Disarm (7 page)

“It wasn't a big deal,” I insisted, waving the issue away. “Really.”

“What's not a big deal?”

We both turned to find Henry standing beside us, his eyes flicking back and forth between Dave and me.

Dave shrugged. “Nothing, man. I was just asking Elsie if she wanted another drink,” he said and walked off toward the bar.

I couldn't bear to feel the weight of Henry's stare, so I excused myself and headed to the bathroom, mentally kicking myself. I should have just told him right then instead of avoiding the question like a guilty idiot.

I emerged from the ladies bathroom a few minutes later, resolved to tell Henry everything, when a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and pulled me into a dark alcove. Hands flattened over my mouth and I was pressed against the wall, my heart thumping right through my chest to the painted concrete. I struggled, tried to push away from the wall, but I was pinned into submission by a large body.

I opened my mouth to scream when a voice whispered against my ear, “It's me.”

My body relaxed at the same time Henry loosened his hold. I twisted my head to look at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Interrogation,” he said with a chuckle. His hand slid from my stomach down into the waistband of my jeans. Before I could ask him what he meant, he rubbed his hand over my panties, making the fabric damp with my arousal. “Does this feel good?” he asked huskily.

I melted onto his hand, enjoying the sensation but not getting nearly enough. “Yes, more.”

He flipped me around to face him. I wrapped one leg around his waist just as he began to grind his hard length into me, the pleasure muted through too many layers of clothing. I tried to kiss him, to get more of him, but he dipped his head and kissed my neck the way I liked. “What were you and Dave talking about?” he said with his teeth on my earlobes.

I closed my eyes, unable to think past the haze of desire he had me under. It seemed like such an innocuous question that the red flags didn't go up immediately. “It's nothing. Just what happened a few months ago.”

Henry kept nuzzling me as he asked, “What happened a few months ago?”

I moaned when his erection hit me in a particularly tender spot. “It was nothing.”

Henry pulled away, his face completely still except for the storm in his eyes. “What happened?” he asked again, his jaw tightening.

I grasped the back of his head and tried to pull him in for a kiss but he resisted.

“Damn it, Elsie, tell me.”

I sighed. “He kissed me.”

“What?” Henry set my leg down and took a step back, looking at me as if I were a stranger. “Dave kissed you?”

“He didn't know we were dating,” I said quickly.

“That peckerhead kissed you?”

“Yes, but it was nothing. Just lack of information.”

Henry turned on a heel and took off, leaving me suddenly cold and bewildered.

I ran after him and rounded the corner just in time to see Henry pull Dave away from the bar by the collar and punch him in the face. I dove in between them, somehow still hoping to salvage the night.

Sometimes optimism can be my biggest weakness.

Henry pulled me behind him as Dave regained his footing.

Dave touched the blood on his lips and wiped it with a shirtsleeve. “I take it Elsie told you.”

“Yeah, she told me,” Henry said, huffing.

Dave seemed relaxed under the circumstances. He just shook his head and said, “I'm sorry, man. It was a mistake.”

“A mistake is asking you to watch over my girlfriend.”

“You always said she was like your little sister,” Dave said, motioning to me. “I didn't know.”

“Well, now you know,” Henry said, his hands fisting at his sides. “You gonna fucking kiss her again?”

Dave held his hands up. “Look, man, you got your dig in. I deserve it. Let's leave it at that.”

“Come on, let it go,” I said, holding tightly on to Henry's arm.

He turned to me with a chilly look that froze me in place, then turned back to Dave. “Stay away from her, Novak,” he spat out before wrapping a possessive arm around my shoulders and leading me away. I twisted away and mouthed an “I'm sorry” to Dave and, with a heavy sigh, followed Henry out the door.

SHOCK AND AWE

Throughout our teenage years, Henry was always there, like a shadow looming over everything I did. For the most part his presence wasn't an intrusion, more like a comforting blanket. I knew I was safe with an older brother and his best friend always watching out for me.

Sometimes, though, he could be such an overbearing jackass, even more than Jason. One night in particular, Henry crossed the line and caused a rift in our friendship that spanned two weeks. It was during the homecoming dance of my sophomore year, when I'd gone with a senior named John. Henry, Jason, and the rest of the football players were also in attendance with their own dates.

John was the second-string quarterback and was good-looking. He wasn't as popular as the other first-stringers, obviously, but he knew how to charm the pants off a girl, or so I'd heard.

I was actually kind of nervous that night, worried that he thought I would put out after the dance. I wouldn't say I was a prude, but well, I was still holding on to my V-card, still waiting for the perfect guy to come along and sweep me off my feet. John, as nice as he was, just wasn't that guy.

Still, try he did. We were on the dance floor, swaying to a song by the group 98 Degrees, my arms around his neck while his hands were on my waist and sliding slowly down.

I gulped when they reached their intended destination. “John,” I said in warning, tugging his arms up higher.

“You just feel so good, babe,” he said against my ear, and in that moment I could see why most girls went gaga over him. John had a way of making you feel like the sexiest girl in the world. “You have such a nice ass.”

Well yes, I did have a nice rear. “But people can see.”

He dipped his head and touched his lips to my jaw and my knees just about buckled. His kisses felt so good as they traveled down to my neck and his hands returned to my butt, and even though I didn't really want to go all the way, I at least wanted to get partly there. So I let him grope me, right in the middle of the dance floor of our high school gym.

My eyes were closed and I was enjoying the sensations of John, when all of a sudden he was ripped away from me. I opened my eyes to find John stumbling backward, Henry standing off to the side with a murderous look on his face.

“What the hell, Logan?” John shouted when he regained his balance.

Henry ignored him and turned to me, his entire face flushed, but before he could say anything, John grabbed him by the arm. Henry pushed him away and John pushed back, neither boy wanting to throw the first punch since two students had been expelled for fighting just the week before.

A crowd gathered around us, and I swear, I must have blushed ten shades of red.

“You were practically molesting her in front of the whole school,” Henry shouted.

“It's not molesting if she wanted it!” John yelled back.

Jason pushed his way into the center and that was about the time I decided I'd had enough. I turned away and dove into the crush of people behind me, hoping enough egos were being flung around that nobody would notice I was gone. I made it as far as the hallway before Henry and Jason caught up with me.

“What the hell was that about?” Jason asked. He touched my arm and looked me over. “Was he hurting you?”

“No!” I cried. “We were just dancing when Henry came and ruined the night.”

Henry shot me an incredulous look. “What? He was fucking manhandling you out there.”

I stomped my foot. “He was not!”

Henry's nostrils flared and his jaw muscles worked as we stared each other down.

“So let me get this straight,” Jason said, looking at the both of us. “You and John were dancing like horny toads, and Henry put a stop to it. Is that right?”

Henry gave a curt nod.

Jason snorted. “You two are ridiculous. Like children,” he said and walked off, shaking his head, leaving Henry and me alone to fight our own battle.

Henry's eyes were nearly black in the dim hallway as he glared at me. “You shouldn't have let him do that.”

I was fighting back tears when I said, “We were just dancing.”

“Now the whole school will see that you're easy.”

My heart stopped and my mouth dropped open. I felt like I'd been slapped.

I wanted to tell him that his words were hurtful and untrue but I couldn't bring myself to speak, so I just turned and stomped off toward the exit.

“Elsie. I didn't mean it like that,” he called after me, but I was done. He was dead to me.

“I hate you,” I said and flipped him off over my shoulder.

The ride home from Tapwerks was tense. Henry drove, and even though alcohol usually made me chatty, the night's events had actually stunned me into silence. I found my words again as soon as we were behind the apartment door, and boy, did I intend to use them. “What the hell was that?” I demanded, rounding on him.

Henry just gave me a weary look. “He shouldn't have been kissing on you.”

“That's not what happened and you know it.”

“Do I? How do I know you didn't actually sleep together and you're just downplaying it?”

My hands itched to slap him on that jealous face of his but I held my fists at my sides. I'd seen enough violence for one night. “You'd better choose your next words carefully, Henry Mason Logan,” I said in the most even tone I could muster. “Because I don't appreciate being called a lying whore.”

“I didn't call you—”

I fixed him with a glare that could have fried a thousand eggs. I wanted to remind him of that homecoming dance, of his careless words that had almost ended our friendship, but the look on his face told me I didn't have to.

“That's not what I was saying,” he said, looking absolutely wretched.

“Then what
are
you saying?” I asked, throwing my hands up in frustration. “I don't know what's going on in that head of yours anymore.” Somewhere along the road, I had lost Henry's frequency and hearing nothing but static was starting to drive me insane.

He sat on the arm of the couch and shook his head. “Nothing. I'm not saying anything,” he said. “I'm fine. We're fine.”

“You are not fine. The Henry I knew never came back from Afghanistan.”

I shouldn't have said it. I wanted to take the words back immediately, even before they registered in his brain and hurt spilled out all over his face. He rose to his full height, his face red and jaw clenched but he said nothing. He merely stood there and glared at me.

Fear seeped into my muscles and forced me a step back. He was so angry, so alien to me in that moment that I felt like I was faced with a stranger. “Do you have PTSD?” I breathed.

His head snapped up. “Hell no. Why would you even think that?”

“Then what the fuck is going on?” I asked, completely losing it, no longer caring if the neighbors heard. Henry's anger had infected me, had seeped into my brain and turned everything red. Maybe if I yelled hard enough, Henry would come to his senses. “Are you done with us? Do you want to break up, is that it?”

“No!” He grabbed me by the shoulders, an anguished look on his face. “Why the hell would you even ask that?”

“Then what the hell is your damage?”

He released me and paced, all scowl and coiled muscle, a terrifying vision of a man at a loss. “I don't know, okay? I just . . . I'm just so angry. I'm just fucking furious. I want to kill that motherfucker that killed my best friend,” he said, piercing the air repeatedly with a finger. “And I want to put back together that asshole who blew up the gate and killed Jones and mangled up Hanson's leg just so I can tear him apart limb from limb with my bare hands. And I'm mad because you let Dave-fucking-Novak kiss you while I'm off defending the country. And I'm mad at my mom and dad for being such shitty parents that I had to grow up in someone else's house. And I'm fucking pissed off with myself for punching a friend and potentially ruining my career.”

He held a fist up to his forehead, holding me in place with his gaze. “And I'm furious with myself for treating you like shit. You deserve so much more, Elsie.”

My heart ached for him, for the uncertainty that clouded his features. “I deserve what I want. And I want you.”

His eyes searched my face. “Why?” he asked in a broken voice.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I stared at this roughly drawn replica of the man I once knew. This was not the proud, confident Henry I fell in love with; but what if this insecure man was all that was left?

I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his body, holding him in place. He bowed his head and whispered his apologies into my hair. “I don't want to lose you too, Elsie.”

I squeezed him tighter, my tears soaking into his shirt. “I would go to hell and back for you, Henry. You're not going to lose me.” I craned my neck and grasped the sides of his face. “And I want you because you are good and honest. You're brave, smart, funny, and sexy. I'm with you because loving you comes naturally to me, like breathing in air.”

He wound his fingers around my hair and fisted it at the nape of my neck. I looked up at him boldly, letting him know that I was not going to flinch at the first sign of trouble. I opened my mouth to speak but he crushed his lips to mine, kissing every thought out of my head.

Suddenly our hands were all over, unbuttoning and tugging and throwing articles of clothing across the room. With his hands under my butt, he lifted me up against the living room wall and plunged into me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and urged him deeper, and he responded by thrusting harder, faster. I could feel him building up, his breathing becoming more labored against my ear, but I couldn't focus, couldn't wrap my mind around our angry sex. A voice in my head whispered that we shouldn't be doing this, yet here we were, panting into each other like dogs in heat.

So I tried to clear my mind and focus on the here and now, but I couldn't stop the image of Henry punching Dave from playing on a loop in my mind. The complete lack of control and regard on Henry's face as he hit one of his closest friends clutched at my heart and refused to let go.

Henry pushed into me one last time as he came, not making a sound, only breathing hard against my neck.

After some time, he loosened his hold and let me down gently. “I'm sorry,” he said, doing up his jeans and refusing to meet my eyes. Whatever it was that he was apologizing for, I was never able to find out because he said nothing else and just walked out the front door.