The minutes dragged past. She nestled under the blankets in her bed and waited. He would come because he had promised, although not in as many words - the way he had bowed over her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers with a tender look after the walk had spoken the promise. He hadn't said 'goodnight' either when escorting her to her bedroom door. Perhaps time and slow coaxing would give him the confidence he seemed to struggle to find right now. Only moonlight poured in the room, offering him the cloak of shadows if he wanted.
The doorknob turned and her heart beat faster. If he came on his own to sleep in the same bed, it would show that he felt so much safer than he thought, that the monster wasn't quite as big as he believed. She held her breath.
He stepped into the room in his blue robe and slippers and closed the door behind himself. "The hearing device ran out of battery. I didn't realize the other wasn't plugged in the charger." There he stood near the door, as if unsure he'd be accepted. He came so vulnerable, taking a leap of faith when his instincts clearly told him to run.
Her heart raced. This was the largest step he'd taken since coming home. Sitting up, she held out a hand, having no need for words tonight anyways to say what lay in her heart.
A slow step brought him closer to the bed, and then another. When she pulled back the sheets on his side as encouragement, he hesitated a moment. Only the moonlight bathed him as he shrugged off his robe and laid it at the foot of the bed. A pajama shirt covered his muscular torso tonight. Then he sat in the bed, pulled up the covers, and stilled, as if tense.
In the hospital he'd asked for her to change the bandages, but she hadn't done it yet today. Reaching around his face, she laid her fingertips against his chin and part of the bandage so he would feel the question.
His eye glinted in the dim light. "Stevens changed it tonight. I won't have you look at night and be frightened."
A scowl furrowed her brow.
"No."
With a sigh, she laid down. When he did too, she moved his arm to rest her head on his shoulder and flung a leg over his. The man fit so perfect, even in his tense state. Then she stroked his chest to make his pounding heart relax. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his heart, continuing the slow, lazy caress long into the night until the ghosts finally let him sleep.
Something wasn't right. She rubbed her eyes and rolled over to cuddle. Jason didn't lie on the other side of the bed. Her eyes fluttered open. A sliver of light glowed through the connecting door. Slipping out of bed, she padded over in her sleeveless summer nightgown, rubbing her arms against the chill of the night mountain air.
Jason sat shirtless in bed reading a book by firelight and looked up when she opened the door wider. He set the book down and reached for the hearing device on the nightstand. After he popped the receiver piece over a molar and the microphone over his ear, he turned with a frown. "Can't you sleep?" He reached for his nightshirt at the floor of the bed.
"No." She reached out a hand and took a step forward before halting herself.
He froze and looked at her in question.
A wall went up each time he put a barrier over his body - a body that seemed to do nothing but give him grief and shame him lately. She bit her lip. Being honest would be the only way to regain his trust. "I don't see and never did see anything wrong with your scars. Your shoulder is no worse than it was... I wish you wouldn't hide from me." When he just held the shirt in his lap, as if contemplating, she stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed. "You let me touch you in the hospital." Her eyes flitted to his shoulder scar that looked dry. "You're neglecting your shoulder."
His eye fell to his lap. "I let you touch what I thought was getting better, not morphing into something more horrific and disgusting than before." Hatred darkened his tone.
She swallowed hard, her heart tearing at those words. He would never come to believe her blindness to his scars, but he would eventually come to accept his new appearance because life would force him to. "So, your plan is to keep me blind for the rest of our marriage?"
His eye snapped to hers, an angry scowl marring his features as his voice rose. "The moment I didn't, I terrified you deeply enough that you were too frightened to let me touch you! I triggered suppressed memories of the rape!" Firelight caught the angry glitter of his eye and his chest heaved as the rage died down.
Remaining calm, she held his glare. "The incident at the Foundation triggered the memories; you don't get credit for that. And even you admitted that teaching me to be afraid of what lay under the mask caused the fear and more flashbacks of Gaston. So why are you trying to teach me there is another monster now?"
He looked away.
"Why do you want me to fear you?" She reached out a hand to touch his arm, but he caught her wrist.
Anger crackled in his eye. "Because you should."
She held his eye. "Because you are?"
He jerked her wrist, pulling so she fell on her back in the bed. Then he climbed on top and captured her wrists on each side of her head, leaning his weight on his hands and knees. His nostrils flared and his chest heaved with power barely controlled. Raw desire lapped in his eye.
She wrapped her legs around his thighs. He needed to be desired.
His jaw muscles clenched and hands tightened on her wrists. Every fiber of him vibrated with lust. Even his impotency looked like it had been cured, at least for the moment.
"Do I look frightened?" She dragged her toes along his thick calf muscle. The intensity of his gaze sped up her heart.
"You'd be wise to - I'm not in the mood to make love." He practically growled the words.
"Good. I'm not in the mood for romance."
His eye narrowed like he expected it to be a bluff. As if coming to a decision, he let go of her hands and pulled off her clothes in the next instant. Then he held her wrists again, hard enough to mean business but gentle enough to not harm. "I want it hard and you don't get to look at me."
Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she nodded. He must mean the blindfold -
He sat back and rolled her onto her stomach. Then his hands locked on her hips and pulled up until she was on her hands and knees.
She frowned and watched his hands stretch hers out to hold the lip of the headboard. Maybe he wanted to be the one underneath. But he had her bottom sticking out. Glancing over her shoulder at him kneeling behind and putting on birth control, she looked down at her odd position. And then her eyes widened in realization. It seemed brazen and forbidden and erotic. Heat rushed between her thighs.
The bed shifted as his knees lined up with hers. A gasp of surprise escaped her when his fingers stroked her throbbing flesh.
"You're already ready for me." It sounded like wonderful torture for him the way he breathed the words.
Then he parted her delicate flesh, going slow and gentle, as if to test that she was fully ready. He withdrew and held her hips between his hands. A hard thrust drove out a cry of intense pleasure unlike she'd ever known.
Hot water rolled down her skin and steam curled through her bathroom. Her legs still trembled from him draining every ounce of her energy, leaving her as sweaty as him. Heat flooded her cheeks at the memory. The man had been insatiable and had gotten very creative tonight, all the while avoiding face-to-face contact.
He'd struggled to find release once the initial rush of caged lust had passed and his mind had started to get to him again, but her slightly exaggerated moans and pants had seemed to encourage him. Her soaring through the clouds and then guiding his hand down to help tip her over the edge had finally been his undoing...as if her truly desiring him and needing his touch to reach pleasure had broken down the last mental barrier for him to find release.
Climbing out of the shower, she threw on a nightgown and towel dried her hair before stepping into her bedroom where she'd left him. Only, he wasn't there. Firelight from his room still glowed. She stepped in the doorway. "Why are you in your room?" Goosebumps skittered up her arms, but she remained put - he may have left to have some solitude.
He stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace with a book in his lap, seeming unsurprised by the disruption. "I dream about the fire every time I fall asleep. It's been years since I've had nightmares about it, but since coming home I can't stop."
She walked over and sat on the bed, all thoughts fleeing but concern for him. "Does your face hurt? Maybe it's triggering the memories."
"What I can feel just itches from healing now." His eye remained transfixed on the fire, paler than usual from the ghosts that haunted him.
"Do...do I remind you of Carolyn?" Her heart thundered in dread. Maybe some mannerism or comment had thrown him back to the hospital five years ago when the woman had left him, triggering this extreme withdraw into himself the past couple days.
He snorted. "No."
"Is it a replay of what happened, or does something else occur in the dreams?" Ducking her head, she caught his eye.
Grief painted every line of his face. "Charlotte is our daughter. And I can't find her."
Survivor's guilt all over again. "You think she died because you got hurt? You tried - you ran into a burning building so unstable that even firefighters wouldn't go in. You had no gear, no oxygen...Jason, you risked your life." She turned to face him and swallowed hard. "You were hurt so critically that you went into cardiac arrest several times."
His gaze drifted downward, his only reaction to finding out that the medical staff had told her about the criticalness of his condition after the fire. "I had her in my arms," he continued. "I heard the creaking of the ceiling giving away and should've known to duck. If I hadn't lost my bearings, I would've been on the opposite side of the room next to the actual window and we would've made it out. Charles wouldn't have come in after us and died. When I was knocked out, Charlotte probably got scared and crawled into a closet. Charlotte had to have been burned when the plank hit me - she had her little arms around my neck, and I still got burned. It probably burned straight through her arm." Tears shimmered in his eye. "She had to have been in pain and crying and there was no one there to help her - "
"Jason, stop it. You don't know what happened, and you can't go back and change it. Charlotte and Charles wouldn't want you reliving the past." She grabbed the book to set it aside to hold him, but the diagram made her pause. A medical diagram of a pregnant woman filled one page and medical text populated the other side. Her eyes met his.
He brushed at his eye and eased the book from her, setting it on the nightstand. His demeanor changed like he'd needed to let the grief out for a moment but didn't want to discuss it anymore. "We live in the mountains and it's been years since my OB rotation," he grunted. "It's assinine to not brush up." Then he got up and added a log to the already roaring fire.
She looked at his broad back as he stared into the fire with his hands propped on his hips like he often did when lost in thought. "Do you want to talk about the fire?"
"No." He almost cut off her words with the curt reply.
Perhaps talking about it a little at a time would help him get used to opening up about it. He seemed very open about another topic, however. She settled back against the headboard. "I did some reading in the hospital, and a lot of literature says home births are less stressful and - "
"Absolutely not." He spun on his heel and dropped his hands from his hips. "There's too much that can go wrong during birth that can be prevented or managed with a medical team." Although he didn't exactly bark it, his tone left little room for negotiating.
She cocked an eyebrow.
With a sigh, he came back to bed and got in. "It's completely up to you if you want a water birth, epidural, natural birth, or anything else as long as it's on hospital grounds. You can't say 'home birth' to an MD and not expect a fit."
When he laid down, she cuddled up to his side with a smile. "You're going to be one of those husbands who jumps up with the car keys every time I have a twinge while pregnant, aren't you?"
"We live nearly an hour from the hospital," he grumbled.
"And I think you're going to be an overprotective father."
"No." He tucked an arm behind his head. "Our daughter's boyfriends will be interested to see what kinds of military weapons I have. I promise I won't give 'the father speech' before any of them take her out."
A laugh burst out. "You won't have to - you'll scare the hell out of them, and you know it!"
The corner of his mouth twitched in a cocky smirk.
"You're going to be as much work as the kids." She smiled and turned over to present her back to him. "Cuddle me."
The brief moment of banter ceased. His voice held complete seriousness. And abundant shame. "You shouldn't want me to touch you."
"Good luck with that after what we just did." She scooted back against him with a smile.
A very soft chuckle escaped him. As he shifted, so did the bed, and a strong arm draped over her hip.
She pulled his arm around farther and laced fingers with his. "I saw and touched your scars more in the hospital than ever before. You are being silly. The monster is in your head and nowhere else."
"It exists in church and at the store and so many places." He whispered.
"It lives only where you say it can, but it does not exist at home, Jay." She rubbed his arm with her free hand.
"Life is not that simple, Emma."
She rolled over in his arms. "What are you not telling me?"
He only sighed and rolled away. "Stay off the Internet. Good night."
She stared at his broad back, covered again in a pajama shirt.
She trotted downstairs at half past six the next morning after waking in his empty bed.
Pete sailed to the front door and shook his head at her over his shoulder. "A ticking time bomb." Then he darted out.
With a frown of confusion, she veered for the kitchen.
Jason stood near the sink without the bandage on, glaring at the speech therapist. When she stepped in, he turned to offer only his left profile and stormed toward the door. He squeezed between her and the doorframe rather than walk around her, as if for the sole purpose of keeping the scars out of sight.
Her eyes flew to the therapist when Jason's office door slammed a moment later.
The man sighed, looking none too pleased himself. "He's angrier here than at the hospital, isn't he?"
This therapist had been so good at coaxing Jason out of his shell in the hospital. Something must've transpired this morning. "He's having a hard time adjusting to being home. Why are you here this early? He usually attends Mass on Monday mornings."
The therapist grabbed his bag on the kitchen chair and slung it over his shoulder. "He is paying extra to have the appointments at six o'clock twice a week in the mornings. I have no idea why. Apparently we're done today."
"What happened?" She frowned. Jason had been trying so hard to make fast progress - it wasn't like him to just walk out on a session. Or to skip church. "Maybe I can convince him to come finish - "
The man snorted. "Good luck with that. I'll try again Wednesday."
Maybe Jason just needed a break from it all after being in the hospital for months. "Thank you. I'll talk to him." She walked the therapist to the door and opened it.
A young woman stood on the step with one hand raised to knock and the other held a medical bag. "Oh. Hi, I'm the home nurse."
She blinked. "Let me guess, he has you scheduled early too?"
The nurse smiled and nodded.
The speech therapist just shook his head. "Good luck." Then he left.
"Come in. Let me go talk to him." She left the nurse in the foyer and then barged into his office, swinging the door shut.
He shot up for his chair and turned the scars away, holding a handkerchief to his poor mouth.
"Dear lord, I've seen it for the past two months." She marched over to the front of the desk, giving him privacy to face the window and hide the scars. "The nurse is here. Care to explain why you have them coming this early? And on Mondays?" She usually didn't get up until half past six. The timing of these appointments wasn't a coincidence that the therapist would be gone and the bandage changed by the time she'd get downstairs.
The man threw a look from the corner of his eye.
She leaned her hands on the desk, mustering up patience. "Jason, I am not doing this. Things are not going back to how they were when we met."
His lips pressed together and his chest rose and fell faster as he swallowed hard. But he didn't move and didn't speak. He struggled so much. But, it was like he harbored too much shame to even seek comfort.
Stepping around the desk, she caught his shirt when he tried to turn away. She wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head against his chest, forcing him to take the hug he so desperately needed. He trembled and his heart raced for whatever reason. "I love you." She hugged him tighter when his arm locked around as if he needed every ounce of strength and courage but wouldn't admit it.
He didn't make a sound. The guilt only seemed to magnify. SEAL training had taught him to shut down to get through something hard and served against him right now.
Pushing him to open up had worked in the past, although he'd fought it tooth and nail. It didn't work now, though. "I push you, don't I?"
The man didn't move.
"I love you. I push because I want to make it better for you, to just rip off the bandage and end the pain." She swallowed hard. He was so introverted that he needed to pull into himself in order to heal - just like he'd let her pull away after remembering the second man during the assault with Gaston. It had driven him crazy to give her space, but it been exactly what she'd needed in order to come back to him. "I won't leave, Jay. Come to me in your own time." She pulled back and searched his profile.
Some of the tension left his shoulders, but he remained silent and held the handkerchief to his mouth. He wasn't going to speak without the aid of a bandage.
Letting go of him was the hardest thing she'd done in a long time. She took a step back and bowed her head, searching for the strength to give him space.
The warm tips of his fingers hooked under her chin and tilted up until her eyes met his. That beautiful blue eye dropped to her lips. His head bowed and he lowered the handkerchief.
Her eyes fluttered closed and heart pounded, the sun coming out from behind the clouds a little more with each beat. His lips brushed like the breeze of a butterfly and stole her breath. Then his heat disappeared.
She opened her eyes to an empty room, her heart still pounding in hope. Her fingers drifted to where her lips still burned from his beautiful kiss - his promise to not give up finding her through the darkness. And a smile lightened her heart.
Walking down the hall to her room with Prince that afternoon, her footsteps slowed. The fragrant perfume of roses filled the air. Odd. The arboretum sat far down a hall in the opposite wing of the house. The scent seemed to come from the bedroom. Cocking her head, she followed the dog into her room. A silent gasp escaped when she stepped inside.
Thick bouquets of red roses with blooms as large as her palms adorned both corners of the fireplace mantle. Nothing else seemed out of place and no note accompanied the beautiful gifts. She leaned in and inhaled the sweet aroma, closing her eyes as warm, gorgeous memories of falling in love with Jason washed up - him leaving roses in her room after the accident, some of the fear of her mysterious rescuer fading after watching him take such gentle care of his roses and even more tender care of her, him giving roses on dates...
He watched - every fiber could sense him nearby. Opening her eyes, she looked in the direction of the connecting bedroom door. Empty. Then she looked out the hall door to the right beyond the roses. The thick drapes in the next hall had been drawn and cloaked it in darkness. The glint of his eye caught the daylight, giving him away where he remained hidden in the shadows around the corner of the adjacent hall. A subtle smile touched his lips before he melted back into the blackness.
She smiled. He may need physical distance to adjust to his new life, but there was something different about him already - something that whispered an emotional distance wouldn't accompany it.
That evening, she snuggled under the covers of her own bed in the dark. He would come, although likely not stay. But that would be alright. The marriage had taken a couple steps back and yet several steps forward today. Things felt...calm and secure somehow. He hadn't made an appearance again all afternoon, but his presence had been there in the shadows like a guardian angel watching over.
The knob of the connecting door groaned and his heavy footstep creaked the floorboards. "It's me."
The low roll of his baritone awoke the butterflies in her stomach. Rolling onto her side toward the sound of his footsteps approaching, she bit her lip in a shy smile and tucked her hands under her cheek. The sweet man announced himself so as not to frighten her. "I know it's you, Jay." The bed shifted from his weight when he sat on the edge. "You didn't get much work done today."
Silence.
"I sensed you near." Shy delight rose up.
A heavy, warm hand rested on her hip. "Then you're aware of my guilty pleasure in watching you," he purred deep in his chest.
Oh dear heaven, she melted into a puddle. Her heart skipped a beat. She smiled and searched for his face in the darkness. "You aren't going to stay and you aren't going to make love to me., so why did you come?" Sitting up, she set a hand on his arm.
His warm breath stirred strands of her hair against her cheek. "Am I not to find pleasure in my wife's scent or voice or conversation? Only the physical beauty?"
Heat pooled in her belly from the deepness of his baritone spoken soft in the dark. Her cheeks burned and she couldn't hold back the smile. "You try to woo me."
"No, but if I accomplish that along the way, I'll be content." His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
"You are an enigma. Last night you didn't want me to touch you, yet tonight you're almost purring like a kitten."
"Let me come in my own time. There are things I need to come to terms with that can't happen overnight."
"Things that we'll talk about?"
"Not tonight." He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over her brow. "Goodnight, Emma. I love you."
"I love you too." She scooked closer, but he seemed uncertain. "I get to give a goodnight kiss too."
A soft smile touched his lips in the moonlight.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. A kiss on the lips would be too much for him tonight. Then she whispered in his ear, "It feels safe knowing you're in the shadows watching over me."
He turned his head to whisper against her ear, "I will always watch over you and keep you safe." His warm lips pressed a kiss to hers.
