Away From You (Back To You Book 2) (15 page)

A few hours
later, I’d finally finished wallowing in self-pity. The one coherent thought
that I could remember from my little adventure in the bathroom this morning was
that I desperately needed to get back into shape again. The doc hadn’t cleared
me for any strenuous workouts, but a walk would probably do me a lot of good.
Besides, daytime TV sucked.

I threw on
my Nikes and grabbed my headphones and keys from the table by the door. Just as
I was selecting the heavy metal song I wanted to listen to, an incoming call
popped up on my screen. It was my mom. She’d been calling to check up on me
multiple times a day since we’d gotten back from DC. I hadn’t talked to her yet
today, but I really wasn’t in the mood to talk to her now. Knowing that she
would just worry or call right back, I answered the phone with a sigh.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hey,
sweetie,” Mom replied. “How are you today?”

“Fine.”

She
chuckled. “I’m sure you are. Olivia’s been taking such good care of you.”

Her words
were like a punch in the gut. Olivia had been taking great care of me, in fact.
She’d prepared a million different meals that I could eat during the day when
she was gone, even taking the time to label them with reheating instructions. She’d
been changing my bandages, massaging the muscle around the wound, and getting
ready in the downstairs bathroom so as not to disturb me at the butt crack of
dawn. And those are only the things she did that were outside of the norm. She
was still doing all of the things she always did for me, like laundry, dishes,
and cleaning the house. What did she get in return for all of that? An asshole
who
yelled at her twice in an hour.
Awesome.

“Yeah, I
know.”

“How’s she
doing with school by the way? Is everything all sorted with her instructor?”

My steps
faltered. “What do you mean?”

“You know,
with the assignments she’s been missing. She said she was going to meet with
him during office hours to see if she could make them up.”

I didn’t
want to make it sound like I had no idea what she was talking about, so I
played along. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Oh, good.
I’d hate to see her have to retake a class or something.”

“Yeah, that
would suck.” I didn’t like the idea of Olivia confiding in my mom about
something she was struggling with and not telling me.

“Anyway, I
called to see if you were feeling up to coming to dinner tonight. Your sisters
want to see you.”

I groaned
inwardly. The last thing I wanted to do was sit around the table with my sisters
and field questions about what it was like or how it felt when I got shot. I
had to get out of it. “When?”

“What night
works for you, sweetie?” Mom replied cheerfully.

“Uh, I don’t
know, it really just depends.”

“Okay… how
about tonight?”

I looked
both ways before I stepped into the crosswalk near the park I was heading
towards. “Olivia’s actually going to be home late tonight.”

“Well, how
about tomorrow then?” Mom tried again.

I paused for
good measure. “No, actually I think we have plans with our friends already.”

“And
Friday?” She asked.

“No, sorry,
she’ll have late classes again.” I lied. I actually had no idea what her
schedule was, but I just hoped that my mom didn’t know it better than I did. She
apparently knew everything else about Olivia’s schooling.

“That’s all
right, sweetie. You just let me know what night works for you and we’ll do it
then, okay?”

“Sounds
good, thanks for the invite, Mom. Listen, I’m actually about to meet up with my
friend right now, can I call you later?”

“Have fun,
Matt. And make sure you take it easy!”

I promised
her I would and disconnected the call, not even bothering to put on the music
I’d wanted to hear earlier. I had reached the park, and despite the fact that
my injury was in my arm, I still found myself needing to sit down and catch my
breath. I let my head hang down between my knees, hating the feeling of being
weak. I hadn’t even made it a half a mile from my house yet and I already
needed a break.

Even though I’d
told my mom that I had plans with a friend when I really didn’t, I wondered if
I should actually turn that into the truth. I hadn’t seen Brooks at all since
the hospital in Germany, and he’d gotten back in town yesterday. He probably
wouldn’t be up for visitors, but it was worth a try.

He answered
on the first ring. “Hey, Mills.”

“Hey,” I
responded, glad that he picked up. “How are you, man?”

Brooks
chuckled. “Dude, I’m pretty banged up. But I’m getting better. How’re you
holding up?”

“Nah, man,
I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

“Right. So,
what’s up?” He asked.

“Are you up
for visitors?”

“Sure,
Mills, swing on over. My wife’s out grocery shopping so I’m just sitting here
playing Clash of Clans.”

“Sweet, text
me your address, I’ll walk over.”

I started
walking to Brooks’ house using the directions shown on my phone’s GPS app. I
knew that they lived in the same military housing community that we did, but I started
when I saw how close they really were. The distance should have been nothing
for me, considering my usual fitness level, but I was sweating and breathing
hard by the time I got there. Rather than look like a total pansy, I took a
minute to catch my shaky breath before I rang his doorbell.

“Hey, come
on in,” Brooks greeted me when he opened the door. He limped slightly, not in a
way that babied his legs, but rather that his whole torso was too rigid to walk
normally. He’d been shot in the side of his stomach, and I was sure that there
were some hefty bandages under the USMC sweatshirt he was wearing. After
hearing about the extent of his surgeries, I would’ve been shocked to see him
walking without some sort of limp. “So, how’s it going, man?”

I shrugged
as I took a seat on the couch next to his recliner. “I’m good, bro.”

“You don’t
look too good. No offense.”

I breathed
out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know. The last week has just been really weird,
I guess. It’s weird being back. Don’t you think?”

Brooks
adjusted his position in the recliner with a wince. “It’s pretty great,
actually. I know I’ve only been back a day but my girl’s been waiting on me
hand-and-foot. We keep joking about how I’m going to milk this shit as long as
possible. Plus, I don’t have to go back to work for another eight weeks, and
that’s
if
the doctor’s okays it, so
maybe I’ll get to say out even longer. Honestly, I’m just glad to be alive and
just tryin’ to live it up right now, ya know?”

Hearing
Brooks’ positive outlook only served to make me feel worse. Here he was, worse
off than me by far, and he seemed to be doing just fine with it all. The bullet
wound in my shoulder paled in comparison to him almost dying. The doctor gave
me six weeks until I had to back since it would take time for the muscles in my
arm to heal enough to work even on the little stuff, let alone loading bombs. Brooks’
insides had to be put back together like a puzzle. I felt like the biggest
loser ever for not being able to cope as well as he was. I had no idea what to
say, so I just sat there, literally twiddling my thumbs.

“Have you
gone to one of those sessions yet? My appointment is later today.” He asked,
referring to the mandatory therapy sessions that we had to take before we could
go back to work.

“Yeah, it
was brutal.” Mine hadn’t gone very smoothly at all. Every time the doc had
tried to bring up the firefight, I got all heated and she changed the subject.
It was actually kind of embarrassing. But the last thing I wanted to do was
talk to some shrink about that day. I couldn’t make sense of it all myself, how
was I supposed to relay my feelings to a total stranger?

“Oh, that
sucks, man. I’m looking forward to it.”

I frowned at
him. “You’re looking forward to it? Are you serious?”

“Well, I
mean, I’ve already talked to Cat about everything, but they say it’s supposed
to be good for recovery or whatever to get it all out in therapy. Either way,
it’s one step closer to getting back to normal and putting this shit behind
me.”

“What all
did you tell her?” I asked, referring to Catherine. I hadn’t told Olivia much
of anything.

“Everything.
We stayed up talking about it like the whole first night I got to be with her
in Germany. She was totally swooning, all impressed with my bravery and shit.
If I
wasn’t
in such incredible pain, I probably
would’ve tried to get some. But life’s not like the movies, and that would’ve
hurt really bad.”

I stared at
him while he laughed at his own joke. How the hell was he able to be so casual
about all of this? How could he have told his wife about all the shit that
happened that day like it was no big deal? I still had nightmares every night,
not to mention the creepy shit like the man in the mirror this morning. Why
wasn’t he as fucked up as I was?

“Dude. Are
you okay? You really look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

Brooks
frowned. “Seriously. What aren’t you telling me?”

I stood up.
“This was a bad idea, I should go.”

“Wait, what
was a bad idea? Coming here?”

I waved a
hand. “I just thought we might be on the same page, but it doesn’t seem like we
are. It’s like we weren’t even there together that day.”

“Matt, sit
down, man. I’m not tryin’ to get weird on you, but I’m actually kind of
worried. You’re not making sense. Of course we were there together! We’re
brothers
man. We went through some crazy shit together. Now
look at us, home and safely on the other side of it. What more could you want?”

I felt
insane. The words coming out of his mouth barely registered with me. He equated
this shit to a movie where the guy gets hurt in battle and his wife bangs him
because she’s so turned on by his bravery. For me, it’s been a nightmare that I
can’t wake up from. Why does he get to feel all happy and grateful and I’m over
here feeling like a crazy person who sees danger in his own reflection?

“This is
bullshit. I gotta go.” I started towards the door, knowing he couldn’t get up
fast enough to stop me without ripping his stitches.

“Mills! Man,
c’mon! You need to talk to somebody about this, bro!” He called after me as I
slammed the door on him and his shitty advice.

Olivia

I sighed heavily as I trudged up the
steps to my front door. I put the key in the latch, but didn’t turn it. After
the day I’d had, the last thing I wanted to do was fight with Matt. I stared at
my shoes. The only way to know if he would be in the fighting mood was to go
inside. But lately, there was no telling what mood he’d be in. I was scared to
find out. Not scared for my life or anything, just apprehensive of going
another round with the new version of my husband. Coldly distant yet
hot-tempered, and wounded in more than one sense of the word.

The door swung
open, and since my hand was still on my keys in the latch, the sudden movement
caused me to lurch forward. I let out a surprised squeak, crashing right into
Matt. He steadied me with his good arm. His warm breath mingled with mine. I
had the distinct feeling of longing as I stared up into his eyes. It had been
far too long since he’d held me like this. It left me feeling complete and
hollow at the same time.

His eyes
were dark, almost threatening, as he held me against him in the doorway. He
shifted me slightly, closing the door and taking my bag from my shoulder. I was
too shocked to say anything. Lately, we’d had brief embraces or shallow kisses
when he was trying to make up for something he’d done. I’d only tried to make
love with him once since he’d been back. He’d refused me so coldly that I never
tried again.

After what
seemed like an eternity of heated silence, he finally made up his mind. He
brought his lips to mine with a crushing force, almost causing me to lose my
balance again if not for his arms around my waist. I melted into the
familiarity of his scent. His heart beat fervently against mine and I pulled
him tighter against me. He picked me up under my arms and I wrapped my legs
around him, not reacting to the pained expression that crossed his face. I knew
enough about his temperament now to know that he would flip if I mentioned his
injury again. The fight we’d had that morning over him mowing the lawn flashed
through my mind, but I pushed it away. Now was not the time to think about
asshole Matt. I liked passionate Matt much better.

He carried
me to the couch and sat down. I straddled him, my hands splayed out over his
chest. He pulled my scrub top over my head and when I tried to take his shirt
off he resisted – roughly. We hadn’t spoken a word. He didn’t seem any
more interested in speaking than I was. I brought my mouth down to his neck and
moaned as he massaged my breasts through my bra. He took it off and buried his
face in me, breathing deeply. It had been far too long since we’d done this. I
wanted to feel his bare chest against mine, but I knew better than to try to
take off his shirt again. Instead, I concentrated on the feeling of his rough
and calloused hands skimming along my back and sides.