Unbroken (10 page)

I
wake
up dripping in sweat. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest, and I struggle to calm the panic inside me. I glance down at Milly, who’s still sleeping peacefully beside me. At least I didn’t wake her up.

“It was only a dream,” I whisper to myself. But lately, they’ve been getting more realistic. There were no dragons this time, only exploding vehicles. Only burning men. I miss the stupid dragons. Only at the end of the dream did it become more surreal, as my father showed up, on the side of the Iraqi road, to scream “Disappointment!” at me over and over.

I am an embarrassment. I’m a failure. I wonder, not for the first time, about the families of the men in my unit. Mark was married. Jason had a wife and a kid. Nick had parents and a bunch of siblings who sent him care packages on a regular basis. How were these families coping with the loss of their loved one? What would happen to the children growing up without a father? Do they hate me? I would. I do.

Slowly, I slip out from under the covers and quietly pad out of the room, shutting the door behind me. In the bathroom, I wash my face with cold water, then stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m paler than normal and there are dark circles under my eyes, but otherwise I look the same as I always do.

I’m sleeping better now than I was at my father’s apartment, but I’m still not getting as much shut-eye as I probably need. My doctors have begun to notice. Other than insomnia, however, I’m doing well, so it’s easy to play it off. My memory is slowly improving, my motor skills are now more precise, and I’m beginning to bulk back up.

Eventually, I leave the bathroom and head to the patio. It’s often where I come after I awaken from a nightmare. I let the cool summer breeze chill my sweaty skin, pulling me further from my nightmares and reminding me that I’m no longer in Iraq. At least for now.

The impending decision has haunted my every waking moment. I will need to challenge the medical discharge soon if I don’t want to be released from duty. Do I want that?

Physically, I’m doing well, despite the insomnia. Mentally, the recovery is slower, but I am improving. Emotionally though… emotionally, I’m a wreck. My father would tell me to suck it up. He’d tell me not to let my “feelings” control me. That’s easy for my father to say. He has no discernible emotions, save for anger.

I’m so confused about what’s right, what’s healthy. I’ve spent my entire life doing the right thing. I did what needed to be done. I was a soldier. My father, USNA, the Marines—they’d all taught me how to put my feelings aside. I wasn’t controlled by my emotions.

But it’s becoming harder now. Milly is encouraging me to open up. I want to talk to her. I do. I just don’t know how. Milly never pressures me. She never tells me what to do. But that’s almost worse, somehow. I don’t feel confident in my own ability to make decisions—especially after that fateful mistake.

Yet here I am, having to make a decision that will shape the course of my life. And I have absolutely no idea what to do.

The patio door slides open, interrupting my thoughts.

“Cameron?” Milly asks as she steps outside. Her hair is messy, and she’s wearing nothing but little pink panties and a white tank top. She looks utterly delectable as she sits down next to me. “Another nightmare?”

I nod.

“Want to talk about it?” she asks, smiling at me gently.

“Not really,” I say.

“It may help.”

But I really don’t want to talk. Instead, I lean forward and press my lips to hers. She responds immediately, forgetting all about her desire to talk things through. She opens for me, allowing my tongue to explore her mouth.

I run my hands through her wild hair, pulling gently until she slides off her chair to straddle my lap. I love having her here at my disposal. She’s grinding down against my groin. The feel of her warmth through my thin sleep pants and her silk panties makes me stiffen.

Things have been weird for the last few days—since the confrontation with our parents. We haven’t had sex since then. Not properly at least. A travesty I am going to rectify right now. But not here on the balcony, even if we are three stories above the city.

I stand, holding her securely against me as I open the door. It’s a testimony to my recovery that I’m able to carry her easily into the bedroom and lay her out on the bed without even breaking a sweat.

Before joining her, I go into my duffle bag and pull out a condom, laying it on the nightstand and crawling over her.

The marks I’d made on her pale flesh the other day are all but completely faded. My first order of business is to darken them. I make sure to keep my ministrations below the neckline of her scrubs as I bite and suck bruises into her beautiful skin.

Once I’m satisfied with her neck and cleavage, I pull her top off and go to work on her magnificent breasts. Her nipples are extremely sensitive, I’ve learned. A few circles of my tongue and a gentle nip of my teeth on her nipple, and she’s writhing beneath me.

I then continue my journey down her stomach, kissing and licking a trail to the edge of her panties. She lifts her hips in anticipation, but I want to tease her a little first. I bypass the area covered by silk. Instead, I focus on sucking bruises against her hips and inner thighs.

By the time I push between her legs, her panties are dripping wet. I lick her juices from the fabric for a moment and am rewarded with a loud moan. I want to continue teasing her, but I’m already so hard that it’s painful. I need the release as badly as she does.

Sitting up, I pull her panties down her long, soft legs. Once they’re gone, I stand and push my own pants off. Milly eyes my cock hungrily, so I slowly jerk it a few times before sliding the condom on. I’m rewarded with a moan of appreciation. She spreads her legs in invitation as I crawl back up onto the bed.

I rub my cock through the juices pooling between her folds, dragging it back and forth across her clit a few times. If I had more self-control, I would do this for hours, watching her slowly fall apart beneath me. But I don’t.

In fact, the last shred of my self-discipline is gone. Unable to stop myself, I grab onto her hips and push all the way inside her in one hard thrust.

Milly cries out as I fill her completely. I pause for a moment, giving her a second to adjust. I take the time to savor the way her wet heat squeezes me tightly. I can’t wait long, however. Soon, I’m pumping in and out of her. I start slow, but I build quickly. This isn’t going to take me long. Judging by Milly’s moans, she’s right there with me.

I sit back on my knees so I can watch the way I slide in and out of her body. Her full breasts undulate as she twists in pleasure. She rocks back onto my cock as best she can. Letting go of one hip, I move my thumb against her clit at the same brutal pace with which I’m pounding into her.

The next moment, Milly stills. Her mouth falls open, and her entire body shakes with release. The sight of her orgasm beneath me, along with the feeling of her pussy clenching even tighter around my aching cock, sends me over the edge as well. I buck and moan as I come deep inside her.

I stay buried in her for as long as possible, watching as she pants before me, a small smile spreading across her lips. She finally opens her eyes and looks up at me.

“That was amazing,” she says.

“Yeah,” I agree, finally pulling off her and moving towards the trashcan to dispose of the condom.

“Why haven’t we been doing that all week?” she asks, propping herself up on one elbow so she can watch me walk across the room. Her eyes roam over my body appreciatively, and I preen a little bit. Yep, still got it.

Thankfully, I’ve effectively fucked any thoughts of deep conversation out of Milly’s head. We climb under the covers together and both drift back to sleep.

I
haven’t seen
Susie since before my mother’s wedding. A lot has happened over the last few weeks, but I haven’t wanted to tell her any of it over the phone. She’d texted me the morning after, asking how everything went. All I had said was that the wedding was eventful and I’d tell her later.

And so I find myself biting my nails as I wait for her to get off work so we can meet for coffee before my shift. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Okay, I do. The last thing Susie knew, Cameron had broken my heart and I hated him. Now we’re living together. I know it was quite a leap. I just hope that Susie would understand. She always does.

I’m waiting at Starbucks in the rehab center. I’d refused to come here during the time that Cameron and I were broken up—it held too many memories. I’d opted instead for the burnt coffee-maker sludge. But now I feel warm and nostalgic as I procure two chairs. I think of the first time I picked up coffee for Cameron—the first time we hung out, not as a nurse and a patient. I’m still grinning when Susie arrives.

“Hey,” she says, smiling tiredly in return as she sinks into the chair next to me.

“Hey,” I answer, handing her an iced mocha.

“Thanks,” she says. She takes a long drink. “God, I love coffee. And chocolate.”

“Long night?” I ask.

“You have no idea,” she replied. “I really don’t know how much longer I can keep this third shift routine up. Other people are constantly begging to trade. I love the money, but man, is it killing me.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” I say, taking a sip of my own coffee. “The noon to midnight shift is tough enough.”

“Twelve hours is long,” she agrees, “but at least you only work four days a week.”

“Yeah,” I say. It’s really come in handy since Cameron moved in. He doesn’t have much going on, besides rehab and doctors’ appointments, so having three days off to spend with him has been nice.

Eventually, the caffeine slowly revives Susie, and she’s studying me appraisingly.

“You look well,” she says. “Better than the last time I saw you.”

“It really doesn’t take much to look better than the last time you saw me,” I reply, thinking back at what a mess I’d been that week.

“So,” Susie says.

“So what?” I ask.

“So how was the wedding? I’ve barely heard a peep from you since then.”

“I’m sorry that your crazy nocturnal schedule has made it almost impossible for me to keep you in the loop.” I don’t know why I’m deflecting. I actually made plans with her so I could give her all the gritty details of the last few days. And because I need advice.

“Don’t remind me,” she says. “I hate it. I have no life. Now, give me the details of yours so I can live vicariously. Tell me about the wedding. Was is as tacky as you were predicting? Was Cameron there? Did you talk to him? How are things with your mom?”

“Oh my god… that’s a lot of questions,” I can’t help but laugh. Susie is obviously on a caffeine and sugar high. “Um… the wedding was… interesting. Yes, Cameron was there. And yes I talked to him. Actually, we did more than talk.”

“What?” Susie gasps, leaning forward and nearly spilling her coffee on the floor. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” I say, then bury my face in my hands for a minute and giggle before looking back up at her. “It means that we had sex in a supposedly-off limits bedroom in the mansion where our parents were having their reception downstairs.”

I can see Susie’s eyes getting wider as I speak. Her mouth is hanging open. I can’t blame her. I
never
do stuff like this. Well… with the exception of Nick the asshole, who is now all but forgotten.

Susie seems to be speechless.

“Please say something!” I finally beg.

“Um…” Susie begins. “I really don’t know what to say. Have you seen him since?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing I wanted to talk to you about. He’s kinda been living with me.”

“Kinda?” Susie asks.

“Okay, he’s definitely living with me. But only temporarily.”

“Isn’t that a little fast?” she asks. I swallow. It’s a fair question and I knew it was coming. “Last time I talked to you, you hated the guy. Now, you’re living with him?”

“There are… extenuating circumstances,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not doing well. Emotionally. He keeps having these nightmares. I thought it would be good for him to be with someone who can take care of him while he continues to recover.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Oh, and his father is pressuring him to contest his medical discharge and remain in the service. But I can’t tell what Cameron wants.”

“Why do you think that is?” Susie asks. Her face is serious now. I know she’s trying to understand. This is why she’s my best friend.

“He can’t imagine doing anything else with his life. He’s trying to figure it out. I think it’s a horrible idea for him to go back to active duty now. He’s still healing.” I don’t add that now that Cameron is living with me, the idea of watching him go back overseas is making me miserable. Instead, I change the topic. “Plus, our parents kind of hate us right now.”

“Because you’re together.”

“Yeah,” I say. “His father called him a disappointment. Cameron took it pretty hard.”

“That’s the least of things my father has called me over the years,” Susie says with a laugh.

“I know, right?” I respond. “Sabrina has said so much worse to me. But Cameron is different. He’s never really gone against his father’s wishes before.”

“And he did it for you,” Susie said with a soft sigh. Something warm spreads across my chest at the thought.

“Not just for me,” I reply. “For him too. He has a massive decision to make. It will affect the rest of his life.” I lean forward. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. He’s refusing to discuss it.”

“Have you asked?”

“Yes! And it’s not just about this that he won’t talk. His nightmares. Something happened when he was injured in Iraq. Something awful. But he won’t talk about it.”

“Wow,” Susie says, sitting back in her chair. “You really do have your hands full.”

“He probably has PTSD,” I barely whisper.

“Is he seeing a shrink?”

“No,” I reply. “He’s seeing a physical therapist and a neurologist on a regular basis, but that’s it.”

“He really should see someone. He’s got a lot going on.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I just don’t know how to convince him.”

“You should at least bring it up, see how he responds,” Susie says.

“I have,” I tell her.

“Well, keep doing it—but gently. Men are always reluctant about the idea of having to see a shrink. And I’m not trying to change the subject, but I think you should try to work things out with your mom, too.” I just laugh bitterly at the suggestion. “I’m serious. I know Sabrina hasn’t been the best mother, but you’ve never been estranged like this. It’s one more added stress for you and Cameron.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say, though I know I won’t. If I never see my mother again, it will be too soon.

“And I’d really like to meet Cameron,” Susie says. I perk up at that suggestion.

“Totally,” I reply. “When are you off next?”

Susie and I make plans to get together on our next day off, then she leaves to get some sleep and I—to get ready for my shift. I feel much better knowing that Susie didn’t completely freak out on me. She even wants to meet Cameron!

O
ur next shared
day off is a Tuesday. Initially, Cameron is a little hesitant about the prospect of meeting my best friend. I think he’s been so isolated since his injury that he’s become slightly more introverted than he usually is.

Eventually, he warms up to the idea and even agrees to help me cook dinner. Since we’ve been living together, Cameron has taken on most of the cooking, to my surprise. He says it’s just because he doesn’t have much else to do, but I think he actually enjoys it. And he’s turned out to be a much better cook than I am.

But I’m till a little nervous though. Susie is my best friend, after all. It’s important to me that she gets along with my boyfriend. I know I’m over-reacting. Susie gets along with my mother, for crying out loud. If you can find redeemable qualities in Sabrina Hamilton, you can find redeemable qualities in anyone. And I may be biased, but I think Cameron is pretty perfect.

Cameron must pick up on some of my anxiety, because he seems nervous as well, stressing over the steaks much more than necessary.

“Trust me,” I tell him, “Susie can and will eat anything. In school, she practically lived off of ramen and canned tuna.”

“Well, she’s not in school anymore,” he replies as he stirs the marinade. It’s his own recipe. He’s refusing to let me near it.

“She’s even worse now,” I say, wrapping my arms around him as he works. “She lives on Starbucks and Oreos.”

“I just want her to like me,” he admits.

“She will!” I promise, trying to convince myself as much as him.

Steaks are in the broiler, potatoes are in the oven, and asparagus is steaming on top of the stove when Susie arrives with a bottle of wine.

It becomes apparent very quickly that neither Cameron nor I have anything to worry about. Things are awkward for less than five minutes, until Cameron slaps Susie’s hand away from the cheese sauce and tells her to get out of his kitchen and go pour the wine. From that moment on, they banter like siblings.

When everything is finished, the three of us squeeze onto the patio and enjoy the evening air. The temperature is starting to cool down and the breeze is lovely. Susie spends most of the meal giving Cameron detailed recounts of our sordid college shenanigans. They’re mostly stories about Susie’s crazy shenanigans and my inability to deal with them.

“You remind me of someone,” Cameron says, laughing after a particularly crude tale.

“Yeah? Someone awesome, I bet!” Susie says, leaning forward to pour more wine into her glass.

“My friend Bryce. He was pretty awesome.”

“Was?” Susie asks, growing serious.

“Is, I guess,” Cameron replies. “He’s still alive.” Cameron blanches at this, obviously thinking about the members of his squadron that died during that fateful accident. “We just lost touch.”

“Well then,” Susie says, “Maybe you should try to get in touch with him again.”

Cameron’s sad expression once again morphs into a smile, and I’m extremely grateful to Susie and her ability to lighten any moment.

“Maybe I will,” Cameron tells Susie with a laugh. I make a mental note to ask Cameron about Bryce later, though I doubt he’ll tell me. He’s still not telling me anything, at least not anything to do with Iraq.

Eventually, Cameron picks up the empty plates and heads into the kitchen to clean up the dinner mess. Both Susie and I offer to help, but he just shakes his head.

“You’re too drunk,” he gripes. “You’ll just get in the way.” It’s not true. We’ve only had a couple of glasses of wine apiece, but we let him go anyway.

“I like him,” Susie says once he’s safely out of hearing distance. “I like him a lot.”

“Me too,” I tell her. “In fact, I think I more than like him.”

Susie just smirks at me.

“I’m just not sure the feeling is mutual,” I tell her.