I’ll Meet You There

  He looked down at me. “What happened?”

  “I just felt … I don’t know. Chris left, and my mom’s leaving, so I guess I can go to school, but I wasn’t happy about that. I was all mixed up, and the bottle was there, and I just thought, Screw it. Everyone else gets to drown their sorrows. And then you called, and … and I realized why I felt so crappy in the first place. Why I wasn’t happy about going.” His eyes got sad, and I kissed him. “But I’m okay now. And I’m never drinking again. I mean it this time.”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and support that decision,” he said. “Especially because I’m not exactly stoked about you going to San Fran and having some other dude help you in the middle of the night.”

  “Jealous already?” I teased. But just the mention of San Francisco threw me back into orbit. The very last thing I wanted to do was leave Josh now that we had finally gotten together.

  “Maybe a little.” He looked down. “A lot?”

  “I’ll just make sure to tell them about a certain Marine I know.”

  “You’d better.”

  My stomach growled, and we laughed.

  “You want to get some dinner?” he asked.

  “I guess it’d be a bad idea to pass out on you again.” I traced his jaw because I wanted to, and now I could. “How ’bout I go to the Paradise and take a shower and then you come over whenever you’re ready, and we’ll get some food and … just … I don’t know. Be together.”

  “I like your plan.”

  It took another ten minutes for us to get to our separate vehicles, so by the time I got back to the Paradise with Marge’s car, it was dark.

  Marge was sitting by the pool when I came in. She looked up at me, eyebrows arched. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

  “I’m guessing it went well?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.” I crossed the patio and gave her a hug. “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “Well, I love both of you to death, you know that, sweet pea.” She patted me on the back, and I broke away.

  I was halfway to my room when I turned back around. “Marge?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “It’s gonna be hard. I mean, he’s … we’ll need help sometimes. I think.”

  She nodded. “You know where I am.”

  I went into my room, leaning against the door after I shut it. I was still sore from the accident, hungover, and tired. This was the happiest I’d been in forever. I opened the little drawer beside the bed and put away the box I’d purchased at Market on my way home. Just in case. I blushed, seeing it there on top of the Gideons Bible that was in all the rooms.

  I could almost hear Chris shouting all the way from Boston: The pact! The pact!

  * * *

  Dylan was pissed about all of it. I knew this was the first of many lectures I’d be hearing from her.

  “I know,” I said on the phone, for the hundredth time. She’d been on me about drunk driving for the past forty-five minutes, and because I’d lost my cell phone in a ditch, I was stuck next to the night table with the room phone.

  “It’s just … you could have died. Like, died.”

  “Dyl—I know, okay?” I deserved every word of this, but Josh was going to be there any minute.

  “And you’re getting back with Josh? Just like that?” I heard the snap on her end of the line.

  “We were never together in the first place,” I pointed out.

  “The whole Jenna Swenson thing was, what, an accident? Like her mouth just fell on his—”

  “Look, it’s not like I’m okay with it. But I have to give him the, I don’t know, the benefit of the doubt on this.”

  I thought of what Marge had said in the orchard, about going with my gut.

  “So you’re just gonna go to San Fran and hope he doesn’t turn back to his usual horn-dog ways while you’re busting your ass at school.”

  There was only one explanation I could give. And giving it was like jumping off a building with my eyes wide open. I took a breath. Jumped.

  “I love him.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. A very long pause.

  “All right,” she finally said. “But I’m warning you right now that the next time I see him, Josh Mitchell and I are having some words.”

  I didn’t envy him that conversation, but he deserved it, and I was thankful to have someone like Dylan in my corner.

  “Fair enough.”

  “And I’m gonna be your eyes and ears while you’re gone. You have to promise me that if he messes around on you again, that’s it. I don’t care what shit went down in the war—that doesn’t give Josh an excuse to ruin your life.”

  I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Thanks, Dyl.”

  “Yeah, well, just be careful, okay? It’s not like I can go to Walmart and buy a new Skylar if this one breaks.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’re the one who has to tell Chris about all this craziness. I, for one, don’t need him yelling in my ear for an hour. So have fun with that.”

  I groaned. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sort of glad he’s in Boston at the moment.”

  “Uh-huh. Gotta go, Sean’s getting antsy. Let’s drive to Bakersfield tomorrow and get some civilization, aka fancy coffee drinks.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I love you, Sky. Even if you’re totally insane for getting with Josh.”

  I laughed. “Love you too.”

  I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. I still had to get dressed, but I just needed a minute to settle down after my conversation with Dylan. She’d gone all mama bear on me, and I was tired after so much explaining and apologizing. My body sank into the mattress, and I was asleep in seconds.

  It took me a while to realize that the knocking on the door wasn’t part of my dream. I opened my eyes. Another knock.

  “Shit.”

  I swung my legs over the bed and stumbled to the door. When I opened it, Josh was standing in the doorway, holding a tray with drinks and a bag from McDonald’s. He’d shaved and smelled all kinds of good. I was wearing a ratty old pair of cotton shorts and my gym shirt from our high school, but at least I’d managed to shower.

  “I fell asleep,” I said. It was a greeting and apology in one.

  “I figured. I tried calling the room, but there was no answer. I hope this is okay.”

  I grabbed the drink tray and set it on the table, suddenly shy. “It’s perfect.”

  He stepped inside, both of us, I think, keenly aware that this room did not hold good memories.

  “We can eat by the pool if you want,” Josh said.

  He put the food down and let the messenger bag he’d brought with him slip to the floor, never taking his eyes off me.

  “Or … I brought my laptop and some DVDs. We could just hang out and—or we could go, I don’t know, wherever you want.”

  “Because there’s so much to do in Creek View,” I said.

  “True.” He stuck his hands in his back pockets. “Your call.”

  “Let’s stay here,” I said.

  He swallowed. “Okay. Cool.”

  I pulled my hair into a messy bun, then reached across him and shut the door. “I think it’s like taking off a Band-Aid,” I said.

  “What is?”

  “Us. In this room. We just have to…”

  “Rip it off?”

  I nodded.

  “Right. Yeah.” He took a step toward me, then said, “Close your eyes.”

  I closed them. It was like Christmas morning, but way, way better.

  I felt his lips on my neck, then his hands on either side of my waist, his thumbs grazing the skin under my shirt. My eyes still closed, I slid my hands up his arms until they were around his neck, then his lips finally reached mine, our mouths opening, his hand slipping up the back of my shirt, fingertips trailing along my spine. I pressed myself closer to him
and felt him react to that, which made me smile.

  “Busted,” he whispered.

  “Uh-huh.” I leaned back and smirked a little. “I think the Band-Aid is ripped off.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I think we, uh … yeah.”

  “Dinner?”

  He leaned in and kissed me, just once. Then he sighed and nodded. “Yeah, guess we better eat before it gets cold.”

  He set up the laptop while I got the food together, then he held up a DVD case. “I brought a few others, but this reminded me of the summer before I left.”

  Top Gun. Of course.

  “Good choice. Bed or table?” I asked, gesturing at the food.

  “Bed,” he said immediately.

  I laughed. It was exactly what I would have expected Josh Mitchell to say, but after our first failed attempt at this, I wasn’t sure of anything.

  We talked a little, me filling him in on Mom, him telling me about a new dog they’d gotten at the military hospital in San Diego. I sat on the side of the bed closest to the door, so I’d be on Josh’s right side. I’d never been as aware of his prosthesis as I was now, with maybe the first couple of times I saw him as the only exceptions. For a lot of the summer, I’d pretty much forgotten about it. I wondered if he could sense it. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, kicking off the tennis shoe on his good leg.

  Josh sighed when he leaned back on the pillows. “I can see why you passed out,” he said. “How much sleep did you get last night? Er, this morning.”

  “I have no idea. And Marge was waking me up every two hours because of all the concussion stuff.”

  “You know, I had a pretty bad head injury after the bomb. They call it TBI—tramautic brain injury. Lot of guys have it. You gotta be careful with that, Sky.” He squeezed my hand. “Like, don’t go jumping on people’s backs.”

  I smiled. “The CAT scan was fine, I’m not worried. And I feel way better—no headache or anything. What about you? Any sleep after last night?”

  “Four hours? I don’t know. I crashed after I got back from the shop—no pun intended.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Wanna bet on who falls asleep during the movie first?”

  “Five bucks says it’s you.”

  “You’re on.” I pointed to the bedside table, where our drinks were. “Now, hand me the caffeine.”

  chapter thirty-two

  Josh won the bet.

  Even though snuggling up to him after we were done eating was making my heart race, I still managed to fall asleep by the time Goose’s wife came to visit. The room was almost completely dark, except for the light seeping in from the patio and the glare of the computer screen. The darkness, Josh’s warmth, and the sounds of my favorite movie all conspired to lull me into a light, dreamy sleep.

  “Sky.” Josh’s voice, soft and low in my ear.

  “Hmm?”

  “You owe me five dollars.”

  I opened my eyes. “Damn. Did you fall asleep at all?”

  “Yeah, but you were out first.” He brushed my lips with his, which took away every bit of tiredness I felt. “It’s, like, two in the morning. I’m gonna let you sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I tightened my hold on him. “You can sleep here.” Heart beating, palms starting to sweat a little. “If you want.”

  He leaned toward me and the tips of our noses touched. An Eskimo kiss. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  He sat up and closed the laptop, put it on the floor next to him, then pulled his shirt over his head. He took off his dog tags and set them on the bedside table. Then we just looked at each other for the longest second in the history of seconds.

  “Come here,” he whispered.

  I reached for him, and he pulled me onto his lap, my knees aligning with his hipbones. I closed my eyes for a second and thought of all the things that had brought us together: a kiss on the cheek, a bomb, my mom leaving the till on the counter at Taco Bell. So random, and yet being here made perfect sense.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

  I opened my eyes. “When you use that voice, I feel like I have to salute you.”

  “That sounds a little kinky.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Sky.”

  In my name, I heard everything I was feeling inside—the want, the uncertainty, the overriding fear and bone-crushing happiness.

  “I love you,” I whispered against his lips. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “Yeah?” Those eyes, looking at me like I’m medicine.

  “Yeah.”

  This kiss was different from all the others we’d had. It was hungry, and full of heat, but limitless. Like we both finally knew we could have as much as we wanted. I could barely breathe, especially when his hands left my face and found their way up my shirt. I pulled it over my head, and Josh’s lips followed the line of my bra until he’d taken it off and thrown it on the floor.

  “Now what?” I whispered.

  “This is going to get tricky.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not really sure how…”

  I moved my hand behind me and rested it on his prosthesis.

  “Maybe we should start here.”

  Something like panic crossed his face, and I pressed my cheek against his and whispered in his ear. “We can stop, if you want.”

  He shook his head and slid his hands down my arms. “I don’t want to.”

  I smiled, and he reached up to pull the rubber band from my hair so that it fell in waves around my shoulders.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.” He slid his fingers through my hair. “Beautiful.”

  I slipped off his lap and stood up, pulling him with me. Then I reached for his belt buckle, hesitating for a second, remembering how he’d pushed me away. He tilted my chin up.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. His voice was just above a whisper, rough and low.

  I’d never taken someone else’s pants off before, so I was clumsy and he had to help me, which made us laugh.

  “If we end up crashing onto the bed, just pretend it’s really romantic,” he said, kicking them off his good leg.

  “I don’t have to pretend.”

  He reached down and pushed a button on his prosthesis, releasing the airtight cylinder around his stump. “Mind if I use you for balance?” he asked.

  “It’ll cost you.”

  He grinned. “Hope so.”

  He held on to my shoulder as he took it off and then leaned it against the wall, balancing on his right leg. He gave me another uncertain look, and I kissed his hand where it still rested on my shoulder. He sighed and let go of me and sat on the bed as he rolled what looked like a few big socks off of his stump. It was thinner than I’d expected—he was so muscular and thick everywhere else. The stump itself was rounded off, like it’d been sculpted, and in the morning I would see how the skin at the bottom was scarred and red. But it was a part of him, a part of this guy I’d known all my life who had managed to make me fall in love with him in a matter of weeks.

  He ran his hand over the stump, then he looked up at me, his face resigned, like he expected me to be horrified.

  “You’re not freaking out.”

  I shook my head. “I only freak out when you ditch me.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but whatever he’d intended to say died on his lips the moment I stepped out of my shorts. He moved to the edge of the bed and pressed his lips against my stomach, set his hands on my waist. I ran my hands through his hair, down to the Semper Fidelis tattoo between his shoulder blades. His fingers slipped below the elastic on my underwear, and I became this fluttering thing, so light I thought he’d have to keep holding on to me so that I didn’t float right out of the room. His eyes stayed on mine as he pulled down my underwear, and I think I started shaking because he took my hands and kissed them and asked if we should stop, and I just shook my head and l
et him pull me down onto the bed so that we were on our sides, facing each other.

  I put my hand on his thigh, and he tensed for just a second. Then he wrapped his arms around me and closed his eyes, holding on tighter as my fingers slid down his stump. It was strange, seeing it, touching it. But now that I knew what had happened and how he could have been the one who died instead of Nick, all I could feel was grateful. That he was alive. That he came home. That we had found each other.

  “Does it hurt?” I asked.

  He shook his head, his eyes still closed.

  “Hey. Look at me.”

  He looked.

  “The Josh I grew up around, with two legs and an ego that couldn’t fit through the door? I didn’t love him. I didn’t even always like him.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “This is who you are. The real you.” I rested my forehead against his. “And I want you so fucking bad.”

  “Wow.” He leaned back a little. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

  “Shut up.”

  Then it was just breath and touching and his eyes never leaving mine and his voice whispering beautiful things I never would have believed a Mitchell could say. We laughed as we tried to figure out how to do this together.

  “A one-legged Marine and a virgin walk into a bar,” Josh whispered.

  “You are not telling jokes about this,” I said, laughing into his shoulder.

  There was some pain, which Dylan had told me would happen. It really wasn’t so bad—it beat driving into a ditch, anyway. Josh asked me if I was okay about ten times.

  “I’m fine—now stop asking me. That’s an order.” I tried to look stern, and he cracked up.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Then there was that floating feeling again, only way more intense, and Josh’s Van Gogh eyes on me the whole time, and I knew I’d never be able to collage this, not in a million years.

  I didn’t know there were so many ways to say I love you.

  The best part was falling asleep in his arms and knowing he’d be there when I woke up. For the first time in Creek View, I felt like I was home.

  JOSH

  Last night with Sky was like my first firefight, when I didn’t know shit and I thought, That’s it, I’m dead, I’m fucking dead, but then when the shooting stopped and I realized it was over and I was alive and had all my body parts, it was the greatest feeling in the world. I wanted it again and again. I wanted it to never stop. Man, I’m turning into such a pussy, aren’t I? I just didn’t know it could be like that. You were always trying to tell me that I was missing out on the real thing, but I just thought you were whipped. Now I know. Last night was the first night since you died that I didn’t have a nightmare. No waking up, looking for my rifle. No boy with the soccer ball. No visions of you staring down at me, with blood all over you. Just long, deep sleep, the feel of her warm body in my arms, the sound of her breath as she lay on my chest. Truth is, I scared myself yesterday—scared her too. Don’t know why I felt like I had to jump that train. I just needed something, a rush or—life and death. That’s what I needed. Life and death, standing right next to each other. That’s what it was over there for us, right? It made everything matter, even though it sucked balls. Taking a piss was even important. Like that time I went to the outhouse and one of those fuckers sent a mortar over the wall and after I realized I wasn’t dead, I just lay down on the ground laughing. But I can’t do that anymore—laugh at death or beg it to let us switch places. I need to figure out why I got to live. I don’t know who made that IED, who buried it in the ground so I’d step on it. I’ll never know. I used to think it was his fault you died, whoever put that thing under the dirt, but more and more I wonder if it’s just a circle, where everyone’s guilty, everyone has blood on their hands. End of the day, it just feels wrong that the world is happening and you’re not in it. Feels wrong that we’re not out there together right now, talking about our girls, playing chess. Feels wrong that I might not have gotten Skylar if none of this had happened. Like I had to trade you for her. I’m scared shitless, man. Because if I’m really gonna do this, really live my life, I’ve gotta leave you behind. I can hear your voice right now, even though you’re not here. I know exactly what you’d say: Good luck. Shoot straight. Don’t get dead.