No Strings Attached (15 page)

"What are ya listening to?"

"I have a huge play list, I'm just scrolling through."

"Let me choose a song for you."  His finger brushes over mine when he reaches for the phone.  I glance down as he removes the phone from my hand and notice his leg bumped up against mine again, but this time it doesn't irritate me.

He scrolls through my music and I watch as he hesitates, but I can't see what he's looking at.  "Okay.  You ready?"  The song begins and an instant rush of heat flows through my body.  There is no mistaking that beat.  I'm not sure where the grin on my face comes from, but it spreads across my lips.  I begin to move my leg with the beat, closing my eyes and allowing the music move me.  It's impossible not to move your body to this song.  He really did just play 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails to me.  I'm going to take this as a sign that we will be pushing this a little further than conversation. 

I listen to the entire song while he watches my every move.  I can feel him adjust in his seat a few times while the music moves me.  The pressure of his body leaning on mine gives me hope for what's to come. 

When the song finishes, I don't really know how to react, so I begin to scroll again.  The sexual tension is so damn tight right now I can hardly breathe and I know
he
feels it, too.

"What hotel are you staying at?"  His whisper in my ear sends a chill straight through to my core. 

"Downtown Marriott."  My breathy answer proves to him that I'm game for anything.  He hasn't pulled away from my face since whispering in my ear.  I let my eyes move up his chest, over his lips and to his eyes.  His close proximity has me holding my breath for sure.  His eyes begin to move over my features right before he sits back in his seat.  He's still leaning in my direction, but not right in my face so I can finally take a much needed breath of air.

The rest of the flight seems to go extremely fast and it isn't long before we land.  I spend the remainder of the time contemplating what I'm about to do.  It's been almost a year since James passed, but I still really miss him.  I think knowing that this will be nothing more than a one-time hookup will work for me.  Anything more than that and I know I'll have a hard time, 

There really isn't any further conversation between us until I step into the airport.  "I'll help you with your luggage and then we can get a cab to your hotel room."  He stands right behind me while we are waiting for the luggage to arrive.  I'm talking
right
behind me and I'm guessing it's to hide the bulge that I can feel against my ass.  Shit, it's been a long time and I want to do this.  I refuse to let myself begin to think about my past and reasons why this shouldn't happen. 

Shattered and Shaken

Shaken Series

Book 1

Written by J Bailes

Copyright © 2013 J Bailes

Chapter 1- Shaken

WAKING UP TO SORE muscles and a tight chest, my body feels like it's been torn to pieces. My head hurts, my heart aches, and my soul is shattered. The sun is unwanted, shining bright into my eyes. The loud joyful chirping of birds infuriates me.

Fighting against the sun, I force my eyes open and look at my surroundings, praying I'm lost in a nightmare. The events from this week remain fresh in my mind, and I'm having difficulty grasping the concept that Kyle's never coming home. The thought of never seeing him again is unbearable. Not only was he my brother, he was my best friend, my provider: my everything.

How could he leave me? He had promised to come home safely; he promised to think of me and push through whatever came his way. He lied. I'm hurt, but I'm also livid that he could be so selfish. When Kyle decided to join the military, he didn't consider the emotional hell he'd inflict on Mom and I; he didn't give a flying fuck about either one of our opinions. Kyle was as stubborn as a mule, and once he had his mind set on something, he made it happen - no matter what the consequences were. Prime example, him joining the military. I pleaded for him to stay, but he didn't, and look what his stubbornness resulted in - death. Now he's gone and we have no one!

Our father was diagnosed with stage-four lung cancer my junior year of high school, and Kyle's sophomore year of college. Dad's physician estimated he would live no more than six months, but he was a fighter and determined to prove them wrong. The cancer was so advanced the physicians were uncomfortable providing him with chemotherapy treatments. The doctors had explained that chemo wouldn't cure his cancer, but there was a possibility it could help prolong his life. Despite the physicians’ beliefs, dad decided to give chemo a try, but it made him deathly ill.

After six months of treatment and a two-week hospital stay, he decided to let the cancer run its natural course. Dad thrived to live, but unfortunately, he died eighteen months later. Mom, Kyle, and I watched as dad withered away to nothing. The tall, dark, and handsome man I knew as the strongest man in the world had turned brittle and weak. His thick curly locks disappeared, his broad body frame became narrow, and his muscles deteriorated. As days passed and the cancer spread, dad's will to live diminished. We stood by him and held his hand as he struggled to take his last breath; it was the most painful experience I've ever encountered - until now.

After our father's death, mom took on a second job to pay for his medical bills. It seems that insurance companies only want to provide their services to healthy patients. Get sick and they kick your ass off the policy faster than you can blink. We were determined to beat cancer's ass.

Mom had to refinance the house and take out several high interest loans so that dad could receive his treatments, home health, and follow-up doctor visits, putting her eyeball deep in debt. She worked as a nurse for the local emergency room every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights. The other nights, she worked as a private nurse caring for patients with disabilities. Before our father became ill, Mom was gorgeous, sporting healthy long brown waves, glowing sun-kissed skin, vibrant green eyes, and a nice toned body. But depression set in, and with the stress of two jobs, mom's great looks and enthusiasm diminished. Her hair became brittle; her appetite vanished, and she lost an absurd amount of weight. Her cheeks sunk in, while her skin paled, and her eyes lost their shine. In all honesty, she looked like shit. Don't get me wrong, I mourned the loss of my father, but life moves on. Kyle mourned and moved on, but seeing Mom worn out and defeated made Kyle take matters into his own hands. He knew the true reason mom had to work two jobs.

Mom was a Dave Ramsey graduate, and she refused to let us take out student loans. She was being unrealistic believing I could pay cash for college. Dad's insurance policy expired before he died, and the money left from his 401k was only enough to pay for one of our tuitions. Since Kyle was oldest, it belonged to him. Kyle wouldn't allow me to skip college. He put his foot down and demanded Mom drop her second job. He advised her to take his tuition money and invest it into my education. He had made the decision after he had met with military recruiters. They fed his brain with lies, luring him into their trap; it was all bullshit. If being ‘Army strong” is such a great thing, then why must you sign a contract with your blood, huh? What other job requires you to sign a minimum four-year contract to offer up your life? Go ahead, I'll wait...not a damn one. Their contract isn't one you can breach and be forced to pay fines or anything like that. You go AWOL and breach your contract, your ass is going to jail. The only pro of enlisting into the military is that it's a career that requires no experience, and they pay a decent salary for you becoming a life-offering slave, simply my opinion.

I remained bitter for a while, but eventually, I'd adjusted to Kyle's absence; his first deployment was the most difficult. Normally, he was deployed for seven months at a time, give or take a few months. We talked to each other over the phone almost every morning. We got to speak to one another for about ten minutes, sometime less; they were the minutes I craved each day. Hearing his voice put my nerves at ease; I loved that man more than most siblings will ever admit. Every once in a while, we'd Skype, but those conversations were even shorter. Soldiers would be lined up waiting to see their families, so we made our conversations quick.

I loved seeing Kyle over the screen, but I'd hate to be the reason a child didn't get to see their mom or dad for what could possibly be their last time. The worst part of Kyle being overseas was playing the waiting game. When someone was killed in the line of duty, their systems would shut down for two weeks, or until the next of kin were notified. The silence was debilitating, and I absolutely hated waiting to hear his voice. When the phone rang and I finally heard his voice, I would fall to my knees and cry. I'd cried for the loss of soldiers. I cried for their families, but mostly, I cried out of happiness, because Kyle's heart continued beating.

I stop myself from reminiscing and untangle from my sheets. I sit up and my muscles scream out in protest. Sitting still, I allow them to adjust to the position before slinging my legs off the bed and attempting to stand. Reaching my arms above my head, I stretch out soreness that has consumed my muscles. Strolling towards my bedroom window, I pull the curtain aside and reach down to slide the window open. It's beautiful out. The sun is brightly shining. The air is warm with a slight breeze, and I hear laughter of playing children. Really?

What is Mother Nature thinking? It shouldn't be gorgeous the day after I buried one of the most important people in my life. Kyle's death is devastating and the world moves on as if nothing's happened. I feel as if Mother Nature should be unleashing her wrath on Earth. There should be heavy downpours of rain that cause floods, rolls of Earth-shaking thunder, damaging winds and lightning strikes catching shit on fire: anything but sunny. A piece of me wants someone to feel the tiniest ounce of pain my mother and I are experiencing, but another piece of me wouldn't wish this pain on my worst enemy. Tears prick my eyes, and I attempt to take in a few deep breaths but fail. As soon as I suck in the air, I bust into heart-wrenching sobs. Why is this happening to me? Did I not experience enough heartache watching my father lose his battle to cancer?

As I press my back against the wall and slide down to the floor, my hands cover my face and I scream out every bit of pain that's within me. I don't stop until my tears run dry and I'm gasping for air. I try to focus on breathing but it's difficult. My sadness has turned into complete anger and I have the urge to break things, anything. I push myself up off the floor and punch at the air. I look around my room for something to smash, but there's nothing. Looking over to my side, I see picture frames filled with Kyle's smiling face; seeing him causes my heart to clench and pain surges through my veins. Jumping onto my bed, I reach over and forcefully swipe my arm across the nightstand, successfully knocking every picture of me and Kyle to the hardwood floor.

The frames break apart and the glass shatters. Immediately, I regret breaking them, but there's something about the sound of shattering glass that makes my chest feel lighter, making it easier to breathe. I should feel some sort of remorse by not wanting to look at Kyle's face, but at the moment, my heart can't tolerate the slightest glimpse of him. I'd rather surrender myself to the pain of a thousand hornet stings than to feel the pain I get when looking at someone I know I'll never see again.

I gather some towels and head towards the bathroom. Laying my towels on top of the vanity, I glance into the mirror. I look like shit. My hair's in knots and matted to the side of my face. My eyes are red and swollen, and my cheeks are tear stained with smeared mascara. I turn towards the shower and turn the water to its hottest setting, praying the heat will ease my aches and pains. I wait a few moments before sticking my hand under the water to test the temperature; it's hot but tolerable.

Gently pulling the shower curtain aside, I submerge myself into the heat. It's friggin’ hot! It stings like a mother, but eventually, my body adjusts to the temperature, and the stinging becomes bearable. I reach around and hold my hair up so the pressure from the water can beat against my neck. I roll my neck in circular motions trying to release the tension, but as I let the water relax me, I have flashbacks from the day Kyle was supposed to return home.

“I can't wait to see the look on his face when he gets home,” mom exclaims. “I can't believe he's been gone for seven months, feels longer.” The smile she's wearing is bigger than the state of Texas, and it's contagious.

“It's probably because we haven't spoken to him in over a week,” I suggest, blowing a piece of hair out of my face as I hang balloons.

“Yeah, wonder what's taking them so long to notify the family? I hate this, ya know...anxiously waiting to see if we'll get a call with his sweet voice on the other end, or if we'll be getting an unwanted knock at our door,” she says, her smile disappearing as her eyes begin to mist.