Posts Tagged ‘truth’


“Still,” he reminded me.
I didn’t care that his mouth and breath were like ice as he bent down to kiss me again. He parted my lips with his. Cautiously at first. Then, as I blatantly ignored his demand to remain motionless and my hands traced their way up his back, he moved more urgently, pinning me firmly between the door and his marble physique. And as if suddenly remembering to show restraint, he retreated in to a light suck and tug of my upper lip before breaking away. The room spun into disorientation, his kiss and touch making it impossible to think or breathe or want anything more than to do that again.

His whisper was like silk against my ear.  “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to do that.” And then said something at the end that sounded like again. Because that wasn’t possible, I dismissed it as my imagination.

He kissed then pressed his forehead to mine as we stood, me trying hopelessly to gain control over my faculties. I slid my hands to his chest. My curious, wandering fingers detailed the steely cool sinew under his black cotton shirt. The soft material clung to his well-formed body. And over his heart, where a beat could never be felt, a mangled knot embossed the hard surface. He sucked in a sharp breath and clasped his hand over his chest, trapping mine in place. Then, with a gust of air he was gone. Alex tore himself away and vanished, leaving me teetering in his absence.

I was startled by his reaction and couldn’t conjure any recollection of scars when I saw him over the summer. He was pristine and unblemished.  Alex shirtless was not something easily forgotten.

A second or two later, he reappeared in the corner of the room furthest from me, with fear and a hint of remorse riddling his expression. Had I hurt him? Of course not, I thought. What ever I did to elicit such a reaction, I was relieved that he hadn’t just disappeared completely.

“I’m sorry,” I said, unsure as to what for.

“You don’t listen to directions very well, do you?” he asked, only half joking.

I slowly walked towards him wanting to laugh, but more than that, I wanted him to stay.
“Please don’t go,” I said. “Stay.”
It sounded like I was begging. He must think I’m pathetic. Or worse, desperate.
A mischievous smile snuck across my face. “I promise I’ll be good.” And held up two fingers in Scouts honor.
I crawled under the covers and patted the very end of the bed. An invitation for him to sit.
“Besides,” I yawned. “I have tons of questions, and you promised answers.”


After a sigh and a pause. “Some bullshit training gig at Lejeune,” he said, his brows knitted tightly.
I wanted to jump up and down and squeal I was so excited. I didn’t though, knowing that being sent to a training command was as far down on David’s list of desired jobs as recruiting was. He often compared training to glorified babysitting. I was happy, because to me, training represented very few opportunities for real danger.
I contorted my lip, trying to fake mutually bummed.
“Sorry,” I said.
David tossed the envelope onto the coffee table and plopped down on the couch.
“Yeah,” he grumbled.
I took a seat next to him. David leaned back into the deep cushions and threw his arm around my shoulders. As he raised his legs to prop his feet up on the coffee table he stopped short. He appeared briefly startled, sitting up and dropping his feet. His boots hit the wood floor with a solid thud.
“It’s clean,” he said, finally noticing the lack of Chinese take-out boxes and empty whiskey glasses.
“Yup,” I replied nonchalantly, pretending the task was nothing out of the ordinary.
He looked at me and stood. “You did this?”
“Yup.”
“By yourself?” he asked in disbelief.
I rolled my eyes. “Duh.”
As slight as it was, it was the first smile that dared to cross David’s lips since he was deployed. The house was in dire need of the attention, but I could tell by his appreciative expression that it meant more to him than just a task needing completion.
David sat again, sighing. “It looks great, kid.” he said, nudging me with his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Yup.” I smiled back.
I contemplated telling him, while he was feeling so grateful, that I dumped all of his really expensive whiskey too. I flinched at the thought. No, I said to myself. Why ruin a perfectly good moment?


His accent was heavy. “No,” he said softly, after forever. “I didn’t kill him, Kat.” The tension in my shoulders subsided as the breath I didn’t realize I was holding released.

His face was still tormented when he slowly approached and reached for my hand. He focused intensely as his fingers skimmed the tips of mine before entwining our hands until our palms met. The tingling effect his touch had on my body was the same, though the superficial feel of his flesh was vastly different. His hands were like ice again today, and I wondered what happened to all of the warmth his touch once possessed. I didn’t want to protest, afraid that he would retreat all together. And then I would never get any answers.

A flitter of a smile crossed his lips as though he had mastered some feat, and then he slid his hands into his pockets.
In spite of my best efforts and the distraction of his closeness, doubt still lingered. “Promise?” I whispered.

The faintest light was captured in the dazzling green of his eyes, illuminating them like sun shine pouring over diamonds. “I swear, on all I love.”

I wished I could tell if he was lying.  But how could I not believe him? Every surviving Marine that was with my dad at the end, had the same story–‘Your dad sacrificed himself for us. He’s a hero.’ And though I stooped to begging, not a soul would reliquish a shred of detail.

I softened the cutting edge in my voice, but didn’t completely let him off the hook. “You have some explaining to do,” I said.
“Yes, but not now.” He turned away from me. “David’s awake.”
Faster than my heart could finish its beat, he was gone. Again. And I missed him already. I hated that I always ached to have him back.  It made me feel weak and pathetic, like I wouldn’t be me without him.

What If?

Posted: December 9, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I’m always curious to know what my readers think as they travel through Kat’s world. So I pose a few questions.

What would you be willing to do or sacrifice for the love of your life?

And if that love was the Grim Reaper?

If you learned that he let someone you love die to save someone else you loved?

If he lied to you about your past?

Thanks,

Zoe