Page 55 of Forgotten Pieces

“This is my job,” she says as she looks down at her hands twisting in her lap.

“And that was my job. And I failed. I failed every one of those men. Every night when I close my eyes, I see their faces. Every morning when I wake up, I see the faces of their families. It’s not something I can just get over. It’s going to take time for me to be one hundred percent. You need to understand that.”

Shelley doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to. It’s not the answer she wanted. She’s been waiting for a year for me to turn back into the man I used to be. I wish I could, but I don’t think it’s possible anymore.

“I’m trying here. I really am,” I whisper.

She sighs and gets off the bed. She moves to the window, blocking the flow of sunlight into the room. “I need to head to the airport. I’ll be back Saturday morning.”

I don’t say anything. She turns toward me, eyes filled with tears but not enough to spill over. I watch as she walks out the bedroom door without saying another word.

I don’t move from my spot in bed. I hear the front door close. I hear the spin of her tires on the gravel drive. But I don’t move. I just stare at the edge of the bed where the comforter I laid on top of shifted off the corner of the bare mattress. A red stain sits on the corner. A memory from a night where Shelley and I made love and knocked over a glass of wine. It was the night I proposed. The night before I left for my last deployment. Before we lived together. When things were simple. When we were just two people in love. That stain might be the proof of the last time we ever were.

I don’t know how long I sit there but the sun has moved its position in the window from my face to the floor. I hear a soft knock on the door. Surprised anyone is here. “Come in,” I croak.

Mac walks in with a glass of water. “I cleaned up a bit from last night.”

“Thanks.”

He walks toward me and hands me the water then puts a cupped hand in front of me. “For the headache I’m sure you have. And that white one is to help you sleep.”

I take the pills and drink half the glass of water. Mac clasps me on the shoulder and leaves. Once I hear him pull away, I lay back down in bed and fall asleep.

Chapter Seventeen

Tacoma

I pick a sparkling blue shade of nail polish out of my small collection and sit on the bench seat along the window in the living room. The rays of early morning light filter through the window bringing me a sense of peace I haven’t felt in a while. I paint my toenails and sip on my coffee as I reminisce about my life. I never thought I would end up back in White Creek. I had huge plans for my life. And I almost had them, every dream. But then I let a man kill them all.

It’s funny how life works. I left this place broken hearted and I thought all I needed to fix that heart was another man. I couldn’t have been more wrong. And now years later I am still looking for something to fix my broken heart. I just don’t know what I am looking for.

I need to figure out my life. Find my purpose again. Because I sure as hell know it ain’t working as a bartender in my hometown.

I sip on my coffee while I let a coat of nail polish dry. I wish I could be more like Cam. She doesn’t need a man in her life to find a purpose. Her drive comes from success. And Laney is happy teaching kids, sharing her knowledge. She has an obnoxious crush on Mac but it hasn’t stopped her from being happy.

Maybe that’s what I need to find. A way to be happy. Then maybe I would find a purpose.

I paint another coat of polish on my toes and think of things that make me happy. Besides martinis, wine, and margaritas, my list is falling very short. I am happy around my family so I make a mental note to spend more time with them. And I am happy around Ryder. Unbelievably happy. I feel like a teenager again when I am with him. He brings a sense of peace into my life, like he did eight years ago.

But he can’t be the one that makes me happy. He is with another woman. He has a life planned out with her. I am just an old friend helping him heal.

I stare out the window and try not to daydream about how it would feel to taste Ryder’s lips again, to feel the warmth of his strong body against mine. He’s older now, more experienced, more mature. What would his kisses be like now? Would I like the way his beard feels against my cheeks? Or the roughness of it between my legs?

I start to daydream about him peeling my clothes off, licking every inch of my body. Finally making love to me after waiting so many years to feel his cock inside of me.

I drop my coffee all over myself as I see my fantasy nearly come true. I blink a few times to make sure I am not hallucinating.

But there he is. The man that I let break my heart years ago and is causing my heart to do things it shouldn’t now. He is running down Main Street in a sweat-soaked USMC shirt. He stops outside the motel across the street and pulls his shirt over his head and holy hell. His back is a sculpted mass of muscle. He was in great shape before but now he looks like a machine. Veins cross over his biceps as he wipes sweat from his brow with his shirt. He tucks the tee into the back of his gym shorts and turns around.

Holy fuck.

Every ounce of his body is sculpted to perfection. There cannot be an ounce of fat on him. I silently count his abs. Yep, that is an eight pack that leads to the most delicious V I have ever seen. I don’t care if I’m drooling, this man belongs on the cover ofMen’s Health.

The ringing of my phone startles me as he continues his run down the street. I look over at my phone and see Cam on the screen.

“I’m in so much trouble,” I tell her by way of answering the phone.

“And why is that?”

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