her an uncertain look for only a moment. Then Cathy stepped away, holding onto his fingers until they no longer reached. Circling around him, she flipped back the covers and settled in the center of the mattress. Arms lifted, palms crossed underneath her head, she studied him with a calm, steady gaze. “Show me.”
Confidently on display like that, unafraid of what he’d say or think, no matter they’d been apart for months, she was modeling the kind of courage he’d need to get through the next few minutes. “Woman, you humble me.”
“No, babe. I love you.”
With a deep breath, he pushed off the edge of the mattress and stood, back to her. She’d already been seeing the evidence of that last mission, that last route walked with his brothers. Shrapnel had shredded his upper back while he’d been crumpled over the fender of the Stryker, pinned to the wall, blasting through his tissue when an RPG hit the top of the building directly behind him.
He listened carefully, but her breathing didn’t change, didn’t vary. He bent double, worked to grip the sock covering his lower limb inside the socket between his fingers, and pulled tautly. Holding it there, he let go with one hand and used a fingertip to depress the lock pin. The familiar vacuum released its hold on his leg, and he pushed, letting the leg fall away. Balancing easily on his remaining leg, he slipped the sleeve down and off, drawing it right-side out by habit. He draped it across the prosthesis and shoved both underneath the bed, alongside the crutches.
Throat thick with terror, Nathan unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants and underwear down before he leaned back against the edge of the mattress. A coordinated rock and lift later and he was as naked as Cath. The mechanics of the process had flagged his cock’s interest, and it lay semirigid along his thigh. Perfect, smooth skin contrasted with the roughened and pocked scars of his upper leg. Cath is stronger than I am.
Holding tight to that thought, he pushed off the mattress and stood, then pivoted awkwardly until he faced Cathy. Her gaze fixed on his face, a tiny smile curving the edges of her mouth. With a shrug, he lifted his arms out to the sides and stood, palms facing her. “This is what you’re fighting for. All I am. This is what you get, Cath. Can you be happy with this?”
Her smile broadened, teeth glinting behind her plump lips. “I can get on board with what you’ve got to offer, Nathan.” He shook his head sharply, gesturing towards his lower body. “Oh, yeah. I see you. I see you, Nathan.” She shifted, sliding closer on the soft sheets, until her heel dangled off the edge of the bed next to his leg. She stretched, toes curling, and touched the largest of the scars along his outer thigh. “I see a strong man who survived something that would have killed anyone else.” He closed his eyes when her gaze dipped, not wanting to see the look on her face when she saw it all.
More rustling from the sheets, closer than before. Nathan squeezed his eyes tighter, waiting.
A moment later, the noises ceased, but a supernova bloomed around his cock. He startled, nearly lurching away, but Cath’s hands on his hips steadied him. Nathan stared down and watched as she fed his cock into her mouth, surrounding him with hot and wet suction. “Jesus, baby.”
It didn’t take a moment until he’d outgrown her ability to take him in, and her head began bobbing slowly. Just as much as the friction and suction, the heat and movement, those damn sounds Cath made as she went down on him were a turn-on for Nathan. Eager, humming her enjoyment, she gave no indication she was focused on anything other than his cock. Scars and ridges from stitches, uneven edges from skin grafts—all within inches of her face, and yet her eyes were fixed upwards, focused on his.
“I love you.”
Cath pulled back, lapped at the end of his cock with the flat of her tongue for a moment, then made him groan when she sucked on the head hard, hollowing her cheeks around him. With a mischievous smile, she released him and nuzzled into the hinge of his hip. “I know you do.”
“It’s not going to bother you?” Her chin dipped, and he watched as she traced several of the scars. Each touch was featherlight, teasing, and soft. What it wasn’t was tentative, frightened, or cautious. “You’re okay with it? With me?”
“I’ll never be okay with what happened to you.” Anger twisted her features, and she shoved to her knees, balled fists thudding against his chest, still firm from hours and hours of PT and determination. “It took you from me for too long, Nathan. It stole from you. I’ll never be okay with what happened.”
The nuance of her language wormed through before he could feel terror at her words. She wasn’t rejecting him, not in any way. She was rejecting what had happened, same as he had for months. But she was doing it in a healthy way, following a path that would pull them closer together, instead of driving a wedge between them as he had.
“Cath.” The tremble in his voice was terrifying, something he couldn’t control. Like so much of his life lately, running amok and out of control.
“I will forever be okay with you, Nathan.” Her palms spread across his chest, curving up and over his shoulders to wind around his neck. She tugged, and he bent over her, hand to the mattress as she scooted back, leading the way. “With you.” Knee between her thighs, he slipped into place on top of her as Cath settled back against the pillows.
Mouths clashed, lips caught and released in kisses that drew them together, carrying both along this river of desire he’d found only with her. Her hands clutched him close, slipping along the muscles of his upper back, skimming as he arched, cock sliding through the wetness between her legs. She puffed a breath out, hot air gusting alongside his cheek, and he moved again, twisting his hips to grind against her clit. “Cath, I want—”
“I want, too, Nathan. Oh, how I want.”
Her fingers wrapped around his cock, and she directed him to her entrance, rocking her hips up to catch him on the next downward thrust, and he pushed inside, heat and wetness clasping him tightly. “Ah, God.” His residual limb scraped along the sheets, but for the first time, he understood the critical importance of having his knee as he used it to spread her legs wider and anchored himself to thrust deeper. Muscles burning, the twist of his back would hurt later, but right now all he could feel was something sweet and too long gone from his life: the uncounted beauty of loving his wife.
Calves wrapped around his hips, she met him thrust for thrust, undulating in rhythm with every push. She lifted a hand and wedged it against the headboard, holding herself in place against his movements. A soft groan split the air, and he captured her mouth, tongue diving inside in time with his cock. He curled an arm around her waist, shoving far underneath until he could feel himself entering her. “Beautiful, can you? Are you close?”
“Mmhmm.” Mouth closed over the arch of his shoulder, she hummed and trembled in his arms. He ground down against her, clit trapped between their bodies, and she came apart around him. Clenching tight, fluttering movements of her inner muscles pulled him deep, and Nathan held the same pace as long as he could, giving them both pleasure with every movement.
“Cath.” That was all the warning he could give, the only sound he let escape, holding in the noises that wanted to beat against his throat. Deep, then deeper yet, and his cock pulsed, strikes of lightning curling around his balls and up his back, down his thighs until his toes curled into the mattress.
“I love you, Nathan Smith.” Cath’s murmur against his ear pricked the hair on his arms.
He kissed the side of her neck, then mouth to the curve of her cheek, gave it back to her. “I love you, Cathy Smith.” They stayed like that for a minute, breathing slowing, hearts beating in time, until he promised her, “I’m keeping you.”
He chuckled at his bold statement and knew she liked it when she giggled, tightening around him again. “I’m keeping you back, mister.”
“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” As close to a promise as this moment needed. “I’m not running.” Never again.