Disarm (21 page)

I closed my eyes and relished the feel of his strong arms around me, catching glimpses of my yesterlife on the back of my eyelids.

“You shouldn't be with him,” Henry said as he pulled away.

I blinked up at him, momentarily addled. “Who?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don't love him.”

I folded my arms across my chest. Just like that, Henry was back to being a dickhead. “How the hell do you know that?”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “Many things have changed about you, Elsie, but one thing is still the same and that is you still wear your emotions on your face. If you loved him, you wouldn't blush whenever I touch you.” He pressed a cool finger to my warm cheek, proving his point. God, I hated it when he was right.

“Well who I love is not really your business,” I said, swatting his hand away and stepping back into the safety of my apartment. “Good night.” I moved to close the door when his hand slapped its surface.

“Go on a date with me,” he said.

Despite my racing heart, I tried to play it cool. “I have a boyfriend, remember? We were
just
talking about him.”

He scratched the back of his head. “I know,” he said, searching for words. “I just . . . I miss you.”

Before, my heart would have soared at his confession; now it just cautiously leapt around a little, afraid to take flight. “I appreciate your honesty but—”

“One date,” he said, holding up his finger. “If, after that date, you decide that you don't want me back, then I'll go away. I'll move to another state.”

I shook my head. “I don't think a date is a good idea.”

“Give me one chance. It doesn't have to be a date. It can just be hanging out with an old friend,” he said, grasping my hand. “I know I can make you happier than that guy.”

True, but he could also devastate me to a greater degree.

“Please.”

It was that one word coming from the bossiest man I knew that finally caused me to reconsider. “Okay,” I said. “We can hang out once.”

A wide smile lit up his face, reminding me of the boy I knew so long ago. “Tomorrow?” he asked and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek when I nodded. Then with a wink he walked off into the night. A few seconds later, I heard a loud rumble that sounded suspiciously like a motorcycle, the sound rolling off into the distance.

PEACE TALKS

Henry showed up at my door the next afternoon wearing a pair of black sweat pants and a long-sleeved Under Armour shirt, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

I looked down at my own outfit of skinny jeans, a loose cashmere sweater, and heels and wondered where we'd gotten our wires crossed. “I thought we were going to the art museum?” I asked as I stepped aside and let him inside the apartment.

He grinned and kissed my cheek, smelling like fresh sweat. “Sorry, the showers were down at the gym. Can I use yours?”

I tried not to stare at the muscles encased in the tight shirt as I nodded. “The door to the left.”

“I'll just be a few minutes,” he said, flashing me a grin before rushing off.

I tried to occupy myself with a food show on television but my mind kept wandering off to the naked guy in my shower, the water dripping down his olive skin in rivulets as he rubbed his body down with soap. . . .

I chastised myself. I had a boyfriend and his name was Seth and he was wonderful and funny. Henry was just taking a shower, like billions of people had done before him. The fact that he was naked in my bathroom at this very moment meant nothing.

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

But then Henry came out, dripping wet and completely naked except for the balled-up shirt that he was holding against his crotch. I was pretty sure a little nuclear bomb went off in my nether regions at the sight of him. “Where are your towels?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Careful to shield my thoughts, I stood up from the couch and walked past him to the linen closet. “Didn't you bring one?” I asked, shoving a towel in his chest. I averted my eyes as I walked past him again, though I caught a whiff of his fresh, cool scent.

“Thanks. I never bring one because they usually have them at the gym,” he said. He turned and walked back into the bathroom, deliberately giving me an unobstructed view of his firm ass and muscular thighs.

“Henry, put some clothes on!” I cried as I turned away, his chuckles echoing in the bathroom as he shut the door.

Ten minutes later we were finally on our way. He was wearing dark jeans, black shoes, and a purple button-down shirt peeking from a gray sweater, and he had shaved. I was little sad to see the stubble go, but clean-shaven Henry was painfully gorgeous in his own right.

It didn't really matter, I told myself, because I had a boyfriend. What Henry looked like was not the point. He was just a friend and we were just hanging out.

Still, he looked really handsome as he drove the pre-owned Volvo S80 he had recently purchased to the Oklahoma City Museum of Art downtown. I couldn't help but sneak glances at him, as guilty as it made me feel.

We paid for our tickets separately because I insisted that it would be too much like a date if he paid for mine. He put up a fight, but I was determined to keep it platonic and got my way in the end. It was a quirk of the universe, sure, but it was also because when I really wanted something, I never gave up.

We were walking around the Dale Chihuly glass exhibit when I finally asked, “Why here?” We approached a wall of swirly glass sculptures of different shapes and colors that looked like a collection of frozen underwater creatures.

“This is the most platonic place I could think of,” he said, glancing at me before turning his attention back to the art. “I figured we both hadn't been here before, so there would be no memories attached to the place to make you uncomfortable.”

We walked through a narrow hallway with a low ceiling filled with the glass sculptures that cast a colorful glow all around. “Memories don't make
you
uncomfortable?”

We walked to the middle of the deserted hallway and stopped. He looked up at the hundreds of glass sculptures. “No,” he said, taking my hand. “Our memories give me peace. They give me a sense of identity.”

I looked at the kaleidoscope of colors on his face. “Have you found yourself, Henry?” I asked softly, afraid of the answer.

His eyes found mine and he nodded.

I felt relief, sure, but also an overwhelming sense of doubt. “How do you know?”

“Because I feel it,” he said, bringing my palm up to his chest. “I've discovered many things about myself, things I never would have known if we were still together.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I love
Firefly
.”

I cracked up. “You already did before.”

“I know,” he said with a grin. “But I was never sure if it was because you and Jason loved it or if that was my real, honest-to-God opinion.”

I squeezed his hand. “Henry, I never meant to take over your life,” I said. “All I wanted was to be in it.”

He shook his head, his eyebrows drawn together. “It wasn't your fault, Elsie. I'm the messed-up idiot who thinks too much, who made a mess of everything.” He turned to face me, making my stomach flutter. “I know this guy. All his life he loved this girl who was perfect in every way but just when he finally convinced her to be his and they're deliriously happy, he went and messed everything up.”

I swallowed down the sob that was ready to erupt. I blinked away the tears that were already starting to form. I chased away the hope that was threatening to explode all over my heart.

“But the thing that this guy finally realized is that, after he made peace with himself, he was still lost without his girl. Like living without one of his femurs, he was incomplete without her,” he said, repeating my words back in Monterey.

I pulled away and walked out of that damn romantic hallway, afraid of his words and of what they did to the coating around my heart.

“Elsie?”

“I don't know how to believe you,” I said. My legs moved at a fast clip, too afraid to stop moving in case they started to buckle.

“Elsie, stop,” he said, grabbing hold of my wrist, but I twisted away and kept on walking toward the exit. This nondate, as far as I was concerned, was over.

“Did you listen to my tapes?” Henry asked as he drove me home.

I looked out the passenger window and said, “Yes.”

“Well?”

“Well what?” I asked, finally looking at him. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you forgive me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, was
that
your apology?” I asked. “You should have just made me a mix tape.”

He sighed as he pulled into my apartment complex. “I get it, you're not going to make this easy.”

“Ha.” As if he had ever made anything for me easy. I jumped out of the car before he had a chance to open my door, then strode to my apartment.

Henry was hot on my heels, still in my space.

“So I gave you one chance. Now will you go away?” I asked, struggling to get the key into the hole.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked.

I looked away, unable to bear looking at the pain on his face. “That's what's best for me right now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I cried, feeling my control start to dissolve. “I thought you said you were going to fight like hell to get me back?”

“I'm picking my battles,” he said. “I have the rest of my life to win you back.”

I didn't know if I wanted him to keep trying but one thing was certain at that moment: I still loved him, changed as he was. I hated him, sure, but the love I'd always felt for him was still present.

If only I could make that feeling go away.

Henry started to walk away but spun on a heel and came right back. “But before I go, will you come to Dallas with me next weekend?”

His question took me aback. “What's in Dallas?”

“There's someone there I want you to meet.”

“It's not a girlfriend, is it?” I asked, the very idea filling me with dread and copious amounts of rage.

He let out a strangled laugh. “That would be such a dickhead move.”

“I wouldn't put it past you. Since you are one.” I felt like a five-year-old but sometimes saying exactly what goes through your head is therapeutic.

He gave a nod. “True. But no, this is not a girlfriend. Or a fiancée, or a wife.”

“Then who?”

“Just come with me and see.”

The idea of a road trip with Henry seemed risky. Three hours with nothing to do but talk was going to be hazardous to my health. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“What if I said we could stop at Braum's on the way there and on the way back?”

“Tempting me with ice cream?” I asked. “That's low.”

He reached out and took my hand. “You'll love it, I promise.”

I gazed at his face, at how much had changed in the past year. He was still recognizable, but I saw the tiny changes in him, knew that he was in a happier place in his life. Despite my reserve, I still felt the need to get to know this new Henry, if only to satisfy my curiosity.

I sighed. “Fine, I'll go.”

He smiled. “Wear warm clothes,” he said before giving a short wave and leaving.

Seth called that night, wondering how my Sunday had been. I hadn't told him about Henry being in town, had only said that a friend and I were hanging out, which technically was not a lie. But I knew that little white lies had a way of accumulating until they became an avalanche of untruths, so I told him about Henry to avoid getting buried.

Seth was silent for a long time after I was done with my confession. Finally, he said, “So he's backing off after Saturday?”

“That's what he said,” I said with a pit of remorse in my stomach. Seth was a good guy and didn't deserve to have a girlfriend who was still in love with someone else. “I'm sorry, Seth. I didn't mean to lie about it.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you think he'll actually leave?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you? Really?” he asked. “I'm not blind or deaf, Elsie. I know what's going on here. I can already tell something's different about you.”

“I just need some time to absorb things.”

“You're not going to move in with me, are you?” he asked quietly.

I sighed. I had already known the answer, even before Henry came whirling back into my life. Seth, as nice as he was, just wasn't the guy for me. I knew it all along; I just refused to admit it. “I don't think so, no.”

“Are we breaking up?”

My eyes watered at the thought. “Do you want to?”

“No, of course not. I know I haven't told you this, but I love you,” he said, breaking my heart. I hadn't known about the depth of his feelings for me. “So no, I don't want to break up, but we have to because you don't feel the same way about me.”

“I really wish I did,” I said. “I want to be with you.”

Seth sighed, seeing right through me and my half-hearted attempt at our relationship. “No you don't. You want to be with Henry.”

He was right, so we broke up.

ASSIGNED MISSION

Henry rang the doorbell at exactly nine o'clock on Saturday morning, wearing nearly identical jeans-and-leather-jacket attire. “You ready?” he asked, standing outside with his hands in his pockets.

“Will this work?” I asked holding my arms out to show my jeans, tall boots, and a purple turtleneck sweater.

He grinned as his eyes took me in. “Almost,” he said but didn't elaborate. He held out his hand. “Come on, let's get going.”

“I knew it,” I said as he led me to a Harley motorcycle. It was red, black, and chrome, and larger than life. Hazardous to my health indeed.

“It's a Softail Deluxe. I bought it the day I arrived.” On its seat were two helmets and a black leather jacket. He lifted the jacket and walked around behind me. “Try it on.”

I slipped my arms into the buttery soft leather and turned around to face him. “Fits perfectly,” I said. “Your ex-girlfriend's?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “Yours.” He zipped it up slowly, his knuckles lightly grazing my breasts as they glided up, then popped the snaps at the collar.

I didn't know if it was the jacket or Henry's proximity, but I suddenly felt warm all over. “I can't keep this.”

“Yeah you can,” he said, zipping up his own jacket. “Think of it as a belated birthday and Christmas present.”

I played with the jacket's ruffled bottom, which lent a flirty, feminine touch to what was otherwise an androgynous jacket. “Thank you. It's exactly what I would have bought.”

He flashed me a grin. “I know,” he said then held out the smaller of the two helmets.

“You know this is going to ruin my hair, right?” I asked, gingerly pulling the helmet over my head. So much for having nice hair today.

“It'll be worth it,” he said before flipping down my visor. He climbed on the bike and flashed me a grin, all muscle, metal, and pure confidence. He had never looked sexier. I might have gasped inside the privacy of my helmet. “Climb on,” he said and popped his helmet on.

I'd never been on a motorcycle before so I didn't know how to even approach the metal beast. I came at it slowly, a little wary of what it could do to me.

He laughed. “You can use the peg to step over.”

“Okay.” I settled in behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling solid muscle even under all that leather. “We're going all the way to Dallas on this?”

He nodded. “It's a nice day; I think we can make it there in two hours tops.” He squeezed my arm. “If you need to stop, just pat me on the chest twice.”

“How the hell am I going to hold on for two whole hours?” I asked. Already my muscles were aching from clutching at him.

He turned around to face me. “You don't have to hold so tight. Once we get going, you can lean back a little and relax,” he said. “Don't worry. I would never let anything happen to you,” he added and flipped his visor down. A few seconds later, the bike roared to life.

I nodded. We were off.

The ride was smoother than I anticipated. After realizing that we weren't going to crash every time we leaned into a corner, I finally relaxed and loosened my hold. I was most grateful for the backrest, which stopped me from flying off the back every time he accelerated.

The ride afforded us absolutely no time or means to talk, which came as a bit of a relief. I really didn't know how to tell him about Seth without making it sound like the breakup was because of him, even if it really was. Henry already had an overabundance of confidence; he didn't need one more thing to inflate his ego. For now, I was going to play this card close to my chest.

At about an hour in, we took a break in Gainesville, Texas, to use the restroom and stretch our muscles for a few minutes.

“So why did you get out of the military?” I asked as I rolled my neck. “You never did say.”

Henry ran a hand through his hair. “They didn't kick me out, if that's what you're wondering.”

“Then what?”

“Living in Korea made me realize a few things about myself, about my life. I went back and forth a lot, not sure if I really wanted out.”

“What made you finally do it?”

He gaze was steady. “You,” he said and promptly put his helmet on.

“What? What do you mean?” I asked but he pretended not to hear. “You can't just say something like that—”

The bike rumbled to life, effectively cutting off all conversation.

Thoroughly miffed, I climbed on behind him and smacked him upside the helmet. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I felt him chuckling as we pulled out of the parking lot.

It was nearly eleven thirty by the time we exited the interstate and rode into a suburban neighborhood filled with brick houses. We came to a stop in front of a beautiful two-story house with white columns flanking the red door. We climbed off the bike and removed our helmets, and I tried to salvage my hair by twisting it up into a bun.

“What did you mean back there?” I asked as I followed him up the concrete walkway.

He looked over his shoulder with a faux frown. “I don't know what you mean,” he said and rang the doorbell.

“You know exactly what I mean,” I grumbled. I meant to say more but a tall woman answered the door. She was tanned, her blond hair pulled off to the side in a messy-chic ponytail and she had the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen.

My heart fell at the sight of her, whoever she was.

“Henry?” she asked with an excited smile. He held his hand out but she waved it away and threw her arms around him instead. “I'm so happy to finally meet you.”

Henry pulled away. “I think we've actually met before. In Florida?”

Her eyes grew wide. “You're right. I'm sorry, that was a while ago,” she said. “Anyway, come in. I'm so rude.”

We walked inside and were greeted with a cinnamon-apple scent. The house was beautiful, with comfortable furniture and an old country cottage feel. My eyes flew to the collection of bird figurines on the mantle over the fireplace. There must have been several dozen of them in different shapes and materials.

“Oh, I know, it's kinda corny,” the woman said when she noticed me looking. “Birds are kind of like my emblem.”

I nodded, suddenly deciding that I liked her, whoever she was. She was too sunny to hate, even if she and Henry were involved.

Henry's hand pressed into the small of my back. “This is Elsie.”

“I'm Julie,” the woman said, giving me a firm handshake. “It's so nice to finally meet you. Jason told me so much about you.”

My skin tingled and I felt hot and cold at the same time. “Jason?” I breathed. I prayed that Julie was about to tell me that Jason had been alive all along, just living two hours south of me.

I felt Henry's hand squeeze mine. I looked down at our entwined fingers, not knowing when that had even taken place. “She and Jason were dating when he was killed,” he said.

“You were?” I asked, my eyes flying back to her pretty face. “I didn't know he was even seeing anyone.”

“We'd been on and off since college,” Julie said. She motioned for us to sit down and she followed suit. “I lived in New York until five years ago when I moved here to Dallas for work. Come to find out, Jason lived only a few hours away. We started seeing each other a few months before he was deployed.” She bowed her head, losing the sunny smile on her face. Her big blue eyes were filling with tears when she suddenly exhaled and stood up. “I'm really sorry for your family's loss.”

“His death was your loss too,” I said and in that instant, as our eyes locked, I somehow got the feeling that she and I would be friends. I didn't know how I knew it, only that I felt a kinship with her through our shared love of Jason.

She blinked and shook off the cloak of sadness. “Anyway, would you guys like a drink? Or maybe some apple pie?”

“I'm starving,” Henry said. He stood up and patted his stomach. “Would you like some help?”

“Sure, thanks,” she said and they walked off, leaving me alone in the living room.

I stood up to look at the birds again, my eyes landing on a little glass eagle with its wing outstretched as if about to take flight. It was different from the other birds, which were all cutesy and pretty, and I wondered if maybe Jason had given it to her.

I was reaching out to touch the tip of its glass wing when a little voice said behind me, “Who are you?”

I turned around to find a little boy of about four standing by the coffee table. He had a round face, floppy blond hair, and a familiar smile. “Hi there,” I said. “My name is Elsie.”

He marched straight to me with his hand outstretched. “My name is Will,” he said and shook my hand like a little man.

I stifled my smile. “Nice to meet you, Will. Is Julie your mom?”

He nodded. “But I don't have a dad,” he said solemnly. “My mom says my dad died in
Apganistand
.”

My heart dropped to my feet and blood rushed to my head. “What . . . What's your dad's name?”

“Jason, like my middle name,” the little boy said proudly. “I'm William Jason Keaton.”

“Will.”

Both of our heads whipped around at the sound of his mother's voice, and my eyes instantly connected with Henry's. He glanced at Will, then back at me, giving me a little nod and a smile.

“I guess you've met Will,” Julie said, setting a tray down at the table. She touched the little boy's blond hair, which was the same color as Jason's. “Will, this is Henry Logan. He was your dad's very best friend.”

Tears filled my eyes and I turned away to hide my crumpling face.

“Nice to meet you, Henry,” I heard Will say.

“I'm very happy to meet you, Will,” Henry said, his voice closer now. He touched my shoulder. “This is your aunt Elsie.”

I took a few seconds to collect myself before turning back around to face my nephew.

Jason had a son.

“Hi,” I said with a wavery voice. Julie handed me a tissue and I looked up at her with gratitude and newfound respect. “Did Jason know?” I whispered.

Julie nodded and took a tissue for herself, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “I told him the same day he . . .” She pursed her lips, unable to continue.

“I received an email when I was at Osan,” Henry said, trying for a little levity. “Julie said she'd been looking for me, that she really wanted me to meet her son. I told her about you, Els.”

“Are you sure?” Even as I asked the question, I already knew the answer. With that easygoing smile and that open face, the little boy was the spitting image of my brother.

“There was nobody else,” Julie said, sitting on the couch and gathering Will into her arms. “Jason and I were even talking about getting married.”

I turned to Henry. “Do my parents know?”

“Not yet,” he said. “I thought that maybe you'd want to tell them.”

I was overcome with emotion as I looked at Henry, wondering how I had managed to be without him for so long. I thought that maybe, like that tape recorder, I had simply put my life on pause while I waited for his return.

I turned back to Julie and the amazing being in her arms. “Can I hug you?” I asked Will. He gave a shy little nod and came over.

I wrapped him in my arms, his little body so small yet overflowing with life. He hugged me back, squeezing my neck like only a child could. When he pulled away, he tugged at one of my wayward curls, just like his dad used to do and my heart burst with bittersweet love.

I tickled his sides and reveled in the utter abandon and joy of his laugh, taking a little bit of it for my own. Jason may have died out there in Afghanistan but a small part of him survived here in Dallas where he lived on in his child.

“You doing okay?” Henry asked as he walked me back to my apartment after our ride home.

“I'm more than okay,” I said, reaching for my keys. I shook my head, still reeling from the day's events. “I'm an aunt.”

“Yeah, you are.”

I beamed up at him. “Thank you for taking me. That was the most amazing surprise.”

“I'm glad you liked it,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

I opened the door, stepped inside, and waited. “Are you coming in?”

He shrugged. “I didn't know if you wanted me to.”

I nodded and led the way in. I got him a beer and myself a bottle of water and we sat at the dining table once again. “So a Volvo and a Harley,” I said. “How very bipolar of you.”

“I bought the Harley the day I got back, and the Volvo, well, I figured I needed something sensible to counterbalance my metal death trap.”

“I like them both.”

“Even the motorcycle?” he asked hopefully.

“Especially the motorcycle,” I said.

He said nothing, just looked at me with joy in his eyes.

“So tell me, New Henry,” I said, pointing my bottle at him. “What else is different about you?” I took a swig of water, waiting for his answer.

“Well, I've started to paint.”

I sputtered water all over the table. “Really? I didn't know you were artistic.”

He laughed. “As a matter of fact, I used to draw a little back in high school. Then I took an abstract painting class in Korea because I was bored, and I guess I've kept up with it.”

“Can I see one of your pieces?”

“No way,” he said. “Well, maybe one day. They're nothing special.”

I smiled, suspecting that anything Henry did was the opposite of
nothing special.
“So, what you said back in Gainesville,” I started, knowing he had nowhere to run. I was sure; I'd locked the front door. “That you got out of the service because of me. What did you mean?”

His nostrils flared. “It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Why wouldn't it matter? It has to do with me.”