The War Within (36 page)

“I think that can be arranged. As long as you let me pick the movies this time.”

“Oh, that should be interesting. I feel a John Wayne marathon coming on.”

“My dad’s the Duke fan. I prefer my action heroes to look more like Angelina Jolie.”

“In that case, I cast my vote for
Tomb Raider
. In the tank top and short shorts Angelina wears in that movie, she could give you a run for your money.”

“I beg to differ with you, honey,” Jordan’s mother said. “In that uniform, Tatum beats Angelina hands down.” Jordan turned to look at her. “What? You disagree?”

“No.” Jordan felt the antipathy from their past battles begin to fade away. Instead of telling her mother how much she had matured, perhaps all she needed to do was show her instead.

Jordan’s mother leaned back to take a good, long look at her. Her smile was filled with even more pride than Grandma Meredith’s had been when she had introduced Jordan’s family to her old Army buddies. “I think I like the new you,” her mother said.

“Me, too, Mom. Me, too.”

*

As she dried off after her shower, Jordan was filled with questions about the future. Not her own but Natalie’s and Grandma Meredith’s. Now that her mother had given them her approval, nothing stood in their way.

“Do you think they’ll move in together?” she asked as she got dressed. “I can’t picture Natalie living anywhere but the South, which means Gran would have to sell her house and move down here. They could live in Natalie’s place or, better yet, pool their resources and buy a house near the water. A big one with plenty of room for guests. Namely me.”

“Slow down,” Tatum said from the other room. “They just got together and you’re already trying to turn them into the Waltons.”

Jordan stuck her head out the bathroom door. Tatum was lying in bed with the covers pulled up to her waist and her hands folded behind her head.

“Slow down, did you say? Because they’ve obviously been moving way too fast all these years. Remind me again. It took them how long to get to this point? Forty-seven years? Yeah, they need to wait another forty-seven before they take the next step.”

“Smartass.” Tatum took one of the extra pillows off the bed and threw it in Jordan’s direction. Jordan let out a yelp and ducked her head inside the bathroom a fraction of a second before the pillow hit the door.

“So that’s how you want to play it, huh?”

Jordan dropped the towel she was using to hand-dry her hair, picked up the pillow, and charged the bed. Tatum barely managed to drag herself into a sitting position before Jordan completed her swing. The blow bounced harmlessly off Tatum’s shoulder and arm. As did all the others that followed. And there were many before Tatum got a chance to grab a weapon of her own.

Jordan’s giggles grew higher in pitch when Tatum finally joined the fray. Tatum started laughing, too, as the emotions of the day left their bodies in a delirious rush. Jordan hadn’t been in a good pillow fight in ages. Tatum was a worthy opponent, and her superior upper body strength gradually began to give her the upper hand.

Jordan straddled Tatum’s legs and held up an arm to ward off another blow. “Okay, okay,” she said, out of breath from laughter and the aftereffects of the pitched battle. “I give.”

Tatum lay back, looking as spent as Jordan felt. The sheet and comforter had slid down to Tatum’s shins, but they were pinned under Jordan’s feet. Displaying none of the self-consciousness Jordan had witnessed when they’d met, Tatum left her legs exposed instead of trying to cover them.

In contrast to Jordan’s tight tank top and boy shorts, Tatum was wearing a T-shirt and loose-fitting boxers. She rested her hands on the tops of Jordan’s thighs after Jordan settled into her lap.

“Am I hurting you?” Jordan asked.

“No.”

“But you can feel this, can’t you?”

Jordan pushed Tatum’s T-shirt up a few inches and grazed her fingertips over Tatum’s washboard stomach.

“Yes, I can feel you.”

“What about this?”

Jordan trailed her fingers up Tatum’s arms, pausing to trace the scar marking the exit wound on Tatum’s shoulder before she reversed her course.

“Yes,” Tatum hissed as her nipples tented the fabric of her T-shirt, “I can feel you. Can you feel me?”

Jordan nodded as Tatum’s thumbs slid along her inner thighs. She leaned forward, her still-wet hair dripping in Tatum’s face. Tatum blinked as raspberry-scented water droplets splashed on her cheeks.

“Is that your cunning plan,” Tatum asked hoarsely, “to call a truce, then subject me to the Chinese water torture?”

“No. I don’t want to torture you. I want to—” Jordan pushed Tatum’s hair out of her eyes. She needed to be honest with Tatum. She needed to be honest with herself. “I think I’m a little bit in love with you, Tatum.”

“Just a little bit?”

Jordan’s heart jackhammered in her chest. She had never felt so uncertain about what she was doing but so sure about what she wanted. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

“Good. I was beginning to think it was just me.”

“So you’re in love with you, too?”

“No, smartass, I’m in love with you.” Tatum cupped her palm against Jordan’s cheek. “The question is, what do we do about it? You’re leaving in a few weeks, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but today’s not that day. And just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I won’t be coming back. So why don’t we start by doing this?”

Jordan slowly pulled her tank top over her head and dropped it on the floor. Then she took Tatum’s hands in hers and placed them against her belly. Tatum grazed the back of her hand against Jordan’s stomach. The sensation was exquisite. Rough and smooth at the same time. Jordan gasped as her muscles began to contract. Tatum looked up, seemingly enthralled by Jordan’s reaction to her touch.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tatum asked.

Jordan’s response wasn’t verbal but physical. She kissed Tatum so soundly she felt the heat permeate her entire body. She slid her tongue into Tatum’s mouth at the same time she slipped her hands under Tatum’s T-shirt. Tatum arched her back as Jordan’s hands moved higher. Jordan’s hands found Tatum’s breasts, her fingers teasing the hard points of her nipples. Tatum groaned into her mouth.

When Jordan finally pulled away, Tatum’s eyes were wide, wild with desire. Jordan felt the same emotion building inside her as Tatum gazed up at her.

“What do you want, Jordan? A summer fling or—”

Jordan silenced her by placing her fingers over her lips. “I want you, Tatum. I want to work with you. I want to come home to you. I want to make a life with you.” She placed her hand over Tatum’s heart. “And I want to touch you where it counts.”

Tatum pulled Jordan to her and cradled her in her arms. Arms Jordan never planned to leave.

“Baby, you already have.”

The Beach Music Festival was well underway. The music provided by the colorfully attired band competed with the sound of the crashing waves, but none of the festivalgoers seemed to care. Meredith sure didn’t. Natalie didn’t seem to, either. Natalie spun Meredith in a circle and drew her into her arms. The last time—the only time—they had danced together was in a bar in Saigon nearly half a lifetime ago. Then they had been hidden away from the world. Now their love was on display for all the world to see. Instead of shrinking from the attention, Meredith basked in it.

When the up-tempo song ended, the band switched to something slower. “For all the lovers in the house,” the lead singer said.

“I think he means us,” Meredith said with a wink.

“I think so, too.” Natalie rested her hands on Meredith’s waist while Meredith locked her arms around her neck. “What’s with the big smile? You look like the Cheshire Cat.”

Meredith nodded toward the edge of the crowded dance floor, where Tatum and Jordan were talking with Diana and several employees from the hotel while Frank played fetch with Lincoln. Smiles, laughter, and happy barks abounded.

Meredith didn’t know what the future held for Jordan and Tatum, but, in her heart, she knew they would face it together. They all would.

She took in the faces of her expanded family. Her family of blood. Her family of choice. All bound by love.

“We have a beautiful brood, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do,” Natalie said.

Meredith kissed her in the rosy glow of the setting sun, content in the knowledge that this kiss wouldn’t be the last.

“I love you, my darling,” Meredith said.

“I love you, too.” Natalie held her tight. “Thank you for making this worth the wait.”

Yolanda Wallace is not a professional writer, but she plays one in her spare time. Her love of travel and adventure has helped her pen the globe-spanning novels
In Medias Res
,
Rum
Spring
,
Lucky Loser
, the Lambda Award-winning
Month of Sundays
, and
Murphy’s Law
. Her short stories have appeared in multiple anthologies including
Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets
and
Women of the Dark Streets
. She and her partner live in beautiful coastal Georgia, where they are parents to four children of the four-legged variety—a boxer and three cats.