Up in Flames (Crash and Burn, Book Two) (A Military Romance) (4 page)

M
y feet are sore
as fuck. Funny how even six months out from service, I’ve gotten used to not standing for hours on end. Working the bar is bringing all that back.

I sigh and kick my bare feet on the plush leather ottoman, flex my stiff toes and my aching arches. It was a long fucking day, and I’m whupped. I just need to close my eyes for a moment and try to shut out the sound of Dad’s voice from our earlier conversation, which won’t stop echoing in my head.

Should I be doing more to find him? The answer comes to me instantly—yes. This sitting-here-and-doing-nothing bullshit is frustrating. I have an old buddy from the service who lives in New England and could help me track Dad. Plus, Xander seems as concerned as I do; given how he usually doesn’t get overdramatic, the fear in his voice about Dad’s behavior hit me hard. I didn’t bring up the idea of a PI when I relayed the strange phone call with my brother, but maybe I could look into it quietly. Just to keep tabs on him and make sure he’s okay.

When my cell rings, I peek one eye open and glance at the screen. My heart kicks hard against my ribcage. Just the person I wanted to hear from right now. “Hello, kitten,” I say into the phone on a low breath.

“Hey, you,” Lauren says. I can hear a hint of concern in her voice. Knowing she’s worried about me takes away some of the pain in my chest. “What’s wrong? You don’t sound right.”

I give a tired laugh. “I said two words. How can you tell what I’m feeling based on just that?”

“I know you.” The words are simple but true. She’s right—she does know me. Some of my lingering unease fades away as I settle deeper into the leather chair and let the warmth of her voice wash over me. The cadence is a sheer pleasure to listen to. “I figured you were busy at work and are trying to relax, but…I just wanted to talk to you for a moment, to say hi.” There’s a tiny, almost indiscernible edge of vulnerability in her tone, along with notes of something else.

Did she miss me? Think about me all day the way I did her? Was she waiting for me to call? I planned to shortly, but I wanted to regroup first.

I can’t be the only one feeling this. Lauren called me before I even got a chance to ring her up. That has to mean something.

“Work was crazy, yeah.” I pause. “Heard from Dad earlier.”

“Crap. I’m guessing it didn’t go well,” she murmurs. “Are you okay? Wait, let’s not do this over the phone. I’ll come get you. We’ll go to the park and talk.”

I can’t help the grin that spreads on my face. So many hours of our youth spent there, sitting on the swings or doing lazy circles on the merry-go-round, talking about everything under the sun, from how badly we bombed the math quiz to how much I desperately wanted to be a different person, anyone other than myself. Haven’t been back there in years. “Sounds good.” I suddenly feel more perked up. Wasn’t planning on seeing her today, so this is a nice surprise.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

We hang up. I groan as I rise from the chair, stretch the tight muscles of my lower back. I have to get back in a gym, back to a regular workout routine—I’m getting too fucking lazy if standing on my feet all day is making me this sore. Lame. After working at the bar the last several days, I have an all-new respect for Xander, who does this daily, no complaints. And he has a wife and a kid, too.

Maybe I’ll be in his shoes soon.

The thought of Lauren’s belly swollen with my child, her hands resting on the curve, feeling a little foot kick against my palm… I have to fight off the protective, yet also sexual, reaction that sweeps over me.
Putting the cart before the horse,
I tell myself. I gotta take this in steps. Can’t rush it.

I change out of my faded T-shirt into a long-sleeved dark gray shirt and grab a bottle of screw-top pink wine from Dad’s small wine cooler, for old time’s sake. Lauren pulls into the driveway a few minutes later. I stroll down the front steps toward her, and I can’t help the small thrill of cockiness I feel when I realize her gaze is fixed hard on me. Guess my laziness the last couple of weeks with not working out regularly hasn’t yet impacted the way I look. I try not to smirk.

I slide into the passenger seat of her sedan. Before she can say a word, I reach over and brush a soft kiss on her plump lips. She sighs against my mouth, and I feel her warm and relax toward me. This is how I want her, not wound tight or overthinking everything. Just feeling. It’s so fucking tempting to plunge deeper, but I pull back and exercise the few scraps of control I manage to retain around her.

“You brought wine,” she says in a breathless voice, and I chuckle.

“We have to stick to our tradition.” Also per our tradition, I didn’t bring any cups. We just swig right out of the bottle, like classy folks do.

She pulls out of the driveway and we drive the mile or so to the park, which is on the neighborhood’s elementary school grounds. It’s dark outside; I hear the soft sounds of nature as I close the door and we make our way toward the playground.

Her hand slips into mine, soft and small, and I squeeze. Despite this shit with my dad, Lauren is my anchor. I need this woman so badly it scares me. She only sees the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my feelings for her. Somehow, it’s safer, less scary to reveal only my sexual desire for her.

I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to pressure her, but I also know that deep down, that small and scared kid who still lives in a tiny corner of my chest is afraid of being hurt beyond repair. Making Lauren come on my mouth, on my cock, on my fingers is far, far easier than ripping my chest open and handing her my heart.

Sometimes I can still hear my mom’s fearful voice after she busted me trying to ride a skateboard in elementary school:
“One day you’re going to take a risk, and I won’t be there to save you when you fall.”

My lungs clench at the memory. Too late, Mom. I fell for Lauren a long time ago. I just haven’t hit ground yet. If I’m lucky, I never will.

We cross the border of the parking lot and step across spring grass. The park is empty, and the moon is full and hanging low, casting a pale white glow everywhere.

“Where do kids go nowadays when they want to escape their houses?” I muse out loud.

She laughs. “Things aren’t what they were when you and I were growing up. Hanging at a playground isn’t cool.”

“It wasn’t cool when we were growing up either,” I point out.

“That’s fair. We were usually alone here. And I’m okay with that, because we were uncool together.”

Me and Lauren against the world. Fuck, I missed her so much. I stop our forward progress and pull her against me for a quick moment, wrapping my free arm around her, just to remind myself I’m really here with her, that she’s real and alive and I can touch her.

Her breasts press against my chest, and I feel the faint stirrings of my dick at the reminder of our two sexual encounters.
We’re not here for that today,
I warn myself. If I jump on her every time I feel horny, she’s going to be freaked out. I don’t actually want her to think that’s all I want from her; plus, if I’m trying to convince her we can have it all—be sexual
and
romantic
and
friends—I can’t do that if I’m always stripping her down every time I see her.

Still, as I pull away, I’m reminded how very, very quiet it is at this playground, with only the bright moon and the gentle wind to keep us company. The school is set back away from houses, and the playground is even farther behind it still, framed on the other sides by a small wooded area of trees and a large fence.

If I ate Lauren’s pussy on the merry-go-round, no one would see. No one would hear her cries of pleasure.

I reflexively squeeze the neck of the wine bottle and grab her hand, tugging her toward the swing set. We each plop down on a swing, and I open the bottle and hand the screw top to her.

“Would the lady like to smell the cap?” I say in a faux British accent.

She takes it from me and gives a delicate whiff. “Aged to perfection, with delicate notes of honeysuckle and cedar,” she drawls. “Yes, I do believe this will do.” With a laugh, she grabs the bottle and has a big swig. “God, I feel like I’m right back in high school again. How many times did we used to do this?”

“At least once a week,” I say. I waited until Mom went to bed—usually early, since her morning shift at work was at six—and snuck out to meet Lauren here more times than I can remember. Honestly, I’m not sure if Dad knew I was doing so, but he never said anything to me. Probably thought I was sneaking out to bang a girl. Little did he know.

Not that I didn’t desperately want to have sex with Lauren, oh, fifty times a day.

I take the bottle from her and swallow a large gulp. The sweet drink slides down my throat. An unpleasant thought niggles at the back of my head, one I don’t want to think about right now. That the only reason Lauren’s even into me is because I look different, more muscled than I ever used to be.

That we’ll never have anything beyond sexual because she doesn’t see me as serious boyfriend—or husband—material.

“So what happened?” Lauren asks me, kicking her legs out as she clings to the thick metal chain of the swing. She rocks back and forth, stretching back until her body is a plank and she’s staring at the star-speckled sky. “With your dad, I mean.”

I’m glad for the distraction, even if I kinda don’t want to think about or talk about my dad. I dig my heels into the sand and keep my feet on the ground as I rock in the swing. “He was fucking loaded on the phone. I’ve never heard him like that. Drunk and…sad. He was rambling and didn’t make a lot of sense, but I can see he misses my mom.”

She’s silent for a moment. “Has he thought about talking to someone about this? Like a counselor?”

“I can’t even get him to come home, or tell me where he is.” I take another drink. It’s gonna take several chugs for this light wine to even get me on the road to buzzed, but I’m not here to get drunk, so that’s fine.

Lauren straightens and stops swinging, her feet stomping to the ground. She reaches over and cups my fingers over the chain. “God, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard this all has been on you.” Her face is so sad as she stares at me, the moonlight glinting off the whites of her eyes. She squeezes my hand.

“I’m not worried about me,” I say. “I’m worried about him.”

“Then I’ll worry about you, because someone needs to.” Her voice is near tears now, her words sounding like she’s pushing them past a tight throat. “Cole, I’ve been so concerned the last few years. Knowing you were thousands of miles away from me, and I couldn’t do a thing to help you feel better. It was awful.”

I get out of the swing, dropping the almost-full bottle onto the sand, and kneel between her legs, peer up into her face, and cup her cool cheeks. “You’re kidding, right? You don’t think you helped me?”

She sucks in a breath. “Can I ask you a question?” she says, and she’s so quiet I almost don’t hear the whispered words.

“What?” I shift my knees so they’re resting more comfortably in the sand.

“Why didn’t you…” Lauren clears her throat and her gaze skitters away from mine. “Why did you decide to live somewhere else after you left the army instead of coming back here?”

I slide my hands down to hers, which are now clenched in her lap, and debate what to tell her. She’s never asked me this question before. What’s making her wonder it right now? Does it relate to the topic of her being there for me?

She doesn’t know that I debated the move for months, wondering if I should go home and try to pursue her, or spend more time on my own becoming the man I want to be. Not just for her, but for myself. The army taught me many lessons about strength and endurance, but sometimes I think I still need to be more, be better, to be worthy of her.

I was afraid if I came back here right after serving, I’d lose the ground I gained. So I made the hard decision to go to Charleston and sort shit out there. Though it killed me to know I was stateside and yet still so far from her side, where I desperately wanted to be.

“It was never meant to be a permanent situation,” I say slowly, weighing my words. “But…I needed time to figure everything out.” A generic answer, but she’s not ready for me to be brutally honest.

A long moment of silence passes. Her lips thin, and she gives a quick nod. “Yeah, I get it. It’s fine.”

“Kitten—”

“It isn’t my business,” she interrupts in a brisk tone. “I was just being nosy. I’m sure you have your reasons.” Lauren moves the swing back, breaking the moment between us, then reaches down and grabs for the bottle. “Anyway, you’re here now, and that’s good. I’ve missed our friendship. I’m glad we’re able to resume being friends again.”

I don’t miss the two deliberate references to friends in her statement. Okay then. Message received, Lauren. My stinging pride forces me to lift my chin and smooth the emotion from my face.

She unscrews the top and drinks, then thrusts it at me, one brow raised in challenge. There’s no hint of the vulnerability or emotion that was there just a minute ago.

What the fuck just happened? There’s a wall between us now. Frustration tightens my chest. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Lauren can’t handle the truth, to echo an old movie quote. If I tell her I wasn’t ready to come home and see her, she’ll be so offended and hurt it might create a massive wedge between us.

But she can tell I’m keeping things from her, and that just created a wedge too.

I stand and brush the sand off my knees.

“I’m tired of swinging,” she declares, and moves to the merry-go-round. “Let’s spin so fast we throw up.” Her voice is light, her mood shifting like a storm. I can barely keep up.

I follow Lauren to the multicolored metal disc and force myself to sound just as jovial. “Hang on,” I tell her when she situates herself against one of the handrails. Then I spin as hard as I can and hop on, trying to ignore the bittersweet pinch in my heart at the genuine peal of laughter she tosses into the night.