When I turn back around, I’m met with a glare that could set lesser men sterile. Instead of moving or feeling any type of modesty, she sits there, legs still wide open, and watches me as I get up to leave. I adjust my angry cock, take a massive breath, and without another word, I walk out the door.
That’s the end of it. I’ll watch her from a distance. I won’t allow myself moments alone where I know I won’t have the ability to keep my hands off, smell her, or taste her again. I remind myself that it’s for her. That this woman, who is probably one of the most incredible I’ve ever met, can live the new life that she’s started. And I can make sure she’s safe. I won’t let her downgrade what’s between us by making it just about sex, because for me, it will always mean more.
I’ll pretend like tonight never happened, just like our night in the bar. If I can see her, watch her, make sure she’s looked after, then that’ll have to be enough.
17
Henry
“You’re a stubborn shit!”I yell toward my youngest brother as we take the sharp turn. The wind whips at my face. The cold slicing the small openings of my mask and where my snow glasses won’t cover. I feel my body chill at the memory. Every other inch of me is protected from the weather. I take the left trail, knowing that there’s no way Law would take the right. Michael would, since he’s more experienced out here, but he’s not careless like Law.
I follow the fresh tracks, and that’s when I see him off to my right, up ahead. I push harder; there’s no way I’m going to lose this bet with my seventeen-year-old kid brother. The snow started falling harder, close to white-out conditions, but we know this trail.
The bet was simple; whoever made it to the bottom first gets to ask out Shelley Farley. She’s been flirting with me for years, as we went to school together, but it wasn’t until this winter home for the holidays that I really noticed her. She’s my age, but Law has it in his mind that she’ll say yes if he asks her out. I’ll give it to the kid. He has balls, always has. When it comes to girls, he’s never shy. I’ve been so focused for the past five years, it’s been physically impossible for me to even look at a girl for more than a quick fuck when we were able to get off base.
I think about the conversation that got us here. “You know who’s looking really good lately is Shelley,” I say as we sit in my dad’s movie theater room, talking to my brothers and sister.
“No fucking way. Dibs,” Law says back to me as he throws popcorn in the air to catch with his mouth, missing most of it.
I look at Michael, and then at Everly, like I’ve missed something. “What do you mean, dibs? You can’t call dibs on a girl.”
“I can. And I just did. Dibs. I’m asking her out,” he says.
“That’s not… Dude, c’mon. I’m home for like two more weeks. I want to take her out. See if there’s something there,” I tell him.
I graduated from the Air Force Academy last spring, and it's taken every resource, handshake, and connection to get where I am. Not to mention, the hard work and long hours of flight time. I went through five and a half grueling months of SOFREP in Nevada. The Air Force Weapons School is only meant for the best. Altitude chamber training, simulations, and even the academy itself were easy in comparison to the last handful of months. This is why, if you make it, then you’re respected, elite, untouchable. I earned my patch, and I wear it proudly. I’m the best. It’s that simple. And now I want a couple of weeks to sink into a hot woman before I have to go back to base.
“I’ll race you for her,” he suggests.
“No.”
“Fine, then dibs,” he says, while popping a handful of popcorn into his obnoxious mouth. “I’m just sayin’, she’s going to want to go with the younger one that doesn’t have to lie about where he is and ask permission to wipe his own ass.”
“What the fuck does that mean, you prick?”
“Just means you’re military. You need permission to do everything. Like right now, I called dibs, and you’re actually backing off. Jesus, when did you get like this, Hen?”
Those few words have me fuming. My temper is one thing that I work to keep under my belt. I have to when I’m playing my role as a pilot, but especially here, because with my siblings, that’s not who I want to be. I’ll do my best never to let that part of me show.
“Fine. Let’s go,” I tell him as I walk toward the garage of our family ranch. “Down the black diamond on the ridge side. Whoever makes it to the Sugar Shack first gets a crack at Shelley.” Even as I’m saying it, I cringe at the idea of wagering over a woman. But fuck, it’s been a minute since I’ve been around a woman I found attractive. And she’s pretty spectacular. Long red hair. Legs for days. Worth it.
I jerk awake. Cold sweat covers my torso up to the hair that’s grown a bit longer, hitting the back of my neck. I shuffle to the bathroom and lean over the sink, staring in the mirror. Still angry. Frustrated. The reflection that stares back reminds me of my stupid, careless choices. And that I still haven’t outgrown them. What was I thinking last night?
I touch the scar above my lip. A reminder of what a choice can leave behind.
Along with an icy-blue imperfection in my eye that made all of my hard work obsolete.
I tell myself to be thankful I still have it. That I can see out of it, even if it’s not at perfect capacity. But it doesn’t change the part where I’m still resentful.
I wake up with this memory often enough that I could never forget what a few stupid decisions meant for the trajectory of my life. Doctors were able to correct my vision enough so I could still pilot privately, but it wasn’t possible to correct the damage enough to be in the Air Force the way I was trained to be. A fighter pilot who wore the Special Weapons patch with pride. Now it sits in a case like a trophy. A memory, not in use. I still wince at the failure of not being able to serve. To have been trained well, only to be benched. I knew the moment it happened. The sound. The pain that came screeching in. Almost as loud as Law screaming in my face.
“There’s so much blood. Holy fuck! Henry, be okay. Please, please, be okay,”he shouted in my face. But I wasn’t okay. I was in surgery for hours. The broken femur was the longest recovery time, but the shard of sunglasses that protruded from my eye is what cost me the most. It cost me my career. What I considered my life’s work. My identity. Gone.
A loudthwapon the bathroom door knocks me back out of the memories. Out of the self-loathing I’ve become so good at dishing out in palatable portions. Enough to remind me that I had something I worked my ass off for once. And then fucked it up, over a woman and a bet. Stupid. I couldn’t be stupid like that again. And last night, I was.
“Hen, we’re leaving in ten minutes. You almost ready?” Michael yells from outside my bedroom door. “Law and Dad are in the truck. I need to grab some of the gear I stored in your garage.”
“Yeah, no problem. Be there in a minute,” I yell back. I splash water on my face and try to change the course of my thoughts. What I’m doing now is challenging. I’m good at it. It helps my family. We’re building our legacy, and I can make parts of it my own. I’ve already started.“Find something you love to do that has nothing to do with what you did before. Start there and see where it takes you.”