Page 13 of Operator
A good person wouldn't think of his brother's widow this way.
Wouldn't think about sneaking to her room like we used to do when we were kids, back when everything seemed a hell of a lot simpler. Nothing about Gwen is simple anymore. What I want from her, what I really want from her, would complicate the hell out of everything.
But maybe I want to complicate it.
I turn on my heel, searching for the tar they call coffee because the thought of her close has my cock hard. There must be some redeemable part of me, because instead of finding her and taking what I want once and for all, I force myself to think about what we're going to do about Dad. Even if all I want to do is bury myself inside her.
Focus, Reece.
Bunny will try to take care of him once he’s released. She’ll try to do it all. Take care of their businesses in town, arrange appointments, schedule his PT and follow-ups, and everything else. The thought of it leaves me exhausted. For a while it’ll be fine, until her plate fills up more and more and things start falling in the cracks.
Which I can’t afford to let happen.
It occurs to me as I slurp back the pitiful excuse for coffee that the perfect person to deal with this clusterfuck would have been Collier.Christ. I’d pushed him—and that weird as hell letter—to the back of my mind after I’d gotten that call from Gwen about Ian. He’d been our team medic way back when. He’d know how to deal when a cantankerous S.O.B. like my dad had a health crisis. Before Tate had died, he would have been the first person I would have called.
Now more than ever, I miss the men who I’d considered closer than blood. But once Tate had died, so had the brotherhood. Collier, Dean Tyler, James Murdoch, and Killian Burke had all gotten out of the Marines and gone their separate ways. Ryan Tate had been our lynchpin.
Just like Ian had been for our family. Without him, were we all just going to fall apart?
And then my thoughts go back to her.
I push out a frustrated sigh and get to my feet. There's not going to be much peace of mind for me tonight with her nearby and me on edge. I’ll have to figure something out that allows me to make sure she’s okay for the rest of the time I’m in Sweet Creek while keeping myself the fuck away from her.
It's going on 2:00 AM when the doctors give us the all-clear to go home. I don’t want to leave Bunny and my dad alone, but I know if I don’t go, Gwen will make excuses to stay. She must be exhausted because when I tell her it’s time to go, she barely puts up a fight.
When we get back to my house, I herd her inside and she doesn’t protest, merely follows meekly and disappears down the hall. The bathroom door squeaks and clicks closed behind her. I'm struck by how intimate being near her this way is, hearing her homey sounds. I’ve lived in close quarters with men but have always avoided living with a woman. No one ever quite seemed to live up to her. Thinking of how tired she looks makes me think of the child she's carrying. Of how different she is with motherhood evident in every line in her body.
I've never been the fatherly sort. That was all Ian. The concept of family has always been a hard one for me to grasp, since my parents never made me feel like I was a part of theirs. It probably has something to do with selfishness on my part. I've always wanted to be a Marine. There's never been much room for anything else. Including Gwen. The concept of her being mine had always had to do with what I wanted. Not necessarily what would have been best for her. Leaving her was probably the most selfless thing I'd ever done.
My ears strain for sounds of her. It's only been a little more than a week and I already found myself looking for her everywhere. It gotten to the point where I acquiesced to my parents’ request to take on more responsibilities at the diner just to be near her. I told her I would keep my distance, but she had to know that was a lie. There's no such thing as keeping distance from her. Never has been. That’s why I stayed away for so goddamn long.
The door opens again, even more silently. It's almost as though she knows I'm out here. Watching, waiting.
Part of me always seems to be waiting for her.
When she deems the coast clear, she comes toward the living room. After a few moments, she's visible in the entrance to the hallway. Her body is wrapped in a thin robe that accentuates the swell of her belly. She must have changed while she was in the bathroom. I find myself wanting to reach for her. To feel the movement inside. Parenthood had never been in any of my goals, because truth be told, I thought I’d be dead by now. Seeing her, and knowing the baby is part of my blood, in some twisted way makes me feel ownership of her, of it. It's fucked up, but I can't deny that part of me still thinks of her as mine. Of her baby as mine.
Thank God Ian isn't here to see the truth of it on my face, because it would have killed him.
“You don’t have to keep watch over me. I’m fine,” she says, wrapping the rope more tightly around her. It has the opposite effect of what she intends. Instead of hiding her, it only draws my eyes to the changes in her even more. Her breasts are fuller, her hips wider. All the new curves make me want to explore the delicious differences.
“I won’t be able to sleep,” I tell her honestly, dragging my gaze away. It’s too dark for her to see me staring, but if I keep it up, I’m going to embarrass us both. “But you should get some rest.”
She hesitates, then goes to the kitchen. She refills the glass she retrieves with ease from the cabinet with water and ice. “I’m not sure I can. I’m so worried about Todd.”
“The doctors said he’s going to be fine. He’s a tough old guy. I’ll stay up to hear from Bunny, and I’ll wake you if there’s any news.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t argue. I know you’re tired.”
“No, I know. It's not that.” Indecision paints her face, then she sighs. “It’s just the baby. They like to wake up when I'm trying to sleep. They’re so big now it hurts when they move around so much.”
My eyes go back to her stomach. It could be the light playing tricks on me, but I nearly swear I can see undulating waves of movement underneath. My hands twitch on my lap.
“Are you okay?” she asks, breaking me from the thought of pressing my lips to the skin there.
“You mean about Dad?”
Gwen makes a restless movement with her shoulders. “Well, yeah that. And you used to have trouble with nightmares...” She trails off and I wonder if she’s thinking about how I used to wake her up with them. How she’d soothe me back to sleep with her mouth.
“No, I’m fine.” I’d almost be easier if it were nightmares haunting me instead of her face. “I’ll be fine.”
