Just Remember to Breathe (12 page)

She blinked, and took a deep breath. Her expression radiated anxiety.

“Talk to me, Alex. Why are you afraid of this?”

Her mouth twitched at the edges into a smile. She whispered, “Because I’m happier right now than I’ve been in a long time. I don’t want to screw it up.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath. It was clear she really meant it. She was happier right now than she’d been in a long time,
because she was with me.

All the more reason to be honest, about everything.

“Neither do I,” I said. “And I’m afraid if we don’t talk, I’ll have assumptions, or you’ll have assumptions, that the other doesn’t share. And we’ll screw up again. And that… I don’t think I could take it.”

“Just answer me one thing,” she said.

I nodded.

“Do you love me? Really? Still?”

I pulled her closer, and said, quietly, “More than life itself.”

She wrapped her arms around me and leaned against my chest. “Okay. Then I’ll talk about whatever you want to talk about.”

So, now that you’ve mentioned the pill (Alex)

“Okay,” I said. “Then I’ll talk about whatever you want to talk about.”

I couldn’t seem to stop holding Dylan. My hands were wrapped around his waist, and I could feel the hard muscle of his abdominal muscles under them.
 

There was no question Dylan was not the same boy I’d fallen in love with. He’d grown, matured in ways I couldn’t have foreseen four years ago. Sometimes I could look at him and see the hardened soldier he’d had to become: occasionally grim faced, chest and arms built like a boxer, short cropped hair, and especially his eyes; eyes that sometimes stared off into the distance as if he were a million light years away. That was the Dylan it was hard to get used to: the one who could get so angry he would slam his fist over and over again into a wall until he broke bones. I sort of understood what had happened to the man, but it was difficult to match up the reality with the boy I’d known and fallen in love with.

The Dylan I’d fallen in love with was gentle, and kind. Thoughtful. Funny. He was still all of those things but had an edge to him that was new and, to be honest, frightening. This was a guy who’d carried weapons in a war for most of last year. This was a man who had killed, who had seen his friends killed in battle. There were depths to him that were all new, and scary as hell.

“So…” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Where do we start?”

He smiled brilliantly, but I could tell he was in a tremendous amount of pain.
 

“I have no idea,” he said.

I leaned my head back, letting out a low chuckle. Finally I said, “Let’s take our time. Here’s what I’ll promise. I promise to give it a chance.”

He nodded. “Me too,” he said.

“In some ways, you know, we hardly know each other.”

“It’s true. I mean… we were seventeen the last time we spent any time together.”

“I was sixteen. And yes… that’s a long time.”

“Plus,” he said, “It wasn’t exactly a normal environment. As much as the Middle East sucks in my mind, there’s no denying the incredible romance of it all.”

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze again, and he said, “You know what?”

“What?”

“There’s a side benefit to this. We get to learn about each other, get to know each other, all over again.” His voice dropped to a husky near whisper, and he leaned close and said next to my ear, “We get to fall in love all over again, for the second time. How cool is that?”

I smiled so wide it hurt my cheeks, and put my lips next to his ear and whispered, “I’d say you’re worth falling in love with twice.”

The old lady who had run off Kelly and Joel cleared her throat, then began grumbling. I rolled my eyes a little, but pulled back all the same. It was just as well, because a few moments later Dylan’s name was called.

I stood and walked with him, holding his uninjured hand. In a curtained-off examination room, a young doctor, probably a medical student, took a look at Dylan’s hand, and said, “Holy mother, what did you do?”

Dylan grimaced. “I kind of punched a wall. Pretty hard.”

The doctor shook his head. “That’s one hell of a punch. We’re going to need to get X-rays. This is going to hurt like hell, I’ve got to clean the wound or it will go septic. Couple questions… any previous hospitalizations?”

“Um, yeah,” Dylan said. I knew he had answered this on the intake form. “Roadside bomb, in February. Screwed up my leg pretty bad. TBI.”

“How’s the leg doing?” the doctor asked.

“I walked in here. The other guys from my hummer are dead. I’m doing okay.”

I shivered at the matter of fact way he said it.

The doctor looked over his glasses at Dylan, then said, “You taking any medications?”

Dylan hesitated, looked at me as if considering something, then answered. “Oxycodone. We’ve been tapering the dosage down for a few months. Paxil. And trileptal.”

I swallowed. He was taking a boatload of drugs. I had no idea.

“Trileptal,” the doctor said. “For seizures?”

“Yeah, I’ve had them occasionally. My primary care doc in Atlanta has been reducing the dosage of everything, but when we tried to stop the anticonvulsants, well… I had seizures. It wasn’t pretty.”

The reality of his war injuries was hitting me hard. Dylan Paris, the guy I knew when we were teenagers… he was a disabled veteran with severe injuries.
 

“Hmm… I think just continue the oxy for the pain. We’ll get some X-rays done, then decide what to do about the hand. It’s going to be a long night for you, Mr. Paris. Wait here, I’ll be right back with you.”

Dylan sighed, then closed his eyes. I held his left hand, and he said, “You don’t have to stay. This is going to take all night.”

I leaned over and kissed him on his eyelid. “Dylan, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with you.”

“You’re crazy,” he said.

“Crazy for you.”

He let out a short, bark-like laugh, then kissed my forehead. “You didn’t know I was on all that stuff.”

I shook my head.

“The oxy we’ve taken down to very little in the last couple months. It’s awesome stuff when you have big gaping holes in you. They started me out on morphine, believe it or not. Holy cow, that stuff is dreamy. I’ve been trying to get them to keep it to an absolute minimum. A little pain won’t kill me, but drug addiction will.”

I nodded, just listening.

“The uh… Paxil… Well, you know. I told you I’ve got some uh, anger issues. Post-traumatic stress. Depression. All that fun stuff.”

He sounded almost ashamed of himself.

“It’s okay, Dylan. That’s perfectly normal. Half the people I know are taking Paxil or something like it.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, well, I’m not a big fan of drugs of any kind.”

“Except your cigarettes.”

He shrugged, then smirked at me. “That’s different. Think they’d notice if I had one in here?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He frowned. “Bummer.”

We sat in silence for a few moments. Then he said, “It doesn’t bother you? The anticonvulsants and all that shit? I’m like taking half the pharmacy. I could break down and have a seizure any time; it still happens sometimes, even with the pills. I can’t even get a driver’s license because of it.”

I frowned. “Does it bother you that I’m on birth control pills?”

Dylan nearly choked, and I got to see something I hadn’t seen in years. He blushed.

I started to giggle, then broke into real laughter.

“Okay. You made your point,” he said.

I still snickered a little, so he decided to turn the tables on me.

“So, now that you’ve mentioned the pill…” he said.

“No. Not ready yet.” I shook my head, a little theatrically.

He raised his eyebrows, grinning.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop eying me like I’m a piece of meat.”

He grinned. “I was thinking more along the lines of… hmm… strawberry shortcake?”

“Oh, no. You are
so
not going there. I am not short. And you are ridiculous.”

“That’s why you love me.”

We heard a loud cough and throat-clearing behind us, and the doctor whisked the privacy curtain to the side. “This way, please, Mr. Paris.”

Screw the rules (Dylan)

Before the long, long night at the emergency room was over, I tried twice more to send Alex home. She refused to go. Instead, during the hours I was waiting for treatment, she lay curled up on the chair next to me, her head resting in my lap as she slept.

The last time we’d been like this, her sleeping next to me, was on a plane a thousand years ago.

It was four in the morning before we finally got out of there. By that time, my hand was wrapped in a heavy cast, immobilizing the fingers. Two of my finger bones had been fractured, the skin torn open on all of them. At one point, when Alex was out of the room, the doctor had suggested I come back to see a psychiatrist and possibly seek out some anger management classes.

“Look,” he said. “We see a lot of guys in your situation. You’ve been in combat. I’m guessing you’ve lost friends.”

I nodded.

“It’s not unusual to have long-term emotional responses to this stuff. Combined with the brain injury, it could be a real problem for you.”

I sighed. “I was seeing a therapist at the VA in Atlanta, before I came up here for college.”

“I think you need to consider setting up an appointment here.”

“I already spend three mornings a week at the VA for physical therapy.”

“So one more won’t hurt.”

I nodded. “I suppose. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” he said.
 

A moment later Alex returned, carrying two large cups of coffee, and the doctor changed the subject.

In the cab, after leaving the hospital, she said in a sleepy voice, “Just come back to my place for the night?”

I swallowed and took a deep breath, a flash of anxiety running through me.
 

“Are you sure?” I asked.

She nodded. She was leaning against me, arms wrapped around my waist, as the cab cruised up the dark, nearly empty early-morning streets.

“Yes,” she murmured. “I don’t want you alone.” She breathed for a couple minutes, then said, “I don’t want to be alone.”

So the cab let us off in front of her dorm. She unlocked the door, and we took the stairs up. At the door to the room she shared with Kelly, she turned back to me and put her arms around me. “Just sleep, okay? I meant what I said, I’m not ready for… you know.”

“Of course,” I said.

“It’s all too new, and different, and confusing,” she said.

“Sleep is good,” I said. I was pretty fucking groggy at that point.

She smirked, then turned around and unlocked the door. She took my hand and pulled me in. We tiptoed, in case Kelly was there, but as promised, she hadn’t come back to the room.
Good for her and Joel,
I thought.
 

I took a deep breath, looking at her. She looked back, her eyes wide and green and beautiful, and I said the first thing that came to mind.
 

“Is kissing you against the rules?”
 

“Screw the rules,” she said. She stepped closer to me, and I put my arms around her, holding the heavy damned cast slightly away from her body. Oh, God, it felt good to touch her. She was breathing quietly as she tilted her head back, and I leaned close, and our lips touched.

My eyes closed, and all my attention focused on where our lips touched, warm, welcoming. Hungry. Her arms came up around me, pressing hard against my back, and suddenly she was pressing her entire body against me. I could feel her breasts against my chest, her hips against mine, and I nearly gasped at the intensity of it. Her mouth opened, and our tongues touched, and she let out a soft moan.
 

I let my knees bend, then gripped her hard around the waist with my right arm and behind the knees with my left. Our lips never lost contact as I lifted her up and carried her toward the bed. Slowly, I sat down with her still in my arms. She twisted, then wrapped her legs around me.
 

My right hand trailed down her back and side to her thighs, then back up, and I breathed deeply, drinking her scent in. The smooth skin, the curve of her thigh, the sweet smell of her hair and face.

“Oh, my God, I’ve missed you, Dylan,” she said.
 

I shifted, bringing my mouth to her neck. She tilted her head back, exposing her entire neckline, and I slowly moved my lips along her jawline to just below her ear.
 

I whispered, “I love you.”

At that, she put both hands to my chest and pushed, tilting me back onto the bed. I kicked off my shoes, and she straddled me, laying her chest against mine. She brought her lips to my neck, and I could feel her incredible hair against my lips. I felt her hands against my shirt buttons.
 

She let out a low chuckle.

“What?” I said.
 

“You know,” she said, her voice almost a growl, “With this cast, you’re going to be practically helpless. I’ve finally got you under my control.”

“I can live with that,” I said, shivering.

She kept unbuttoning my shirt, working her way down slowly, licking my chest as she moved. I closed my eyes, arching my back a little, pushing closer to her. I gasped as she lightly bit one of my nipples, then let out a low groan as her tongue worked its way down my chest. My right hand lay uselessly at my side, encased in its cast, as the left one slowly traced the line of her back, her butt, her legs. I was lightheaded; this was better than any drug I’d ever known.

We were both breathing heavily as I said, “I don’t ever want to be the voice of reason. But is this leading further than you intended?”

She nodded, her hair running across my chest, then she whispered, “I don’t care.”

I looked down my chest, then reached out with my left hand, taking her underneath her armpit and pulling her up to me until we were face to face. There was no way she didn’t know just how aroused I was, not in that thin little dress, with her legs wrapped around me.