Chapter 34 The Night
THE NIGHT
ZEKE
The cab of my truck suddenly felt stifling as we headed back to Fort Stewart to drop off Maggie’s boxes.
All the air stopped circulating at some point because I could hardly breathe.
Spending forever with Maggie never seemed more real than in the moment when it was just the two of us and forever stretched ahead.
Now that I had her back at my side, all the stuff Sparks said sounded like a lot of bullshit.
“So…” I trailed off, uncertain where I wanted the conversation to go.
“So…” she echoed. “Now what?”
“We can’t really stay in the barracks,” I explained. “There’s not a whole lot of room with all the boxes and there’s only a twin bed.”
“Where do you want to go?” Maggie asked.
I swallowed thickly. “We can get a hotel room next to the airport. That way you can sleep in until the last possible second.” I meant it to sound like a joke, but it came out as more of a criticism.
Maggie’s mouth opened and closed. “Is that what you wanna do? Sleep?”
Nope. Right about now I wanted to drive off a pier into the bottom of the Atlantic.
“We can do whatever you want,” I amended. “I just want to make you happy.”
We drove in silence all the way to the barracks, though I sensed a tension rolling off her. She fidgeted, twisting the ends of her hair around her finger. Occasionally she snuck a glance that I tried to ignore. I didn’t know what to say.
Together we managed to load all the boxes into my room in record time. Maggie waited in the truck while I turned the key to my room into the soldier on staff duty for the night. He would let the movers inside to pick up our belongings.
Thankfully there was no sign of Sparks or any other soldier from my unit either. With how high my anxiety spiked from the awkward tension crackling in the air, if someone looked at Maggie the wrong way, I was liable to go nuclear.
Shortly thereafter, I pulled into a small hotel across from the Savannah airport and still hadn’t managed to say a word to Maggie.
Every time I tried my tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth.
Books always discussed the significance of a wedding night, and for once I didn’t think I misunderstood, given my wife’s own unease.
I didn’t want to do anything more than what made her comfortable.
That was why I requested two rooms when the line in the hotel lobby cleared and we made it to the concierge desk.
“Excuse me?!” Maggie sputtered. “It’s our wedding day and you want to sleep in separate rooms?”
My body went stiff as several pairs of eyes throughout the lobby turned to glare at me. “I don’t want to pressure you,” I mumbled as low as I could.
The concierge smiled, clearly trying to alleviate the tension. “Aw, newlyweds! Let me upgrade you to our honeymoon suite. It’s on the house,” she added with a roguish wink. She slid a card across the counter to me and gestured to a hall on my left. “Just follow it all the way ‘til the end.”
To my surprise, Maggie beamed at her. “Thank you! That’s real nice of you!”
We were not the kind of newlyweds the hotel envisioned when designing the honeymoon suite.
Large mirrors lined every wall, and an obnoxious garden tub separated the bathroom from the sleeping area.
The only walls to block off any space were for the water closet, leaving everything open and exposed.
Maggie and I couldn’t even brush our teeth without the other one watching.
A king size bed sat on the far wall with rose petals strewn in the shape of a heart on the duvet.
“Aww! Isn’t this sweet?” Maggie cried. She ran over to bed and jumped in the middle of the rose petals. “Ooh, this is really bouncy!”
“B-but where sh-should I sleep?” Sounds weren’t coming out right and I didn’t know how to fix it. Although the way my heart stopped might have been the bigger medical emergency.
Maggie’s skin flushed from her hairline to her neckline.
Only I tried not to stare at her neckline because noticing the way her tank top curved around her breasts made my brain go fuzzy and my cock take charge.
Expecting anything from her just because it was our wedding night was a recipe for disaster…
right? Or was that what she expected from me?
I didn’t have a fucking clue how to do this.
“Um…don’t you want to sleep next to me?” Her voice seemed smaller somehow.
I gulped. “Is that what you want?”
She nodded slowly. “That’s what married couples do.”
“I thought you wanted us to act like we weren’t married?”
The question came out before I considered the implications, and I knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say. Maggie leapt from the bed, staggering backward like I hit her.
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Her arms folded across her chest like Maggie needed a shield from me. “Don’t hold back now.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want to do anything wrong. I don’t know how to act!”
Frustration bubbled in my chest, and I started pacing to work it out of my system. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be married. So far marriage seemed a lot harder than I originally thought. Nothing I said or did went right.
Leggett’s face flashed through my mind, his fury from earlier that morning, and the sinking disappointment I used to feel from letting him down. That’s what I was good at—disappointing those around me. Maybe it was better before I met Maggie. Being alone was easier.
Maybe I needed to call this whole thing off.
Maybe love made me a fool and this was my last chance to do right by Maggie.
Maybe—
Soft, cold hands cupped my face as I collided with a tender body.
Maggie’s hazel eyes held mine as she went through exaggerated motions of breathing in through her nose and out with her mouth.
I mimicked her actions, and the panic started to loosen around my chest. My heartbeat raced like I’d just finished a sprint, a cold sweat lining my brow.
“Sweetie, I think you’re having another panic attack,” Maggie whispered. “Come sit down, okay? Stay with me.” Slowly, she guided us to the edge of the bed, keeping her hands on my face and her eyes on mine. The solidity of her touch grounded me.
We sat there for several minutes until my breathing returned to normal. A shudder rippled through me as I finally felt the last dregs of anxiety leave.
“What triggered it?” she asked quietly. Moonlight flooded in through the window, the clock now reading midnight, and I decided this was now my favorite time of day. White light filtered along the column of her throat, making me want to trace its path with my tongue.
Until I glanced down at the bruises on her arm.
“I’m not sure, but I think we need to talk about this first.” I brushed my thumb along her arm over the marks and realized they roughly matched the size of my fingertips. “Who did this to you?”
I knew enough of my wife’s tells already to know that she was about to try and change the subject. She stood up in a huff, refusing to meet my eye, and grabbed the handle of a suitcase. “It’s getting late. We should try to get some sleep.”
“No, we should talk about how you got those bruises,” I countered. Angrily, I snatched the handle of the suitcase and shoved it behind me. Maggie still wouldn’t look at me, sinking back onto the bed instead. Only she sat as far away from me as possible.
“Just let this go, Zeke. I’m begging you.” Her voice sounded hoarse, like she choked back tears as she tried to get the words out. “Once we leave in the morning, it won’t happen again.”
I nodded. “Yeah, because I’m about to go kill whoever touched you.” If she didn’t want to tell me, that was fine. I had a sneaking suspicion I could figure it out with a single conversation with that Spencer guy. Jumping up, I headed for the door and only stopped when I felt a hand tug at my wrist.
“Stop, please!” Maggie whimpered.
“Then give me a fucking name!” I snapped and immediately regretted it with the way I saw her flinch.
A tear trickled down her cheek. “Seems like we’re both a little messed up,” she whispered sadly.
All the fight drained out of me. Making her cry on our wedding night didn’t bode well.
“You’re not messed up,” I assured her. “But the thought of anyone hurting you makes me want to throw some C4 in their bed. I have to protect you, Maggie. At all costs.”
For several tense moments, Maggie didn’t say anything.
Wisps of her long brown hair fell out of her bun, a few of them framing her face in a way that made me want to reach out and brush them aside.
But her thoughtful gaze held me captive and I couldn’t move.
An emotion I didn’t recognize shone in her eyes, bright from the glow of the moon, and zeroed in on me like she too struggled with what was right in front of her.
Slowly, like she might spook a deer, Maggie took a step closer so that her body barely stood a heartbeat from mine. She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed me gently—tentatively—on the mouth.
Every tortured, confusing emotion from the long day faded away until I could only exist in that moment.
Her touch felt welcoming. Calming. Like the ray of sunshine after a chaotic storm.
I left a turbulent war zone after more than a year of deployment and never felt the same kind of aching relief as I did in that kiss.
The sense of surety that everything now would be alright.
I twisted a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close and deepening the kiss.
My acceptance must’ve made her relax because I felt her body go pliant and mold into mine.
Her tongue demanded access, and I let her take control, wanting to offer some kind of sign that this night, and whatever took place, would be entirely up to her.
She broke away with a muffled cry, kissing down my throat and pushing my shirt up so she could run her fingers along my abdomen.
The feel of her skin on mine sent an electric pulse straight to my dick.
Somewhere in the back of my mind was delight and gratitude that the circumstances from the fitting room at Madden Markets weren’t a one time thing, but my unease over the night pushed to the forefront.
“Maggie, wait.” I stepped back and tried to force my brain to do the talking. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”
With her head slightly cocked to the side, she eyed me wistfully. I could practically feel the gears turning as she processed some sort of internal dilemma, sizing me and the situation up, before letting out a breathless sigh.
“You truly mean that, don’t you?” asked Maggie. “You aren’t gonna demand sex from me just because you’re my husband.”
I scowled. “Uh, that’s called rape, and in no way shape or form will that ever occur! Is that what you think of me?”
She shook her head. “I just know that’s what guys in the past always wanted from me. Now that we’re married, isn’t that what you want too?”
A fissure cracked its way through my heart at how tiny her voice sounded.
She looked so unsure, so vulnerable, that I almost found it amusing when I noted how her fingers drifted up to twist on the ends of a stray piece of hair.
Without even trying, Maggie told me how much she worried over my answer.
“I’m so, so sorry, baby, that someone taught you sex is the only way to a guy’s heart.
That’s not what I want from you at all. Maybe I’m not really a guy,” I joked, earning a breathy giggle from her.
“I meant what I said in our vows. Every day with you here is enough for me. I married you, Margaret Elizabeth Hayes, because I want every single second of your forever. All the good, bad, ugly, and everything in between.”
Maggie inhaled sharply. “I—I believe you.” She whispered it like she couldn’t believe she revealed that thought out loud. A half-hiccup, half-sob escaped and before I knew it, she launched herself into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.
I clutched her to me, reveling in how good she felt in my arms. Hot tears soaked my neck, and although I didn’t fully understand what Maggie was going through, I was so glad to be there for her.
I walked us over to the bed and sat down, keeping her on my lap and stroking her back in what I hoped to be a soothing gesture.
It took a long time before Maggie quieted down. She pulled away just enough to look me in the eye, her cheeks blotchy and red from crying. “Zeke, I’m scared. What if I fall for you?”
“Then I’ll finally relax,” I replied.
“What? Why?”
“Because we’ll both be falling together, and if I’m doing it with you, nothing scares me anymore.”