Liberty (5 page)

Chapter Six

I
t was too much for her and so she escaped. Seeing them, all of them, in that room together brought back memories of her marriage that she wished she could destroy. Intoxication was a constant companion to all the men she left behind in that room and she refused to live through it again. With Ryan’s friends hanging around she would have no qualms about walking away from him. Injured or not. Memories or none.

“Are the boys there?” Mary found her in the outdoor meeting area the hospital had set up for families.

“Yep,” she said with false cheerfulness. “Reminiscing about good-old times, except for Ryan, that is, who can’t remember anything.”

Mary pursed her pink-coated lips. “I can’t believe he doesn’t remember a thing.”

“I can’t, either.” Lexy laughed humorlessly. “I bet you he forgot on purpose. Who wants to remember being a drunken wife beater?” She looked down at her hand, her voice taking on the heaviness her heart held. “I won’t go back to that life, Mary. I won’t make it.”

“He’ll be better this time. He promised.”

“I can’t risk my life on Ryan’s promises. How can he learn from his mistakes if he doesn’t remember them?”

“He’s not the same man,” Mary insisted. “I barely recognize him. Besides, Lexy, you can’t leave him now. He’s got no memory. He’ll be lost without you. If you go, them boys will get to him and we’ll be right back where we started.”

Lexy sighed deeply. Mary was right about that. She was still going to leave him, but she had promised to stay until he was better. If nothing else, she had her word. She blamed Maybell for her conscience.

God gives blessings to those who deserve them. Be one who deserves them
.

A few more weeks, she told herself. A few more weeks and then she would be gone for good.

“Should I tell him how things were?”

Mary looked at her, seeming not to know what to say. “You’ll know when the time comes.”

She made her way back to Ryan’s room. Slowly. Part of her was dreading walking in, but when she did she found Georgie in the middle of a less than tasteful story that all the men, except for Ryan, seemed to be enjoying. In fact he looked miserable. She almost,
almost
felt sorry for him.

“Lex.” His eyes lit up upon seeing her. “Help me to the bathroom, please?”

“I’ll help you, Mad Dog,” Georgie offered.

“No. I asked my wife to do it.” His voice was sharp, and after he realized it he softened his tone. “But thank you for offering.”

Ryan had manners?

Where the hell did he pick those up? She went to him and braced herself as he draped his arm around her shoulder. His fracture had healed in the month he had been in the hospital, but it was still weak. Walking for him was difficult. Pain shot through his leg every time he took a step, but to his credit he never uttered a complaint. The doctor said he was healing too fast, that he shouldn’t be up, but Ryan Beecher was a stubborn man and had made miraculous progress since she arrived. If this continued they would be home within a week. They made it to the bathroom after a few agonizing steps.

“Come in with me,” he whispered.

She didn’t want to but she stepped inside and shut the door behind them. She could see the exhaustion stamped on his face, his brow contained a few beads of sweat. He pulled the lid closed and sat on top of the toilet seat.

“I don’t have to go.”

“Then why are we here?”

“You were right about them.” He shook his head. “They are the stupidest set of assholes on the planet. I don’t believe I could have been friends with them.”

“Believe it,” she snapped, but then smiled. “I love it when you tell me I’m right.”

“Then I will tell you all the time.” He grinned back at her for a moment. “Tell me I wasn’t as bad as they are. They give Texans a bad name.”

“Unfortunately you were their leader. You were the smart one.”

“That doesn’t say very much about my intelligence, does it?” he muttered, surprising her. “Oh and stay away from Georgie. I don’t like how he looks at you. Plus, he’s a bigot.”

“You’re telling me to stay away from Georgie?” she asked, dumbfounded. For years Ryan would look the other way when Georgie touched her or said something disgusting to her. He seemed like he cared. Why now?

“Sorry.” He looked guilty. “I wasn’t issuing an order. I would just feel better if you stayed away from him. I don’t want you alone with him or any of them.”

“Ryan Beecher,” she said, amazed, “you’ve changed.”

Maybe he didn’t. This could be some evil trick he was playing on me. Or just maybe he’s not who you think he is.

He gave her a shy, crooked grin and held out his hand to her.

“How would I know?”

She went to him and barely tensed when he rested his head against her belly. His hands came to rest upon her hips.

“You really don’t remember me, Ryan?” she asked softly. “Not a thing about our life together?”

“No. But I don’t think I want to remember. I have been hearing what kind of man I was and I don’t like myself. That life doesn’t seem to fit the man I know I am.”

He lifted her top and fluttered soft kisses along her belly, dragging his dry warm lips across the place she had never been kissed before. When did he learn to kiss like that? She felt a tingle between her legs but tried to ignore it. But how could she? He had never shown so much tenderness to her. He had never paid any tender attention to any part of her body even when they were dating and she thought that he loved her. He just pawed at her then, only touching her breasts, sometimes causing her discomfort. But not now. He was...tender.

“How can you kiss me? I’m a stranger to you.”

“You’re my wife.” He deepened the kisses to her belly—he made them slower, wetter, erotic. They felt good. She hadn’t ever felt so good in his arms. “I don’t know many things, but I know you. I know how I feel when you’re near me.”

She sighed and scratched his scalp affectionately. “What romantic bullshit.” His lips never left her stomach but his eyes flew to her face. “It was good romantic bullshit, though.”

“Lexy,” he breathed and went back to resting his face against her. “I can’t wait to get you home so that I can make love to you.”

Make love?
She froze. Surprised that his words came as such a shock to her. “We didn’t have a good marriage. It was awful. I was going to leave you. I
am
going to leave—”

He cut her off. “We’ll have a good marriage now.” He sounded so damn sure of himself she nearly believed him. “We’ll make it work. I’m not the same man you married.”

It was a troubling thought but she was beginning to believe that.

“It’s not so simple, Ryan. You can’t just wake up a new man. You hurt me.”

“I’m not promising you simple, Lex.” He looked into her eyes, his blue-gray ones displaying a depth of character she thought impossible. “I’m promising you that I will be the best man that I can be.”

Why did he have to say that?

Her emotions got the best of her and she pulled away from him. She was leaving. No matter what he said, or how he acted, she was divorcing him. This was probably all just some sort of sick game to him. A way to keep her shackled to him. No. She wouldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t be suckered in again.

He rose, attempting to grab her, forgetting that his leg was weak and his body exhausted. He stumbled.

“Sit down, Ryan.” She caught him before he fell. A stream of violent swear words flowed from his mouth.

“I’m sorry for cursing but I hate feeling this way. I hate not feeling like a man.”

Sorry for cursing? Who was this man? Why couldn’t she hate him?

“Ryan.” She couldn’t comprehend why she felt for him. It made no sense. This man was a monster. He beat her.

“I can’t do this without you. I can’t make you stay and I sure as hell can’t chase you if you run, but I need you. I need you so I can become a better man.”

“More romantic bullshit,” she said, even though tears had clouded her eyes. “You never needed me before.”

It was always the other way around. He was always telling her that she needed him, that she couldn’t make it in the world without him. He told her that he saved her, but now his tune was altogether different.

“How can I trust you?”

“You can’t, and I’m not asking you to. All I want is a chance.”

Chapter Seven

“W
elcome home, soldier,” Lexy said as she unlocked the door of the small white box that was their home.

The little garden of wildflowers was the best thing about its outward appearance. The paint was chipping off the outside of the house in big chunks. The windows needed to be replaced and the yard was filled with cars.

Inside was better but a little shabby. The furniture was old, possibly hand-me-downs or pieces salvaged from a Dumpster. None of it matched, but everything was clean. It was not glamorous but he could see Lexy’s touch. Little things, like the arrangement of the pictures on the walls and the curtains with the embroidered flowers, told him that she tried her best with what she had.

On the coffee table lay little pink-and-white squares of cloth that appeared to belong to an unfinished baby blanket. Looking around his surroundings helped him learn about the woman he was married to.

He looked over at her, seeing worry on her pretty face. She often looked worried or tense. He hated that. He hated that he couldn’t put her at ease.

“I don’t remember anything,” he told her.

She shrugged and attempted to smile. “That’s okay. You haven’t been home in a long time and I changed some things while you were gone.”

He looked around the room again, searching for something to spark his mind, but nothing came to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

He had been cleared to come home the day before. He had worked hard after that day in the bathroom to regain his strength. He went through extensive physical therapy, torturing himself and his leg to perform properly. He did it so he could start a new life to prove to the world that he wasn’t the man they thought he was, that Lexy thought he was. He would do whatever he needed to wipe that perpetual look of worry off his wife’s face.

“You’re tired.” She touched his face in an almost motherly way. “You should lie down.” He was tempted to tell her to stop acting like his mother and act like his wife, but didn’t. She was right. He was tired. His body was still weak.

His mind weaker.

“Maybe for a little while,” he told her.

She nodded placing his arm around her shoulder and helping him to the bedroom. He should have told her it was unnecessary. The pain no longer raced up his leg with every step. It only ached. He had a slight limp, which the doctor promised would go away.

They stopped at a small room with a large bed against the middle of the back wall. There were two small windows, one on each side of the bed with periwinkle curtains covering them like blue eye shadow.

“I changed your curtains and bedspread. If you hate it I can change it back.”

Ever since they left the hospital he felt as if some of Lexy’s fire had deserted her. She was quiet, more reserved, unwilling to relax around him. He loathed it.

“I don’t hate it, Lex. The house looks nice.”

She smiled slightly.

“I finished the quilt before the— Before they sent you home. It took me six months to finish. Your bed is so big.”

He studied the piece of art he thought had come from a store. It was an intricate pattern of blue squares in different shades and textures. It reminded him of blue jeans all sewn together. It was just right for a man.

“Thank you. How did you learn?”

“My grandmother. Maybell,” she clarified, “taught me how. I can quilt and crochet, too. I learned a lot of things living with an old lady.” An extreme look of melancholy overtook her features. Maybell must have been special. He wouldn’t forget that.

“Your underwear are in here.” She opened the top drawer of the dresser. “Some of it had so many holes I could strain spaghetti in them. I threw them away. We’ll need to go shopping for more. Your socks are in the middle drawer. Then the T-shirts, which you have way too many of, are at the bottom.” She moved to the closet, sliding the door open. “Your work clothes are in the corner. Your jeans are folded up on the top rack. Some of your finer T-shirts are hung up in here.”

He listened as if he was going to be tested later, and then something dawned on him.

“Where are your clothes?”

“In my room.”

“In your room?”

“We don’t share a room,” she said as if it were normal for a husband and wife to sleep separately.

“Why not?”

“We just don’t.” She sighed. “We haven’t for years.” She sat on the bed and looked up at him. “We didn’t have a good marriage. We don’t have a good marriage. For the most part you lead a life that I wasn’t a part of. You only paid attention to me when you...” She trailed off. “It doesn’t matter. This is your room. Mine is across the hall. If you need me, just call me.”

“Lexy...” He needed her now. There was something not right about this story, something he couldn’t swallow. There had to have been something great between them. Why else would he feel this ache? “Tell me about my life here.”

She tensed and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t even touched her.

“What do you want to know?”

“What do you want to tell me?”

“I’m in no mood to recap your whole miserable life. Just ask me a damn question.”

He annoyed her? Well that was too damn bad. Most wives welcomed home their wounded husbands instead of pushing them away.

“What’s wrong, Lexy?” He took her hand in his.

Her eyes lost some of their heat. “Nothing. I’m just tired. I haven’t slept in two weeks.”

“There’s a bed in here.” Ryan slid closer to his wife and pushed her down on the bed.

“I will not have sex with you.” Her eyes widened and she looked frightened for a moment.

He hated that she looked at him that way, but let it pass for the moment. There must be a reason why she was afraid. But he didn’t understand. Every time they kissed it was explosive.

“No, we won’t make love now,” he agreed. “You’re too tired.” He moved closer to her, gathering her in his arms.

She stiffened.

“We are just going to talk,” he said as if speaking to a scared child. “Tell me about my job.”

“You work as a mechanic with Lance.” She didn’t look at him, but at the ceiling. “Fixing cars is your passion, and restoring classic cars is your life. That fleet of shiny cars outside is your baby.”

He inched closer to her and entwined his fingers with hers. “There must be ten cars out there.” He felt her relax. It was a good sign.

“Plus two bikes and a pickup truck in the garage.”

“It seems with all the money I spent we could have gotten a better house.”

Lexy turned to face him so that they were nose to nose. Her slanted eyes widened in surprise. “You love those cars more than you ever loved me. You wouldn’t give them up.”

“What? They are just sitting there and I don’t love anything more than I love you.”

She sat up and moved away from him.

“Don’t say that.” She shook her head. “You don’t love me. You never have.”

He grabbed her arm to stop her flight. “I woke up and saw you, Lexy,” he said fiercely. “
You.
Don’t tell me how I feel. Don’t tell me what I know.”

“You wake up not remembering anything and you claim to love me. It’s bullshit,” she snapped. “You don’t even know me.”

“Did I ever know you? Did you let me? Will you let me? I want to, but you won’t let me close enough to try.”

“Why should I? I won’t fall in love with you again. I won’t go back to how things were.”

He grabbed her other hand and spoke very quietly to her. “Tell me what it was like before. Tell me what I did.”

She shook her head. “I’m giving you your freedom. Divorce me. You can get your job back at the shop. You can hang out with your friends. You can be with whoever you want. You don’t need me holding you down.”

Divorce? No way. Not without a fight. He didn’t believe in it.

“You don’t hold me down, baby. You lift me up.”

She stared at him for a moment, tears in her eyes, and then giggled. “Oh, Ryan. When are you going to stop spewing bullshit?”

“When you love me.”

“I’m afraid that’s never going to happen,” she said so softly that he almost didn’t hear her. “You were never this smooth before.”

“Tell me how I was.” More than he was hungry for her, he was hungry for a glimpse of the man he used to be. Not knowing who he was was the worst feeling imaginable.

“Rest.” She fingered the scar on his cheek. “You look tired.”

“I want to talk to you.” He racked his hands through his hair in frustration. He was frustrated with her for closing herself off to him. With himself for being unable to make his mind work. Sensing this, Lexy cupped his face in her capable hands.

“Go to sleep, honey. We can talk later.”

Panic rolled around inside him. He needed to know about himself. He needed her beside him. He couldn’t go to sleep now. When sleep came so did the dreams. They only stopped when she was with him.

“Stay.” In one move he had her on her back beneath him and before she even had a chance to tense he kissed her. It was soft at first, an exploring taste of the mouth he was still getting to know.

She responded.

She responded to him and relaxed in his arms. She participated, reaching up to lightly hold the back of his head in place. Her lips fit with his. He had kissed a lot of women, most of them more technically proficient, but kissing Lexy felt—right.

Sweet.

Too sweet, like a young girl just introduced to the art of kissing rather than a married woman. Had he never kissed her before?

Slowly, so as not to scare her, he slid his tongue into her mouth. She moaned and met it with her own. Moaned. He felt his cock shoot to life. Getting so hard, that his zipper nearly burst. It was the softness of her body that did him in. The gentleness of her smell coupled with the loving way she touched him, the way she instinctively moved her body against his. He knew she cared about him. She showed him in the simple things she did.

He slipped his hand into her T-shirt, finding his way to her lush perfect breast. His thumb brushed across her nipple. Slowly. Back and forth until it was a hard little point of pleasured skin. She gasped. Then moaned and then pushed her hips against his, seeking release. His sex met hers and through too many layers of clothes they rubbed against each other, their skin growing damp with all the friction.

It was then the reality of the situation hit her. She pulled her lips from his, looking up at him with fear mixed with horror. What had he done to deserve that look?

“Ryan, please stop,” she begged.

He did so immediately. What had he done to earn such rejection? Women didn’t reject him. He had been with... A memory struck him. He was in his twenties and there was a beautiful woman at his side, smiling, flirting, throwing her perfect long auburn locks over her shoulder, flashing him a killer smile. They were by the water, a riverfront, at night. He could remember the way the breeze blew her hair and how she claimed that it was much too chilly for her to be in such a skimpy dress. He remembered opening his jacket and wrapping the slender redhead inside, holding her close while she whispered sexy things in his ear. Her name was... His memory failed him, faded away to the place where all memories were for him.

“I cheated on you, didn’t I?”

She quickly rose from the bed and backed away from him.

“That’s not what this is about.” She faltered. “You— Yes, you cheated on me.”

That was it. He knew there was a reason why she kept her distance.

“Lexy, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too late for that. It doesn’t even matter anymore. I’ll be leaving soon anyway. Get some rest. I’ll be across the hall if you need me.”

He watched her flee, self-loathing washing over him. He had cheated on his wife. How many times? Once. Twice. Too many times to count? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to be the man who hurt Lexy.