The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (61 page)

Something unfamiliar and strange tightens in
her stomach, and her eyes well with tears. Many men are awarded the
Medal of Honor posthumously, but John had done something so
remarkable and saved many men's lives to deserve this and had lived
to receive his award. He'd put himself in danger, in harm's way
without thinking of his own safety to deserve this. From what she's
come to know about John, it seems fitting, but she'd had no idea
what kind of military hero he had been.

"What are you doing?" he barks from the
entranceway of the closet.

Reagan nearly jumps out of her skin.

"What? I'm… I tripped," she says like a
moron, and John scowls deeply at her before dropping to his knees
in front of her.

"Why are you going through my stuff?" he
accuses angrily.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to. I
tripped and then…" This doesn't even sound believable to her.

"Tripped and my medal bag fell out and all
this junk fell out of it?" he scoffs and starts jamming the medals
back into the small sack.

"John, these are hardly junk. You should be
proud of them. This isn't something that just anybody gets. I know
you have to be recommended by your commanding officer and some of
the guys in your unit or something, right? You received the Medal
of…"

"Yeah and what did my friends get? Some of
them got nice, shiny caskets to come home in. Stay out of my stuff,
Reagan" he grinds out.

Why is he being so angry, so distant lately?
Do men get PMS? She is going to devote some study time to men's
hormones later and find out.

"We could make a display case for them and
put it in the music room if you'd like," Reagan offers and touches
his hand. He blows through his nose and shakes his head. And he
won't look at her.

"No," he says decidedly.

John yanks his hand back, tosses the bag
back into the closet and starts rummaging for clean clothing.

"But those are something…"

"I said no, Reagan. Just leave them be," he
snaps.

He shrugs into a flannel shirt as he'd been
wrapped in a towel and nothing else.

"O… ok, fine. Sorry," she stammers out an
apology and steps closer to him. Keeping her voice soft and
friendly, Reagan asks, "Need help?"

"No, just privacy," he answers curtly.

Is he serious?

"What… what's wrong? Is it because I got
into your stuff? I said I'm sorry," she says pathetically and hates
the sound of her own debility.

"No, it's cool. I'm not mad about that. I
just need to get dressed so I can go out and do some reloading
before dinner," he says on a sigh.

She knows he is referring to bullet
reloading as he grabs clean jeans and underwear from a rack beside
her.

"Why did you go to the Johnson farm?" she
asks curiously.

"Checking it out. That's why," he replies
brusquely without giving her a firm answer.

"Why did you take firewood with you?" she
prods. "Did you drop it off at the Reynolds's place?"

"No, I left it at the Johnson's," he tells
her.

This only serves to confuse her further.

Reagan grabs his forearm gently and tries to
gain his attention, but he shirks her off. "Why did you take
firewood over there?"

"I don't want to get into this right now
with you, Reagan," John says testily.

"Um, ok, then let me make it up to you for
getting into your things," Reagan says and leans into him again,
placing her hand on John's bare chest because he has not buttoned
the shirt yet. She hopes he doesn't button the stupid thing at all.
She secretly wishes that he'd take it back off.

"Reagan, I'm busy," he argues.

However busy he is, his muscle still jerks
under her palm.

"Too busy for me?" she leans up on tiptoe
and presses a kiss to his closed mouth. It's been too long since
they've had sex, and she's about ready to throw him on the closet
floor. "I… I want you."

Things like this aren't easy for her to say,
to even express. She usually allows John to initiate sex with her,
not the other way around. Most nights he would come to her in her
bed and return to his own afterward. She revels in his slightest
touches, the barest whisper of his knuckles against her sensitive
skin, the way he uses his mouth, his tongue, his hands and… the
rest of him in the most torturous, sensual manner that she's never
even dreamed possible. And her damn, responsive body is learning to
crave his touch and being near him. At least he is discreet around
their families and keeps his hands to himself unless he was helping
her down from a horse or if she was climbing a ladder or for any
other reason that he could put his hands on her that didn't seem to
have insidious purposes. But lately he has been unresponsive,
sometimes even cold with her. Or he just doesn't touch her at
all.

"I want you, too, Reagan. I always do," he
responds in a serious tone.

His hands slide into her hair right before
he caresses her mouth with his own. When he finally pulls back,
she's clinging to him like a wanton, wild woman as usual. Why is it
that he can so easily do this to her? Why hadn't her reaction to
Chet's kiss in the fall been the same? Why had she not been
attracted to anyone before John? She'd certainly been around enough
men in college and been asked out by them, but she never felt even
the slight attraction to any of them. She'd never met a man like
John before, though. He is the sexiest, most fearless, and selfless
man she's ever known.

"I love you," he whispers against her
mouth.

And there it is again. Why does he have to
talk like that? He knows damn well that she's never going to return
his false feelings of love.

"Ok," she says because it's all she's
capable of. A dark storm cloud comes across his features as his
eyes harden into sapphire glints that pierce into hers.

"Ok? Is that all you're going to say? I tell
you that I love you and you say 'ok'?"

John pushes away gently and then releases
her from his hold.

"What do you want from me?" she asks
brokenly and hates the cool rush of air between them.

"Nothing," John clarifies.

He turns his back to her as he throws on his
damn ridiculous clothing in lightning speed.

"I don't want anything from you,
Reagan."

And with that, he leaves to do his
irritating reloading.

At dinner that evening, he's quiet still and
basically ignores her during the entire meal, though she goes out
of her way to engage him in conversation. He's frustrating the hell
out of her and even Kelly and Derek are behaving strangely. They
both glance her way a few times during the meal as if they are
expecting something.

So instead of joining the rest of the family
in the music room as they all do most nights after dinner, Reagan
takes Jacob and goes to her bedroom. Two hours later after she's
already put Jacob to bed for the night, she hears him in the hall
one floor below talking to his brother for a minute before he comes
up to their room. She's sitting at her desk studying herbal
treatments for healing the sick from a book they found during their
city raid. John crosses the room and removes his clothing down to
his boxer briefs, then shrugs into a black t-shirt which fits
snugly across his chest. Since he's obviously still ignoring her,
Reagan turns off her desk lamp and crosses to her bed where she
crawls under the awaiting, thick comforter. Next week it will be
January and the old farmhouse sometimes gets drafty. With the men
using wood as an alternative backup in case the gas fails, they'll
be warm all winter and more importantly the pipes won't freeze and
burst.

Reagan reaches for the wall sconce but stops
as John swings his legs back out of his bed and stalks purposefully
toward her.

"Leave it on," he orders.

John pulls back her comforter, pushes her
over and comes down onto her. His mouth fiercely crushes onto hers
as his hands move over every square inch of her body, turning her
mad with lust as they trail along. His attack is relentless, and
Reagan can barely catch her breath as he nearly rips her clothing
from her and then his own where they end in a disorganized heap on
the floor beside her bed.

"Let me… let me just turn…" she says as she
stretches under him for the light switch.

"I said leave it on," John states.

His tone and attitude are overbearing, as if
he is somewhat annoyed. His tone surprises her. John has been true
to his word when he'd told her that he'd be the one in charge in
the bedroom with her, but this is downright tyrannical. He grasps
her wrist in his palm almost painfully. His other hand guides him
into her body with a single, deep plunge as he hoarsely, savagely
breathes against her mouth. Reagan moans against him while John
kisses her neck, her mouth. It's always this way with him when they
have sex. He demands and demands from her until she can't control
herself anymore, until she forgets to care about control at
all.

"Is this what you want? Is this what you've
been trying to get from me?" he whispers into her ear. "Is it?"

Reagan has lost her ability to speak and
instead nods as he builds them both toward that familiar peak where
she crests so easily up and over, whimpering, moaning and
breathless. John spills himself onto her flat stomach, something
he's never done. Her chances of ever conceiving a child are very
slim at best. He uses his discarded shirt to wipe her stomach which
is embarrassing as hell because she knows that he can clearly see
her scars and her entire naked body. She pushes at his hands.

"Reagan, stop. Hold still and let me get
this," he tells her and claims her hands with one of his.

Reagan stops fighting him but is no less
humiliated. She's humiliated because he saw her scars, and she's
humiliated because it seems cool and indifferent to have sex this
way.

When he's done, though, he pulls her against
his front and snuggles with her. This is the point where he
normally goes back to his bed, but Reagan doesn't mind it tonight.
Perhaps he'll stay all night, though he usually leaves. She's
wanted to ask him to stay with her through the whole night many
times but has never found the courage to say it aloud.

"You didn't have to do that. I told you
before that I can't get pregnant," she says with a great deal of
mortification.

"I didn't want to take any chances," he says
quietly.

"Well…"

"I love you. You know that, right?" he
interrupts her and asks.

Reagan is confused by his statement and
question. She squirms and this time the embarrassment is for
another reason.

"Um…," is all she can manage. John rolls her
to her back and holds her chin with his hand so that she cannot
look away from him.

"I love you, and I'll always love you,
Reagan. There won't ever be anyone else for me," he says so
gravely.

Reagan frowns slightly at him with
confusion.

He finishes with, "But I can't do this
anymore."

"What…"

John kisses her on the mouth but only
briefly before he climbs over her, retrieves his discarded boxers,
turns off her light and goes to his own bed. Reagan is stupefied.
She has no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean, and for
the next hour she stays awake trying to figure it out. Why had he
said it like that? What did that mean that he can't do this
anymore? Did he mean sex? She sure as hell hopes that isn't what he
meant. Reagan has never felt anything in her life like when she's
with John. He's awakened a side of her that she didn't even know
she had, and she's not ready to give that up yet. He is so sensual,
so sexual. But the love talk and feelings and mushy, sensitive
stuff is just too much for her. Her mind cannot wrap around it, and
it sure as hell can't embrace it. Like she normally does, Reagan
pushes these thoughts down into that black well where she likes to
store things that are too difficult for her to deal with. She'd
like to talk to him about it, but talking about feelings isn't
exactly her forte. And when she can't stay awake a moment longer,
she allows her body to succumb to sleep.

After the morning meal, all hell breaks
loose on the McClane farm. And it had been going so smoothly. The
kids have done the clean-up and are now out in the barns playing.
Hannah and Grams are in the kitchen planning meals for the rest of
the week while watching Jacob, and Sue is nursing Isaac at the
island. Kelly has moved the pick-up truck from the equipment shed
to the front of the house for some reason. John enters the kitchen
from the upstairs and is carrying two bags. One is a diaper bag and
one his military rucksack which both appear full. Kelly comes in
through the front entrance of the house, which doesn't get used
very often.

"Ready?" he asks John who nods.

"Ready for what?" Reagan noisily butts in as
she enters the kitchen from the back porch.

She's wearing a short winter jacket and her
long riding boots and jeans. Her messy curls stick out beneath a
knitted, wool toboggan cap of many colors. The first snowfall came
last night, blanketing the farm with a light dusting of fine white
powder. However, the temperature is steadily rising which should
hold off any more snow for the day. John says nothing but frowns as
he wordlessly takes Jacob from Grams.

Sue has a bad feeling about this. Grandpa
and Derek have also come to stand in the entranceway joining the
long, main hallway and the kitchen. They both look expectant as if
they know what is coming.

"What's going on?" Sue asks as Grandpa and
Derek look at each other knowingly. "Hey, guys, you wanna' let us
in on this? What's going on?"

"John has decided to leave, Sue," Grandpa
declares with solemnity and looks immediately to Reagan.