My heart is soaring, flying somewhere above me. I think, I’m not sure, the words are on the tip of my tongue.
I’m in love with Kennedy Dover.
I’ve known for a while, hell, a long time. But as I lay her back and begin to kiss down her stomach, I’m shook that it might be the time to tell her. Am I ready for that? It took me this long to get here, to let myself be with her. And it’s not without reservations every day. There are still secrets I have to keep from her, ones that if I told her I love her, would end up blowing up in my face. Would she love me back if she knew?
I shake away my thoughts, reaching to pull her underwear down her hips. But instead of her usual response of heavy breathing and moaning, or maybe saying my name, Kennedy is still on the bed.
Glancing up, I see her peering at the ceiling, muttering to herself. And my heart drops. Because I know I should have talked about this before. By not addressing it, we’ve put way too much pressure on the situation.
I crawl up the bed toward her, and a small smile paints my lips as I lay my body on hers, my arms circling her face.
“Whatcha doing?” I bend my neck to place a small kiss on her collarbone.
“Nothing. Sorry. I … let’s keep going. Your turn?” She is so distracted that she thinks it’s time to go down on me.
“Baby, what’s going on?” My tone is sincere, but gentle.
“I’m nervous, Everett. I’ve never done this before.” She averts her eyes, staring at my arm that brackets her head.
I can read it all over her body; she’s not just nervous, she’s embarrassed. Rolling over to my side, so that I can face her, I palm both of her cheeks.
“Look at me.” She won’t focus those gorgeous brown eyes on me. “Kennedy, look at me.”
She blinks up, bringing our gazes level.
“I’ve never done this either.” I nod, convincing her before she questions me.
Kennedy gasps. “You haven’t? I thought for sure—”
“I’ve been waiting for you,” I tell her, because it’s the truth.
Her expression is priceless. Clearly, she did not think this was even a possibility. That we were both virgins. That we would lose it to each other.
“I couldn’t take your first kiss. But I can be your first. And it doesn’t have to be tonight. I’ve waited a long time to be with you, Kennedy. It took me a while, and I’m stubborn as hell, but I’ve always known it’s you. If I have to wait a little longer, then I’m okay with that.”
“I don’t think I’m ready yet.” I see tears in her eyes.
“Baby, don’t cry. I’m happy just to lie here and fall asleep next to you.” I brush them away from her bottom lashes.
And I mean it. This is so big of a moment, and when I finally do sink into her, when we become the most intimate two people can be, I want her to be begging for it.
“This night has been perfect. You are perfect.” She breathes, snuggling into me.
I’m not. Far from it, actually. But for her, when she looks at me like she does, I want to be.
29
Everett
They come for me a couple weeks after Christmas.
I’m at home during one of the first days Kennedy goes back to school after winter break, just goofing around. With football season over and my community college courses, English Lit and Sports Sciences Throughout History, I don’t have much to do. I spent every minute of Kennedy’s winter break with her and am bummed she’s back in classes.
But that’s how they find me on a random Wednesday morning. In my house, in sweatpants, about to start a marathon of a season of The Office I never watched.
The knock comes at the door, which in hindsight I should have thought was odd, but I’ve been a civilian for a couple of months and I’m not as alert.
I should have been, though.
When I swing the door open, a protein bar in my hand, I nearly drop it. Standing on the front porch are two Marines, decked out in their dress blues. They’re high-ranking, you can tell by the eagles and stars marking their uniforms.
“Corporal Everett Brock?” the big, burly one asks.
“That’s me.” I stand up straighter, not able to do anything about the sloppy clothing I have on.
Guys like this are meant to intimidate, and they’re doing a hell of a good job. Caught me off guard, at home, in my sweats. I couldn’t be at more of a disadvantage.
“We’re from the Marine Corps Criminal Investigation Division, just following up on your initial interview after escape.”
This guy, the second guy, has a kinder tone and is slimmer, less intimidating. But his eyes, a white blue that is too clear to not seem creepy, they tell just how dangerous he is.
“I told the other investigators everything they needed to know.” I scowl, because it’s strange that they’d need more information.
And, I suspect, this isn’t a friendly call. Whatsoever.
“Can we come in?” I still haven’t let them in, and the burly one is practically growling.
I notice they haven’t given me their names, which is another tactic. If I ask for them, they’ll only grill me harder. Better to appear nonchalant, like I have nothing to hide. I know how certain members of the military operate. I learned that part very quick. It’s just that being home, I let my guard down too much.
Time to get back up to speed. “Sure.”
I step back and then turn, letting them follow me into the dining room. It’s the room with the least amount of windows, so no one can see them in here. Not that they won’t notice the official vehicle in the driveway. At least Kennedy isn’t home and won’t be able to question me about this.
I wouldn’t be able to tell her a word of it.
The slim one speaks as we sit. “You told the initial investigators that you were detained while doing a check of the site where the mission was to take place?”
“Yes,” I answer simply.
“Did anyone deploy you to do that?” he asks.
“Yes.”
I’m not going to get verbose, or implicate myself. And even though I appear calm and cool, or at least I hope I do, my heart is hammering in my chest. I know why they’re here, that there are holes in my story. That the mission was abandoned after the US military supplies were taken, with me, after I was found by the enemy.
But they’ll never be able to prove it was my fault that the mission went south, or never happened. Or at least I think they aren’t able to.
“I understand you were close to a number of villagers?” the slim one asks, his eyes unfocused. Or maybe they’re just too light to read properly.
I bristle, and he knows he’s hit a nerve. “What does that have to do with anything?”
The burly one snorts. “Count on a newb to fall in love with the villagers. You do know we’re there to shoot them when they fall out of line, right?”
Under the table, my hands ball into fists. Actually, our presence in the Middle East or any other war zone is to protect the people, the villagers. It’s to protect innocent people, not just our own, from being slaughtered by their own government. To keep the women and children just trying to make a better life for themselves alive.