Page 43 of Shadow Target

Looking up at the shadowy, white, nondescript ceiling, he allowed all his senses to open completely to Willow. He felt her warm, moist breath against his neck and upper chest. She was glued to him in the nicest of ways. Over their three years apart, she had grown even more slender than before. She was almost skinny, and that concerned him. But… look at himself: He’d lost his appetite after she’d left. Food had no longer held any enjoyment for him. Nothing had, as a matter of fact. There had been rare times, when they were both at Bagram, in the married unit, when one or the other could cook a meal for both of them. Shep had looked forward to those times; to be able to sit down and share a meal had been a rarity back then. He frowned as he considered for the nth time, that marrying as active combatants, especially in Afghanistan, had put the first nails in the coffin of their marriage. Its collapse wasn’t just down to communication issues. It was also the many other stressful pressures on them at the time. They’d lived in a world of shock and trauma.

Moving his fingers gently up and down her warm, firm upper arm, he felt such a fierce love for Willow that he knew he could never adequately put into words. Maybe men were designed to show, not tell, how they felt? Willow would scoff at that notion, explode the lie that it was, just as she had in the past during their many heated conversations on the topic. She’d made it clear that God had given men a tongue and mouth to speak with, too. So, any excuse to the contrary was a moot point in her world, and she’d made it more than clear that he’d damned well better start communicating fully with her; emotions and all.

A faint, wistful smile hooked at the corners of his mouth as his mind ranged over so many faceted memories of their time together at Bagram. It had been a helluva two-and-a-half years together. Just as there’d been a war surrounding them, there’d also been a war of unending battles going on within their marriage, the reflections of their outer and inner worlds combining and eventually tearing them apart. He had enough distance on their doomed marriage to realize that marrying and living in a combat zone was about as far from ideal as one could get. He wasn’t willing to blame it all on that, however. He knew he had issues with communication and couldn’t fault Willow on her need to talk deeper and more intimately with him. He’d had three years to chew on that, and eventually realize she’d been right. He’d only given a part of himself out of the bedroom, not all of him that she’d demanded and expected—until now.

Willow stirred, making a snuffling noise against his neck that turned his rueful half-smile into a full, honest grin. She moved one of her long, beautiful legs and he relished how soft she felt. How much he’d missed this! Missed her! Her fingers moved against his chest and then she brought them to her face, rubbing her eyes as she slowly rolled away from him to lay on her back. Releasing her, he eased himself up on his left side, one arm still beneath her neck, watching her awaken in the grayness of the bedroom. All the stress around her eyes that had clung there before, had now dissolved. Her hair was tousled, a red frame around her face. Willow was all woman, but she had the amazing ability to be childlike, too. He found it tough to be that way himself, but over the years together, she had helped him become more spontaneous. She drew out the little boy deeply closeted within his adult body. Shep watched as her thick, long red lashes slowly, slowly opened.

“Uhhh,” Willow groaned, “I feel like I fell off a cliff and died.”

He moved a few strands of her hair away from her temple. “Hopefully in a good way and not a bad one?” he teased, seeing how cloudy her shadowed eyes looked. Willow did not wake up quickly. She was one of those people that relied on strong coffee first thing, and then another hour or so afterward, to really be alert. Shep often wondered when she was on combat duty, asleep in the ready room and a call came in for her, how she was instantly able to leap up and get to her combat jet. Adrenaline, he supposed, his grin curving even higher as she puckered her lips, making more snuffling sounds and rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. How much he loved her. How much he wanted this to work out for them this time around.

“Uhh, oh, always good. You know that Shep…,” and she yawned.

Chuckling, he continued to touch her lightly here and there, watching the pleasure come to her expression. She invited this kind of tender caresses. So sensitive. Shep wondered if that trait was connected to her red hair. Even though she was obviously a hardline go-getter, sensitivity-wise, she was off the chart. Exquisitely so. He’d never told her this, but as far as orgasms went, he’d never met a woman that could come as quickly and easily as she did. Her body was always super-susceptible to his touch. It didn’t take much to bring her over the top.

One day, he’d like to explore that with her; to find out what she thought about her vulnerability to his touch. That was communication, too, he reminded himself, so he wasn’t a complete loser when it came to that, even if it was of the non-verbal variety. Touch was another communication tool, and he felt a jolt of pleasure at that “aha!” moment of realization. He was beginning to grasp that all the questions and insights that swirled around in his mind had to be verbalized so that Willow could share in what he was thinking or feeling. If he didn’t open his mouth, she didn’t know. And she was right: he’d been cheating her out of that intimate bond she desperately needed between them. He got it now. He wouldn’t forget.

Leaning down, he rested his lips against the curly hair at her temple. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve loved watching you wake up, Willow. Every tiny expression in your face, those little noises you make when you’re waking up, they make me smile. They make me love you even more than I did before. Did you know that?” He was going to lay it all in front of her, his efforts to try and communicate wobbly at first. Her lashes opened quickly, and he held her stunned gaze. Had he said something WRONG? God, that’s what he lived in horror of doing: saying the wrong thing and hurting her feelings. Or otherwise screwing up again, as usual. And then, those full lips of hers curved and she lifted her hand, grazing his jaw, holding his uncertain gaze.

“Wow, just wow,” she murmured, her eyes serious.

“What?” His heart fell with terror. He anxiously absorbed her expression, not understanding what she meant.

“That’s so beautiful,” she sighed, leaning up, kissing him softly. Laying down, snuggling against him, she added, “You’re a poet, Shep. You have such a beautiful way with words. And you hid all of that from me.”

Stunned, he lay there above her, staring at her, now put at a loss for words. “Really?” was all he could choke out. A poet? A poet!!! That would be the last word he’d ever use regarding himself!

Laughing a little, her voice drowsy, she said, “If this is the new Shep Porter, I really like him. I like that you are trying to talk and share with me what’s in your heart, what you are feeling right this very moment. Keep doing it. I love it. I love you…”

Her sincerity totaled him. Shock, sweet with its utter relief, rolled through Shep as he saw the love shining in Willow’s eyes only for him. “But all I did was tell you what was running through my mind.”

“Yes. See how easy it really is, Shep? You know I need to know what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And just now? Sharing your words with me is like giving me chocolate.”

He knew her intense love of chocolate. “What did you mean by ‘wow’?”

She slowly sat up, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, the ends nearly touching her breasts. Wiping her eyes, she said, “That ‘wow’ meant that it made me feel so good to be a woman, to be with you. You’ve never given words like that to me before. And I loved it!” Her voice grew husky, and she reached out, cradling his jaw in her hand. “And I love you, Shep. I never stopped loving you.”

Capturing her hand in his, he held it against his heart. “I love you, too, Willow. I never stopped loving you, either. I thought I had, but that wasn’t true.” He grimaced. “I’m pretty good at lying and hiding the truth from myself.”

She laughed a little as she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. “I was in denial too, Shep. And it only took nearly dying to get us to realize we’ve always loved one another, and that it was worth it to try one more time…”

Unable to stop from smiling, he absorbed her naked beauty, that wild, untamable red hair of hers, that glint of confidence in her eye, and that stunning body of hers. “You know, in the last three years? You’ve grown more beautiful, Angel,” and he reached out, stroking her arm, the tenderness reflected in her eyes. He found it crazy that what had always run through his mind, she loved hearing come out of his mouth, instead. It was that simple. Shep could see the profound and instant affect it’d had on upon Willow. Emboldened, reaching out, sliding his fingers through her silky hair, he added huskily, “There isn’t anything I don’t love about you. Things were always great when we were making love.”

Lids closing, she leaned into his hand as he gently massaged her scalp. “That’s true.” She opened her eyes again, staring into his own, as his hand moved to her shoulder. “Do you see now, just a little bit, what else I need from you, Shep? Can you imagine how much better we’ll get along now that you’ll put your words out there?”

“Yes, I get it. I understand now. I’m just sorry it took so long.” And he was. He’d be forever sorry for the three years they’d lost with one another because of it.

She leaned forward, resting her hand on his hard, flat belly. “Every time I tried to ask you about your family. You refused to go there. You would never talk about your mom or dad before.” She smoothed her hand across his flesh. “You started to the other day, but I feel like there was more. Could you share that with me, now? Because I really feel in my gut and in my heart that you closed up for a reason. And in my experience? It’s usually because of something terrible that happened in a person’s childhood.”

Shep felt his stomach clench even though Willow’s warm hand felt supportive. He saw the pleading in her eyes, heard the barely restrained feelings in her low voice. Placing his hand over hers, he rasped, “You’re right. Here goes the rest of it: the woman my father married, after the divorce was final… she was already pregnant with his child. He just… went away without explanation from my mother, without telling her WHY he left.”

“Do you want to talk about what you and your mom went through?”

Now that the first part was out of him, it didn’t seem as important to hide the rest; to hide the past he’d always been so ashamed of. The tenderness in Willow’s expression made it easier for him to go on, “It was terrible, Willow. At the time, at my age, I couldn’t put it into words or perspective. My father bought a house on the other side of town, married that woman, and that was his new life. I rarely saw him. My mother’s reaction was severe, but I didn’t see it then at nine years old. I thought it was common that anyone who was in her place would withdraw from everything. On some nights, I’d hear her sobbing in her bedroom, and I felt guilty for not being able to help her to stop crying. Now? As an adult, I realize she was crying for the loss of my father. She’d never talk about it to me or anyone. I was just a kid, and I was confused, scared and lonely. I loved my mother very much, but she retreated from everyone and everything.”

Willow withdrew her hand from his, caressing his jaw. “Your mother never climbed out of that shock to take care of you after that?”

“What do you mean?”

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