Page 72 of Meant to Be
Chapter Fourteen
Sydney sprawled over Mitch, unable to move. She’d remembered enjoying sex with him during college, but she hadn’t remembered it being so exhausting — in a good way. Had that been her fault? She was self-conscious of everything back then, but of lovemaking in particular. Letting loose felt too vulnerable, too embarrassing.
The recent attack on Jenny had been a reminder that life was too short to not live it to the fullest, so she didn’t hold back. If she wasn’t mistaken, neither did Mitch, at least in bed. She shoved away thoughts of the many women on which he’d honed his skills and, instead, focused on the beat of Mitch’s heart under her cheek. Initially, it thundered just as hers had, but now it slowed to a calming, steady, strong rhythm. His hand absently rubbed her back. She wished she could stay that way forever.
She brushed her fingers over the scattering of scars on Mitch’s neck. She’d noticed them on his legs and lower arms as well. She knew from her time in Jordan the scars were likely from shrapnel. It told her he’d been near at least one blast. She was thankful he hadn’t been close enough to lose a limb or, worse, be killed.
She kissed one of the scars. “I was afraid for you.”
He stiffened under her. Charlotte Tavern was small enough that residents knew something bad had happened during the war but also respected that Mitch didn’t want to talk about it and never pushed him. She wouldn’t push, but she would ask.
“Will you tell me about it?”
“It’s the same story millions of soldiers have told throughout time.”
She lifted her head and noted the distance growing in his eyes. “It might be similar, but not the same. Your story, your experience, matters. It stays with you.”
“It’s not something easily forgotten.”
She considered retreating, but she knew from her own experience that talking tamed the demons. “When I was attacked, I wanted to forget it. Pretend it never happened. But I couldn’t. It showed up in my dreams, when I walked through a parking lot, or when I happened to see the scar on my back while looking in a three-way mirror. It’s always there and it changes you.”
Mitch’s expression softened, his hand cupped her cheek, he pulled her to his chest, and he kissed the top of her head. “I’ll find him.”
“I hope you do. But in the meantime, I don’t want him keeping me from life. It’s not easy. It took a lot of effort and therapy to live again.”
“Doctor Andres?”
“No. He’s too much like family to be my therapist. But he was a big help. Did you ever talk to anyone?”
He inhaled a breath. “Yes. But it doesn’t fix anything.”
She lifted her head again. “You didn’t find it helpful?”
“It didn’t bring Brian back.”
Her heart ached at the grief in his voice. “Will you tell me about him?” The fact that she didn’t know much about Mitch’s friends or family was another reminder of how insulated they’d been in their relationship.
“He was my best friend since kindergarten. Besides you and my family, there was no one I trusted more.”
“What happened?”
He looked away.
She used the tip of her finger on his jaw to turn his face back to her. “I know this isn’t my business, and maybe it’s too much intimacy for an affair—”
“There are no rules, Syd. Not everything has a plan.”
She fought the rising hurt and anger at his harsh tone. “There are rules. One is no love allowed. I can’t believe I’m the sole reason you keep people at a distance.”
He swore and tilted his body, effectively rolling her off, and then bounded from the bed. She hated the loss of contact but wouldn’t be put off by it. He went to his dresser, pulling a pair of boxers from the top drawer and slipping them on. He grabbed a T-shirt from a folded pile of them, tossing her one and picking up another one, jerking it over his head. Finally, he looked at her.
She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to respond as she put his shirt on. He ran his fingers through his bronze waves and sank to the edge of the bed, with his back to her. It pained her to see him broken like this.
“You’re not to blame. I’d still be pissed, but there might have been a chance for us if I hadn’t gone into the military.”
His words were both a relief and a source of frustration. “What happened?”
“The saying, war is hell, is accurate. I may have been young and even a little naive, but I knew what I’d likely see.”
