“You don’t think they deserve to know the real truth?”
“I think some people have been through enough without having to know the details. I think it doesn’t change what happened or that three marines aren’t coming back home.” Brecken straightened and slid under the shower stream, letting the soap rinse off his back. “You don’t think I did the right thing?”
Setting down the soap, I watched the suds wash down him, my eyes going to the patchwork of mutilations on his back. “I don’t know if there is a right or wrong in this kind of a situation.”
“If you had a loved one go missing, then wound up finding out they were dead, would you want to know what happened in between? If it was the worst kind of thing? Would you want to know?” He shoved off of the wall and turned around, waiting.
“I did have a loved one go missing.” My hand settled on his chest. “I did think he died. I do know what happened.”
“But I came back. I survived it.”
The pads of my fingers crested several scars as they moved across his skin. Small, round white ones. Long, uneven purple ones. Would I want to know what went into the creation of them if he was already gone and I’d made my peace with that years ago? Would I want to know what he’d suffered—how much he’d suffered?
“You did the right thing.” I kissed his mouth, repeating my words.
He let me kiss him again before he reached for the bottle of shampoo and had me turn. His fingers curled into my scalp, cleaning my hair slowly, methodically.
“You remember when I told you how I was saving up for a little house as close to the beach as we could get?” He worked the shampoo into the long ends of my hair before adjusting the shower so it was angled toward me.
“Of course. I still picture what it might have looked like.” I leaned my head back, letting him comb the lather out of my hair with his fingers.
“I bought it.” His hands stopped moving. “I’m not sure if it’s anything like what you pictured, but I found that little house close to the beach.”
My head lifted, twisting over my shoulder to look back at him. “You bought a house? In California?”
He was squeezing some conditioner into his palm. “Yeah. I’m in the process of it, at least. With all of that back pay and money from the interviews, I had to spend it on something, and I keep hearing how real estate’s a good investment.” His hands combed through my hair again, massaging in the conditioner. “It’s ours. When that day comes, sooner, later, we’ve got a home. Away from here.”
It could have been what he’d just told me. It could have been the way he was washing my hair—such an everyday ritual, done with so much care and attention—or it could have been that our time was running out. It could have been any other billion reasons why I had to be close to him right then.
Moving until my chest was against his, I roped my arms behind his neck, rose up onto my toes, and covered his mouth with mine. His hands fell from my hair, scooping under my backside to lift me. We stood like that for a while, kissing under the spray of the shower, before he backed me into the shower wall. His hand moved between us, aligning his body with mine.
“What are you doing?” I smiled against his lips, bowing my back closer.
He moved inside me in a controlled, unhurried way. “Loving you,” he rasped when he could go no deeper.
“And what was that up against your truck just now?” I asked.
A brow curved into his forehead. “Taking you.”
My body writhed against his as he pulled out. “And the difference is?”
His mouth dropped to my neck, his tongue tasting my skin as he pressed deep in the same deliberate manner. “Let me show you.”
He was leaving soon.
It wouldn’t be long before I’d have to accept that in a different way. In a more permanent way. That was the thought I awoke to the next morning—the sense of dread and acceptance that he was leaving. Today, for his final interview. In twenty-odd days, forever. Or at least for a very long time.
I was drenched in sweat. The blankets and sheets tangled around me were damp as well. It wasn’t until I blinked myself awake and rolled onto my side toward Brecken that I realized I wasn’t the one who’d broken into a sweat in my sleep. It was him.
He’d kicked off most of the blankets, but the sheet was a twisted web from his waist down. He was sweating so badly, it was rolling off of him, and his face was drawn into an expression I had yet to witness on him. I didn’t have the right emotion in my vocabulary to try to name it either.
“Brecken.” I leaned up onto my elbows, whispering his name again.
He was typically a light sleeper, snapping awake at the faintest of noises.
I cuffed my hand around his arm and lightly shook him. “Brecken.”
His eyes snapped open, unfocused and feral, then his body went into motion. His arms flew toward me, his hands gluing to my shoulders before his body twisted over mine. I crashed back onto the mattress, Brecken hovering above me, pinning me, that untamed look reflecting down at me.
My chest stopped moving. I had nothing to fear from the man hovering above me, despite every sign indicating otherwise.
“Brecken,” I said, my hand sliding down his clammy, quivering arm. “It’s okay.”
It took a moment for him to crack through whatever dark place he was in, but I watched his eyes go through each stage until they were the ones I knew. His chest was still moving hard, his skin dripping with perspiration, when realization broke across his face.
“Did I hurt you?” His hands snapped away from me as he pulled himself off of me, his eyes running down and around me.
I stayed lying back, still recovering from the shock. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes were still running the expanse of my body.
“I’m sure.” I sat up in bed, dropping my hand to his to tie my fingers through his.
“I’m sorry.” His head lowered as he slid to the edge of the bed. “It was … I was having …”
“It’s okay,” I repeated, not wanting him to make a bigger deal of this than it was.
His head shook. “What if I had hurt you?”
“No.” My head shook hard. “No what-ifs. This is complicated enough between us without adding in all of the what-ifs. We’ll deal with everything as it comes, one day at a time, one moment at a time. Forget the what-ifs.” I lowered my head so it was even with his. “I’m okay. You’re okay. That’s what matters—not what could have happened.”
“If I ever hurt you …” His voice was a quiet echo between us.
“You won’t—”
“Then I’d be no better than him.” His eyes lifted to meet mine. “No different than him.”
That was when I got it. When I understood. My hand curved under his jaw, feeling the muscles strain beneath it. “You are so much better than him. So entirely different than him. Whatever happens, whatever might, you and he are nothing alike.”
“We both carry demons inside. His might be different than mine, but that doesn’t change the way they manifest.”
I scooted closer. “You won’t hurt me.”
We sat like that for a minute, then a few more. We sat there in front of each other, staying twisted in the tangle of the night for as long as we could. When the alarm on my phone chimed later than morning, I was still in the same spot, feeling as though he was being torn away from me all over again. This time, I was losing him to an invisible force I had no name for, an enemy that made no negotiations and took no prisoners. An enemy that was merciless.
Keenan had fallen asleep in the backseat an hour ago, and it had been quiet in the cab of the truck ever since. Like yesterday, Brecken’s interview today had run late, which meant he’d gotten back to the cabin late too. When I suggested we just spend the night and leave in the morning since he’d paid for the full three nights, he’d said we needed to get back, a soldier-like authority in his voice. An air of resolve, as if he were preparing to
head off to war.
I’d asked how the interview today had gone, and he’d answered my questions in the vaguest possible way, limiting his words to a handful at a time. I guessed he was still upset about what had happened this morning, still letting his guilt get to him. I also knew nothing I said to try to convince him otherwise would work. It would take time, and that was something we didn’t have.
After Keenan fell asleep, I’d held my hand out toward Brecken, not sure if he’d take it. I knew he noticed it from the corner of his eye. His fists wrung the steering wheel a few times, like he was fighting to keep them there. Then he let out a breath at the same time his hand fell from the steering wheel to meet mine. He hadn’t let go since, and even after he pulled into his driveway a little before midnight, he kept his fingers tied through mine, staring out the windshield after he turned off the engine.
“Let’s get some sleep,” I whispered, glancing back at Keenan, who’d managed to prop himself against some of the bags in the backseat.
“I’ll walk you two in, but I’m going to stay at my place tonight.”
My eyebrows came together as I twisted in my seat.
“I think that would be best, after the past three days.” He checked the rearview mirror, scanning out his window after. “Let me have a night to decompress or … whatever, before you fall asleep beside me again.”
I didn’t want to be without him tonight. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want him to be alone. I didn’t want to roll over and find the bed cold where there’d been a warm spot beside me the past few nights. I didn’t want to waste what was left of our time together.
More than all of that, I wanted to give him what he needed. Even if that was a night away. Even if that was every night away.
“You want to grab the kid or the bags?” I opened the door and stepped outside. My hand felt cool now that his wasn’t around it.
“I’ve got it all. You just grab the door.” Brecken stepped out of the truck and slid his seat forward before reaching in for Keenan. He pulled him from his booster seat without making a sound and cradled him to his chest as he wrapped both arms around Keenan.
I had the door unlocked and open by the time Brecken made it up the steps, moving without making a noise. The porch light wasn’t on, but I still found myself scanning the street and sidewalks. Getting in late tonight instead of mid-day tomorrow so no one would be up or out to see the three of us arrive together was part of Brecken’s plan. There was no one to be seen. The whole neighborhood was still. Eerily still. Like the kind that makes a person wonder what’s hiding in all that darkness, the reason for all of that hush. Shaking off the feeling creeping up my spine, I moved inside and flipped on a few lights.
Brecken was moving down the stairs, having already tucked Keenan in. His eyes seemed trained on the spot at the bottom of them. “I’ll grab the bags and then do a quick check, just to make sure everything looks good before heading to my place.” Translation: I’m going to check every nook and cranny to make sure Crew isn’t lurking anywhere in the house.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” I paused with my finger on the lamp switch I was about to twist on.
He paused in the doorway. “I’m sure.” When he glanced back, he’d forced a smile. “Save me a spot tomorrow night, okay?”
My fingers left the lamp switch, leaving it off. “Okay.”
After Brecken brought in Keenan’s and my bags, he checked around the house, one room at a time, clearing it as he’d been trained. Then he checked once more. Before he left, he pulled me into his arms, holding me like a person might clutch a bird in their hands. Then he let me go and waited just outside the door for the sound of the lock turning over.
I watched him through the same living room window I’d first watched him. He went into his house and not a single light came on. It was strange to realize he was so close when he felt so far away. He was one lawn away, maybe fifty feet total, but he felt like he was totally out of reach.
Knowing I was incapable of falling asleep and looking for any kind of distraction, I went into the kitchen to check the messages. There were none. So I moved on to the fridge, cleaning out a few leftovers and items that were nearing their expiration dates. Then I decided it needed a full-on cleaning. From there, I found distractions everywhere I looked. From the ceiling fans that needed to be dusted despite being cleaned a few weeks ago, to the baseboards that needed to be polished even though they were gleaming.
I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to. I was afraid of the nightmares I’d see if I let myself close my eyes, but mostly, I was afraid of the nightmare I’d wake up to.
A while later, I went up to check on Keenan. He’d kicked off his blankets and was sleeping on his back, as spread out as he could be, taking up as much of his bed as possible. I found myself comparing it to the way I slept, in as small a ball as possible, tucked beneath as many layers of blankets as I could stand.
My mission of protecting my son from what was happening under this roof had worked. For now. He had yet to know the sting of a hit or witness one land on his mother. I wasn’t ignorant enough to pretend things would always stay like this. I would try—I would give whatever I could to preserve his innocence—but I couldn’t afford to be naïve either.
That was what had me moving toward Keenan’s closet, a plan forming. A dangerous one, but a necessary one. A plan I might never need to carry out if I could keep the next thirteen years as much a secret as I had these five.
Digging way into the back, I retrieved a few sets of old clothes, pajamas, socks, and underwear. A pair of shoes that still fit him but he didn’t wear as much as the others. Items that wouldn’t be easily missed. Then I found myself in the bathroom, rounding up old trial-sized toiletries I’d collected from hotel stays and dentist visits.
Next, I moved into my bedroom and gathered up the same types of items. I added an array of bandages and gauze, knowing that if life ever sent me down this desperate of a path, it would be because something bad had happened. The worst, or whatever stair-step was just above it.
Then I dumped everything I’d collected onto the hall floor just outside of the linen closet. I pulled out a couple of old, seldom-used flat sheets and packed Keenan’s stuff into one, mine into the other. I had a different hiding spot for some emergency money I’d stashed away, a few dollars here, a few more there. Once I’d tied everything up, I shoved the two satchels into the far back of the closet, carefully concealing them with folded stacks of sheets and pillowcases. This was the one door Crew never opened, but still, I didn’t want to take a chance.
After making sure everything was properly hidden, I closed the door and jogged down the stairs. Other than to clean it, I never went in Crew’s office. There was an unspoken rule that it was off-limits, and really, it wasn’t a place I wanted to visit. I’d seen Crew enter it as a man only to leave it as a monster too many times.
My pace didn’t slow as I went to the desk. The air inside was stale, other than the faintest hint of whiskey. As I tore into each drawer, thumbing through files and paperwork, I found myself getting chills. Almost as though a ghost were lurking in the room, hovering over my shoulder as I searched.
Once I’d gone through everything in his desk, I moved to the filing cabinet and searched it. When nothing came up from that investigation, I started looking in less obvious spots. Beneath the floor rug. Behind the bookshelf. Between the books. I even opened the floor vents and reached down inside. There was nothing. Not that I’d expected there to be, but I’d let myself hope. The stacks of evidence Crew had against me were probably locked away in some private security box, stuffed inside some bank’s vault. He wouldn’t risk me being able to find them. He wouldn’t chance his whole plan of keeping me from running by tucking the proof inside some desk drawer. It was blackmail. Untrue, though not untrue enough for a court of law. He had it stashed away in such a secret spot, I’d never find it.
I was stuck. Not that I didn’t already know that. Not tha
t I hadn’t accepted that years ago. Until Keenan was grown, I wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t take my son and hope to escape, and I couldn’t leave him to make my own run.
As I watched the sun rise that morning, I accepted that I was responsible for all of this. This hadn’t happened to me; it had happened because of me. I’d dug my own grave, and I would lay in it.
When Keenan and I did some grocery shopping the next day, I didn’t miss the media vans and SUVs parked at the nicest hotel in the Medford city limits. Keenan paid them no attention as we walked by. He was too excited by the promise of picking out a treat from the candy bar section to pay attention to much of anything. Some of them were from big news stations, and some were smaller ones I recognized out of Portland. I wondered why they were still here. I didn’t wonder who it was they were still here for.
Brecken had given his last interview yesterday, so why were a dozen crews still stationed here in town? When we reached the store, I made myself concentrate on my grocery list to distract myself. Every Monday, Crew gave me a cash allowance to use for everyday items, from groceries to gas. Making it work required budgeting and coupon-clipping, but we always had enough for what we needed. Maybe not what we wanted, but what we needed. I didn’t have access to the bank account, nor did I have a credit card, per Crew’s rules. It was another way for him to exert control and keep me on a short leash.
Since Crew was away, this Monday, I didn’t have new funds to get through the week, so the list was limited to the essentials. After rounding up what I needed, and letting Keenan take as long as he wanted choosing a candy bar, we checked out and I shouldered the few recyclable bags I’d brought along for the walk back.
Crew had taken the only car, leaving his wife and son essentially stranded to wherever our feet could take us. I didn’t see the familiar truck parked out front of the grocery store at first. It was Keenan who recognized it and waved at the driver, who was already crawling out.