Visiting Finley and Maple wasn't just about Marcus anymore. Maybe there had always been more. Whenever I stepped into their little family, I found more than just the motivation to become a better man. They helped me believe that, someday, I could be. And I'd be damned if I let that hope slip through my fingers.
* * *
It was nine o’clock on a Saturday night and I was totally out of my fucking element. A bottle of red wine tucked under one arm. A bouquet of wild flowers in the other. A condom tucked into my wallet, just in case. I was in foreign territory, and my entire body knew it – tense shoulders, my heart beating like a drum, and arousal barely contained beneath the surface.
Finley was standing at the doorway, watching me with a confused expression.
She looked gorgeous, makeup free, pink-painted toes, hair mussed and loose. Little cotton pajama shorts and a tank top that hugged her lush breasts.
“Maple’s not here.” She said the words, but she knew as well as I did I wasn’t here for Maple.
“I know that.” My voice was sure and confident.
“Then why are you … oh.” Finley shifted her weight, her eyes dropping from mine as she saw the wine and flowers. She could read it all, plain as day. I knew she could see my intentions, my uncertainty, and underneath it all, my desire. Maybe it was the desire to fix everything I’d broken, or maybe it was just my desire for her as a man desires a woman.
Normally when I felt that primal urge for sex, I headed to West’s bar. I’d pick out a woman for the night. Share a few drinks with her, a few laughs. Later, we’d head back to my place and fuck until dawn. And that was it. I’d be set for a few months.
This … with the courting and the nerves … it was nothing like my standard operating procedure.
I’d never felt so stripped bare and vulnerable. Never put myself out there so completely with a woman before. But then again, Finley was unlike any woman I'd ever met.
And she was still just standing there. “Can I come inside?” I asked, heart in my throat.
She didn't say anything. But she opened the door wider.
With Nolan’s words ringing in my ears, I stepped over the threshold, sure that whatever happened tonight had the power to heal us both.
Soon, my worries about coming here started to fade away. We sat together on the sofa, drinking wine and talking. Finley was in a somewhat deep and contemplative mood, if our discussion topics were any indication. We talked about life, goals she had for her future, for Maple’s future.
Finley pulled her bare legs up onto the cushion beside me. “I want more for her than I had, you know. Broken home where I never had much of a relationship with my dad. I want her to go to college, meet someone nice, do whatever it is that makes her happy.”
“You’re a good mom. And a good person. I’m just …” A fuck-up. I tried to ignore that nasty little voice in my head. As irritating as Nolan's lack of faith in me had been earlier, it was a lot harder to shut up my own self-hatred.
“Don’t say it,” Finley breathed.
That caught me off guard. A few short weeks ago, she would've been the first person in line to cut off my balls—in fact, she'd done it more than once. Now she wasn't even letting me mention my failures? Well, if she wanted to linger in this bubble where all the shit in our messy past didn't exist, that was fine by me. “I won’t say it,” I relented.
"There are some things I need to tell you."
She waited for me to continue, placing her hands in her lap.
"We were given a choice that day. We didn’t have to go on that mission, yet I’d rallied for the chance to go into enemy territory, wanting to calibrate the telecommunications equipment I specialized in. If we could get some real intel, the entire mission would move forward and we’d all get to go home sooner."
She stayed quiet but her eyes were wide and filled with curiosity. I didn't know if I was telling her all this because I genuinely thought she needed to know, or if it was because I needed it off my chest. Scratch that--I knew exactly why I was telling her. I needed her forgiveness. Without it, I knew I could never forgive myself.
"Our commander was adamantly against it – said it was too dangerous. But I knew the risks and I was willing to take them. I also knew that Marcus, as one of my closest friends on the team, would insist on going with me."
Admitting it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. Finley just blinked, quiet and contemplative. I always assumed this was her real issue-that I chose to do that mission despite not being required to go and knowing that Marcus would tag along.
"But I got the approval and we set off. It ended up being just the three of us – me, Marcus and Nolan. And then …" God, I hated thinking about it, but it always found a way to replay in my brain. The scent of gunpowder burning my nostrils, the too-bright flash of heavy artillery fire momentarily blinding me.
"And then he was hit. I saw the panic in his eyes. Already knowing it was too late, I rushed to administer first aid while Nolan held him. I muttered shit about his gorgeous wife and getting home in time to see the boxwood trees change. And while I held my breath with painstaking worry, he took his last."
She reached over and took my hand, giving it a firm squeeze.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I felt a little lighter with the words I’d bottled up for so long now out in the open between us.
“I’m okay,” she said. “It’s good to talk about it, I think. I’ve kept everything inside for so long that...” She stopped, and I squeezed her hand.