Compassion (12 page)

We sit this close at home for about four minutes, which is when he excuses himself for bed. I kinda hate it, but it's worth it for those four minutes of his body radiating something my own can't resist. He's got like super mega man testosterone that makes my panties soak in a matter of seconds. I swear...it's crazy.

Curious what he'll do since he has nowhere to go, I'm slightly disappointed when his strong hands relocate to his thighs.

Can't blame a girl for hoping.

The lights lower as our drinks and appetizers are delivered, which shifts my body back away from his. Hiding my letdown well, I pour all my efforts into watching the movie.

While the previews are most people's least favorite part, I love them! It's like getting to watch mini movies before your big one.

Archer's leg knocks against mine during one of the action based previews. I give him a brief glance, the light illuminating his face just enough for me to see an uncomfortable expression. Tempted to prod why, I bite down on a chip as a reminder to back down.

He talks when he's ready. He opens up when he's ready. I got that. I get that...believe me. I get that.

The actual movie starts and his demeanor seems to return to its relaxed state. By the time I've finished what I've ordered, he's already gulped down his and is back in his previous position. While the desire to nestle my body against his is strong, I fight against it and settle into my own seat giving him space. To my surprise his hand lightly grazes the top of mine before hinting to fold our fingers together. The second they're locked my heart starts to pound heavily in my chest. Unsure the last time I held anyone's hand over the age of seven, I grip it tighter, certain if this is the only moment we get like this I want to hold onto it as strong as possible.

Yeah. That includes Chris' hand. He preferred to link our arms together. Said it was classier. Insisted it made a bolder statement.

When Archer's thumb lightly strokes my hand, the breath I was holding is robbed from me. My eyes helplessly fall to the sight of us joined. Terrified he will pull us apart the second I drag my gaze back up, I take my time, drinking in the warmth of his rugged touch. The moment I meet the green grace I love getting swept away in, he slowly uses his other hand to caress my cheek. His face begins to lower itself towards mine until there is only a whisper between us. My eyes shut in anticipation of the one thing I've been thinking about since I found that rose on my door step.

Hell. From the moment we locked eyes.

All of a sudden a loud explosion yanks his body away from mine. Seconds after the screen is flashing quick bright lights with gun shots firing rapidly. Archer's body goes rigid, slipping out of this moment and back into the one that grabs him like a ghost desperate to drag his soul back in time. I watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. The rocking begins, which is when my own panic sets in, unsure of what I'm supposed to do.

What am I supposed to do? Last time I tried to help, he grabbed me. Now, I managed to help calm him down, but you remember how upset he was that he put me in what he considered danger. If I try to help now and he repeats what happened before he'll peddle backwards back into safe 'friendship' territory. Away from this moment. Away from ever finding out where this could go.

Feeling an ache in my chest as he covers his ears, lips moving a repetitious action, I ignore the whispering doubts and slide my hand onto his leg. As predicted his clamps down on it, preparing for combat when I turn mine slightly. Gingerly I stroke his forearm in such a way it startles him. Like a wounded animal, his body seems torn between the instinct to fight the touch and the craving to collapse into it.

I continue to rub my fingers gently against his skin until his other hand falls, which is when I whisper in his ear, “That was then...” There's a muffled slew of grumbles, so I add, “I am now...Come back to me.” Still resisting I quietly beg, “That was then...this is now...I am now. Please. Please come back to me.”

Disoriented yet struggling against it, he nods, faintly whispering, “Jaye is now...” His green gaze falls back into mine, pleading we need to go before it happens again.

Totally agree. Don't you?

Standing, the two of us slip out of our back row seats and take the stairs, fingers lightly touching. We round the corner, thankfully running into our server. After lying about a family emergency he agrees to bring me the tab in the lobby as soon as possible.

Once our bill is settled, Archer and I stroll around outside the strip mall center, the brisk air refreshing to him, and only mildly uncomfortable to me. After passing a few stores, we reach a deserted bench in the open courtyard area. On it he leans his weight onto his thighs, arms bent, attention down. Sorrow settles throughout his body and the only thing I wanna do is offer him solace.

I place my hands in my lap. “This was all my fault.”

Archer's rough voice argues, “It wasn't.”

“I should've never taken you to see an action movie-”

“You didn't know.”

“Not exactly.” My head bobs back and forth. “But there's the loud gun shots. The bright flashy light thing-”

“Doesn't always happen-”

“But it did this time and-”

“Jaye,” he grouses louder. Clenching his hands together he looks over his shoulder at me. “Drop it. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't send me on that mission. You didn't kill my team.”

Hearing the words out loud drops my jaw.

He did say kill, right?

The intuition to tread carefully gnaws at me. “You're the only one who survived?”

“Yeah...” Archer's jaw trembles as he turns back around and lets his head fall again. “It was a simple order. Clear the building. Get in. Get out. Keep moving. Locate the target.
” Desperate to hear more I lean forward, guessing the next part will drop in volume. “We had heard they used children like bait. We knew it was possible. But that little girl didn't look like a threat. She looked scared. Terrified to be in the middle of a fucking war zone...” Regret or remorse clogs and strangles his vocal chords. “There was a flash. A fucking bright flash. Then a bang. It was all over after that. I don't remember much more than smoke filling my lungs, a harsh ringing, and staring into the dead of eyes of Seth Smith, my best friend, as I floated in and out of consciousness.”

The only thing I can whisper out is, “Oh my God...” 

Hey, if you can figure out something better go right ahead. Trust me, as someone who has received the bullshit sorry for your loss lines a million times over, it's not typically the thing someone wants to hear.

“I was the only one who survived and barely at that. Severe concussion. Minor memory loss. Cuts, bruises, a fucked up knees, and some shrapnel in my leg. I was furthest from the blast. Nothing more than dumb chance. Dumb fucking chance that I was left breathing and they weren't.”

Uncertain how anyone could live through that or with that level of guilt, I simply give his upper back a heartfelt touch.

“I had to look Seth's wife in her face when she came begging for answers, pounding on my door for answers, begging me to tell her what she was supposed to tell their little girl when she grew up. I have to live with those nightmarish cries. The reality my god daughter is no longer my god daughter. If that shit wasn't enough, I had to deal with mental and physical therapy that would suck every penny out of me I had, at the same time I found out the chick I had been calling my girlfriend had replaced me with some bartending asshole and took the money from my account
that
she could get a hold of. One minute I'm trying to learn to function again and the next I'm out on my ass because I'm lost in a fucking nightmare paperwork based hell. Homeless because all the programs designed to help men like me require more hoops for you to jump through than the fucking Olympics.” Archer turns to look at me, hate raging through his stare. “I gave my life for this country. For these...people and when the tables are turned they can't give back? They can't help make the process of vets getting the help they need less complicated or at least have less pitfalls for us to fall into? They can't help us from becoming just one more case number in an endless line in their fucking system? Can't they see we really need fucking help? Can't they show a little more....compassion? Like you did.”

Heated hatred fades into pure anguish of a broken man.

I can't blame him for being the silent and angry type knowing that. Can you?

“Maybe the compassion of one can be enough to help you let go of not having the compassion of many.”

Archer whispers, “Maybe...”

I run my hand slowly down his arm until our fingers are linked again. “You don't have to keep fighting by yourself. You're not alone any more, Archer.”

He squeezes my hand but doesn't say another word.

Now doesn't seem like the ideal time to tell him maybe therapy, maybe talking this out with a third party might help him move past it, might help him shed some anger, but I think it would help. Just... jot that down as something we need to talk about in the near future when he hasn't just broken down in a public setting or just confided in me the deep dark demon that screams at him.

The cold air picks up acting as our big hint that sitting around in the winter air might not be the wisest idea.

Totally didn't need that reminder.

“How about bowling?” I suggest trying to cheerfully change the subject. “How does that sound?” Before giving him a chance to answer I cringe, “Wait. The sound and the noise-”

“It's the lights, Jaye.”

“Well it's day time. It should just be the shitty overhead one.”

Archer's lips tug at the corners. “If that's what you wanna do.”

“I just wanna hang out with you,” I confess. “Even if that means we have to go home and just lay on the couch.”

This time he smiles wide. “We'll spend the day doing that tomorrow. Today...let's keep battling the outside world. If you wanna bowl, let's try it.”

Just as we're about to stand up, an unexpected voice pins me to the seat.

Shit....

“Why aren't you at work?” Merrick playfully smiles. “Are you playing hookie?”

Oh stop drooling. I've told you. Taken. Happily taken! More importantly, can we focus on the concept that I've been busted?

“I took a personal day today.” My answer is proceeded by Archer's hand tightening protectively.

Or maybe he's a little jealous? I'm hoping jealous. I like him a little jealous. Reminds me I'm not the only one interested here. Besides it's gotta be the jealous thing because Merrick doesn't look the least bit threatening to me. Maybe that's because I know him? Tall, dark, and handsome with bright blue eyes. Hint of a baby face with a smile too
charming for it's own good. None of that screams danger. He probably couldn't harm an ant.

“Archer Cox meet Merrick McCoy, he works at the school. He's our in house wall artist.”

Our hands drop, so the two can shake. My protector grunts, “Is that fancy phrasing for painter?”

Merrick grins, “Basically.”

“It's more than just painting. He does these elaborate murals and décor for the season or events that are coming. It's remarkable. He's insanely talented.”

Archer's weight shifts uncomfortably. “Is that so?”

Merrick shrugs folding his arms, “I do alright.”

“Alright? Are you kidding? I saw some the sketches for the spring event coming on Presley’s desk. They're...just...wow.”

Archer awkwardly shifts again.

What? I was just...I wasn't...crap. Did I mess this up?

“I just want it to be a success.” He moves his attention to Archer. “I will say it is a pleasure to finally meet the man who's been putting a smile on my favorite librarian's face.”