Liberty (2 page)

She kept thinking that if the roles were reversed he wouldn’t have done this for her.

“I should let you sit here and rot in your own filth, you bastard.” Her grip on his face tightened tenfold and she didn’t realize how tightly she was holding him until she saw the red indents left by her fingers.

“I was so glad when you joined the marines, but when they told me you were getting deployed I worried. I don’t know why. Maybe because if anybody gets to kill you it should be me. There would be justice in that. You stole my life and I won’t forgive you for that.”

She gazed down at his broken body, her chest painfully heaving with emotion.

“This isn’t justice, Ryan. Having you blown up isn’t justice for me. It’s like a punishment for some awful thing I did in a past life. You’ll always be an anchor around my neck drowning the life out of me.” She laughed humorlessly. “You need me now. I should let you sit here and rot, but you need me and I am going to take care of you. And when you’re better I want my life back. You’re going to divorce me and I am never going to see you again. I am going to get my dignity back.”

She stared down at the unmoving form, searching for some sign that he had heard her. But there was nothing. Ryan had always been a stubborn son of a bitch. Why would getting blown up change that? He looked awful, nearly lifeless and damaged. It was too hard to look at him like this. It was too hard to be breathing the same air as him. Panic started to seize her again.

She’d had two years without him. Two years of learning how to become the woman she should have always been. And now that was going to end. She would have to go back to being his wife. And even if it was just for a little while, it would be too long. She couldn’t return to that life. She refused to live in fear of the next slap one moment longer.

“I can’t do this. I can’t look at you like that.” Her conscience was battling with her spirit.

Stay. Remember what Maybell taught you. Remember what you learned in Sunday school.

Go. You are your own woman now. You are no longer a victim.

“Your mother will be here in the morning. She will take care of you. I can’t do this.”

She grabbed her purse and began to flee. But just as she reached the door, jumbled words hit her ears. She jumped, whipping around to see the source of the noise.

Holy hell.

His eyes were wide open and more hauntingly beautiful than any eyes she had ever seen. When she married him he had blue eyes. Light crystal-blue eyes, but the man she stared at did not. His eyes were gray, almost colorless, but in them was a hint of blue and a twinkle. No, more than that. They held a gleam of intelligence. They held character.

“Please... Don’t leave me.”

Chapter Three

H
is dark-haired angel was there again and lovelier than any woman he had ever known. God must have sent her to him because he was in so much pain. He hurt everywhere. His chest, his legs, his face, his stomach. He was so tired of fighting the pain, so tired of being trapped in a useless body, so tired that he was preparing to give up.

But then she came and something about her called him back, made him want to live. It was her voice...slightly husky and soft, with a light twang that rang of Texas. If he could have laughed he would have laughed at himself for being so damn poetic. But what better time to wax poetic than when hovering between life and death?

Hands touched him. Not the cold efficient hands of a doctor but the warm soothing hands of a lover. They heated his body when he had been cold for so long. He had to open his eyes and see the woman who caused him to want to fight the pain just so he could get a little closer to her.

She was beautiful but strange looking. Exotic. Her skin was the color of caramel and looked as sweet as sugar tasted. Her eyes were oddly wide and dark, almost black and slanted upward like a feline’s. Her body was another matter. She just looked lush, voluptuous, fleshy but in no way fat. She looked like home felt and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around her small waist and feel those curves.

He surprised himself. His groin tightened as an erection threatened to form. A man in his state should not feel such abject lust. It must be her. She must be heaven-sent because he never met an earthly woman who could lift him up when he was so obviously down.

“Wake up,” his angel ordered. “Your mama is on her way.” His mama? Mama? He tried to pull up an image of the woman in his head, but again his brain failed him.

“She’s been worried sick about you this past year. I don’t know why. You’re like a roach. The world blows up and you still survive. But she loves you and the least you could do is open your damned eyes.”

He pried them open, not only to please his feisty caretaker but to see her again. She was smiling, a sight that he was sure was rare.

“I love it when you listen to me. If you were this obedient before I would have liked you much better.”

Why didn’t she like him? He was known as charming, wasn’t he? He opened his mouth to ask her but his voice failed him, too.

“Your throat must be dry,” she murmured, reaching for a bucket of ice chips. “They put a tube down your throat. You weren’t breathing on your own for a while.”

She let the ice melt between her warm fingers before she dripped the cool water into his parched mouth. “I’m going to ask them to take the IV out today. You’ll never heal if you don’t eat. The sooner you heal the sooner I can leave you. Besides you’re skinny enough as it is. You haven’t ever looked this fit.”

She took a second ice chip and ran it over his dry, cracked lips. The ice melted as soon as it met his warm upper lip. Her beautiful face was soft and relaxed as she concentrated on the task, her full lips slightly parted. He would kiss those lips soon. The image of running his tongue over them, tasting her flavor, licking the sweet inside of her mouth was enough incentive to will his nearly ruined body to heal.

“Maybe we shouldn’t feed you.” She touched her slender finger to her lips. “I like you this way. You’re like a big giant helpless baby.” She frowned. “And I thought I would never have one.”

Something came over him, some kind of strength that made it possible for him to reach up, grab her hand and place it on his bearded cheek. She froze, looking almost frightened. He frowned in confusion but didn’t let go. Why did she look scared of him? After a very tense moment she relaxed and lifted a slightly trembling hand to stroke his hair.

“Are you all there, Ryan? Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

He blinked, now too tired to nod. He cursed his body for the hundredth time that day. He was never meant to be helpless.

“I always wanted a baby, Ry. Did you know that? That was the only thing I ever wanted you to give me. It was probably for the best that he never came. He wouldn’t have grown up happy. How could our child be happy if we weren’t?”

What? Their baby? He had been with this beautiful woman before? What happened to him? To them?

She sighed heavily. “The doctor says that I’m supposed to keep talking to you. He says you’ve been more alert since I’ve been around. Is he right, or is that something doctors say to wives of wounded servicemen?”

Was he in the military? That sounded right. Is that how he was hurt? Was that why at night he saw flashes of fire and heard the cries of men?

Was the dark angel beside him his wife? It would explain the oddly strong pull he had to her, but he didn’t remember their marriage. He didn’t remember anything, only the way the intense heat scorched his skin.

“I would like to think it was me. I would like to think a small part of you actually cared.”

A small part?

This woman was his wife and he was a man who loved his wife.

Wasn’t he?

He had a wife? For some reason he wasn’t sure of either.

“You’re in pain aren’t you? Where?” She pulled her hands from his face, unwrapping the bandage from around his head. “The doctor says that you got a pretty nasty head wound from the blast, but that was a month ago. I don’t think you need this wrapped so tightly.”

He felt lighter, better. Maybe the memories would flow now. Maybe he would remember the woman who was supposed to be his wife.

“You are still a handsome bastard,” she cursed, seeming irritated by the fact. “Leave it to you to get blown up and come out looking better.” She touched his cheek. “Maybe you will be better to your next wife.”

His next wife? He didn’t even know this one and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go. What had he done to her? He had been raised to treat women with respect. His father showed him how by treating his mother with reverence. Hadn’t he? He didn’t remember his mother, couldn’t conjure up an image of his father, either. All the confusion was causing his head to ache.

His wife ran her strong fingers through his hair, stopping at the place where staples used to hold his head together.

“I shouldn’t feel sorry for you, Ryan. You put me through hell, but it’s not easy for me to see you like this.” She rolled her slanted eyes. “I blame Maybell for this. I blame God for this and every damn Sunday I spent at church.” She dropped her hands from his head.

“Turn the other cheek the bible says.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Who knew I would get punched in it? But I’ll get my blessings later.”

He reacted physically to her words. Fire shot through his chest, causing his heart to pump wildly. What the hell prompted her to use those words? He didn’t like them. They made him sound like a man he couldn’t tolerate. She pressed her soft chest against his and soon he forgot to ponder his wife’s bitterness as she finger-combed his hair. Desire rushed through him and somehow he found the strength to touch her face. She froze again as if bracing herself for something.

“Calm down,” she whispered to herself. “He can’t hurt you.”

Of course he wouldn’t hurt her. He never hurt a woman in his life. She was a fool to think he would. He grasped her hand, squeezing slightly. That comment warranted an explanation. He opened his mouth but all that came out were dry croaks.

“Hush,” she breathed. Sweet warm breath hit his face and he fixated on her full mouth. “Don’t try to talk just yet. I snuck in some beef broth. It’s still warm. Do you want some?”

She stepped back from him and for a moment her strange statement was forgotten because he was once again distracted by her looks. She was sexy in her plain clothes, even with tired eyes and simple braid. His cock twitched involuntarily, informing him that she was one woman that he couldn’t let out of his sight until he satisfied this crazy need to be with her.

“Hello, sugar?” She waved her slender fingers in front of his face. “Do you want some soup?”

He nodded, knowing that soup wasn’t the thing that was going to satisfy him.

She returned quickly, placing a plastic container on the nightstand. “Can you sit up for me?”

He tried his hardest, not wanting to show any weakness.

“I’ll help you, champ.” She moved close to him, close enough that he could smell her clean soapy scent and put her arm under his neck to support him. A laugh escaped her lips when he put his head on the soft pillows that were her breasts.

“Perv.” He didn’t move for a moment—just inhaled, taking in her aroma. “If you throw up on me I’ll kill you.” She grabbed his chin, tipped his head back and poured the liquid into his waiting mouth. It was like he was taking his first drink after years in a desert.

“Easy, honey. Not too fast,” she murmured as warm salty liquid ran down his throat. Her thumb came up to brush away the droplets of escaped soup, and rested on his lower lip. For a too brief moment she caressed it. He looked up at her, into her dark slanted eyes and she looked into his. Something passed between them, something unrecognizable, something sexual. They looked at each other for long moments until something changed and she grew uncomfortable, almost horrified. Stepping away, she shook her head.

“I think you could use some cold water.” She turned her back to him to retrieve it, but he knew she was composing herself.

He needed time, too. The heat that passed between them...He had never experienced that before with another woman. But this woman was his wife, wasn’t she? The heat
should
be there.

It took a few moments but she finally turned back around. He didn’t think she was going to come close to him again, but she sat beside him on the bed, wrapping an arm around his back. “You look exhausted.”

No truer words were ever spoken. He could barely keep his eyes open. “It’s okay, Ryan. Rest if you have to.”

He took a sip of the water and then slumped against her.

He didn’t want to rest. How could drinking broth sap all his energy? He used to kickbox and run five miles a day. He used to do it all.

He kickboxed? Yes. That sounded right. He ran, too? Yes. He could see himself running through a big green park.

Memories. Where were they? He could recall that, but his wife was a big question mark. He tried to set his mind to work, wanted his mind to work, but the exhaustion overtook him. His body betrayed him and once again he slipped into a foggy unconsciousness.

* * *

Lexy let her husband sleep on her chest for a little while, mostly because she didn’t have the heart to move him. So she leaned back in the bed to make herself more comfortable, and stroked his hair.

I’m sick,
she thought.
I am sick for actually liking my husband when he is weak and helpless. It was sick.
Maybe because she had spent most of her life at the mercy of others, at the mercy of him. But when he called to her, when he used all his strength to croak out the words,
“Don’t leave me,”
something inside her told her to stop.

Maybe she stopped because now the tables had turned. She had the power. He was completely at her mercy. She could hurt him, walk out on him, beat him to a pulp and he couldn’t do anything about it. Surprisingly she didn’t want to do any of those things.

Why not? Why not when he had done everything in his power to try to make her a shell of a woman? But now sitting here she almost felt close to him. He seemed like he was a different man when he was hurt. He seemed almost sweet. She had made up her mind to stay because leaving him when he was like this would make her a coward. She wanted him to see her as a strong woman. She wanted him to know that he no longer had any power to keep her down. Taking care of him for the next few weeks would be her final good deed for him, and when the time came she was going to leave. Walk out and start a new life like she should have done the first time he hit her.

He opened his eyes for a moment as if he were checking to see if she was still there. She couldn’t get over the fact that they had turned gray. More of a grayish blue but still much different than she remembered.

How do one’s eyes change color?

She knew it was possible. She knew babies’ eyes often changed color. But a grown man’s? Ryan’s blue eyes seemed to have more than changed. They seemed to have faded. Did pain do that to him? Did spending time in a war-torn country do that to him? Or maybe this man in the bed wasn’t her husband at all...

She shook her head at the silly thought, but both things were possible. She hadn’t seen Ryan in a year and a half and in that time they had barely spoken. The last time she saw him in person was when he came home for a leave shortly after he’d joined up. He was sober then, keeping the promise he made to her and his mother that he wouldn’t drink a single drop. He hadn’t hit her or said one word that wasn’t necessary.

They had spent the week as uncomfortable strangers, barely speaking to each other. It was then she knew that the end of their marriage was really coming. It wasn’t like before. There were no half-assed attempts to get her to stay. No lame little gifts to try to get on her good side. No more apologies. He never gave her any clue that he wanted their life together to continue. She had been so relieved.

After that she hadn’t seen him again. He would call from time to time to tell her that he was alive. His friends heard from him more than she did. Well, that wasn’t different. He had spent more time with his friends during their marriage than he had ever spent with her.

She looked down at her sleeping soldier, trying not to feel bitter. Of course this man was her husband. Who else could he be? Maybe the military switched him out and replaced him with a fairy good husband. The Ryan that she had seen last time didn’t want anything to do with her and she liked it that way. But this man... He seemed to want her near. What had changed? Why had it changed?

In the end, it didn’t matter. He could be a good man. He could be a brand-new man. But she was going to get on with her life. She had worked so hard to get her freedom there was no way she was going back. Hopefully he would let her go without a fight. And if he did fight, she would fight him back.