Page 5 of Viper

My heart warms. Why is it so fucking nice to feel like I’ve understood her? Like what I’m saying actually fucking matters? So many women talk, but don’t listen to a damn word you say. This woman is different. She talks and she listens. I clear my throat. “She was your first relationship. Good or bad, she was your point of reference for life. It’s engrained. You’re grieving that. You should grieve that.”

She stares at me, tears falling fast.

I grip her tighter, desperate to dry them all away, but I don’t.

“You’ll get there. Be patient with yourself.”

With a finger on her cheek, she wipes away the wetness in her eyes. “This is so weird.”

“What is?”

“That I’m spilling my guts to someone I just met like we’ve been friends forever. I don’t usually open up to anyone.”

“Me either.” I clear my throat and brush my hand against her soft arm.

“What branch of the military were you in?”

“Navy. I was discharged because of an injury.” I point to my left leg. “Fucked this thing up. Gives me some serious pain every now and then.” I haven’t spoken about my service since I got back. Even starting this conversation now is giving me pause.

She looks up at me with parted lips, her eyes filled with empathy. “How’d it happen?”

“We had a group of six of us that were doing recon in the Persian Gulf when we were fired on by some hostiles. Since our vessel wasn’t built for heavy combat, all we could do was run. Their shots cut through us like swiss cheese. Two men in my group died, but I survived. Not sure how, but I’m still here.”

“You don’t look happy about it.”

“I’m not.” I hold her closer. I’m not sure why, but telling the story with her in my arms makes it easier. “Those men had families to come home to. I didn’t. If anyone should’ve lost their life, it should’ve been me.”

“Maybe you’re here for a reason.” She looks down at her hands before glancing up again. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Our eyes meet and we stay like that for a long moment. Too long a moment. So long a moment that my brain twists and turns, diving into caverns and hollows it shouldn’t be going into.

For a brief second, I imagine my arms around her, then falling back on the bed. I’d hold her close, kissing her soft lips. After that initial wave settled, we check out of this flea bag hotel, and I’d take her home. I’d be by her side as she cried on my shoulder. I imagine being the anchor she’s needing.

She glances toward the ground and back up again before standing, leaving a cold emptiness beside me that I’m desperate to have back.

“It’s getting late, and I should hit the hay.” Her arm brushes over the other and she opens the thin plywood door, letting a few buzzing mosquitos in. “Thank you… for everything. I… I’m glad you brought me home, and we got a chance to talk.”

Again, I’m not sure of what to do or say.

Do I hug her goodbye? Do I ask for her number? Do I tell her how good it felt to say real things, or do I just walk out and never see her again?

I drag in a deep breath and walk toward the door. I don’t want to leave her here. I don’t want to know she’s laying her head down at this piece of shit hotel. I don’t want to think about her crying alone and worry that she’s not safe.

She stares at me and tips up onto her toes, making the decision for both of us. A hug. A hug is what I get. I let it linger, breathing her in. Wildflowers, whiskey, and the scent from the terrible room.

The rest plays out like a silent movie where it feels like scenes are missing. We go from her perfect soul holding my embrace, to a staggered breath as she lets go, to a light smile with no direct eye contact as she escorts me out her door.

As the door closes behind me, I stand in the echoing silence of the cool summer night. I’ve never been one to find attachment in people. I have myself, and that’s all I can handle. A hug goodbye has always been enough.

Tonight, though, it’s not… and I can’t do a fucking thing about it.

Chapter Three

Clementine

Present Day

“Come out with me tonight! I miss your face!” my friend Jo begs. She’s been hounding me all week long. “At least come to one of my classes tonight. I’m teaching yoga at seven. I’m having Maddox bring down some goats from his farm. Apparently, this is a thing now.”