All for You (25 page)

He wondered where Evan was and why Claire was sitting at his desk.

“So. Rehab again.” Oh, but she was looking for a fight. Reza was not in the mood.

“Thanks for telling the entire office.”

“There’s no one here but us.” She rounded the desk, her hands braced on her hips. She was the only woman he knew that could probably kick his ass. “When is it going to end, Reza?”

“Claire, I love you but this time, my life is none of your damn business. I have other shit to worry about than you being pissed at me.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before she turned away, surprising the hell out of Reza. “Fine.”

He’d been around long enough to know that Claire not arguing was a portent of bad things to come. “Come on, Claire. Don’t be mad.”

She turned around. “I’m not mad, Reza.” Her voice broke. “You’re my best friend. I’m terrified that I’m going to lose you.”

He pulled her into his arms in an awkward embrace because of her body armor. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I promise.”

“I’m really tired of you making her cry.” Evan walked into the office. “This shit needs to stop, Reza.”

“It’s going to,” Reza said. He had to try.

Because he couldn’t quit. He wouldn’t. Evan nodded and with one last glance at Claire, Reza left. He’d hurt her, but then again what else was new?

He held up his hand. Took in the still-healing knuckles, the pink flesh mixed with brown. His skin color had never been an issue for him in the military. His hands had waged war. Caressed women and cradled drinks. The three things he’d told Emily he was good at. His hand shook and he balled it into a fist.

He still had to get through the rest of the day and then set conditions to be out of the office for a month. The company had to keep running while he was gone.

But his thoughts were racing, churning and twisting.

He had a thousand things to do. He wanted to see her but he had no right.

He needed to get clean first. Maybe when he got home, he could go. See if she could forgive him for being an asshole.

That would take a hell of a lot more courage than he currently had.

His hands shook, the hunger clawing at his belly.

To hell with it. Reza was going for a run.

Emily ran because she couldn’t concentrate. The clinic was unusually empty today so she took advantage of the clear calendar to head to the gym.

She started toward the treadmill but the idea lost its appeal somewhere near the free weights. Heading for the door, she popped her ear buds in and headed for the trail.

It was hot and sticky. She didn’t care. The sun had already started baking the thick brush as she found her stride. She lost herself in the rhythm, the music pounding in her ears, the feel of her feet pounding the earth. The tension in her shoulders disappeared after the first mile as civilization drifted away, leaving her alone with her music and her thoughts.

Rounding a corner, her rhythm was shattered.

Reza was there. On the same trail. Running toward her. Her stomach shattered, her stride faltered.

He met her gaze. Her breath caught in her throat. He was missing his customary long-sleeved shirt. He was missing any shirt.

The man was running on a trail in nothing but loose black shorts that left very little to the imagination. His body gleamed with sweat. The reaper over his chest rose and fell with each hard breath.

He came to a stop a short distance away. An impassable chasm.

The sun bore down on them. In the distance, traffic rolled down East Range Road.

It was Reza who broke the silence.

“How much farther were you planning on going?” he asked.

A truce. Common ground. Okay, she could do that. For now. Just to see where this might lead them.

“Couple more miles.”

He rubbed his forearm across his forehead. There was darkness in his eyes. Wicked fear and uncertainty and a myriad of things she couldn’t name. “Can I run with you?”

She frowned slightly. There was no apology there, nothing more than a tentative gesture. She could walk away. Probably should, all things considered.

Somehow, none of that seemed important right now.

At that moment, the most important thing in the world to her was that he was there.

That he was okay.

“Sure.”

He fell into step beside her and their strides quickly matched. It was strange running with someone else, especially when that someone else was Reza. And since she hadn’t seen him in more than a week, her blood was pounding for an entirely different reason.

She was curious. It did nothing to decrease the hurt from their argument but she still felt compelled by this man in a way that she shouldn’t allow. And still, she basked in the familiar warmth of just being around him. A sense of protection, of things being right.

Things couldn’t be right if he didn’t make some important changes. She knew that. She’d always known that.

And her heart had broken when she realized that he was not going to pick up that phone.

His silence had broken her heart.

Her stride faltered.

Reza gripped her arm to keep her from stumbling. She caught herself and kept running. Up a small hill, down an old tank trail. She ran until she emptied herself and focused only on the rhythm of her heart.

Until she was aware of nothing but the beating of her heart and the strength and heat of the man next to her.

She finally stopped at a place that sent her blood pounding with renewed intensity. Engineer Lake, where she’d broken the rules and loved the man next to her in broad daylight.

He stretched his arms over his head as she walked off their run. Silence, comfortable and warm and filled with a thousand words unsaid, hung between them.

Finally, Reza broke the hush.

“I’m an alcoholic, you know.”

She swallowed and shifted, unsure of what to do with her hands. They hung limp by her sides as she simply stood. And listened.

“I don’t drink downrange. At least, not very often.” He snorted quietly. “Too damn hard to get liquor anyway. And it’s hell on the nerves trying to have a beer when the base gets blown up.”

She said nothing.

“I was six the first time my father put my mother in the hospital,” he said quietly. “I was twelve before a judge ordered him to rehab before he killed my mother with his drinking.” He breathed deeply. “He killed her anyway.” His breath shuddered. “I don’t remember the first time I drank. But I remember the first time I got drunk.”

She watched him quietly, letting him speak. Unsure of what she would say. Of what she could say. She knew his father had beaten his mother.

She hadn’t known it had defined everything about his young life.

Her heart broke in her chest for the boy he’d been.

“It wasn’t the war that fucked with my head but that’s a big part of it. I was wild way before I joined the army.” He swiped his arm across his forehead. “I’ve always thought I had everything under control.”

“Until you didn’t.”

He nodded grimly. “Until I didn’t.” He stepped into her space. She didn’t step away. He lifted his hands. Hesitated. Then rested them on her shoulders. The reaper on his chest flexed and twisted as he moved.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered.

S
he turned away, slipping out of his grip easily. She walked to the water’s edge.

Reza said nothing. He looked down at his hands again. Empty. More used to holding a rifle than a woman.

“I left home because I wanted something to believe in. There’s no deep emotional trauma in my life, no dark secrets. Just a scumbag ex and a best friend who turned out not to be.” Emily turned to face him.

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be with me. You should be with some normal, well-adjusted man who can take care of you, love you.” He swallowed. “Make a family with you.” He met her gaze. “I’m not that man, Emily. I said it badly the other night but it’s true.”

“So you’re breaking things off because I’m not screwed up enough?”

A sharp, bitter laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She shook her head, biting her lips. Her eyes filled with sadness. “So what now?”

Reza dropped his gaze. His hands clenched by his sides. “I’m going to rehab, Emily.” A tortured whisper. An admission ripped from his darkest fears. War was easier than coming home. So much simpler.

“Why?”

He held out his arms. The names and the places tattooed into his skin spoke for him. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. The war is…simple. You go over there, you patrol. You hope to come home. But here at home? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m lost. I don’t know how to take care of soldiers’ lives, not like this.” He glanced away before forcing himself to look at her once more.

A smarter woman would have left him alone. Would have kept on running away—toward her home and the remnants of her career.

He sighed hard. “I’m in a lot of trouble. I have been since before I met you.”

“I know.” She caught his hand between both of hers. “I won’t be with you unless you want to get better, though. I can’t enable you.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes I have my first drink before ten a.m. I feel normal when I drink.” He refused to meet her gaze.

“Deployments must be hell, huh?”

“You have no idea.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m baring my soul to you and you’re making jokes.”

“Just stating the obvious. I’ve seen you drinking, Reza. If you’re trying to run me off because you have a problem, I’ve got news for you. We’re all a little screwed up. And last time I checked, no one expected you to be perfect.”

“No, just sober. Which I have a hell of a time pulling off.”

“Do you want to be sober?” she asked softly, tracing her thumb against the palm of his hand.

He met her gaze once more. “I don’t know how.”

“You’ve done it downrange.”

“But there is a shitload of adrenaline and stuff to do to keep me busy. After I get through the DTs, that is.”

“I did a paper on the detox process. It’s awful.”

“Nothing quite like feeling like you’re losing your mind. Wondering if the spiders crawling up your skin are real or not.” He scoffed quietly. “Makes for a really interesting first thirty days in country, that’s for sure.”

“How many times have you deployed?”

“Six. Five times to Iraq, once to Afghanistan.”

“Did you detox each time?”

“Yeah.” Shame colored his eyes now, twisted in the harsh line of his lips. “I want to be a better man.” He looked up at her. “I never wanted to hurt you, Emily.”

Silence was thick and sticky between them, clinging to their skin.

It was Emily who moved.

“You held me when I needed to be held. You’ve been there for me more than anyone else in my entire life and I’ve only known you a short while. If that’s what you call using someone, I’d hate to see what happens when you really care for someone.” She stepped into his space, lifting her hands to his cheeks. “The day I met you, you were so determined, so strong.” He tried to look away but she held him. Met his gaze with a fierceness of her own. “You’ve been taking care of soldiers at war for so long, maybe it’s time someone took care of you.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of,” he whispered. “That’s not how I’m wired.”

“Then how about letting someone stand with you?” Her thumb caressed his cheek. “I don’t want to be your doctor. I don’t want to be the only adult in this relationship.” She lifted her mouth to his, brushing her lips against his. “But I’ll stand with you, if you’ll let me.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe in you. Screwed up and angry, you’re still the best man I know.”

He scoffed quietly. “You don’t know many good men.”

“I’ve met a lot of men this year. Men who are supposed to be leaders but who are bullies instead.” A caress. “You’re a better man than all of them.”

He shook his head. “I’m just a washed up GI.”

“Well, when you wash something, it comes out clean.” She smiled gently and Reza shook his head with a smile that felt real.

“That was really corny.”

“Yeah, I know. But it made you smile.”

Words escaped him. His throat went dry. Emotion squeezed air from his lungs.

He crushed her to him and as long as he lived, he would forever remember the feel of her arms sliding around his waist and holding him. Just holding him.

Standing with him.

H
e had no idea how to do this. Reza sat in the back of the van that was bringing him home from the rehab center. Thirty days he’d been gone. Thirty days he’d learned how to be sober. Not for a day or a week.

For a lifetime.

It was easy, in the sterile environment of the clinic. There was no stress. No phone calls in the middle of the night. No sergeant major stepping on his neck.

But all of that was over now.

All of that changed the minute the van stopped in front of the headquarters and let him out.

There was a terrible taste in his mouth. A dryness that no matter how much water he drank, he couldn’t moisten.

Emily had promised to be there to pick him up.

And he was terrified.

Terrified that he would fail. Terrified that he would hurt her again.

Terrified that he wasn’t man enough to beat this addiction.

That he wasn’t man enough to be worthy of the faith she had in him.

The sun was sinking into the Central Texas hills and still he sat in the back of the van, unable to take that first step.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been as nervous as he was sitting in the back of the van, staring at his hands, waiting for her.

It felt like an eternity before she pulled into the headquarters parking lot. It was a Saturday. She stepped out of the car in jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

Her hair was down, framing her face in soft chestnut. There was a wariness in her eyes, a smile on her lips.

Her eyes warmed as she approached the van. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and slid across the old bench seat.

He stood there, paralyzed as she came closer. Close enough to touch.

He reached up, cupping her cheek, embarrassed that his hand shook. “You came.”

Reza blinked rapidly and clenched his fists, brushing her cheek with his knuckles. Steadier. At least a little bit.

“Of course I did.”

She took a step closer, sliding her arms around his waist, molding her body to his. He could smell the soft sunshine smell of her hair. Felt its silk against his cheek. He hesitated, not trusting himself to move, to take that last step and hold her in his arms.

It was stepping into something bigger than himself that wasn’t the war. It was a step toward healing the wounds that a lifetime of fighting had left on his soul.

Finally, he closed his arms around her. Pulling her close until there was nothing between them. No space, no distance. Nothing but time and too many clothes.

“You came,” he whispered again.

She leaned up, her eyes filled with shimmering tears as she met his. “Oh ye of little faith,” she whispered.

They stood that way for a long moment. Until the van pulled away and they were alone in the parking lot as the sun sank below the hill country.

“Are you hungry?” she asked after a long silence.

He nodded, unwilling to let her go. Terrified that she would disappear. “Missed lunch.”

“You’re in luck. I made spaghetti. It’s one of my signature dishes.”

He tipped his chin, adjusting his backpack as it started to drop down his shoulder. “You have signature dishes?”

“There are several that I am really, really good at making.” She slipped the pack off his shoulder. His blood warmed from her touch. “We should get you home.”

Home. Such a foreign concept. He’d had so many places to lay his head. He never really thought of any of them as home before.

She lifted her face to his. “How hungry are you?” she whispered against his lips.

“Starved,” he murmured before claiming her mouth.

He crushed her with his urgency. Pulled her against him until their bodies were fitted together. Until she breathed for him and him for her. Her fingers fisted in the short hair on his head, her body arching into his.

It was Emily who pulled back. “Home?”

His lips quivered. “Home.”

They talked of inconsequential things on the short ride to her place. He would tell her about rehab some other time, but he would talk to her.

He’d spent too much time shutting out people who cared.

He wouldn’t shut her out. Not again. Not ever.

They made it home before he pulled her to him. Before he kissed her like a dying man and held her like she was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

Because she was.

He stripped her clothes from her body, needing her far more than the air he breathed. They fumbled with belts and boots until they were both naked in the middle of her living room floor. Until he paused, just there, and looked down at her.

Her hair spread out beneath her. Her lips were swollen and flushed. But it was her eyes that whispered the truth he’d been afraid to see. Her lips that formed the words he’d never heard.

He slid deep and slow, her whispered words a breath against his ear. “I love you, Reza.”

He moved inside her, his answering words lost in her hair, in the intense wave of emotion that overwhelmed him. It was more than passion, more than simple pleasure.

It was a joining.

He shattered with her, tumbling into the abyss that for once was not filled with darkness and terror and regret.

She lost herself in the paradise of his arms, his whispered words capturing her heart.

His big strong arms, marked with the names of lives he’d lost, places he’d bled, held her gently. And it was his whisper, quiet on the stillness of her home, that snared her heart forever.

“I love you, Emily,” he said, cradling her face in his hands. A kiss against her lips, their bodies joined. “I love you.” Surprise in his voice.

She kissed him. And held him. Vowing that she would stand with him. Always.

“I’m afraid.”

Her arms tightened around his waist. “I know.”

He didn’t give voice to the fear that she might not have been standing there when he got off the bus. That everything would turn out to be another haunting dream, tormenting him with things he could not have. He kissed her gently, pouring a thousand unsaid words into that kiss. He wrapped his arms tight around her and held her against his chest, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“The docs said this wasn’t going to be easy.” Fear choked his words.

“It won’t be.” Her arms tightened around his waist. “But you won’t be alone.” She pressed her lips to his.

“I won’t let you down,” he said against her mouth.

It was that promise that took him through the long days and longer nights. A promise. But it was more than her promise that kept his strength. It was his own promise to be a better man, to be a stronger man. A promise to be a man who was worthy of her love.

It was a promise worth going through hell to keep.