Chapter 5 Oak
Oak
I’ve been trying my best to avoid her, even now as we breathe the very same air. But my eyes have been betraying me since I first saw her. Glancing over at her any chance they could. Admire her, drinking her in until the very last drop and then wanting more.
Grace is the very embodiment of elegance and sex wrapped in a fucking seductive red bow that I want to unravel with my teeth.
Her luscious curves despite her small size in height leaves me in a trance. From the flare of her hips to the small waist and to the more than a handful of breasts, her body is made to make men beg.
Most men would only want her for her body but that’s where I differ.
Because it’s her eyes, those beautiful sky blue eyes that have me captured.
Those eyes look at me and it’s as if they see me. Really see me. And I’m equally terrified as I am enthralled.
Her sandy blonde hair cascades in waves down to her mid back. Those luscious lips of hers painted in a cherry red are pursed.
She asked me a question and I haven’t answered it yet.
And with Snake now gone I can’t avoid her.
To be honest with myself I don’t know how much longer I could’ve.
“It has,” I eventually answer her.
She nods her head. Her hair covers her face so I can’t make out her facial expression.
I want to tell her that I wanted to see her. That every text she sent I wanted to reply. That the voicemails on my phone are the first thing I listen to when I wake up from a nightmare.
But I don’t.
If I told her then that would mean she would put up a fight to close the distance I created.
And I can’t allow that to happen.
“How are you, Oak?” Her eyes drown in concern.
“I’m good.” I keep the answer short. It’s easier to lie when you don’t have much to say. You can’t trip up on your own words. Even though those two words I just spoke felt like I was choking.
She snorts. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
She snorts again.
Fuck.
Why is that both amusing and annoying?
“You are a worse liar than my brother and that is saying something considering every time he lies he turns seven shades of red.” She turns around and gives me a perfect view of her ass.
Those tiny shorts, if they are even considered shorts, leave nothing to the imagination. I swallow thickly and avert my gaze.
“How is he?” My voice comes out gruff. Jesus, fuck. It suddenly feels like it has become fifteen degrees hotter in here. Clearing my throat I then clarify, “Connor.”
She looks over her shoulder, an innocent act that has me thinking things far from innocent. But it’s her eyes that pin me with a harshness that has me not looking away. “You would know perfectly well if you weren’t avoiding us.”
Fuck.
“I’ve been busy.” Lie.
She rolls her eyes at me before giving her attention back to her task. When she’s done she comes back to me swaying those luscious hips. Placing a beer down in front of me she leans over the counter with both elbows.
Her face comes close to mine. I can smell the mint from her breath and the jasmine scent from her skin. An intoxicating combination. Far more intoxicating than this beer. One taste of her and I’ll be done for.
My eyes flick down to her lips painted in crimson. When I meet her eyes I notice that hers has done the same.
We’re like magnets. As much as I want to pull myself in the other direction I can’t. And the worst part about it is she knows it. Which will only make the fight to stay away from her harder.
But it’s a fight I have to win. She will not become a consequence.
So I pull back despite myself. I pull back and try to ignore the disappointment that shines in those eyes of hers. I pull back and try to ignore the hurt that twists her beautiful face.
Except I can’t.
That’s my consequence.
That’s my pain I must feel.
To be so close yet so god damned far.
“He misses you, you know,” she says ever so quietly. Shaking her head slightly she then swallows before adding in a whisper, “so do I.”
Fuck if I don’t miss her, too and the little guy.
Although my heart feels like it’s being torn to shreds I don’t let it show.
And I don’t know how to apologize to her without sounding like a complete asshole. So I offer her the best that I can, “I’ll try.”
Her eyes flash to mine. “Try what?”
Oh fuck. I knew she wouldn’t let me off the hook that easily. She wants me to say it, wants me to admit that I have been avoiding her.
She’s challenging me.
With her I’m always up for it.
Fuck, I even enjoy it.
Amusement, the barest hint of it appears on my face. “I’ll try to be around more.”
She smiles at me then, a triumphant smile that lights her whole face and reaches her eyes. It’s a beautiful sight. One I’ll store in my head for when things get too rough in there.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Her eyebrow arches.
“I don’t know, Gracie Mae, I have a feeling everything might be hard surrounding you.” The sexual innuendo doesn’t slip pass her but that wasn’t entirely what I had meant.
Just being within her proximity will be hell for me.
Hell because I’ll want to touch her. Let my eyes roam over her body freely. Allow myself to think of all the things I can do to her. I’ll want all those things with her. I’ll want to hold her in my arms. I’ll want her to help me forget the pain of my past.
But I can’t.
I need that pain more than I need my next breath because without it I don’t know how to survive.
And seeing her . . . seeing her and knowing that I can never have her. . . that will be that hardest and most painful thing I will ever do.
“None of this has to be hard, Oak,” she softly says. The genuineness in her voice calls to me. The concern on her face attacks my soul.
I try to offer her a smile but it falls flat. “Everything in life is.”
Bravely, boldly, she takes my hand that rests on the bar countertop. The innocent touch lighting up every cell in my entire body. I stare at her hand beguilingly. Her small, pale hand that is soft and gentle caressing my large roughened one.
“But it doesn’t have to be.”
It needs to be.
Not saying anything back to her I think says it all. Her eyes turn sad and her gentle caress on my hand tightens.
It feels as if she’s trying to anchor me to the present. And I want to stay here, with her, I really do but my mind doesn’t allow me to.
Especially not when I hear in the distance the sound of a door slamming.
It ricochets through my chest and pierces my eardrums. The blood in my veins is the only thing I hear rushing to my ears. My heart rapidly begins to beat against my chest. The salvia in my mouth gone dry.
I sit before her a man turned to stone. Staring unblinkingly in the distance, trapped in my own fucking skin.
The sun beats down on our backs, the intense heat searing through our military gear and drenching our skin.
Sweat pours from my helmet, dripping from my brow and upper lip.
I blink away the sweat, undeterred by how uncomfortable I am. The weight of my bullet proof vest seems to press heavier against my chest.
But it doesn’t bother me.
I was trained for this. And I was trained for situations that made me far more uncomfortable. I learned to live with it. To become one with it and not let it hinder my performance.
My men are following behind me in a unified line. Their breaths as steady as our feet against the dirt road.
We keep alert. Every sound we hear is not missed. Every movement we see is assessed.
We keep ourselves close to the walls of the buildings we pass. Once we reach the end of the building, Darius turns to secure the back and I make efficient work of clearing us to move forward.
With a hand signal I clear for us to proceed. They all follow in step behind me.
Their trust in me is proved without question. They have given me their trust to keep them safe.
One mantra I always say before we leave on a mission is no brother left behind.
Out of the countless of missions we’ve had with each other we’ve all come back. Maybe a knick or a scratch here and there but nothing too serious.
I pray on every god that there is that it will stay that way.
Our location is close in sight. One-hundred meters until we breach the building.
Our mission is to extract the captives and kill on sight. Get in, extract, shoot to kill, get the fuck out.
With steady breaths, a calm heart rate and an alert mind we reach our destination.
I can hear the muffled cries coming from inside the wrecked building. The captives are there and I don’t know how badly they are injured.
Going by protocol I take a step back and allow, Jude, our breacher, to breach the door. Once he breaches the door he takes a step back and I make another hand signal for my brothers to fall in a close line behind me.
When we enter the building the first thing we all see is three women and five children tied to chairs. Their mouths are stuffed with fabric and bound with rope.
I’ve been overseas for a long time. Seen shit that no man should see but seeing women and children, children, used as puppets always fucks with my head.
It’s no worse then seeing the little boys come charging at us with gunfire.
“I hate seeing this fucking shit,” Darius mutters under his breath.
“We all do,” Roman agrees, disgust clear in his voice.
Miguel takes a calculated step closer to the hostages. His eyes scan over each of them as we’ve been trained to. But he sees what we all see. No bombs strapped to their chests. No weapons on them. No threat posing from any of them. There’s only tears and muffled cries. Bruised and battered skin.
They all wait on my signal to start untying them. After Isaac and I do a round of the small building I clear for them to proceed.
As we are cutting the rope to free them there is this feeling I have in my gut that doesn’t sit right.
Nothing is ever this fucking easy.
The feeling only intensifies as we cut the last one free.