I try to move away from her again, but her thigh tightens around mine and her arms wrap around my waist, holding me against her. I can see she wants to talk about this, and I don’t know what else to say or do to make her understand I can’t do it. I can be tolerant and supportive, but I can’t lie here next to her and listen to her tell me about the man she had in her life while I was gone. The man who got to touch her and kiss her and hold her when I was thousands of miles away fighting to stay alive. I had a moment of weakness the other night and Googled him. That was all the information I needed to make me feel small and weak and like I wasn’t good enough for her. I don’t need that shit swirling around in my brain if I want this to work between us. I want her to be happy and I want her in my life, however I can have her. Even if that means I have to share her, as much as it would kill me. I’d do it and I’d suck it up as long as it meant she’d continue to come back to me.
“I need to get something. Will you stay here, right where you are, and not move?” she asks softly.
She waits for me to nod before she quickly scrambles out of bed and covers up her naked body with my T-shirt that was tossed on the floor last night. I listen to her bare feet pad across the floor, down the hall, and out into the living room. I continue staring up at the ceiling until I hear her walk back into the room. Turning my head, I watch her walk toward the bed, my shirt hanging off one shoulder and stopping mid-thigh. She crawls back into the bed, clutching something in her hands in front of her. Crisscrossing her legs next to me, I keep my eyes glued to her face as she stares down at whatever she’s holding in her hands.
“First of all, that was a text from my mother, not him,” she starts. “I ended things with him before he left to go out of town. Before our night together in the stables.”
Her eyes meet mine and she gives me a small smile, cocking her head to the side.
“And second, I never let you go. Ever.”
She holds her arm out toward me and opens her palm. Pushing myself up, I scoot to the headboard, leaning my back against it before I look away from her eyes and down into the hand she’s holding out to me.
My heart stutters in my chest and my mouth drops open as I reach out with a shaking hand and pull my dog tags out of her open palm. I trace my fingers over the stamped letters and numbers that spell out my name, rank, and company number.
“Did you know your sister had a funeral for you?” she asks quietly.
I nod my head as I continue staring down at the tags, trying to block out the images of the day they were ripped from my neck and tossed to the ground. My sister told me they had a small service at the cemetery, not telling me too much about it other than how pissed she was that because of the suspicion still clouding what happened at the time, she couldn’t get the Marines to agree to a full military burial or get them to issue a military headstone.
“I overheard people talking about it at one of the charity events I was attending,” Shelby continues. “I went a few hours after it was over, when I knew your family would be long gone.”
She clears her throat and I look up to see her eyes fill with tears as she stares unblinking at the tags, lost in her memories. My heart breaks all over again knowing what I did to her, how I left, and feeling ashamed that I never told Kat about us. Never explained to my family how much this woman meant to me and she was forced to sneak into the damn cemetery like a stranger.
“When I got there,” she speaks again, “I saw your tags lying over the top of the headstone. I knew it was wrong and I knew I shouldn’t take them, but I couldn’t stop myself.”
A tear falls down her cheek and her mouth trembles as she keeps going, each word she speaks breaking me in two. I slide my hand around to the back of her neck, pulling her toward me until our foreheads are touching. I close my eyes and listen to each shaky breath she exhales, wishing I could take away all of her pain as she relives this moment.
“I picked them up and held them in my hands and all I could remember was the last time I saw you wearing them. It was the day I left for my audition and we’d taken a blanket out into one of the old pastures, do you remember?” she asks, pulling her head back and her eyes finally meeting mine.
I nod my head silently, remembering that day all too well. We spent the morning naked and wrapped up in each other under the shade of Shelby’s favorite magnolia tree, making plans for our future after she nailed the audition. Then we said good-bye so she could pack and head to the airport, I came home to find the police report someone had sent me, and I made the stupid decision to confront her mother without talking to her first.
“Your body was on top of mine and your tags hung down between us, sliding against my chest every time you moved,” she says softly, only remembering and knowing about the good part of that day. “When I got to the cemetery and saw them there, held them in my hands, and closed my eyes, all I could remember was the feel of them against my skin every time we made love. I held onto them and I could almost imagine they were still warm from your body and I could almost pretend like you were still alive and I’d see you again.”
“Shelby…”
I say her name and it comes out in a cracked voice, my throat clogged and tight with so much emotion I can barely handle it.
“I was so angry and so hurt, but it didn’t even matter. Nothing mattered but having a piece of you I could keep with me. I took the tags and I kept them in a drawer in my jewelry box,” she admits.
I drop the tags into my lap and lean toward her, cupping her face in my hands and wiping her tears away with my thumbs, each one that falls down her cheeks feeling like a knife to my heart.
“I never let you go, Eli,” she whispers. “Never. Every time I questioned my life, every time I felt sorry for myself, I opened the drawer to my jewelry box and ran my fingers over them, remembering what it was like to be happy and loved, and it helped me get through another day.”
I press my forehead to hers and let out a shuddering breath, wishing there was something I could do to take away her pain, cursing myself for being jealous and angry.
“I can’t take back the choices I made. I can’t erase the things I did no matter how much I wish I could, but you need to know I never let go. I tried to move on, but it didn’t work. He could never replace you, he could never make me feel the way you did, no matter how hard I tried,” she tells me through her tears. “It was always you, only you.”
Tipping her head up, I kiss the tears from her cheeks, telling her I love her and that I’m sorry in between each press of my mouth against her warm, wet skin. When I’m finished, she pulls her head back and runs her hand softly down the side of my face.
“There’s things I need to do, stuff I need to take care of, and it might take some time—”
I interrupt her words with another quick kiss, pressing my forehead to hers once again.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. “I’m all in, Shelby. I was all in the minute I knew I wasn’t going to die in that prison. I was all in the first time I saw you again and knew I wasn’t dreaming. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes.”
She cuts me off this time, slamming her mouth against mine as I wrap my arms around her and push her back to the bed, yanking the T-shirt up and off her body in my hurry to get her naked and feel her skin against mine.
Her legs come around my hips and I push my boxer briefs down just enough to free myself and quickly push inside her, needing her more than I ever thought possible. With each thrust, each slide of my cock through her hot wet heat, and each chant of my name that falls from her lips, I feel myself letting go of doubts and insecurities and I finally feel like I’m home, where I belong.
There are still so many things I need to tell her, something important that tries to claw its way to the front of my mind, something I know will change everything and try to ruin the happiness we’ve finally found, but I push it back because it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters right now but this moment and fin
ally having everything I’ve ever wanted. I forget about everything but the feel of Shelby wrapped around me, the sound of her voice in my ear, and the smell of peaches that always makes everything better.
She makes the bad things all go away…
Chapter 24
Shelby
All right, I have one really important question that needs to be answered,” Eli tells me seriously, pushing himself up on one elbow on the blanket next to me.
Following our night together at his house two weeks ago when I showed him his dog tags, we’ve spent as much time together as possible, knowing that everything will change as soon as I figure out how to stand up to my mother.
After spending all of our time with each other in the tack room and then not changing it up much by locking ourselves in Eli’s bedroom for a few days, we finally managed to get out of bed so Eli could give me a tour of his new house and actually do something normal for a change, with our clothes on. I’ve had a hundred different opportunities to tell him about the things my mother threatened me with over the years to keep Eli protected, but each time I open my mouth to give him the last of my secrets, he laughs or he smiles and I stop myself. I’m not ready to watch the happiness leave his face and I’m not ready to be the one to bring more pain and guilt into his life. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I feel horrible that I’m keeping such a big secret from the man I love, but I just want to enjoy these peaceful moments with him and pretend like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, is that too much to ask after all we’ve been through? Does he really need to know about the sacrifices I made to keep him safe? All it will do is pile up guilt onto his already heavy shoulders and I don’t want to do that to him. I don’t want to be the one to bring him any more pain after what he’s gone through.
When we woke up this morning, Eli packed us a lunch, grabbed a blanket from his hall closet, and drove us out to the plantation, pulling up to the stables and giving me a wink when I asked him what we were doing. As soon as we got inside the barn, we found Paul standing beside two horses all saddled up and ready for a ride—Ariel, and Belle’s foal, Tiana. I’d broken the news to Eli a few days ago that his favorite horse, Belle, had died giving birth to Tiana. He was sad that he didn’t get to say good-bye to his favorite mare, but more than happy to shower Tiana with the same love and attention he did her mother.
Eli helped me up onto Ariel before getting into the saddle of Tiana, and we rode out side by side into the back acres of the property until we were as far away from the stables as possible while still being on Eubanks land. We tied up the horses to a tree, spread out the blanket in the grass, and curled up next to each other just like we used to do that summer long ago. We talked about everything and we talked about nothing and it was perfect. I knew we were living in the past, trying to re-create a moment in time that was long gone, but I didn’t care. It felt good and it felt right lying here next to him under the shade of a big oak tree. It was like we were getting to know each other and falling in love all over again, just like we did six years ago.
“Go ahead, ask your important question,” I tell him, turning on my side to face him.
“I have to know. After all this time, you have to tell me…” He speaks softly, dragging out his question. “How in the hell do you always smell like peaches?”
It definitely isn’t the question I thought he would ask, figuring he knew it was time to come back down to reality and talk about something serious, but his silly question makes me throw my head back and laugh.
“Why are you laughing? This is a serious question that has plagued me for years. You bathe in the juice of fresh peaches every night, don’t you?” he asks, just making me laugh harder when he dips his head down to my neck, runs his nose along my throat, and takes a deep breath.
Knowing this “getting to know each other again” moment will be cut short if he continues breathing against my neck and sliding his lips across my skin, I press my hands to his chest and gently push him away.
“I use peach-scented body wash, shampoo, and lotion,” I tell him, laughing again as his face falls when he finds out I don’t take baths in peach juice like he imagined. “My dad used to give me that stuff every year for my birthday, and after he died, I kept buying it because it reminded me of him.”
Eli presses a kiss to my forehead and holds his lips there comfortingly for a few seconds, still knowing after all this time that memories of my father are like a double-edged sword. I love talking about him and remembering him, but at the same time, thoughts of the only parent I had who actually loved me unconditionally make me sad and wish he were still here with me.
“Well, I’ll always be grateful to that man for giving you something that smells so delicious and kept me going for five years when I would dream about that damn smell,” he tells me, smiling to lighten his words.
Even though our “normal” outings of horseback riding, driving a few towns over to go to dinner and catch a movie, and the other handful of things we’ve done the last few weeks have included a lot of talking, Eli has never once spoken about what he went through with anything other than nonchalance or downplaying the little pieces he let slip. Each time he does it, I worry and I fear for the things that still haunt him, wondering if he’s holding himself back or he’s afraid to go into detail because it will upset me. I don’t need him to tell me everything, but I need him to know I’m here for him, whenever he needs me or whenever he’s ready to open up more.
“Are you doing okay? You haven’t said much about your appointment with the therapist the other day,” I say gently, trying my best not to push him, but still needing him to know he can talk to me about anything.
“I’m fine, and there’s not much to say,” he tells me with an easy smile and a shrug, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him on the blanket. “It’s pretty much the same thing every week, like I told you. He asks me about the nightmares and I tell him you take them all away and remind him that spending an hour with him when I could be with you is a waste of time and a detriment to my recovery.”
Just like always, he brushes off my concern and makes a joke. I try not to let it bother me that Eli never wants to confide in me about what he went through and I remind myself that I have no experience with this kind of thing and have no idea if his behavior is normal or not. He seems fine, he seems happy, and he doesn’t act like what happened to him still plagues him. I don’t want to keep bringing it up and pushing it to the forefront of his mind when he’s doing so well and he’s figured out how to move on and let go.
“You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything?” I remind him, just like I’ve done every time I’ve tried to get him to talk recently.
With his elbow still holding him up on his side, he rests his cheek on his hand and smiles at me.
“I know. Don’t worry about me, okay? Everything is fine as long as you’re here with me.”
His words should make me happy, knowing I’m the reason he’s fine, but they don’t. For the first time, lying here next to him with the warm Southern air floating over us and the sun shining bright in the sky above us, his words fill me with fear and dread. About what he isn’t saying and about what will happen when it all becomes too much for him and he can’t keep it bottled up inside any longer. It’s the same apprehension that has kept me from telling him about the threats my mother held over my head and the tattoo on the inside of my wrist, hidden under the watchband or my fears about what will happen when Landry comes home.
Eli pushes himself up from the blanket and starts spreading out the lunch items he packed for us, changing the subject to tell me about his niece and the funny things she says now that she’s learned how to speak in complete sentences. Just like always, his easy smile and the sweet sound of his laughter distract me from my worries. I refuse to ruin our time together worrying about what Landry and my mother will do when I can no longer keep mine and Eli’s relationship in the safe little bubble we’ve been in
the last few weeks.
Staring at the dimples in his cheeks and listening to the happiness in his voice, I run my thumb over my watchband, realizing some secrets are better left buried. Some truths aren’t worth the pain they’ll bring and I will do anything I can to make sure Eli never has to feel one minute of pain again because of me.
As we sit side by side on the blanket and enjoy our lunch and easy conversation, I can only hope that when the time comes for Eli to tell me about his years in captivity, I’ll know what to do and I’ll be able to give him the strength that he selflessly hands over to me, every day I’m with him.
Chapter 25
Eli
Why don’t you ever take me out to dinner or take me horseback riding? It’s like you don’t even care,” Rylan complains with an overexaggerated sigh while he leans against the doorway of my bathroom and watches me shave.
I feel a little guilty that I haven’t been spending as much time with him lately, but right now, being with Shelby is the only thing that matters. Even though he continually busts my balls and makes jokes, I know he understands. He just likes to annoy the hell out of me by complaining all the time.
“Shelby’s got some work to do tomorrow, so how about you and I catch up on shitty reality television and order pizza?” I ask, looking up at his reflection in the mirror in front of me.
“Fine. Whatever. I guess I’ll always be your second choice,” he mutters, pushing away from the wall to stand right behind me. “Have you guys talked?”
I roll my eyes, rinsing off the blade in the pool of water in the sink before bringing it back up to my cheek.
“Yes, we’ve talked, Dr. Phil.”
Rylan sighs and shakes his head at me.
“I mean, have you talked about important stuff, dumbass. I know you haven’t told her everything or you wouldn’t be standing here all casual while you try and pretty up that ugly mug of yours.”