More Than Enough
Page 87
“List them,” I snap. “Please.” Because I need to know.
She inhales deeply, her eyes on mine. “He left you, D. I mean, that’s basic right? When you think someone is going to be part of your life and then all of a sudden they’re not, that hurts. And hurt can easily turn to hate. Because it’s better than the alternative. He probably also made you feel guilty. Guilt can also turn to hate. Again. It’s better than the alternative.”
Even though I know the answer, still I ask, “Why would I feel guilty?”
“Because you feel like you should’ve known something was wrong. He was your friend. And now you’re wondering if the signs were there or if you just chose to turn a blind eye to it. If you were too wrapped up in the joys of your life, you didn’t see his.”
I exhale loudly, causing her to smile.
She continues. “You probably hate him because you feel like you have to live your life a certain way now because of him. You try to justify your life based on his death and you feel like you have to go above and beyond to give value to his death.”
“I don’t feel like I have to.”
She smiles wider. “But you want to?”
I nod.
“And, lastly, you’re allowed to hate him simply because he’s gone now. And there’s nothing you can do to bring him back. And I think, out of all the reasons, that’s probably the one that hits home the hardest.” She pauses a beat. “You miss him?”
I look down at my hands and nod again. “Like crazy.”
* * *
“Holy shit, babe,” Riley calls out, stepping into the house. “Did you fix the air conditioning?”
“Yep!” I remove the pipe from under the Riley’s bathroom sink and move quickly to let the gunk of hair fall into the bucket.
“Where are you?”
“Bathroom!”
Her footsteps near, stopping just outside the doorway. “What are you doing?”
“Clearing your pipes.”
She scoffs. “You wish.”
I replace the pipe and start to screw it back on.
“You got bored, huh?” she asks, kneeling down next to me.
“A little.” Lie. I was bored out of my fucking mind. There’s not a lot you can do in a house that’s not yours with a leg that doesn’t work.
“You went home and got your tools, D?”
I finish my task and start to sit up, taking her offered hand half way. “I got Eric to get them for me when he got some other shit.” I run my hands down my shorts. “Hi.”
She smiles. “Hi.”
“How was work?”
Shrugging, she says, “You had me looking at the clock, Banks.”
I attempt to stand but she places a hand on my shoulders, keeping me down. “So…” She lifts a leg and straddles my lap and I’m instantly hard.
I bite down on my lip, my dirty hands itching to touch her.
“What have you been doing?”
“Missing you.”
“Yeah?” she whispers, her hands on my neck, her eyes searching mine.
I nod.
She dips her head, her mouth finding my jaw. “I missed you too. All of you, babe.”
“Ry.”
“What?”
“Your mom’s going to be home any minute.”
Her lips move, hovering an inch in front of mine. “She’s not home now.”
Our mouths crash together, our kisses desperate. God I missed her. All of her. Her smell, her kiss, her taste. I use my hands to remember her, ignoring how dirty they are. I run them along her sides, down her waist and to her ass—forgetting where we are and what we’re doing. I get lost. In her. In the memories of her and the lust building inside me. Her hips push down, pressing into me, a moan escaping her lips and landing on mine.
“Whoo!” Holly sings, shutting the front door. “Dylan fixed the air?”
Riley backs away quickly and stands to my side.
I cover my cock when Holly appears in the doorway of the bathroom. “What are you doing?” she asks, pizza boxes in her hand.
“Clearing Riley’s pipes,” I answer.
Riley chokes on air.
“The sink!” I rush out and point to the sink. “Not Riley—not her—this!”
Holly presses her lips together, nods once, and then leaves.
Riley shakes her head, her eyes filled with amusement. “You suck at talking, D.”
“No shit.”
I hear the front door shut. “I heard there was pizza!” Eric shouts.
Dad grunts.
Holly calls out, “Let’s eat.”
My phone rings on the bathroom counter and Riley reaches for it. She hands it to me, still standing above me, her legs toned and tanned beneath her skirt. “You going to answer?”
I kiss her leg. Just once. Then answer the call and bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Lance Corporal Banks?”
I instantly recognize the voice on the other end. “Yes, First Sergeant?”
“Conway and I are in town on a recruiter visit. Thought we’d come see you. We’re at your house but no one’s answering the door.”
“I’m at my girlfriend’s house, First Sergeant.”
“I thought she lived with you?” he asks, his tone more casual.
I look over at Riley, her brow furrowed. “It’s a long story.”
“Can we come by, Banks? There’s something we’d like to discuss.”
“Yes, First sergeant.”
“Send Conway the address. We’ll be there soon.”
I hang up and look down at my phone, knowing full well it’s bullshit. There’s no recruiter visit. They’re here for me.
“What’s that about?” Riley asks, helping me to stand.
I wash my hands, my eyes on her through the reflection of the mirror.
“They’re coming by.”
“Why?”
“To discuss the disciplinary action for my DUI.”
Fifty-Five
Dylan
They show up fifteen minutes later to a waiting audience. I guess no one wanted to leave. Dad and Eric helped move the furniture in the living room so we could accommodate their visit. Riley helps me to stand when First Sergeant Fulton and Conway enter the room. I shake hands, make the introductions and offer them a seat on the couch opposite us.
“How’s the leg?” First Sergeant asks.
I tap it twice. “It’s getting there.”
He nods. “Listen,” he says, holding the brim of his cap in his hands as he rests his elbows on his knees. “This wasn’t a casual visit, Banks. I’m here to discuss—”
My throat clearing cuts him off. I glance at Dad quickly and then at Eric. There’s no other reason for a First Sergeant to make the trip out to my home unless it’s something dramatic. “I know why you’re here,” I tell him.
“So you’ve thought about it, Banks?”
My brow furrows.
He sighs, taking the folder that Conway hands him. “We got word of your DUI, Banks.”
I nod, glancing at Dad again.
Riley takes my hand in hers.
First Sergeant continues. “You have four weeks left until your contract with the United States Marine Corps is up.”
She inhales deeply, her eyes on mine. “He left you, D. I mean, that’s basic right? When you think someone is going to be part of your life and then all of a sudden they’re not, that hurts. And hurt can easily turn to hate. Because it’s better than the alternative. He probably also made you feel guilty. Guilt can also turn to hate. Again. It’s better than the alternative.”
Even though I know the answer, still I ask, “Why would I feel guilty?”
“Because you feel like you should’ve known something was wrong. He was your friend. And now you’re wondering if the signs were there or if you just chose to turn a blind eye to it. If you were too wrapped up in the joys of your life, you didn’t see his.”
I exhale loudly, causing her to smile.
She continues. “You probably hate him because you feel like you have to live your life a certain way now because of him. You try to justify your life based on his death and you feel like you have to go above and beyond to give value to his death.”
“I don’t feel like I have to.”
She smiles wider. “But you want to?”
I nod.
“And, lastly, you’re allowed to hate him simply because he’s gone now. And there’s nothing you can do to bring him back. And I think, out of all the reasons, that’s probably the one that hits home the hardest.” She pauses a beat. “You miss him?”
I look down at my hands and nod again. “Like crazy.”
* * *
“Holy shit, babe,” Riley calls out, stepping into the house. “Did you fix the air conditioning?”
“Yep!” I remove the pipe from under the Riley’s bathroom sink and move quickly to let the gunk of hair fall into the bucket.
“Where are you?”
“Bathroom!”
Her footsteps near, stopping just outside the doorway. “What are you doing?”
“Clearing your pipes.”
She scoffs. “You wish.”
I replace the pipe and start to screw it back on.
“You got bored, huh?” she asks, kneeling down next to me.
“A little.” Lie. I was bored out of my fucking mind. There’s not a lot you can do in a house that’s not yours with a leg that doesn’t work.
“You went home and got your tools, D?”
I finish my task and start to sit up, taking her offered hand half way. “I got Eric to get them for me when he got some other shit.” I run my hands down my shorts. “Hi.”
She smiles. “Hi.”
“How was work?”
Shrugging, she says, “You had me looking at the clock, Banks.”
I attempt to stand but she places a hand on my shoulders, keeping me down. “So…” She lifts a leg and straddles my lap and I’m instantly hard.
I bite down on my lip, my dirty hands itching to touch her.
“What have you been doing?”
“Missing you.”
“Yeah?” she whispers, her hands on my neck, her eyes searching mine.
I nod.
She dips her head, her mouth finding my jaw. “I missed you too. All of you, babe.”
“Ry.”
“What?”
“Your mom’s going to be home any minute.”
Her lips move, hovering an inch in front of mine. “She’s not home now.”
Our mouths crash together, our kisses desperate. God I missed her. All of her. Her smell, her kiss, her taste. I use my hands to remember her, ignoring how dirty they are. I run them along her sides, down her waist and to her ass—forgetting where we are and what we’re doing. I get lost. In her. In the memories of her and the lust building inside me. Her hips push down, pressing into me, a moan escaping her lips and landing on mine.
“Whoo!” Holly sings, shutting the front door. “Dylan fixed the air?”
Riley backs away quickly and stands to my side.
I cover my cock when Holly appears in the doorway of the bathroom. “What are you doing?” she asks, pizza boxes in her hand.
“Clearing Riley’s pipes,” I answer.
Riley chokes on air.
“The sink!” I rush out and point to the sink. “Not Riley—not her—this!”
Holly presses her lips together, nods once, and then leaves.
Riley shakes her head, her eyes filled with amusement. “You suck at talking, D.”
“No shit.”
I hear the front door shut. “I heard there was pizza!” Eric shouts.
Dad grunts.
Holly calls out, “Let’s eat.”
My phone rings on the bathroom counter and Riley reaches for it. She hands it to me, still standing above me, her legs toned and tanned beneath her skirt. “You going to answer?”
I kiss her leg. Just once. Then answer the call and bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Lance Corporal Banks?”
I instantly recognize the voice on the other end. “Yes, First Sergeant?”
“Conway and I are in town on a recruiter visit. Thought we’d come see you. We’re at your house but no one’s answering the door.”
“I’m at my girlfriend’s house, First Sergeant.”
“I thought she lived with you?” he asks, his tone more casual.
I look over at Riley, her brow furrowed. “It’s a long story.”
“Can we come by, Banks? There’s something we’d like to discuss.”
“Yes, First sergeant.”
“Send Conway the address. We’ll be there soon.”
I hang up and look down at my phone, knowing full well it’s bullshit. There’s no recruiter visit. They’re here for me.
“What’s that about?” Riley asks, helping me to stand.
I wash my hands, my eyes on her through the reflection of the mirror.
“They’re coming by.”
“Why?”
“To discuss the disciplinary action for my DUI.”
Fifty-Five
Dylan
They show up fifteen minutes later to a waiting audience. I guess no one wanted to leave. Dad and Eric helped move the furniture in the living room so we could accommodate their visit. Riley helps me to stand when First Sergeant Fulton and Conway enter the room. I shake hands, make the introductions and offer them a seat on the couch opposite us.
“How’s the leg?” First Sergeant asks.
I tap it twice. “It’s getting there.”
He nods. “Listen,” he says, holding the brim of his cap in his hands as he rests his elbows on his knees. “This wasn’t a casual visit, Banks. I’m here to discuss—”
My throat clearing cuts him off. I glance at Dad quickly and then at Eric. There’s no other reason for a First Sergeant to make the trip out to my home unless it’s something dramatic. “I know why you’re here,” I tell him.
“So you’ve thought about it, Banks?”
My brow furrows.
He sighs, taking the folder that Conway hands him. “We got word of your DUI, Banks.”
I nod, glancing at Dad again.
Riley takes my hand in hers.
First Sergeant continues. “You have four weeks left until your contract with the United States Marine Corps is up.”
