27. Will
CHAPTER 27
WILL
“MILES ON IT” - MARSHMELLO I’m no stranger to hard work. Raised to put my head down and push through the pain, the heat, the mental strain that inevitably exists. What’s the one thing I wasn’t raised to do? Plan a date when your significant other is surely going to be hungover. I’m at a loss here.
Sundays are one of Cam’s usual days off, and seeing that I don’t know when exactly the call will come in for me to leave, taking advantage of every available moment in our schedules is paramount. The trouble is, she deserves better than me just snuggling in bed with her, even if it’s likely the one thing she feels like doing today.
I called her to check in this morning and was met with a few groans and questions as to why I would allow her to once again take those “little green syringes of death.” Reminding her that I am not, in fact, responsible for her decisions and that she’s an independent woman went over about as well as if I had suggested she was on her period during a fight. Note to every significant other out there: Do not bring up periods as an excuse or supplement to any argument, ever!
So here I sit, pondering how to steal time with her while also not aggravating the world’s worst hangover; yes, I know because I’ve been there—those Jell-O shooters are no joke. The beach would be nice, the salty air and breeze usually makes me feel better. Packing a late lunch, maybe some hair of the dog, and a nice soft blanket to lay out on...This would be semi-close to lying in bed all day but would also eliminate any of the pressure that being in bed brings.
Not that I don’t want the pressure, I’d give Cam almost anything she asked me for at this point, but I still feel a little guilty for taking things so far the other night. I know that she was into it, but at the same time, there’s a nagging feeling in my stomach that when she finally sees the real me, the scarred version, she is going to run.
Deciding a beach picnic is the way to go, I call Cam and confirm that I can pick her up around three. Planning for later in the day gives me time to renew the pass that allows me to drive on the beach, plan food, pick up some wine, and hit up a Target for the softest blanket I can find. It also gives me time to prepare for the conversation that I desperately need to have with her but have been strictly avoiding.
Until now, we have kept things simple, not too serious, but reality is quickly setting in. I’m going to be leaving, no clue when, and she doesn’t even know that’s a possibility. Honestly, it’s highly likely she doesn’t even know what I really do. She knows about Thatch, but not the details of how, when, why. If I had to guess, she assumes he always had mental health problems, not that he won them as the ultimate prize of war or that I have them too. We briefly talked about therapy the other day, but I didn’t tell her why I go. I haven’t been honest enough, and that alone sends my stomach clawing into my throat because she has every right to tuck tail and run.
It’s possible Lo has given her some sort of warning; she’s facing the same very cold reality with Smith. He hasn’t mentioned talking about it with her, though, not that he tells me everything that goes on between them. On the other hand, maybe Lo didn’t tell Cam anything because she knows Cam will overthink it. I think Lo knows this is fate bringing us back for our second chance. I think she wants us to make it and I’m grateful.
Adding to the dilemma, I’m questioning if Cam will even care. I want her to care, and on some baseline human level she will, I know that. What I mean is, I want a reaction that makes me feel more secure in this relationship. Is that messed up? Yeah, it is.
Cam’s never been one to hide her feelings, and even though she’s different than she used to be in a lot of ways, I anticipate this going one of two ways: It will either drive us closer or it will end us. Maybe it’s better to find out sooner rather than later.
“Will, I swear to all that’s holy, you are a genius!” Cam shouts from her spot on the navy blue knit blanket I brought to the beach.
She’s sprawled out, on her back, wearing a peach-colored bikini, with her head resting comfortably on her pillow. Yeah, she demanded that she bring a pillow to the beach despite my efforts to explain that the sand will ruin it. She said she needed it for maximum comfort. I could only argue so much when she offered to bring one for me too. Pillows on the beach—not something I’ve done before, but it does seem remarkably comfortable.
“Oh really? What did I do that makes me the next Einstein?” I make my way over to her with the basket of food and drinks.
“Hmm, let’s see. You took the girl with a hangover from hell and made her a bed on the beach. Who needs a sound machine blasting ocean waves when you can have the real deal?”
Smiling at her, I shift down on my side of the beach bed and carefully put my hand on hers.
“You want to guess what else I brought?” I ask cheekily.
“Hopefully food . . . Please say there’s food in that basket.”
Chuckling, I reach inside and pull out a bag of empanadas I picked up, as well as some pickles, olives, cheese, crackers, and fruit.
“Shut up! You got me Miguel’s?” She smacks my hand in disbelief.
“They are the best and nothing cures what ails you better than some beef and fried dough.” I give her a playful pat on the thigh while rummaging to pull an empanada out for her. She bites into it faster than I can fully pull my hand away.
“Mmm...muh gawd,” she says around a mouthful. “If I didn’t already like you, this would have for sure sealed the deal, Rambo.”
“Glad I could take care of you. I’m happy you’re happy. It seems like you’re feeling better?” I ask hesitantly.
“You make me feel better,” she chimes and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.
Her lips are butter soft. Either from an intense moisturizing routine or empanada grease. Could be both. They feather across my face almost like a whisper and yet leave me feeling like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.
“Umm...we should talk.” I choke out the words because I know this sounds bad but also need to bite the bullet.
“O-kay? What’s wrong? Look, I’m sorry for drinking too much last night and for propositioning you. It wasn’t fair and, again, it was stupid and I’m sorry,” she blurts out in a rush while looking positively adorable as she turns three shades of pink.
“Cam, it’s not that. Believe me, if you hadn’t drank so much, you wouldn’t have had to beg me to stay. It’s about my work.”
“Oh God, you called me Cam. This must be serious. Are you moving, tell me you’re not moving, you’re freaking moving after we just reconnected. Just my luck. I finally find the guy and then, of course, he would move away. Fuck a duck,” she rattles out in quick succession.
“Whoa...you done? Can I explain now?” I’m trying with all my might not to outright laugh at her clear spiral.
She looks at me with wide eyes, and I can tell she’s embarrassed that she just blurted out her inner thoughts, but she nods for me to continue.
“So, I’m not sure if you really understand what I do, for work I mean. But um...we are part of a unit that goes in to set up communications for special operations teams.”
Again, she nods and waves her hand for me to continue, looking equally interested and scared to death.
“We usually go into a place before anyone else. Sometimes we have to parachute in and sometimes we can drive. Either way, there isn’t anyone there typically, so we get everything set up for the teams to come in and carry out missions.”
“Are these places dangerous?” she asks.
“Not always, but it’s hard to ever say or know exactly what we will walk into.”
“Okay . . . what else?”
“Well...we don’t always know when we will have to go. Sometimes things are pre-planned and we have warning, can make arrangements, stuff like that, and other times it’s spur of the moment and needs to be done quickly and quietly.”
“So, you don’t always know when you’re leaving. But you must get some notice. I mean, they can’t just expect you to be available at all times. What if you were on vacation?”
“No, there have been times when we didn’t have any notice. We keep a bag ready at all times and keep it with us. Vacation doesn’t really happen; we have to be able to make it to base within two hours unless we have special approval.”
“What? That’s insane. How do you know when you have to go?” Her face is a perfect picture of annoyed and confused at the confines of this job.
“There’s a chain of command. I get the first call and then I call the next person on the list, Smith. It moves on from there. We can complete the list from start to finish in six minutes if everyone answers.” I say this with too much pride, but that shit takes lots of practice to perfect.
“What happens if you don’t answer?”
“We always answer.” I look at her matter-of-factly because the consequences of not answering would be dire. It’s not even something we can allow ourselves to think about.
“I call bullshit. You can’t possibly be saying no one has ever missed the call, fallen asleep, been in the shower, for fuck’s sake?”
“No, not since I’ve been here. If you miss the call, there are consequences. We make sure we never miss the call.”
“Hmm, okay. Are you telling me this for general awareness, or...Why are you telling me this?” There it is, the understanding settling in that I’m not having this conversation just to rile her up about the demands of working for the government.
“Well, believe me, if I could avoid it, I would. But there is something coming. Not sure when or for how long, but it’s going to happen and it’ll be soon. It’s been a while since they called us up, after Thatch we got a break, but it’s our turn.”
“Wait, hold up. I thought Thatch, um, uh...committed suicide. Did he get hurt on the job?”
Wincing a little at her phrasing, I respond, “He did. We had a really rough mission our last time out. It stuck with all of us. But Thatch...well, let’s say, he came home with some scars that wouldn’t heal.”
In a split second, she went from irritated to concerned. “What happened, Will”?
“It’s a long story. I don’t...It’s hard to talk about,” I murmur quietly.
“Rambo...I care about you a lot, always have. You don’t have to tell me, but as someone who has known you a very long time, I know it’s changed you. I can see it in everything you do, it’s a burden weighing you down, but you don’t have to carry it alone. Let me help you.” She squeezes my hand, that simple touch like a warm blanket wrapping around me.
She wants to know the demons that haunt me, to help me slay them. Surprising? Not in the slightest. It’s just not a burden I want her to carry. It’s my job to protect her, and how do I do that if she’s the one picking up my pieces?
“Wright, what do you want me to say? It’s an ugly world. There are people who do things so unimaginable it would break your heart, and the very last thing I want to do is hurt you—again.”
“Just trust me. If this is going to work, we have to talk about things deeper than our favorite foods or gossiping about our friends. I want to be your shelter, your safe place.” Her eyes glisten with tears as she pleads with me. I want to tell her, but the trust part is a little hard; she’s never broken it, but I still wonder when she will wake up and realize this is all too much to handle.
“Okay . . .” I say, pulling her a little closer and linking our fingers. Bri’s words from the cemetery give me confidence to push through this.
“Our last mission was rough. We had to set up comms under heavy enemy presence. We almost finished and were about to make it out when a little girl, maybe seven years old, approached, strapped with explosives. Some of the guys tried to convince her to let us help her disarm them, but before they could get close enough, it detonated. We believe it was remote detonated by someone a good distance away. She was innocent, like a kid sister, it wasn’t fair. These assholes use kids all the time, I know that, but the image is burned in my memory, in all of our memories.”
Cam shifts her head in her hands for a second and then quickly crawls into my lap wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. I can feel the slight shake of her shoulders as she’s crying. Damn it! I didn’t want to upset her, but I had to tell her. She wanted to know.
“Hey. Talk to me.” I gently rub my hand down her spine to console her.
She pulls back, revealing those big blue-green eyes soaked with tears. “I’m okay. I’m sad. I mean, for you and Thatch and that poor baby. But mostly...I’m scared.”
Pressing a tender kiss to her lips and one to her forehead, all I can do is reassure her.
“Look, I will never lie to you. My job is dangerous at times, but a lot of it isn’t that bad. We don’t have to stay gone for as long as many other people in the military do, and we make a big difference. When we came back, we were all torn up. I had nightmares, still do sometimes, that’s why I see Tina, but I’ve learned ways to handle it and I go to a support group. I didn’t start this conversation to drudge up the past, I just wanted you to know in case I get called up and have to leave.”
“How long? Where will you be going?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Hopefully only a month, maybe two at the longest. I can’t say where.”
“Okay.” She looks at me, tears still threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes. She’s breaking my heart and mending it all at the same time.
“I know this is a lot to ask of someone, to deal with this life, I mean.” I run my fingers through her hair then grasp both sides of her face so we are eye to eye. “Think you can handle it? Will you be okay?” My voice shakes as I ask her this. Bri assured me that Cam would make the right choice for herself, but I can’t help worrying she won’t choose me.
“I’ll be fine, Will. I’m more concerned about you being safe and coming back to me.”
I make the one promise I can’t guarantee I can keep: “I’m always coming back to you, baby.”
She sucks in a breath, and I think she’s going to call me out on it, but instead she grabs my face with both hands and plunges deep into a passionate and emotion-filled kiss. It’s like she’s communicating her thoughts and feelings all in one kiss. Conveying everything that has gone unsaid between us.
Cam swipes her tongue against the seam of my lips and I shudder but open to her exploration. She’s squirming in my lap, turning me hard instantly, and grasping on like it might be the last kiss we ever have. She breaks contact but peppers me with little kisses down my face and throat. My body is alive and buzzing from the chemistry between us.
Slowly, she moves her hips in little circles, causing me to stiffen beyond what I thought was possible. We are touching everywhere, exploring each other without abandon. She’s fucking amazing, I can’t think of anything other than being with her, in this moment, forever.
A cool splash of liquid hits my outstretched toes, bringing me painfully back to reality.
“Shit! The tide’s coming in, we need to move,” I say, panting and breathless.
“Oh, umm . . .okay, yeah . . . okay, let’s move.” She stumbles trying to jump up from my lap quickly.
We rush to get everything thrown into the Jeep before we turn into a soaking wet mess. We are on a narrower stretch of sand and unless we want to lay down in the sea oats, it’s time to move.
“Do these seats lay down?” she asks randomly. Though based on the mischievous look in her eyes, maybe not randomly at all.
“Umm, yeah. Pull the lever—wait, why?”
“Rambo, we weren’t done. Hurry, get this stuff in and move the Jeep up the beach a little farther where the water hasn’t reached in this far.” She waves her hand at me like, Get a move on .
“Yes, ma’am.” I hit her with a salute, sending her into a fit of giggles.
I move the Jeep quickly and see her walking up to it with a sultry grin.
“Get in the back, Rambo. I’ll close the tailgate and crawl through the front seat.” It’s a demand, and a damn sexy one at that.
I cannot believe this is happening. Actually, I’m not even sure I know what is happening, but my growing erection assumes it’s going to be good. I do as I’m told and settle into the back. Cam closed the tailgate, just as she said, and is shimmying her way in next to me from the front seat.
“I’m really thankful you have tinted windows,” she huffs out as she makes her final hoist into the back.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I play it coy, not one to assume, even if it’s a pretty safe bet what’s about to happen.
“I’ve been dying to taste you, all of you, since the other night. Is that okay?”
Is she for real? What kind of idiot would I be if I said no.
“Of course, it’s okay. Just remember, there are things I want to do too.”
On that note, she tugs at my swim trunks and I lift a bit to help her. Cam settles between my legs and gently wraps her small hand around the base of my shaft. She makes quick work of licking me root to tip, spending extra time and attention on the crown. My brain is going foggy, and I may actually be seeing stars. She takes all of me, letting out a small hum of satisfaction.
“Oh God, you have to stop or I’m going to embarrass myself,” I half whisper, half shout.
“I want you. Have you been checked out recently?” she asks quickly.
“Yeah, you? Birth control?” My hands are roaming every curve of her body.
“Yes, and yes.” She’s climbing up on top of me, my cock positioned perfectly between her legs and her delectable tits hovering right above my mouth. Taking a chance, I move her bikini top to the side and suck one nipple into my mouth until it forms a tight nub. Laving on her, I move to the other one and give it a similar treatment. Holy shit, the soft gasps and taste of her is enough to make me blow, and I haven’t even sank into her yet.
Letting out a little sigh, she grabs me and puts me in the perfect spot, sinking down ever so slowly. She gasps a little as I stretch her to accommodate me. She is tight, extremely tight, gripping me like a fist. She pushes herself down the rest of the way, fully seating herself on me.
“You, okay?” I ask, concern mixed with need as the words filter out.
“Yeah . . . oh fuck . . . you feel so good. I need to move,” she moans.
I grab her hips gently, helping her find her rhythm. She bounces and circles in a perfect motion, and I lift slightly with each bounce, sinking deeper and deeper. She’s getting close, I can tell by the slickness coating me and the uneven breaths she is puffing sweetly against my neck. Quickly, I move my thumb between us, over her sweet spot in light vertical flicks. She tightens instantly and lets out a strangled scream, drenching me. The sound and sight of her falling apart sends me crashing after her with a growl.
I hold her tightly against my chest, soaking in the aftermath. Completely sated and semidelirious. Running a hand down her hair and back, I ask, “You good?”
She lets out a small laugh, kisses my cheek, and nuzzles into my neck. “I’m pretty sure I just saw heaven, met God, all the things.”
“God, huh? That’s high praise, Wright.” I can’t help but smirk and raise an eyebrow at her assessment.
“Oh sure, laugh it up. I’m not operating on all cylinders, but seriously...I now understand the term mind-blowing , if you must know.” She swats my arm.
“You were amazing, Cam. Truly, even better than I remembered.”
“Ohhh...so you’ve been remembering me? Is that why I noticed you keep my picture in your wallet?”
I lightly smack her on the backside. “Damn it, I knew you saw that last night. I was hoping you didn’t notice. But the answer is yes. I never stopped thinking about you, missing you, lo—” I’m interrupted by a loud knock on my window.
“Beach Patrol, everything okay in there?”
Shit! I know he can’t see us, thank fuck for the window tint.
“Yes, officer, just taking a break from the sun,” I shout back as Cam scrambles off of me and adjusts her bathing suit.
“Can’t just hang out in your vehicle. It’s about to get dark and the tides are coming in. Get a move on.” He taps the window once more.
“Yes, sir,” I shout as he starts to walk away.
“Oh my God! We almost just got caught having sex on the beach,” Cam says through a fit of laughter.
I smile at her shyly. “Worth it.”
While I’m a bit annoyed that the officer broke up our post-coital snuggle, it dawns on me that I almost told Cam that I love her. I do, I know I do, but it’s too soon to say it. Thankfully, the officer showed up when he did.
“We better get a move on, like he said. I don’t want Elliott to have to bail us out of jail.” I kiss her cheek one last time. “Thanks, Wright.”
“For what?” She looks at me like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to decipher.
“For understanding about my job . . . for uh, for being supportive.”
“Sure, Rambo. I’ve got you.” She smiles at me, a soft tentative smile. It’s full of reservation, but I can’t tell if it’s from her own fear or because she isn’t actually planning on sticking around. She promised she could handle it, and at this point, only time will tell. I’m too in love with her to resist the risk.