Chapter 5
Wes is being kind and patient with me, which means more than I could ever express to him. People either treat me like I’m so delicate a breeze would make me shatter or ignore that my dad was recently killed in action. But Wes gets it. He’s not trying to coddle me or ignore what happened – he’s just there. He understands better than anyone, and I don’t have to hide my emotions when we’re together.
I walk through the exhibit at the VA Center, my fingers crushing the water bottle I picked up so I’d have something to do with my hands. The walls are lined with photos of the men from the Heartland region who’ve been lost to war, and my throat and jaw clench from all the emotions I’m trying to control. There are so many pictures of men squinting under a desert sun or standing in straight lines with the rest of their squad. There is so much life in these pictures…but now they’re gone.
“Do you know someone in these photos?” I jolt at the unexpected sound of a woman’s voice. It’s mostly men who are here.
“I do,” I say, keeping my voice as even as possible. “My dad. He’s over there.” I point to a picture close to where Wes is standing and talking to a man in an old Army field jacket. Wes catches my eye in an “Are you okay” kind of way, and I nod.
“I’m Colleen. Do you want to tell me about your father?” She smiles, and something about her puts me completely at ease. Most people ask about what happened, not about who my father was.
“Sure.”
I introduce myself as we walk over to the portrait of my dad, who’s standing and joking with a couple of other soldiers. The desert sun is high in the sky, and there’s a fuzz of sand in the air, but the camaraderie and brotherhood between my dad and the other soldiers is unmistakable. These are men who would – and did – fight together for the greater good of our country.
“He looks like a good man.”
“He was.” I tell her how he loved serving his country, even if it took him away from my mom and me. I tell her about how he’d visit on leave between tours and how those were the most precious weeks of all. “The tour when my dad was killed, that was going to be his last tour. He was going to retire from service, so he could spend more time with me, especially since my mom died last year.”
“Oh, Kira,” Colleen’s eyes glisten with tears. “I’m so sorry for your losses. Losing one parent is hard enough, but losing two – and within a year of each other – that’s unimaginable.”
Colleen pulls me into a hug, and I nearly lose it. Most people who try and comfort me have no clue what it’s like, and their sympathy feels hollow, even if they mean well. Being around people who understand and get it, like Wes and now Colleen? An instant connection sparks, and I feel I can truly share my grief and have someone understand.
“How about you?” I ask, the drain of talking about my dad catching up to me. “Did you lose someone, too?”
“Not quite. My husband Kirk,” she glances around the room and nods to a man standing by the door, talking quietly with another man. The haunted look in his eyes lifts the moment he sees Colleen. “He served and came back with PTSD. I’ve heard a lot of stories similar to yours, though. We met at a fundraising event my event planning company hosted for Warrior Cares, and the connection was instant. Kirk was almost lost to war, but I’m thankful every minute of every day that he made it home. I can’t imagine my life before him and don’t want to imagine it without him.”
I watch as Colleen raises a hand to her husband, and the intense intimacy of the look they share makes me embarrassed for having witnessed it. More than anything anyone has said to me since I got the news about my dad, seeing the deep connection between Colleen and her husband makes me realize that I can find happiness for myself, despite the grief I’ve been living with.
“Excuse me, but I need to go. Look, I don’t want to overstep, but if you need someone to talk to, feel free to call me.” Colleen pulls a small wallet from her purse and gives me her business card.
“Thank you,” I say, clenching my throat against the sob threatening to escape.
Colleen gives me a quick hug, and I watch as she joins her husband. He laces his fingers through hers, and envy rises in me. The way they are a unit together is the kind of relationship I want with a man someday. Juliet always talks about having fun and dating lots of men, but I’ve never seen things the same way. Living my best life means sharing it with someone I love.
I search the crowd for Wes, and when I find him, I realize that the crush I have on him now is so much deeper and profound than the one I had when I was younger. When he picked me up tonight, I had to try and shield how good it felt to see him because I was vibrating with a need to touch him. Not just because I’ve known him for years but because there is a current between us that is far more than him being my dad’s best friend. In a flash, I understand that my desire for Wes isn’t only because he knew my dad, my teen crush on him, or that I’m hurting and need to feel something – it’s because he’s everything I want in a man.
I don’t know how or if it could happen, but I know I need to get my life back on track by finishing school and figuring out a career. I need to open my heart and build a life I love.
And I want to do that with Wes.
Wes comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder, and squeezes. “How you doing over here? You look a little shell-shocked.”
“Can we get out of here? I don’t want to go home, but…I need to be away from here, but not alone. Does that make sense?”
“Of course it does. Let’s go.”
* * *
“Feeling better?”Wes tips the top of his beer toward mine, and we clink our bottles together.
Our eyes lock as I raise the bottle to my lips and take a long drink. Wes clears his throat, his gaze dropping to my lips.
Wiping my mouth, I nod. “This is perfect. I thought I needed peace and quiet, but being around people having fun is…it’s energizing. Thank you.”
A smile plays on Wes’s mouth, and this time it’s me staring at his full lips, wondering how they would feel on my skin.
“Just don’t ask me to dance. I draw the line at dancing.” Wes’s voice is serious, but it unexpectedly makes me burst into laughter. Wes looks at me, surprised, but starts laughing, too, and the air shifts between us.
Since he’s been back and we’ve seen each other, everything has been serious, with my dad’s death a dark cloud over us. Now that we’re laughing, something new is opening between us.
I stand, drain my beer, and loudly put the bottle on the bar. “Come on,” I say, grinning at Wes. “Just one dance. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Kira…” There’s a warning in Wes’s voice, but he doesn’t resist when I take his hand and pull him toward the dance floor. A jolt of electric desire courses through me, and I’m eager to be in Wes’s arms.
He takes my hands, leading me into a slow two-step as the band plays a slower song. His grip is firm, and his movements are confident.
“You know how to dance,” I say, catching my breath after he leads me in a turn.
His strong arms guide me, and when he stops my turn, our bodies are close enough that his body heat scorches my skin. His musky scent has me leaning into him, aching to be closer.
Even as I stumble, we dance like we”ve been doing this for years. My body instinctively moves with his and I follow his signals easily. The more Wes holds and guides me with his hands, the more a white-hot need builds in my core.
As the song continues, Wes looks down at me. His gaze can’t hide his desire, and I blush as I maintain eye contact. Now that I see the desire in his eyes, I’m not going to hide my own for him. He pulls me so close that his breath is hot on my neck, his lips almost grazing my skin.
Wes guides me in a turn, and when he stops, he pulls me toward him. He holds me in his strong arms for an extra moment before he pulls back and leads me into another turn.
As the song ends and other couples break apart on the dance floor, we stay in each other’s arms as if neither of us wants to be the first to let go. I lean against him, aching to kiss him, and succumb to the heavy desire between us.
A familiar ache of longing swells inside me, and I can’t hold back any longer. I reach up and pull his head to mine, moaning when our lips meet. Our kiss starts gently, but then he pulls me tight against his body, his powerful arms holding me with unyielding strength. I whimper as our tongues dance in time with the new song the band plays, our passion ratcheting higher as the tempo increases.
I weave my fingers into his thick brown hair, never wanting this kiss to end. My heart hammers wildly in my chest, matching the throbbing in my core. Wes’s hands stroke my back and sides, molding me to his hard muscles. I burn with desire as his fingertips seek out my bare skin and caress me. I run my hands over his muscular arms, relishing his strength.
We break apart, eyes glazed and gasping for air. Wes keeps me encircled in his arms, and I gaze into his dark eyes, reaching up to trace the firm lines of his jaw and cheekbones with my fingertips. A smile spreads over his face, so full of tenderness that it makes my heart ache. He pulls me in for another kiss, slow and gentle.
I never want this to end. I don’t want to waste another day letting life slip by because I’m drowning in grief. I want the connection and love I saw between Colleen and her husband – and I want it with Wes.