Not Another Soldier (4 page)

Until Rob’s funeral.

Yeah I’m an idiot.

Somehow I need to get her to see me as more than a
good friend. I’m just not sure how to broach it.

“You want to get dinner?” she asks me.

“Urgh.” I’m not sure I can even move.

“Hey, I thought you were meant to be the big strong
man? Don’t tell me I’ve worn you out so much you can’t even be bothered to
eat.”

I roll my head around and eye her with a raised brow.
“I’m plenty strong, short stuff, and don’t forget who did most of the heavy
lifting. I just didn’t realize I’d have to move like a contortionist to squeeze
half your furniture in here.”

Looking around, her lips turn upward. The place looks
good. Not great but good, and I can see the pride she has in it. Somehow Sienna
has made the little apartment feel like hers already. With the few things she
must have bought recently, vases and cushions—girly shit—it feels homey. It’s
all beiges and browns at the moment but she said she plans to put some color
into it. I don’t recognize much of it from her old house and I can’t help but
feel glad. It’s like she’s moving on from Rob, putting him behind her.
Selfishly, I want her to move on to me. But I also want her to move on from
that asshole too.

“Well, do you want to eat or not?”

My stomach growls and we both laugh. I pat it
sympathetically. “Yeah. Any chance of take-out?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

With a groan, she stands and I enjoy the sight of her
ass swaying slightly as she disappears into the kitchen.

“Voila!” she says with a grin as she returns to the
room with the menus.

My lips tilt and she blinks at me, so cute and
confused.  She straightens her shoulders and chucks herself next to me. I
shouldn’t but I kinda like disconcerting her. It must mean I affect her as much
as she affects me, right?

“Well, what are we having?” I ask, leaning in to peer
at the menus in her hand.

 “Um… Chinese?”

“Sounds good to me.” I snatch the menu from her and
tug out my cell. “What are you having?”

“Kung pao chicken and fried rice, please.” She folds
her arms in irritation but I know she’s not really angry. Sienna likes to play
all independent but she enjoys being taken care of too. It’s just trying to
strike the balance I find hard. Most of me wants to wrap her up and do
everything for her.

The guy at the end of the phone has to ask me three
times what I want before I remember I supposed to be ordering dinner and not
eyeing up Sienna.

***

Sienna

I feel his gaze on me as he phones in our order. I try
not to gulp but I’m all hot. Once he’s ordered the food, he flashes me a grin
and tucks away his cell in his front pocket, drawing my attention to the crotch
of his jeans.

Great, now I’m studying the worn lines of the denim
again. I’ve been doing that all day. He’s wearing a red T-shirt with some
numbers on, like a sports shirt, and it’s molded perfectly to his body. The
tribal tattoo on his right arm begs me to trace it up under the sleeve of his
shirt. I suck in a breath through my nostrils.

It’s been nice to have him here though. I’ve missed
him. That… that kiss shocked me. Scared me. Giving into the chemistry zinging
between us hadn’t been a good idea and I didn’t know how to react, but I’m glad
to have him back in my life. Three weeks without him was too long. I just hope
we can put the kiss behind us and continue our friendship. I don’t have many
friends at the moment. Maybe that will change now I’m living in the city, but
for now the only person I have is Nick. I’m sure he enjoys my company so I
don’t think I’m being too selfish in wanting him around.

I glance around at my living room, looking for a
distraction. We’ve done a good job and it already feels like home. It’s not the
best place in the world and it could do with some paint and new curtains but I
feel like the purple vases and candles I picked out the other day have made it
‘mine.’ I’m secretly kind of proud of them, as if they’re a mark of my new
independence.  Rob used to control everything. I cleaned the house but he
bought everything, made it look exactly how he wanted it. I realize now he even
did the same with me. Chose my clothes and got annoyed if I didn’t look how he
wanted me too. It was bizarre really. For a man who didn’t want his wife
anymore, he really cared how I appeared. But then, to Rob, appearance was
everything. The best clothes, the best furnishings. Everything had to be
perfect and if it wasn’t... well, he only struck out the once, but his temper
was scary enough. His icy cold looks and moody ways were enough to stop me from
causing a fuss. It’s weird how sometimes you don’t even recognize how bad things
were until you’re out of the situation.

“Oh.” I jump up when my gaze settles on the box in the
corner, and I remember what I meant to ask Nick. “I have a box of… of Rob’s
stuff. Some old Marine things. Is there anything you want? I don’t really know
what to do with it,” I admit.

He shrugs. “I guess I could take a look. Don’t you
want to keep any of it?”

I stroll over to the box that I’d abandoned next to
the TV and kneel to peel it open. “I don’t know to be honest. I feel bad. I
don’t even have anyone to send the stuff to. I don’t suppose his foster family
would want any of it.”

“No,” he agrees. “I don’t suppose so.”

They hadn’t even attended the funeral. The last family
he’d been with had been glad to be rid of the ‘trouble maker’, I think.

My heart pangs as I spot our wedding album. I gingerly
pull it out and chew my lip as I run my fingers over the lace covering.

Nick leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You going to
keep that?”

“I don’t know.” I flip it open and trace one of the
black and white photos.

We’re cutting the cake and I look… happy. Was I
though? I remember being swept away by him. He was so outrageous, so fun, so
charming. I never even questioned it when he asked me to marry him. Rob looks
happy too. So what went so wrong?

“Sometimes,” I say, voice catching slightly, “I wonder
if I was ever happy. I keep searching for a moment where I was but I think it
just went straight downhill after we married.”

He leans forward and takes the album from my
unresisting hands. As he studies the pictures, a soft smile comes across his
face. “You were stunning that day. I think Rob was pretty excited to be
marrying you.”

“You think?” I come to my feet and sit back next to
him.

“Yeah. You were the girl everyone wanted. He was
stoked to have snagged you.”

“Ah.” Well that explained a lot. Rob always wanted
what others lusted after whether it was a car or a job or a… wife. “I guess he
lost interest once he caught me.”

Nick flicks his gaze back over the album and closes it
gently. “I know he was my best friend, but I can’t defend how he treated you.”

My breath sticks in my throat and I glance around for
an escape. How did we get so deep so quick? I don’t want to be talking about
this. I just want to put everything to do with Rob behind me and move on. It’s
one of Nick’s only flaws really
—
that he was Rob’s friend. It makes it harder for me to
forget.

“What about you anyway?” I ask desperately. “You
planning on doing anything like that any time soon.” I nudge him as I motion
toward the wedding album. “You’re not getting any younger.”

He chuckles. “Let’s just say I learned my lesson after
Liberty.”

I nod sympathetically but really my insides are
curling with jealously and anger. Liberty left Nick after he came back with his
injury. Never even bothered visiting him in the hospital. I didn’t see her
again, but I heard she’d said she wouldn’t date a cripple. Honestly if I ever
ran into her, I think I’d want to punch her straight in her perfect mouth. And
I am not an aggressive person. How could she leave a man like Nick at a time
when he needed her most?

“Yeah, well if she bolted when times got tough, then
she definitely wasn’t worth having,” I say.

“Unlike you?”

I snort. “Maybe I should have bolted sooner. I can’t
help wonder why I tried so hard when it was obvious our marriage could never be
fixed.”

“Hey, don’t be angry with yourself for trying. Most
people don’t.” He grips my hand, squeezes and sighs. “If I ever get married,
she’ll be nothing like Liberty. She’ll be someone who doesn’t give up at the
first sign of trouble.” His blue eyes grow soft. “She’ll look incredible with
messy hair and scruffy jeans.” He runs his fingers over mine. “She’ll be
selfless, working all hours to look after others.”

Okay is he talking about me? Fuck, I can barely
breathe as that gaze bores into me. And I can’t even glance away.

“She’ll be an amazing mother.”

God, does he do it on purpose? He sure knows how to
hit my weak spots. I sway slightly forward as if he’s sucking me in with his
words.

The buzzer sounds and I jump up. I practically race to
the door to let in the delivery guy, my pulse throbbing. Thank God for the
interruption. Who knows what might have happened otherwise?

Sienna

Arms clutching my sides, I step out of the hospital
and squint in the dusky light of the morning. I scrape a hand through my messy
ponytail and smother a yawn.

Tonight has been one of the hardest nights I’ve had in
a long time. We had one guy crash on us and it was a mess. Normally working at
the stroke center, things are relatively quiet. We’re still busy—really
busy—but you don’t have the drama that most people expect in hospitals. A lot
of the patients end up staying with us for months as they recuperate or sadly
deteriorate, and most are elderly. Though we had a young guy in recently. Early
twenties. It was heartbreaking. Drug abuse apparently. And you just know his
life will never be the same again. He could barely talk, barely move.

Drugs and alcohol. I shake my head as I follow the
path around the side of the hospital to the staff parking lot. I don’t even
know if Rob did drugs—it seems likely, but the soldiers were randomly drug
tested so maybe he was smart enough not to risk it. But I understand well the
cost of alcohol. It was when he was at his worse.

I pause at the edge of the building and rummage
through my handbag for my car keys. I seem to have everything but my keys in
there. Scowling, I step under the street lamp for a better view.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure emerge
from the shadows. It’s only seven a.m. so it’s still gloomy I lift my head and
my pulse immediately skips. The guy is looking straight at me as he walks
casually over. I swing my gaze around but it makes no difference. We’re alone.
Trying to conceal my apprehension, I draw my shoulders back.

He’s a skinhead, tough looking. The kind of man that
says ‘trouble’ as soon as you look at him. Even though it’s early morning, it’s
not cold so he wears a T-shirt. Tattoos cover his arms. And not nice ones.
These aren’t artistic and beautiful. These are a collection of pieces gathered
over time and most speak of a youth misspent. Half of them appear scrawled on.

“Mrs. Wright?”

Well if I wasn’t scared enough before, I am now. How
does he know my last name?

“C-can I help you?”

He comes close and the street lamp brings out the
stark dips in his cheeks. He looks like he could do with a good meal, but I
guess that he probably chooses drugs over food.

“Yeah, you can.” Though he grins, I see the malicious
intent behind his expression.

Before I can turn away, he snatches my arm, fingers
pinching painfully into my flesh. I let out a squeal and tug, but he holds me
firm. My mind races. There’s security cams around the hospital but it’s pretty
dark. I doubt they’ll see much. And I’m all alone. This will teach me for
parking in the rear lot.

“Take me to your car,” he hisses.

I scowl. Is he trying to steal it? Why does he need me
to take him to it? I swallow and make a split decision. Kicking back, I strike
him on the inside of his thigh. I was hoping to hit him in the balls but it
startles him enough so that his grip loosens.

I yank away and start running. My car is closer than
the hospital entrance but I still don’t have my keys. I delve my hand into my
bag as I run, hearing footsteps gain on me. As I glance up, I’m aware of a
figure in front of me and I scream but it’s too late. I barrel into a solid
chest and arms wrap about me.

“Sienna?”

The air whooshes from my lungs and I sag with a
half-whimper, half-sob. My hands tremble as I motion behind me and try and say
something coherent.

“A man… following me… grabbed me…”

Nick shoves me back, holding my arms and peers around
me. I don’t know if the guy is still there but it doesn’t matter. Nick is here.

He darts his gaze over me, then snatches my bag.
Instantly he finds my keys and unlocks the car. “Get in,” he orders, “and lock
the door.”

Still trembling, I nod and climb in, wrapping my arms
about myself. I lock the doors and watch Nick’s back as he walks confidently
across the parking lot. I squint out the windows but I see no sign of Skinhead.
The thought that maybe he was waiting for Nick to leave strikes me and I flick
my gaze from side to side, just waiting for him to jump out on me.

My teeth chatter as I wait. I pray for Nick to return.
When Skinhead doesn’t show up, I begin to wonder if he did something to Nick.
What if he’s hurt him? What do I do? Do I stay in the car forever or get out
and look for him? What if he’s bleeding to death?

“Oh, thank God.” I sag against my seat as Nick emerges
from round the corner, the golden glow of the streetlight briefly revealing his
intimidating expression. I can only assume Skinhead took off. I would if I was
up against
that.

He opens the driver’s side. “Scoot over.”

I do as I’m told, the fear having sapped any
inclination to argue. I’m just glad he’s here.

“I didn’t find anyone,” he tells me. “But I let the
front desk know someone was lurking around. They’re going to have security do a
patrol.” He looks at me and scowls. “Fuck, you’re shaking.”

Nodding, I make some weird noise of agreement and he
pulls me into his arms. The car seats and everything get in the way and dig
into my ribs but I don’t care. The warmth of his chest against my cheek
instantly slows my heartbeat. I have to force myself not to bury my nose in his
T-shirt.

After several moments, my trembling ceases and he
retreats, concern stamped on his face. He keeps his hands on my shoulders, and
they are so strong and secure. I shouldn’t like it but I do. It’s that sense of
being protected again. I hate being so weak. Because that’s what it means
right? You like being protected because you’re weak.

“What happened?”

“T-this guy, tall, skinhead, approached me. He knew my
last name
—
well my married name
—
and
he said he wanted to see my car, and he snatched my arm. I kicked him and then
ran away… into you.”

Admiration seeps into his expression. “You kicked
him?”

I shrug. “I meant to kick him in the balls but I
missed.”

Nick releases a sharp laugh and I feel my lips twitch.

“Remind me never to sneak up on you,” he says, then
takes a moment to study me. “You want me to drive you home?”

I pull my hands out from where they’re tucked into my
sides and watch them. They still shake a little so I nod. “Yeah, please.”

He reaches over to strap me in. Why does he do that?
It always wraps me in his scent and the proximity of him drives me crazy. But I
still love it when he does.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask as he straps
himself in and starts the car.

“Thought I’d take you out for breakfast before I
started work.”

“How did you know I was working?”

“You said you were doing nights last week and I saw
something on Facebook.”

I try to laugh but I’m not feeling easily amused.
“You’re stalking me on Facebook now?”

And now the words are out, they don’t seem funny at
all after what happened. Did Skinhead just want to take the car? I can’t help
imagining he wanted something more. Like to kidnap me or something. If Skinhead
had wanted my car, surely it would have been easier to break into it? Had he
been waiting for me all night? Or was he just an opportunist? The thought of
him hanging around, watching, makes me cold all over again.

“Hey, I just happened to see your friend’s comment and
I wanted to see how you were doing with the apartment. You know, if you don’t
want people knowing your business you shouldn’t be putting it on Facebook.”

Nick sounds slightly pissed off and I dart a surprised
look at him. It’s not like him to get annoyed with me, though I guess I can’t
blame him. He comes to treat me to breakfast and winds up chasing away an
attacker. And then I get snippy with him.

“Sorry. I’m glad you’re here. And… and I’d love to get
some breakfast. Just not today, if you don’t mind. Another morning?” I try
tentatively.

His expression relaxes back into the Nick I know.
“Sure. Later on this week?”

“Sounds good.” I settle against the car seat and gaze
out the window as he navigates the still quiet streets toward my apartment. I
don’t know why I agreed to that but I do want to try to stay friends with Nick.
I hardly know anyone in Glenwood apart from my work colleagues and most of them
live on the outskirts or within commuting distance. I’ve barely spoken to Jess
since the funeral. Nick is all I have.

But that scares me too. I can’t rely on one person,
especially Nick. What happens when he’s fit enough to go away again? It would
be almost as bad as being married to a soldier. And this time, I’d actually
miss him. Not to mention the issue of wanting to jump on him and kiss him, and
maybe strip off his clothes every time I see him. That hardly bodes well for
our friendship.

He’s like an addiction, I think. A weakness in me. I
don’t want him but I need him.

When he pulls the car up in front of the apartment
building, I’m exhausted. All the adrenaline has left me and I can barely keep
from yawning every two seconds.

“Come on, sleepy head.” He pops my seatbelt and climbs
out. I push open the door but he’s there already, yanking it open for me.

I climb the stairs wearily to the front door and Nick
shadows my steps, acting a little like a human shield. I don’t know if he even
believes I was attacked, but he seems to be taking protecting me pretty
seriously. I’m beginning to think it was just a one off. I happened to run into
a psycho. Typical.

Jabbing the entry pad, I push it open and Nick follows
me up.

“You don’t have to escort me all the way home, you
know,” I mumble.

“Sienna, I’m not leaving you until you’re safely home.
Just accept it and shut up.”

He says this softly so it doesn’t sting but I do feel
ungrateful. My fingers are numb, maybe from shock, so I fumble to open the
front door.

“You want a coffee? Breakfast?” Nick asks as he closes
the door gently behind him.

I scowl, knowing I should be the one offering him
breakfast not the other way around. I’m really going to have to make this all
up to him. Another time though.

“I was going to go to bed.”

I realize I’m being rude, but I’m tired and edgy. I
keeping wondering what would have happened if Nick hadn’t turned up. And then I
glance into Nick’s eyes and they’re dark and simmering with something
indescribable.

Bed.

The word lingers in the air and I wish I’d never said
it because now the word is echoing in my head and the idea of a bed and Nick
can’t seem to compute in my mind. It’s like my body suddenly explodes with
unbridled desire and the synapses in my head are firing off. I’m overloaded
with erotic images, with the memory of Nick’s hard body under my cheek, and all
I can think is how much I want that solid body pressed against mine.

In bed.

And I know he’s thinking it too. I can see it in his
blue eyes. He takes a moment to shrug off his light jacket. I guess it was cold
when he first stepped out. He takes his time, as if there’s no hurry. As if I
won’t burst into flames if I don’t touch him. His gaze remains on mine as he
hooks it over the coat rack. I frown at the domestic sight of our coats hanging
together, an image of a future I’ll never have.

I suck in a deep breath as he releases his jacket and
turns completely toward me. Today he wears a tight old grey T-shirt, the
lettering on it faded, and scruffy jeans. The denim is worn around the crotch…
My cheeks flame. What am I doing studying there?

 I’m not sure who takes the first step but both
of us move forward. I feel as though I’m pushing through water or cold treacle
just to get to him. And then he’s there, all hard muscles and rough fingers.

Those fingers are in my hair, pulling my head back so
he can kiss me. His lips meet mine. There’s no pretense to this kiss. It’s hard
and demanding. His teeth bump into my lip and I whimper. I’ve never been a
whimperer but Nick’s kisses make me want to keen and beg for more. My hands
snake up around his neck, my nails dig into his skin. His tongue presses
between my lips and I taste coffee and heat, and I can’t get enough. We deepen
the kiss, clamor against each other.

Something has snapped inside me and I can’t hold it
back. The point of no return. He presses me against the wall and the thick
length of him rubs against my tender flesh, sparking an acute ache between my
legs.

“Christ, Sienna,” he groans as he tears his mouth from
mine to graze his lips across my cheek.

Rough hands creep under the waistband of my scrubs,
skimming my hip to cup my ass. He sneaks his fingers under my panties and I
moan at the feel of warm masculine skin against my rear. Nick gives my ass a
squeeze, then drags his fingers back out and down to hook under my knee.
Angling my leg and lifting it, he holds it to his hip. I’m open and vulnerable
and he rocks into me, sends sparks of pleasure through me. I quake and murmur
his name while he nips at my neck.