Page 12 of Protected

God, I need help.

He groans low in his throat, and I try to ignore it. He’s probably clearing his airway. I put chili peppers in the parmesan to spice things up. I read somewhere they’re an aphrodisiac. I guess if he’d refused my invitation to stay, I’d have been trapped in here, horny as a rabbit, with only my vibrator to keep me company.

“I have to do something for you,” I say. “What can I do?”

He shakes his head and stares down at me with a clear blue gaze. “This. This is kind enough. It’s nice to have company. Really, the nights get lonely.”

“Yeah, they get lonely here, too. It’s probably nothing like back when you were in the military. I bet being on your own feels a lot harder when you’ve spent so much time surrounded by other soldiers.” I’m probably overstepping. I’ve talked to veterans before and a lot of them don’t like talking about the war. I should just shut up, but I want to know him inside out. I want to understand why he’s alone, why he’s opening a healing center, what made him who he is.

“It’s hard, for sure. My parents passed away when I was young, so my brothers and I banded together. Gentry raised us for the most part. When I graduated, I did what everyone was doing, and I served my country. Don’t regret a day of it. That said, it’s been a difficult transition back into civilian life.”

“I’m so sorry. How old were you when they passed?”

“Fourteen. I was lucky to know them as long as I did.” He drags in a deep breath. “I’m sure you don’t wanna know this shit. Sorry I pushed the conversation in that direction. I’m sure it’s not how you want to spend a nice meal, listening to an old man complain about something that happened a long time ago.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but if you want to… I want to know.”

He swallows hard as his eyes stay locked on mine.

I don’t want to read into anything too much, but if he was looking to get away from me, he’d have turned away and just finished his meal, right?

“I guess I came home with this feeling like I was alone, like my life lost direction and purpose. In the military, the objectives are very direct. Clear this building, protect this outpost, and, hell, even clean this floor was straightforward. Now, it’s floating in the wind, trying to do something with meaning, hoping I can make any sort of difference.”

There’s pain in his eyes when he talks, and I’m desperate to heal him.

“I can’t even imagine.” I don’t offer advice, because I don’t have any. I’ve never been a combat veteran. I’ve never seen anything more violent than the shit Lonny tried to pull, which doesn’t count as anything in comparison. “Do you see anyone to talk about it, like a therapist?”

“Fuck no.” He laughs under his breath as he scrubs his rough hand over my arm. “I have my brothers. They’ve all seen war. They know what it’s like to come back from it.”

“So, you talk to them?”

“We don’t talk about it, but we know. There’s a silent understanding, and that’s something. Some of this shit can’t be put into words.”

I nod and flash him a sympathetic smile, but my eyes wander to his ink. I want to study his tattoos, follow every dark line until I can clearly see what every one of them is, and understand what they mean.

Dear Lord, what’s happening? Maybe this is bad. Maybe I don’t want to know more about this guy. Now, I want all of him. His heart, his soul, and his cock.

Why must everything be so difficult?

“Anyway,” he breathes out a heavy breath, “do you miss Seattle?”

“Not really. I mean, I did at first. The city, the buzz, the creatives. I thought that was where I was meant to live, but turns out city life isn’t really for me. I mean, I like that life, but I like this more. The peace and quiet, the small-town vibe, ya know? Plus, I grew up here.”

He grins as he says, “Your dad sounds happy you’re back.”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “He’s happy as a clam. I’m my parents’ only child. If they had their way, they’d have me living with them for life. Though, to be honest, I think my mom might actually like the freedom. She’s into all kinds of things now. I never knew thewoman loved poetry and now she goes to some jam thing at the coffee shop on Thursday nights.”

He laughs and I have no idea why I’m talking about my mom. The man is telling me deep, emotional war stories and I’m telling him that my mother likes rhymes.

Awesome.I’m so deep.

I sigh and attempt to change the subject, but his gaze is fixed on mine so intently that I feel that maybe he’s holding something back that he’s desperate to say.

“You okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. I, ugh, I have a little confession to make. Well, it’s a big confession, actually.”

My heart stalls and my knees go weak. Please let this confession be his undying love. Or at the very least, let it be his desperation to fuck me. “Yeah? What’s that?” My tone is nearly a whisper.

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