Sweet Dreams
Page 177
“Mack’s right, that was pure drama on TV but what they said was true. You might have made a lot of money playing football but you make this world a safer place doing what you do and you didn’t even know the faceless people who’s futures you changed by putting bad guys behind bars. But now one of them isn’t faceless, Captain. She’s standing right here.”
“Jim-Billy –”
“Got there first,” I cut him off, “but you were not even ten minutes behind. Dalton was taking his time, he had all night. Even if Jim-Billy didn’t get there, you would have.”
“Lauren –”
“And you think, knowing that, knowing that four years they’ve been looking for him, four years and ten women before me, he only had an hour with me before you got to me, you think after that, I lay my head on a pillow by yours and I relive it? You think I can’t cope? You think I don’t know I’m safe, right here, beside you?”
His hands at my head lifted me up a centimeter and his head slanted, his mouth taking mine in a wet, thorough kiss that would have been fantastic if it hadn’t made my breathing erratic which made my wound hurt.
When his mouth let mine go, I whispered, “I love you kissing me, honey, but –”
“Right,” he muttered, cutting me off, then he let me go, stepped back, bent and lifted me in his arms. He carried me to the living room, set me gently on the couch, threw the blanket over my legs and then put his fists in the couch on either side of my hips, his torso bent, his face in mine.
“I’m gonna go talk to Jonas,” he said softly.
“Good idea,” I replied and smiled but he didn’t move away, instead his eyes did a scan of my face.
Then his hand lifted and cupped my jaw.
Then he whispered, “You humble me.”
I blinked then breathed, “What?”
“Your strength, Ace, it’s got nothin’ to do with boot camp.”
I somehow managed to swallow and smile at the same time even while fighting back tears.
“Tate –”
“You gonna help me have sweet dreams again, baby?” he asked softly.
“I’ll try,” I answered.
“It’s fresh and it ain’t gettin’ any less fresh,” he shared.
“We’ll settle,” I promised him.
He didn’t look like he believed me and I’d know why when he spoke again.
“That hour, Lauren, that hour he had you, that’s an hour I’ll never forget in my whole f**kin’ life.”
My hands came up to frame his face. “I’ll help you.”
“I know you’ll try but I’m tellin’ you, I’ll never forget it, not in my life.”
“Baby, don’t let him do that to you.”
“He took your hair, he took your blood and that’s what he took from me.”
“My hair will grow back and my wound will heal,” I told him. “And we’ll get back what he took from you, Captain. I swear, we’ll get it back.”
“Ace –”
“You gave me sweet dreams, Tate, now I get to return the favor.”
Tate stared at me and I held his handsome face in my hands as I stared back.
Then he whispered, “Love you, Ace.”
“Love you too, Captain.”
He touched his lips to mine then he ran his nose along mine then he pulled away and went to his son.
I looked to the TV and then grabbed the remote to switch channels. On my third press of the button, I saw Tate’s picture on another halftime show and I hit the button to turn off mute.
Then I turned the volume down so Tate wouldn’t hear as I listened to the commentators bragging about my old man.
Epilogue
Special
I walked out of our bedroom wearing a robe, my long, wet hair combed back, a wide headband pulling it away from my face, my cell phone in my hand.
Jonas and Tate were camped out on the new furniture in the living room watching Saturday morning, collegiate football pre-shows.
I was pretty pleased with the results of my seven month search for the perfect living room furniture. The couch and armchairs were wide-seated, comfy and inviting and nearly brand-spanking new but not in a way where you didn’t feel like you could eat spaghetti or drink Kool-Aid on them. The new tables were rustic and sturdy so you didn’t hesitate putting your drink on them (though I bought coasters and nagged my boys to use them, something I had to do often considering they were clearly deaf to my explanations of the importance of coasters). The new carpet was thick pile, wool and cost a mint but looked freaking fabulous. The newly-painted walls were studded with pictures – not paintings or prints – family and friends. Some small frames, some large, some multi. There were photos of us on the beach in St. Thomas last Spring Break. There were photos of our trip to Indiana last summer. There were photos of the New Year’s party Krys threw at Bubba’s because Jim-Billy was out of the hospital and getting around; photos of barbeques at our house, Pop’s house, Wood’s house; photos of us horsing around in Ned and Betty’s pool; photos inside Bubba’s of the staff and the regulars, some of them just our friends, some of them me or Tate or both of us with our friends.
The biggest was the photo of Tate, Jonas and me and it hung on the wall over the TV. In it, Tate wearing his dark suit; Jonas wearing his dark suit; me wearing a form-fitting, cream silk, boat necked dress, the hem hitting above my knee, sexy, pink strappy sandals on my feet and a massive bouquet of delicate, pale pink peonies and roses in my hand. Tate had his arm around my shoulders, my front was to his side, my arm was around his waist, my other arm, hand holding my bouquet, around Jonas’s chest. You couldn’t see it for the flowers but Tate’s fingers were curled around Jonas’s shoulder. Jonas was standing in front of us, his back pressed tight to our bodies. Jonas and me were smiling straight into the camera but Tate’s head was tipped slightly back and to the side because he’d just burst out laughing.
Our wedding day.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and Tate’s eyes came to me as I pulled out the stool to the island and sat at it. I smiled at him and I knew it was a soft smile, barely there. I felt my eyes get soft too, just from seeing my old man lounging on our new couch.
Then I looked down at my phone and went to my contacts, found who I was looking for, hit the button to call and I put my phone to my ear.
“Hey, honey,” I heard in my ear.
“Hi, Matt,” I said back.
“Jim-Billy –”
“Got there first,” I cut him off, “but you were not even ten minutes behind. Dalton was taking his time, he had all night. Even if Jim-Billy didn’t get there, you would have.”
“Lauren –”
“And you think, knowing that, knowing that four years they’ve been looking for him, four years and ten women before me, he only had an hour with me before you got to me, you think after that, I lay my head on a pillow by yours and I relive it? You think I can’t cope? You think I don’t know I’m safe, right here, beside you?”
His hands at my head lifted me up a centimeter and his head slanted, his mouth taking mine in a wet, thorough kiss that would have been fantastic if it hadn’t made my breathing erratic which made my wound hurt.
When his mouth let mine go, I whispered, “I love you kissing me, honey, but –”
“Right,” he muttered, cutting me off, then he let me go, stepped back, bent and lifted me in his arms. He carried me to the living room, set me gently on the couch, threw the blanket over my legs and then put his fists in the couch on either side of my hips, his torso bent, his face in mine.
“I’m gonna go talk to Jonas,” he said softly.
“Good idea,” I replied and smiled but he didn’t move away, instead his eyes did a scan of my face.
Then his hand lifted and cupped my jaw.
Then he whispered, “You humble me.”
I blinked then breathed, “What?”
“Your strength, Ace, it’s got nothin’ to do with boot camp.”
I somehow managed to swallow and smile at the same time even while fighting back tears.
“Tate –”
“You gonna help me have sweet dreams again, baby?” he asked softly.
“I’ll try,” I answered.
“It’s fresh and it ain’t gettin’ any less fresh,” he shared.
“We’ll settle,” I promised him.
He didn’t look like he believed me and I’d know why when he spoke again.
“That hour, Lauren, that hour he had you, that’s an hour I’ll never forget in my whole f**kin’ life.”
My hands came up to frame his face. “I’ll help you.”
“I know you’ll try but I’m tellin’ you, I’ll never forget it, not in my life.”
“Baby, don’t let him do that to you.”
“He took your hair, he took your blood and that’s what he took from me.”
“My hair will grow back and my wound will heal,” I told him. “And we’ll get back what he took from you, Captain. I swear, we’ll get it back.”
“Ace –”
“You gave me sweet dreams, Tate, now I get to return the favor.”
Tate stared at me and I held his handsome face in my hands as I stared back.
Then he whispered, “Love you, Ace.”
“Love you too, Captain.”
He touched his lips to mine then he ran his nose along mine then he pulled away and went to his son.
I looked to the TV and then grabbed the remote to switch channels. On my third press of the button, I saw Tate’s picture on another halftime show and I hit the button to turn off mute.
Then I turned the volume down so Tate wouldn’t hear as I listened to the commentators bragging about my old man.
Epilogue
Special
I walked out of our bedroom wearing a robe, my long, wet hair combed back, a wide headband pulling it away from my face, my cell phone in my hand.
Jonas and Tate were camped out on the new furniture in the living room watching Saturday morning, collegiate football pre-shows.
I was pretty pleased with the results of my seven month search for the perfect living room furniture. The couch and armchairs were wide-seated, comfy and inviting and nearly brand-spanking new but not in a way where you didn’t feel like you could eat spaghetti or drink Kool-Aid on them. The new tables were rustic and sturdy so you didn’t hesitate putting your drink on them (though I bought coasters and nagged my boys to use them, something I had to do often considering they were clearly deaf to my explanations of the importance of coasters). The new carpet was thick pile, wool and cost a mint but looked freaking fabulous. The newly-painted walls were studded with pictures – not paintings or prints – family and friends. Some small frames, some large, some multi. There were photos of us on the beach in St. Thomas last Spring Break. There were photos of our trip to Indiana last summer. There were photos of the New Year’s party Krys threw at Bubba’s because Jim-Billy was out of the hospital and getting around; photos of barbeques at our house, Pop’s house, Wood’s house; photos of us horsing around in Ned and Betty’s pool; photos inside Bubba’s of the staff and the regulars, some of them just our friends, some of them me or Tate or both of us with our friends.
The biggest was the photo of Tate, Jonas and me and it hung on the wall over the TV. In it, Tate wearing his dark suit; Jonas wearing his dark suit; me wearing a form-fitting, cream silk, boat necked dress, the hem hitting above my knee, sexy, pink strappy sandals on my feet and a massive bouquet of delicate, pale pink peonies and roses in my hand. Tate had his arm around my shoulders, my front was to his side, my arm was around his waist, my other arm, hand holding my bouquet, around Jonas’s chest. You couldn’t see it for the flowers but Tate’s fingers were curled around Jonas’s shoulder. Jonas was standing in front of us, his back pressed tight to our bodies. Jonas and me were smiling straight into the camera but Tate’s head was tipped slightly back and to the side because he’d just burst out laughing.
Our wedding day.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and Tate’s eyes came to me as I pulled out the stool to the island and sat at it. I smiled at him and I knew it was a soft smile, barely there. I felt my eyes get soft too, just from seeing my old man lounging on our new couch.
Then I looked down at my phone and went to my contacts, found who I was looking for, hit the button to call and I put my phone to my ear.
“Hey, honey,” I heard in my ear.
“Hi, Matt,” I said back.
