Then I was above her, pushing inside the tight heat of her, sliding into place like I'd been made for her and she for me. I propped myself up on my arms as I moved into her. Slow, steady strokes that drew out her orgasm kept it simmering even as I worked her toward another.
“X!” She reached up for me, nails digging into my shoulders, raking down my back. “X, please! Please, baby!” She moaned my name again.
I shifted so I could bury my hand in her hair, holding her head still. “Look at me.” Her eyes opened, met mine. “Tell me.”
She moved against me, locking her legs around my waist so that she could meet me thrust for thrust, driving me deeper inside her.
“You're not a monster, X. You're not a monster.”
My body tightened as I came...
I jerked awake, covered with sweat, my body trembling.
I ran my hand over my face. “Shit.” Even my voice was shaky.
I leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. It wasn't until I moved that I realized I hadn't just come in my dream.
“Dammit,” I swore again. I still felt the faint throbbing in my cock that told me it wasn't only sweat making my sheets damp. It was the first orgasm I'd had since that woman I picked up at the bar my first night of leave. Hell, it was the first actual boner I'd had since then.
I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. The sight of myself in the mirror caught me off guard. Normally, I turned so that only my right side was reflected back at me, just in case I accidentally caught a glimpse. Tonight, though, I wasn't as careful, and I found myself visible from the waist up.
My stomach tightened at the memory of the words from my dream.
The people calling me a freak and a monster.
Nori saying I wasn't.
I closed my eyes as the rest of it came forward. The sensation of her body beneath mine. The sounds she made. How it felt inside her.
I shook my head, willing the thoughts away. I had no right to think of her like that. It wasn't even a matter of fantasizing about my nurse, or the fact that she'd never hinted at any sort of romantic interest. She had a boyfriend. Tanner. She'd talked about him a bit. Nothing too detailed, but enough for me to know that she'd been with him a while and he was a great guy. She deserved that.
And it wasn't even like I thought about her like that. It honestly didn't have anything to do with why she was in my dream. The truth was, she'd been kind to me. So it was only natural that she was the one who rose from my subconscious to combat the nightmare. As for the sex part of it, I could make sense of that. She was attractive – hell with that, she was gorgeous – and my mind simply took that physical attraction too far.
I wiped myself down, scowling at the bandages that still needed to be kept clean and dry. I couldn't wait until I could get a full shower whenever I wanted without having to worry about what got wet. When I was finished, I went back into the bedroom and set about stripping my bed clean. Once that was done, I headed for the linen closet down the hall.
I didn't bother putting any clothes on. Father O'Toole had come back to the house when he heard everyone else had left, but he was on the first floor, and I doubted it would've mattered to him anyway. Yet another good reason not to have all of these extra people wandering around, in my opinion. I wasn't the sort of person who liked hanging out in their house stark naked, but it was nice not to have to worry about shocking someone if I happened into the hallway bare-ass.
I grabbed a linen set and went back to the bedroom. Ten minutes later, I was throwing the sheets and pillows off the bed. Making a bed was something every soldier was expected to do from the very beginning. Tight corners, smooth sheets. It was second nature to me, something I could do without thinking.
Except now I couldn't.
I'd been a soldier, a man who ran into the thick of danger to save people. I'd been in charge of the lives of my soldiers. I'd taken pride in my accomplishments as a soldier, and now I couldn't even make a fucking bed.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe I was too proud of what I'd accomplished and now it was time to pay the price. Maybe I needed to be reminded that all I'd done wasn't enough to make up for everything else in my life.
I yanked on a pair of sweatpants and headed down to the kitchen. There had to be some alcohol somewhere in this fucking house. I knew it wasn't a good idea to mix it with the pain medication I was taking, but at this point, I didn't give a damn.
I just wanted out. Out of this house. Out of this life. I couldn't live like this. The shell of the person I'd been. I was too tired to keep fighting. That's what Father O'Toole didn't understand. Couldn't understand.
I was just so damn tired.
Chapter Seven
Nori
Mom and Dad were surprised, to say the least, when I called them this morning to ask if we could have dinner when I got off. We didn't really get together. Ever. Birthdays and holidays were split between the two of them. I always went to them, scheduling my time equally between them on special occasions. We hadn't been together, the three of us since...I actually couldn't think of when.
I didn't tell either of them that the other would be present, but I did have them both coming to my place. I usually went to them so I felt certain they were both suspicious. This was their first invitation since I'd moved in. Even then, they'd helped me on different days, a gesture I’d appreciated at the time because I hadn't wanted to play referee. Whenever the two of them were anywhere near each other, someone had to take on that role.
I made sure to leave work on time, but only part of that was because I wanted to get back to my apartment before my parents arrived. The other part was because I didn't want to talk to anyone about the decision I'd made. I'd spoken with the people I needed to, gotten my vacation time approved – it helped that I was one of those people who piled up time off until the powers that be insisted it be taken – and let the hospital know that there was a chance I might not be returning.
I knew it was rude and unprofessional of me to not give a two-week notice and work my scheduled shifts, but I'd explained the extenuating circumstances and they'd been very understanding. Especially after they'd spoken with Father O'Toole. I didn't know what he said to them, but whatever it was eliminated any protests about my sudden departure.
The father booked my flight almost immediately after I agreed to try things out for the duration of my two-week vacation. It was an open-ended return ticket, meaning that I technically didn't have a specific date by which I needed to make a decision. I didn't know if it was because he was a man of faith, or simply an eternal optimist, but he seemed to think that I'd be staying until X was all better.
I wasn't sure if that was possible, either me staying or X being better, but I was determined to try.
But I wasn't only doing it for him. I realized that even as Father O'Toole was trying to convince me to go. I was concerned about X, and I was willing to do whatever was necessary to help him, but I'd been hit by a thought as I was trying to decide what to do.
This was my way out.
I still loved my job, but it took a toll. My parents weren't acting worse than usual, but after all these years, I was tired of it. Tanner and I were on good terms, but I couldn't go to him when I was stressed out anymore. And I didn't see that stress lessening anytime soon.
When Tanner and I broke up, I'd had the thought that this was the beginning of the change I wanted. I needed. This could be part of it as well. Getting away from my parents so they'd have to deal with each other instead of using me as the go-between. Taking a break from my job and trying something a bit different. I was sure working with X wouldn’t be a picnic, but it would be a change of pace. And if I didn't like it, I could always come back.
I hurried home and reminded myself to find my car title and put it in my ‘if I don’t come back’ folder. My car wasn't exactly the nicest thing in the world, but it was worth at least a couple hundred. If I came back, I'd have enough to buy a better one. If I didn't, my parents could
split the money.
I hadn't really packed much of anything last night or this morning, but I wasn't planning on taking much either. Not when I wasn't sure how things would go. Besides, Father O'Toole had said that, at least for a while, I'd be staying in the house, which meant I wouldn't need any furniture.
I cleaned up the dishes that were sitting in the sink, put the chicken I'd prepared this morning into the oven, and waited for my dad to show up first. Despite his alcoholic proclivities, he was always early. Then again, maybe it was because of them. His way of proving to people – especially my mom – that he was capable of functioning.
Mom, however, was always late. Part of it was her scatter-brained nature. She was forever forgetting things when I was growing up. Notes stuck in her pockets only to come apart in bits and pieces in the washer and dryer. Pens that leaked. Part of it was because she was always so concerned with everyone else that she lost track of anything she was supposed to be doing.
I wandered into the bedroom and started looking through my closet. I didn't own a lot of clothes, so I'd probably end up taking most of them, but, at least, I wouldn't have to worry about needing a winter wardrobe unless I did end up staying long term. I pulled out a few things and tossed them onto the bed.
The apartment was small enough that I was able to hear the knock on the door and make it out before Dad knocked again. I opened the door and smiled, but he didn't return it. Not surprising. He'd rarely smiled before. Since Logan's return from the army years ago, Dad hadn't smiled at all. Or, at least, he hadn't around me.
“There a reason you wanted me to come here?” he grumbled as he headed for the kitchen.
Unsurprisingly, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. I didn't drink it often, but I always had some on hand for whenever I felt the urge.
I was definitely feeling it now, but I didn't give in. I needed a completely clear head for what was about to happen.
“We're waiting for someone,” I said.
He scowled at me. “You and your mom ganging up on me?”
I shook my head. “It's got nothing to do with you.”
He took the beer into the living room and sat in the only chair, muttering something under his breath as he settled, but I didn't bother asking him to repeat it. I was pretty sure it hadn't been meant for my ears anyway. I knew I didn't want to hear it either way.
I went back into the kitchen to check the chicken I'd made. It was almost ready, which meant my timing was perfect because another knock came just as I was closing the oven again.
“Smells great, sweetie,” Mom said as she came inside. “I love what you've done with the place. Looks so much better than when I was...” Her voice trailed off as she stepped out of the small entryway and into the living room.
“I know you like getting the kid involved, Joan, but this is going a bit far.” Dad's voice wasn't slurred, but I was pretty sure half the beer was gone already.
“I'm not responsible for this, Eban.” Mom tossed her purse onto the couch even as she turned toward Dad, her hands automatically going to her hips in a gesture I'd seen a million times.
“Before this escalates,” I cut in, “how about you both take a seat and I can tell you why I asked you both to come over. Then we can move over to the table and eat because I'm sure you'll have questions and a lot you'll want to talk over. Might as well do it over a meal.”
“Well, that doesn't sound promising.” Mom sat down on the couch, taking the seat closest to Dad. “Is something wrong, sweetheart?”
I shook my head and decided that this would be easier if I stood. That way, I could see both of them...and keep some distance.
“I got a job offer.” I figured I'd bury the lead, get their support on the job before telling them about where it was.
“Thought you like where you worked?” Dad took another swallow of his beer. “Isn't that why you didn't want to be a doctor?”
I didn't bother reminding him that I'd never actually wanted to be a doctor. It had always been nursing.
“I do like working at the medical center, but it's a really stressful job.” I caught Dad's skeptical expression and forced myself to focus. “I've been thinking for the past couple months that maybe I needed to take a vacation. But then I got this offer and I'm thinking I might take it.”
“What is it?” Mom asked.
“It's in the private sector,” I explained. “One of my previous patients, he went home on Saturday but still needs some assistance. I was offered a position where I'd be taking care of his house and making sure his dressings are changed.”
“So a glorified housekeeper,” Dad sniped. “I didn't pay for college so you could clean houses.”
I took a slow breath and reminded myself that this was one of the reasons leaving was a good idea. I didn't need to start a fight by reminding Dad that he and Mom had helped with my tuition, but I'd paid most of it through scholarships and work.
I continued, “They need someone with medical experience who isn't afraid to help a bit around the house, do a little cooking. And since I have a psychology background too, they thought it would be a good idea.”
“'They' who?” Dad's eyes narrowed. “Who's got the kind of money it'd take to pay you what you need? You said he. Why can't his wife or kids take care of him?”
“He's not married,” I answered calmly, ignoring the way my heart gave a little lurch at the thought of X being married. “And he doesn't have kids.” At least, I didn't think he did. None had come to see him. “He used to be a soldier.”
“Then he really can't afford you,” Dad said.
“There's a trust.” No way was I going to try to explain the whole priest part of the equation. My family hadn't gone to church much, but I knew that, now, Dad had no use at all for religion. Bringing that up would guarantee we'd never get to the real discussion. “Money's not an issue.”
“I don't understand.” Mom's expression had shifted and I knew she finally realized I wouldn't have called them over just to tell them I was switching jobs. “Does Tanner not want you to take the job?”
Dad muttered a few choice words expressing his opinion about my now ex-boyfriend. He'd never been a fan.
“Tanner and I broke up.” I held up a hand before Mom could say anything. “And, yes, I'm okay. It was mutual. We realized we weren't going in the same direction anymore.”
“And this new job, it's the direction you're going?” Mom asked.
“I know what you're thinking,” I said. “And the answer's no. I'm not running away from him. The two of us ended on good terms.”
The look she gave me clearly said she didn't believe me. “What aren't you telling me?” She glanced at Dad. “Us, I mean.”
No more tap-dancing around it. “It's in Philadelphia.”
Silence for nearly a full minute.
“Pennsylvania?” Dad leaned forward.
I was impressed I'd managed to distract him from the beer. “Yes. That's where the job is.”
Mom was already shaking her head. “You can't leave. You especially can't move to Pennsylvania!”
“I'm taking vacation time now.” I hurried on. “Going out for a couple weeks to see if it's a good fit. If it is, I'll accept. If not, I'll come back.”
“So you just plan to walk away from your responsibilities?” Dad asked.
He was one to talk. “I'm taking care of my responsibilities,” I said instead. “I've spoken with the hospital, made arrangements there.”
“And what about your apartment? Your car? Your friends?” he pressed. “You just expect us to take care of all of it?”
I wanted to tell him that he owed me that much, considering how many times I'd cleaned up after him, but years of playing this game had taught me self-control. “I'd appreciate some help selling the car, but I'm paid up with my rent through the end of next month. I'll come back for the rest of my things before then if I decide to take the job.”
“Why are you doing this?” Mom asked. Her eyes welled up wi
th the tears I'd known were coming. “How could you leave us? We need you.”
I sighed.
This was going to be a fun night.
Chapter Eight
Nori
By the time my parents left my apartment last night, I was grateful Father O'Toole had wanted me to come out immediately. I knew if I stuck around to wait to sell my car, or finish out my lease, or do any of the other things my parents tried to convince me to do, they'd manage to guilt me into staying. Well, Mom would use guilt. Dad would just make me feel like I was being foolish, moving across the country when I had a perfectly adequate job here.
When I boarded the plane Friday morning, the sense of relief that went through me was more than the anxiety at what I was doing. No matter what they said, I knew I needed to do this, even if it was only for a couple weeks. Sometimes they acted like what happened to our family only happened to them, forgetting that I'd been hurt just as badly. They needed time by themselves to realize that they had to be adults and deal with things on their own, that they couldn't always count on me to be the grown-up for them.
The relief, however, didn't mean my nerves weren't stretched to the limit. I spent the last hour of the plane ride going over all of the possible ways this could go wrong. Not the least of which was that things here would end badly, and I'd have to slink back home, only to find that I had nothing back there either. I'd worked hard to get where I'd been back home, and my dad had been right in thinking that it was foolish to give it up on a long-shot. What I was doing might've been foolish, but I was equally as certain that it was necessary.
As I walked off the plane, I was seriously considering heading straight to the ticket counter to ask if my open-ended return ticket could be moved to today. Then I saw them. A handful of soldiers ahead of me, their uniforms telling me they were Air Force. The branch of service didn't matter. These were men and women who served the country. Like my brother had. Like X.