Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“It’s nothing fancy,” Mary said as they entered her apartment.
And it wasn’t. She hadn’t bothered to empty the boxes the guys had helped her pack at Truck’s place.
Her heart wasn’t in it, and she knew that every time she saw something that had been displayed at Truck’s, it would hurt. So she’d left everything in the boxes.
“Are you moving?” Truck asked.
Mary wrinkled her nose. “No.”
To his credit, he didn’t push, but merely shrugged and headed for her couch.
It was the one thing that Mary had regretted leaving behind when she’d all but moved in with him.
It was brown suede and the most comfortable thing she’d ever owned.
It had cost a fortune, but was worth every penny.
It had huge cushions, and even Truck’s feet almost didn’t touch the floor when he sat on it.
“Want something to drink?” she asked, standing next to the couch.
“No. Sit, Mary.”
Loving the bossiness in his tone, and realizing for the first time how much she’d missed it, Mary kicked off her shoes and went over to the other side of the couch.
She curled her jean-clad legs under her and leaned against the back cushions, facing Truck.
He scooted over until he was within touching distance and sat sideways to face her.
“Does your head feel better?” Mary asked.
Truck nodded. “Now that we’re out of the noise, yeah.”
“Does it always hurt?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“What did the doctor say about it? You did tell him, right?”
“Of course. He said it was normal. My brain was knocked around quite a bit when I fell and it’s bruised and swollen. He says that’s why I can’t remember the last three years. He’s hoping that when the swelling goes down and my brain heals completely, my memory will return.”
“Is there anything you can take for it?” Mary asked.
She didn’t even want to talk about the possibility of Truck not remembering.
She wasn’t being selfish either…okay, a little.
But she couldn’t imagine losing that much of her life.
Although, forgetting the hell she went through while she was fighting cancer might be a blessing, but then she’d also have forgotten Truck.
And she’d take the awful memories of the cancer if it meant she could have memories of how amazing Truck had been.
At least it wasn’t worse. She supposed Truck could’ve lost all his memory and not even remembered that he was a soldier, or that Ghost and the others were his friends. That would’ve been tragic, and would be a lot harder to come back from.
“I don’t like painkillers,” Truck said. “I’d rather deal with the slight headache than take something that makes me tired or crabby.”
Mary smiled. She knew that. She’d also tried to put off taking the painkillers and anti-nausea pills for as long as possible when she was sick because they made her feel as if she was out of it, and she didn’t want to get addicted, but Truck wouldn’t let her.
They’d argued about it, with Mary declaring that if Truck could decide not to take drugs when he got hurt on a mission, she could make the same decision in regards to her cancer treatment.
He’d agreed to her point—then pleaded with her to take them, since seeing her in so much pain hurt him. She’d relented.
“What?” Truck asked.
She should’ve known he’d figure out she was remembering something. “I’ve heard you say that before. Do you remember what happened when you got hurt?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“No. When I woke up, I thought we were in the Middle East.”
“Must have been a surprise to find out you were in Africa, huh?” Mary knew that’s where they’d been because Rayne had told her. She’d heard the basics from Ghost. She didn’t know exactly where or why, but knowing Africa was where he’d been hurt was enough.
“Yeah. I pulled a gun on one of the other Deltas.”
“One of your team?” Mary gasped.
“No. The other one that was with us.”
“Seriously?” Mary asked. When Truck nodded, she said, “Holy shit.”
Truck chuckled. “It was tense there for a minute or two. I pulled a gun. He didn’t pull out his own weapon, but his teammates sure did.
Then Coach, Beatle, and Blade reciprocated.
Ghost stood between me and the other team, trying to calm me down.
There we were, in the middle of an op, all ready to blow each other away. ”
Mary couldn’t help but smile at the image he’d put in her mind.
“Of course, calmer heads prevailed, and here I am,” Truck said wryly.
“I’m glad,” Mary told him honestly.
Truck rested his head on his hand and stared at her.
“What?” she asked after a moment, uncomfortable.
“I’m trying to figure out how in the hell I could’ve forgotten you,” Truck said.
That was probably the nicest thing anyone had said to her in a long time, and Mary tried to blow it off. “Probably because I’m a bitch and hold people at arm’s length.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yeah. Why?”
This was it. The start of the new them. Mary knew she could either deflect his question, or she could take the opportunity to let him know why she was the way she was.
Taking a deep breath, she felt the shield she’d kept wrapped around her for so long crack the slightest bit.
“I didn’t have a good childhood.” That was the understatement of the year, but he didn’t say anything, just kept watching her with his intense brown eyes.
His quiet contemplation, and the fact he didn’t immediately start asking questions, gave her the courage to continue.
“My mama was a whore. And I don’t mean that in the general name-calling sense.
She was literally a whore. She didn’t stand out on street corners or anything, but she went after men who she knew were vulnerable and had money.
She’d seduce them, move them in so they could pay her bills, and she milked them for all they were worth.
In return for them buying groceries, paying the phone and cable bill and electricity, she slept with them.
One of my earliest memories is of Mama fighting with one of my ‘uncles’—that’s what she told me to call them—and when he got fed up and left, she lectured me for hours about how awful men were and how all they wanted was sex.
She said that as long as I didn’t expect them to love me, it was okay to spread my legs for them, especially if I got as much out of them as I could.
I didn’t know what that meant, I was only four or five, but eventually I understood, because the lecture remained the same for years. ”
“That’s awful,” Truck said in a tone that showed no pity, only compassion.
“Yeah. My entire childhood, she pounded into me that men were no good. That they were only useful for money and they only wanted sex. She told me over and over, and showed me by her actions, that they weren’t capable of loving women.
I didn’t want to believe her. I mean, I knew she wasn’t the nicest mama in the world, she sure didn’t take care of me, I had to do that on my own. I thought she was full of shit.”
Mary stopped talking. She hadn’t ever told anyone this.
Not even Rayne. Oh, her best friend knew her mama was a whore and that she wasn’t very nice, but Mary had never gotten into the details.
And now here she was, basically telling a stranger her life history.
But somehow that made it easier. He didn’t know anything about her. Had no preconceived ideas about her.
Truck reached out and put his hand on one of her knees. “Go on,” he urged. “Get it all out.”
“This is crazy,” Mary murmured. “We should be talking about our favorite foods or some shit.”
“We’re past that,” Truck said.
Mary rolled her eyes. “You didn’t know I existed an hour ago.”
“But I know you exist now,” Truck countered. “And I can’t explain it, but I think a part of me remembers you. It’s not a memory, per se, but a feeling. Now, what happened?”
Mary sighed. She wanted to believe him, but she knew how stubborn he was. Truck used to hate not knowing what she was thinking, which happened all the time because Mary was just as stubborn as he was. She didn’t like to talk about her feelings or about the shit that she’d been through.
Closing her eyes, Mary decided to just get it done.
“When I was fifteen, I met a boy. He was so nice to me. He stood up to bullies for me, and he made me feel so pretty and wanted. We dated for a while and one day, he told me he loved me. I was so happy. I told him I loved him back. I thought we’d get married and I’d live happily ever after.
I slept with him. Gave him my virginity.
” Mary ground her teeth together and tried to calm herself down to finish the story.
It was Truck’s hard grip on her knee that did the trick.
She opened her eyes and saw the hard, furious look on his face, and weirdly, it made her feel better that he was upset for her.
She reached down and picked up his hand and held it in both of hers while she finished.
“The next day, he broke up with me. Told me I’d held out longer than he’d thought I would, considering I was the town whore’s daughter, and that he was moving on to the freshmen cheerleaders who would sleep with him without all the dramatics.
That was the last time I ever told a guy that I loved him. ”
She bravely looked up and met Truck’s gaze. It was as if he could read her mind. Knew what she was trying to say without saying it. “That guy didn’t deserve your love,” he said after a beat.
“Duh.”
“I’m sorry you went through that, Mare. That sucks.”