Page 49 of New Hope, Old Grudges

“Will you tell me about what happened to you after high school?” I asked Brody, lying on top of him.

We’d made it to bed, both of us with hair still damp from the shower. I smelled of Brody’s body wash. I liked that a lot. He’d left long enough to make us both sandwiches and bring in wine.

He’d informed me he planned some kind of fancy dinner, but that would require both of us leaving the bed for an extended period of time.

“And, baby, I don’t plan on you leaving my bed until you pass out with my cock still inside you,” he’d informed me roughly.

I hadn’t argued with that.

So sandwiches it was. They were delicious. The man could cook, even if it was a humble sandwich on crusty French bread with shaved turkey, mayo and cheese.

Brody leaned to the side table in order to stow his and my wine glasses before settling me back to be laying on his chest. He slowly trailed his fingers up and down my spine. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Because I want to knowyou,” I said. “The you who isn’t the captain of the football team, the bully. Because I don’t think that was ever you.”

I didn’t know how I’d gone from being sure I still hated Brody to doing a complete one-eighty. Maybe it was orgasm number five. Maybe it was him worrying about me being cold. Maybe it was back in the bar when he’d refused me because he didn’t want me doing something I’d regret. Maybe it was him saving my life. Or naming his dog after the nerdy girl in a cartoon.

His eyes flickered with emotion, then his gaze became so tender, so reverent I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut.

No one had ever looked at me like that before.

As if he couldn’t help himself, Brody leaned in to kiss me delicately on the lips.

“I wasn’t good enough for a football scholarship to the Ivy League, much to my father’s disgust,” Brody answered after lingering at my lips for a long time.

My hands fisted at the mention of his father.

Brody noted that, lifting them to lay his lips on them.

“Love to see that fire, baby,” he murmured. “But don’t waste it on him.”

“I can save my fire for whoever I see fit,” I pursed my lips.

Brody chuckled. It was quickly becoming my favorite sound.

“As you wish,” he kissed my head.

“So, the story, please,” I urged.

He sighed. “It’s not a happy one.”

“Neither was mine.”

Not until now, is what I didn’t add.

He rubbed my arms. “Not getting the scholarships was the best thing that happened to me. I wanted something else anyway. Wanted to do something that mattered. Wanted to prove I was a man, strong, something more than my father.” He shrugged. “It’s pretty cliché, enlisting when those are the things you want, but I was a cliché, angry kid. I became a man quick enough through basic training, though.”

It was impossible not to know he’d served. The look about him, the way he carried himself was different. Like he was dangerous, like his past was something more than football games and cheerleaders.

“War was nothing like I’d expected,” he continued. “None of the glory. Fuck, none of the excitement either.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We were bored shitless most of the time.” He looked off into the distance, as if he was seeing something far away. “Until we weren’t,” his voice was quieter now. “I was in for ten years. Left when I had to deliver my best friend’s dog tags to his widow.”

My heart stuttered over the pain in his voice.

I stroked his face.

He leaned into my hand, laying a kiss in my open palm.

“I didn’t know where else to go so I came here,” he said. “It’s that simple, I guess. Apart from my father, I love everything about this town. It’s my home.”

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