I set down a bottle I’ve been drying for a good minute, lay the towel over the sink faucet, and put a hand to my hip as I face my mom. “So, I told you things were a little rocky with Malik and me this morning.”
She nods, clearly not needing the reminder. She wants the meat-and-potatoes of the issue. Her gaze moves briefly down to Avery before coming back to me with her brows lifted in question.
“He’s been cleared for full duty,” I say. “He actually left to go to Ft. Bragg this morning for some training.”
And then I wait for her brows to knit, her face to pinch with worry, and then her eyes to soften in sympathy.
Except she just stares blankly.
“He’s going to be doing more dangerous operations,” I say, filling in the apparent blanks she has.
Mom gives me nothing. Not even a flicker she’s bothered by this news on my behalf. I can’t figure out if she’s being purposely obtuse or she’s trying to strong-arm me into facing my fears.
“Mom… he could die,” I finally blurt in exasperation. “I could lose him, after having just gone through the horror of losing someone I love.”
“So, you love Malik?” she asks, apparently her only curiosity. But the question is starkly brazen, and she’s making me confront an issue that’s just as big.
What exactly are my feelings for Malik?
I had yet to fully poke around them because it was easier to just shut things down by telling him I couldn’t be involved with someone in this line of work.
My mom is not going to be so kind as to let me continue to ignore this. Now her expression is a bit hard, definitely determined to make me peel away the layers and examine some hard truths.
“Do you love him?” she asks bluntly.
I blow out a long breath, turning my gaze down toward the sink. How do I really feel about Malik? I mean, he’s so different from Jimmy.
My husband was always going at top speed, and he was an excellent multi-tasker. He always handled everything because he was just good at, well… everything. I depended on him for so many things. While he was short on soft words, he was big on important actions. I knew I loved him when he would make the effort to just slow down to be with me, present in a given moment.
Malik is the same in that he’s a man’s man, same as Jimmy had been. It’s probably typical for most military, but the differences are stark. Malik is easy to talk to and while he’d never hesitate to step in and take care of me if necessary, he gives me space to let me try it myself. It’s a level of respect I didn’t have with Jimmy, because he was just content to do it all for me.
One of the biggest differences is with the level of intimacy. Jimmy was a considerate lover who made me feel good about myself always. Any time he touched me, I’d melt and submit.
Malik, though, is something else. I don’t want to wait for him to touch me. I want to pounce on him at all times. We could be having a serious discussion, yet the back of my mind will still be buzzing with how all around attracted I am to him.
I feel bad right this moment even acknowledging that, but there it is. The sexual chemistry I have with Malik is just something I hadn’t really known existed before.
Regardless, it’s not their differences that have me confounded because I think it’s possible to connect with two very different men for very different reasons. Rather, it’s the one constant they both had that has my stomach in knots, and it’s their line of work.
More specifically, that they do work that’s so dangerous it could cost them their lives.
It could cost me my heart again.
My mom waits patiently for me to answer her question… do I love Malik?
I can only tell her this. “I think the mere fact I’m so terrified of losing him in the same way I lost Jimmy that it means I do. And I never thought I’d feel that for someone again, you know? I thought Jimmy was my one chance, yet, by some grace, I was given another. And he’s precious to me, Mom. So precious the thought of losing him makes me want to shut myself away, to be thankful for the time and memories we’ve made. I’ll hold them close, cherish them, and pull them out to remember. But I won’t be hurt again.”
“You’ll be hurt if you let Malik go,” she challenges.
I lift my chin. She’s right, but she’s also wrong. “Not in the same way. Trust me on this, Mom. The pain of loving someone and them dying is far worse than just having a taste of love and letting them go.”