Still (13 page)

Pain sliced through her soul, but it wasn’t quite as sharp as usual. “Don’t talk about him to me! I knew him better than anyone.”

“Don’t be stupid. You may have known him better than I did, but I also know that you’re only hurting yourself by refusing to move on. It’s been almost five years, Michelle. I believe that if there is such a thing as heaven, he is looking down on you and doing everything he can to make sure you don’t close yourself off from a great guy.”

Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked them back, willing them not to fall. “I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I could live through losing someone again.” Her voice choked off and she swallowed hard. “I can’t help but feel like I’m cheating on Owen with Wyatt.”

“Oh, Michelle.” Yuki gathered her in a hug, moving to sit next to her on the couch. “You ever hear that saying about life being like looking into a mirror and death looking through a window? It’s true. I know wherever he is he wants you to move on, fall in love, get married, and have beautiful blue-eyed babies. Shoot, for all you know Owen pulled some strings up in Heaven and sent Wyatt to you.”

Though it would have felt so good to let go, to let Yuki hold her while she had a good cry, she couldn’t give up that much control. She suddenly needed Wyatt, wanted him by her side, wanted him touching her and making her feel alive. Memories of their time together by the lake flew through her mind and she silently cursed herself for using him so roughly. He had feelings and she shouldn’t have pushed him like that without having even kissed him.

God, what was wrong with her?

Yuki must have sensed her change in mood because she left the couch and went across the room to the cupboard, pulling out two mismatched mugs. “Did I ever tell you how unfair it is that you look pretty when you cry?”

Michelle giggled, allowing Yuki to draw her away from her dark thoughts. “You are such a sadist.”

“Much to James’ relief, my tastes don’t run in that direction.” She poured them two mugs of coffee, no sugar and no cream, then moved across the room before handing Michelle her mug. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to train your sub, but give the guy a bone.”

Laughing, Michelle raised her cup to her lips. “I think he’s the one that wants to give me a bone.”

“So let him knock the cobwebs off your pussy.”

“You are so foul.”

“I’m just saying that it’s not natural to go this long without dick. If I didn’t know for certain you didn’t swing that way, I’d swear you have a female sub hidden in your closet.”

“I still want to take things slow with him…but maybe not this slow. You’re right, I need to show him some honey tonight instead of vinegar.”

“You give a man one good, toe-curling, I-rocked-your-fucking-world blow job and he’ll never leave you.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

Chapter 6

The muscles along either side of Wyatt’s spine groaned in protest as he hauled another bag of feed into the stables. Thankfully, he regularly worked out his abdominals to regain the strength he’d lost from his injury so he wasn’t worried about re-injuring himself. James had given him a pair of thick leather gloves and a long shirt to wear and then they set to work at cleaning up the stables.

It had been a long, long time since he’d done physical labor on a ranch, not since his grandparents got too old to run their farm and retired to Port Lavaca off the Gulf Coast. The scent of hay and sweat brought back a lot of good memories and he let himself relax into the work. It was nice having something to do, something that made a visible and instant difference. He’d never be happy as a desk jockey, sitting in a cubicle day after day, doing tedious work that would grind his soul into dust. Lifting the last bag from the wagon behind the ATV he used the sleeve of the shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. Once the last bag was in storage he cracked his neck and wandered back out.

“Catch.” James tossed him a bottle of cold water.

Wyatt caught it, cracked the seal and took a big swig. Sweet and cold, the liquid rushed down his throat, clearing away the dust. “Thanks.”

James straddled the ATV and looked over at him with a smile. “Thanks for your help today.” He hesitated and the smile left his face. “Look, I know what goes on between you and Michelle is none of my business, but…well she’s had a rough time the last couple years.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take it easy on her.”

Confused, he capped the water bottle. “Okay. What are you trying to tell me? Just spit it out. I’m not good at this beating around the bush bullshit.”

“No can do. Not my story to tell. I only wanted to let you know that even though Michelle comes off strong, she really has a very gentle heart and can be easily hurt.” He licked his lips and glanced at the barn where his wife was and back at Wyatt. “I just thought you might want to know that you’re the first guy she’s brought home in four years.”

“Excuse me?”

James turned on the ATV, the roar of the engine flooding the air. James raised his voice to be heard over the engine noise. “When things get tough, and they will because that’s life, you need to hold onto that idea. I’m not saying she hasn’t dated, but she’s never brought anyone home to meet us, and we’re pretty much members of her family. Don’t let her push you away, ‘cause she’s gonna try even if she’s not consciously aware that she’s doing it. The more real things become with you, the more vulnerable she feels.”

Wyatt shook his head and a drop of sweat creased down his face. “I don’t understand what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I know. Just know that Yuki and I will give you guys your space, and we’re here if you ever need to talk. Make sure you wash up in the bathroom off the mudroom before you go into the rest of the house. Michelle is death on anyone tromping crap all over her floors. I bet she hasn’t eaten yet, either.”

“So, I should make her lunch?”

“Never hurts to show women you appreciate them.”

James revved the engine and waved, leaving Wyatt standing in the late afternoon sun. He looked at the main house, his gaze searching the windows for some hint of the female inside. She confused the shit out of him. On the one hand, she made him want to throw her up against a wall and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight, and, on the other hand, he wanted to sit at her feet and worship her.

Or both.

Man, was he one fucked up
hombre
.

If he was thinking with his big head instead of his little head he’d ask James to take him into town then call his sister to come pick him up. Surely that was what any normal guy would do. He wouldn’t be thinking about how good it would feel to finally make love to his Domina, to have the intimacy between them that came from the act. And if he was being honest with himself, the thought of her tying him up and having her wicked way with him made his already hard dick jerk in his pants.

His boots scuffed along the earth and he had to keep himself at a casual stroll. Not that anyone was around him, but a man had to have some pride. Part of him was scared at how much he wanted to be with her, but then again when he thought about who she was, what they had been through together…well, fuck, if the woman who saved his life wasn’t good enough to be worshiped like a Queen he didn’t know who was. The memory of her looking down at him as she and a corpsman tried to save his life flashed through his mind, complete with the phantom smells of acrid smoke and fresh blood.

He saw movement from the corner of his eye and he tensed, his mind instantly shouting at him that he was under attack. The spot between his shoulder blades began to itch and his primitive brain screamed at him to run to the house a hundred yards away or dive behind the nearest solid object and seek cover. The fight or flight instinct tried to overwhelm his rational mind and turn him into a thoughtless animal.

Fuck, why does this have to happen now
?

There was no stopping the fear or his body's response, but he knew how to ride it out now and began to employ the techniques he’d been taught to make his stupid animal brain stop trying to take over. Because it was still daylight he was able to use one of the orienting tricks his therapist from the VA had taught him for dealing with panic attacks. He stopped and focused on the house, keeping his arms at his side. This position left him totally vulnerable and his fear ramped up another notch. Every muscle in his body trembled and he fought an internal battle against himself, forcing his body to stay still even as his mind screamed to flee. His muscles locked up tight and a sick feeling of dread filled him until it felt like the world was ending.

His breath came out in rapid pants but he stood still, part of him waiting for an enemy bullet to tear into him, fighting the irrational fear. Thank God he was alone. When his panic attack had struck in the middle of the mall while shopping with his sister, it had been a humiliating experience. He’d been on the edge of a complete meltdown, surrounded by too many people, when a teenage boy bumped into him.

Instead of brushing it off Wyatt had turned on the kid and had been about to kick his ass when his sister stepped between them, pleading with him to back off. She later said that what had scared her the most was that at first he looked at her like he didn’t even recognize her and she’d been really afraid of him for the first time in her life. That event was the one that spurred him to seek help from the over-stretched and understaffed local VA. Turns out he wasn’t the only one having problems adjusting to the real world, and the government had vastly underestimated how many would need assistance holding their shit together enough to just get by.

Now he employed a couple of the ways to get out of panic attack that worked for him. First, he began to tap his fingers against his thumb and picked three things to look at. From his vantage point he immediately locked onto the porch leading to Michelle’s house, and what to his animal self signified safety. The brass door handle of the backdoor leading to Michelle’s house, the potted red geraniums at the bottom of the steps of the porch, and a set of silver and wood wind chimes hanging near a pair of rocking chairs. In no real pattern, he made his gaze go from object to object, naming each and making himself see it. Chimes, door, plant, then plant, chimes, door. Over and over, faster and faster, focusing his mind to stay occupied with both the object identification and keeping his fingers tapping against his thumb. He used to worry about looking like a fucking moron while doing the hand thing, but it was better than losing himself.

A few moments later, the panic began to recede, going down the scale from an eight on a scale of ten, slowly back down to his normal state of two. Yeah, he always felt jumpy now, and while he didn’t like it, he’d rather be jumpy than stoned out of his mind on the drugs they threw at vets. While that worked great for some guys, it turned one of his buddies into a zombie, and that scared the shit out of him more than freaking out in public.

He continued his walk to the house, his head down and praying that no one had noticed. Soon he reached the back door and sprinted the last three steps, that itchy spot between his shoulder blades still insisting a bullet with his name on it was on its way. The cool air in the house brought an instant sigh to his lips and helped him push the memories back. Once inside in the quiet house, it became impossible for his mind to insist that bad guys were going to ambush him from the laundry room. The familiar scents of detergent and fabric softener filled his nose and he took another deep breath, grounding himself in the present.

Sighing, he leaned back against the door and felt most of the tension dissipate, leaving behind the metallic taste of the adrenaline that flooded his system during his attack. The muscles of his back were still tight, and his arms were sore, but that was more from the workout he’d gotten while cleaning the barn with James. Wyatt had forgotten how good it felt to be physically worn out. He had to admit that other than lifting weights he really hadn’t done much to keep in shape other than the occasional bout of physical therapy. He’d done some sporadic jogging, but he worked most of the day with his dad and didn’t like going outside at night unless he was with someone. With a frown he tugged his boots off and headed into the bathroom, banishing the thought of what it would be like to have someone try to mug him as he jogged before it could fully form.

Cool blue glass tiles mixed with different shades of green gave the room an almost iridescent look. He quickly stripped and stepped into the oversized shower, glad to see a bar of regular soap among the bottles of feminine washes and shampoos. Being inside Michelle’s home was strangely intimate, as if everything he looked at hinted at hidden part of her personality and mind that he’d wanted to explore for a long time.

The taste of salt rolled over his lips as the water pounded down on him, scouring away the dirt. He’d lost count of the times he’d fantasized about Michelle over the past two years. When he’d been assigned to the base outside of Kabul, he’d been relieved to finally have a post with at least some of the comforts of home, like electricity and running water. He’d just come off of rotation with the EOD unit and his nerves were past strung out. Guarding a stationary object was like a vacation.

Even if he hadn’t been assigned to watch over Sapphire, he always took a personal interest in the medics. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that if you wanted to live, you needed to keep your doctors and nurses as well supplied and guarded as possible. He made sure that his men treated them with the utmost respect, even when they were prima-donna assholes, which most of them were.

Except Doc.

Humble, kind, and one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in real life, she had the kind of presence that made people around her want to work with her. He’d seen her take control of chaotic, bloody, terrible situations and snap everyone into shape. To say that he admired her was an understatement. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her shit, or that she was perfect, but they had an almost instant rapport with one another.