Home to Stay by Maryann Jordan

14

He came for me. If nothing else, I owe him honesty. Lucy spoke, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. “I was so excited to have a local soldier that the class could write to. It was supposed to be a lesson for the children, combining history, current events, and community service. I had no idea if someone would write back but was thrilled when you did. After I sent you a picture of the class and in your next letter you sent one of you and some of your buddies, I was… I felt…”

Her voice trailed off, words failing her. John said nothing, and she struggled to gather her thoughts and speak, the heat of self-consciousness burning in her gut.

“It was a picture of you and four of your buddies, but I didn’t need to look at the back of the photograph where you’d indicated which one was you. Just looking at the picture, I knew. It was your eyes. Your expression. The others were all laughing, and while you were also smiling, it was more serious. Your sunglasses were pushed up to the top of your head, and while I know you were staring at the camera, it felt as though you were staring at me. Before I put the picture up on our bulletin board in our classroom, I had a copy made. One just for me.”

She shook her head, an embarrassed chuckle slipping from her lips. “Jesus, saying it aloud makes me sound like I have some kind of adolescent crush.” Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly, her words barely audible, confessing, “Maybe I do.”

She was quiet for a moment, then pulled her bravery around like a cape. Twisting around to see his face in profile, she continued her admission. “I think I looked forward to your letters even more than the children did, and believe me, they were very excited. I wanted to know how you were, what you were doing, and I… I began to care greatly.”

He shot her a smile, so she pressed onward. “That’s why I reacted so bizarrely in the hardware store. I didn’t know it was you. I just thought you looked really similar to John Roster. And since you were someone that I’d spent a lot of time thinking about, well, seeing someone who looked like you had me tripping over my own feet. Then I was shocked when you came into the classroom, sure that I would probably never meet you in person. I know we started as pen pals but hoped we could become friends.” She hefted her shoulders in a little shrug. “So, as horrible as the reason for this trip, I’m glad I had the chance to get to know you better.”

Afraid he was going to think she was either desperate or a stalker—or perhaps a desperate stalker—she sat perfectly still, uncertain what else to do or say. He reached over and placed his hand on hers, and her breath left her lungs slowly, afraid too much movement would make him pull away.

“I’m glad for the chance, too,” he said, glancing toward her, his eyes just as dark and intense as his photograph.

She allowed herself a small smile and leaned her head against the headrest again. Making her confession and not being rejected, her heart stopped squeezing. She would still have to deal with Paula but for now refused to think about her, focusing instead on John.

Yawning widely again as the early morning sun began to streak rays of light across the sky, she was glad to see that they were nearing her home. He pulled to a stop next to her vehicle, still parked in front of her house. She wanted to ask him in, but he’d given so much of his time. She simply leaned down and grabbed her bag, unbuckled her seatbelt, and turned to thank him, but he had already thrown open his door and was stalking around the front of his SUV to her side. He offered his hand and assisted her down. She opened her mouth again to thank him, but he threw his arm around her shoulder and walked her to her front door. She dug around in her bag and pulled out her keys, jiggling them in the lock until the door swung open. Once more she turned to thank him, but he ushered her inside, closing the door behind him, standing close, his gaze burning intensely as he stared down at her.

Blinking in surprise, she wasn’t sure if she should offer him something to eat, the use of her bathroom before he got back on the road to go to his house, or if he’d like to crash on her couch and sleep for a few hours. Or my bed with me would be preferable, but I’d better keep that to myself. No words came forth as she stared up at him.

His hand lifted and he cupped her jaw. She remained motionless as his thumb swept over the apple of her cheek. Swallowing deeply, her breath was shallow as she continued to stare up into his eyes. He bent, ever so slowly, giving her plenty of opportunities to back away, shake her head, tell him ‘no’. Instead, she lifted slightly onto her toes, drawn to him.

His face filled her view, so much so she was unable to see or process anything other than the warmth in his eyes as his gaze captured her completely. Erasing the minuscule space between them, his lips landed on hers. The kiss started light, the barest wisp of a touch. He nibbled on her upper lip before the tip of his tongue danced along the seam of her lips. Opening her mouth in a silent but hopeful invitation, her belly swooshed as his tongue slid inside, tangling with hers as it explored.

Her fingers clenched his shoulders, bunching the material of his shirt in her grip, and his arm banded tightly around her middle, pressing her front to his. The kiss never flamed wild and hot, not like she knew it could, but instead filled her senses, letting her know the attraction and longing weren’t one-sided. She angled her head, wanting more, deeper, everything, but he pulled back slightly.

Opening her eyes, she wanted to howl in protest at the loss of his mouth on hers, but his lips curved and the sight captured and held her attention. Everything she had seen in his photograph… the calm, quiet, reserved, loyal, duty-bound, dedicated friend and soldier was still there, just now in the flesh and pressed against her.

“Stay,” she whispered, the word pulled from the depths of her soul.

He said nothing. Embarrassed, her fingers started to unclench their grip on his shoulders.

“You need to sleep.” His words were guttural, almost tortured.

Licking her kiss-swollen lips, she pressed onward. “So, stay. Stay and sleep.” She watched as his gaze shot toward her living room, and without turning her head to see that he’d focused on her small sofa, she continued. “Sleep with me. Just sleep. My house may be a wreck, but my bed is comfortable. We can sleep for a couple of hours, and I’ll fix you a real breakfast when we wake.”

Again, he remained quiet, and she could tell nothing of his thoughts. Relaxing her stance, she started to step back only to find his grip tightening. Her breath halted, her fingers flexing at the feel of his hands on her.

“Yeah.”

A slow smile curved her lips. “Yeah?”

His face was transformed as his slight smile met hers. “Yeah.” His hand slid from her back to her arm, trailing a path as he reached her hand and linked fingers. Turning, he led her down the short hall, allowing her to move into her bedroom first.

She stepped inside, nerves making her stomach flutter. Looking around, she had no idea what to do. Change into PJs. Pull the covers down. Ask if he wanted a spare toothbrush.

“Stop worrying,” he ordered, his voice gentle, giving her hand a little tug to draw her attention back to his face. “You’ve had enough worry to deal with.” He inclined his head toward the bathroom. “Take care of what you need. Get comfortable. I’ll send a couple of texts, and then when you're finished, I’ll do the same. Then we’ll grab a couple of hours of sleep. Yeah?”

Nodding, she was glad he was able to so succinctly voice what she needed to focus on. “Yeah.” Turning, she hustled into the bathroom and took the fastest shower she’d ever had, all the time trying—and failing—to not think of John Roster in her bedroom while she was naked. Braiding her long, wet hair, she moisturized and brushed her teeth. Unearthing an extra toothbrush from the ones given to her by the dentist, she laid it next to the sink, then stepped out wearing pajama bottoms and a sleep T-shirt.

Her feet stumbled at the sight of John, his hip leaning casually against her dresser, the man she’d daydreamed about for months.

He looked up from his phone and sent his gaze moving from her wet hair down to her bare toes and back again. Grinning, he kissed the top of her head as he passed her and headed into the bathroom. Blowing out a breath, she walked to her bed, hesitated for just a few seconds, and then jerked the covers back and climbed into bed. The shower started again, and now she tried—and failed—to think of anything but a naked John Roster.

Yawning, she glanced at the clock, knowing she had been awake for twenty-four hours, and wondered if she could sleep. She yawned again, her eyes growing heavy, the worry and fatigue of her misadventures having sapped her energy. Blinking scratchy eyes, she decided to make sure she was on her half of the bed before he came out and curled up on her side, fluffed the pillow, and closed her eyes as she waited for him.

Then she fell asleep.

* * *

John stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel about his waist, unable to believe that he was still in her house. I should drive home. Sleep in my own bed. Check on Gramps. But the sight of Lucy staring up at him, so strong in the face of a difficult and dangerous situation, her eyes pleading as she whispered ‘Stay’, was more than he could bear. Snorting, he shook his head. My team would laugh their asses off to hear me say that I didn’t have the ability to walk away from her again. But it didn’t matter. He’d made that mistake once and wasn’t going to do it again.

He pulled his boxers back on and flipped off the light. Stepping into the bedroom, his gaze shot to the bed and he chuckled lightly. He padded on silent footsteps to the side and looked down. Her dark hair was pulled back but tendrils created a halo about her face on the pillow. Her breathing was deep and slow. For another few seconds, he considered slipping out and letting her sleep in peace, but instead, he slid underneath the covers, staying carefully on his side. Her house might be a wreck but her mattress was amazing.

He lay on his back for a moment, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe, not wanting to do anything to disturb her. While he’d been awake as long as she had, his body was more used to getting little sleep. When finally convinced that she was not waking, he gently rolled to the side away from her to turn out the lamp on the nightstand.

His hand halted in midair as his gaze landed on the photograph staring back at him. Five teammates, friends, comrades with their arms around each other, cocky grins and ass-kicking stances. Emotions crashed into him, each vying for dominance as they pushed to the forefront of his mind.

The day the picture was taken. A mission accomplished. Hard-fought but easily won. Like almost all their missions, successful.

The guys in the picture. Leibowitz, Roselli, Smithwick, Johnson… and me in the middle. An ache formed in his chest at the stark realization that he would never again be part of that team, never have another picture with those men, four of the best men he’d ever known.

He turned his head ever so slowly toward the right, watching as the black spot in his peripheral vision finally obliterated the photograph on the nightstand. His teeth ground together before he twisted his head back, staring at the picture once again.

His phone vibrated, and he grabbed it so the noise would not wake Lucy. Glancing at the screen, he saw two messages had come in. The first one was from Bray.

Glad you’re back. Boss will be in touch. I’ll buy you a round of beer next time we’re out.

He couldn’t help but smile, figuring that with the help the Keepers had given, he would owe all of them a round of beer.

The next message came from Mace.

Good work. Rest. Make sure Lucy is safe. Come in tomorrow morning to debrief. Paperwork will come in today.

His smile widened with the knowledge that first thing Monday morning he’d go into the LSI headquarters. On top of that, he’d already had a chance to work with and—hopefully—convince his new boss and coworkers that he could handle the job.

He laid his phone back down on the nightstand next to the photograph, offering a silent chin lift to the image of his old friends. For what they were, what they had been, what they meant to him and always would. But he now felt lighter knowing there was a future beyond the Army.

Lucy stirred beside him, and he looked over his shoulder to see her shift around, facing him but still asleep. Her complexion was pale, her eyelashes forming crescents that rested on her cheeks. A few freckles crossed over her nose, barely visible, and yet he fought to keep his finger from reaching out to trace them. Her lips were full, and now he knew just how kissable they were.

He thought back to her confession. She’d felt something the first time she had seen his picture. He now wished that she’d been in the photograph of the class so that he could have spent the last eight months staring at her, but he couldn’t deny how right everything felt now.

He reached his hand over and finished what he’d started several minutes ago by turning out the light. The room fell into semi-darkness, early morning sunlight peeking through the blinds as he settled on his side, facing her. Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead lightly, wondering if he’d be able to sleep next to her without pulling her into his arms.

A few minutes later, she snuggled closer to him, and with her cheek resting against his shoulder, he fell asleep.