No One's Hero (Chadwell Hearts) (14 page)

“I don’t know.” Her face scrunches as she thinks.

“Sweetheart, if you had, you’d know it.” My throat is thick, my voice husky as I eye her mouth.

“Oh.” Her lower lip slips out into a pout. I know if I do this, I
may
regret it. But if I don’t do it, I know I will, without a doubt.

Lexi licks her lips as if she’s hoping for it, and that’s all the encouragement I need.

My mouth slants across hers, gently teasing, tasting. I know it’s right to press it further when her body relaxes into mine. One of my hands winds into her hair while my palm cradles her cheek. My other hand comes up, tracing the fine curve of her jaw, while my tongue dips in, exploring her eager mouth.

Lexi’s kiss tastes like sunshine: pure, beautiful, and utterly necessary for survival. Or maybe that’s just what she’s becoming to me. My sunshine. I don’t have any delusions that I can keep her to myself. She’s all but untouchable, but she chases away the crushing darkness that has been my every breath since Nuri died.

Her nipples are two firm buds brushing against my chest as she pushes closer, begging me for more without ever uttering a word. “Oh, God, Lexi,” I breath against her mouth. “The things you do to me.”

I think she nods before she claims my mouth for herself again. The skin across my back is flushed despite the crisp September air, and her fingers create trails of fire as she runs them up my sides, then down my spine to rest just below my waistband.  I’m throbbing, aching to bury myself in her, and I know I’ve got to stop soon. This was only supposed to be a kiss, but I can’t bring myself to pull away.

I let my own hands wander down, cupping her ass, and she lifts, pressing even closer to me. Still, it’s not close enough. Digging my hands into her tight ass, I lift her up and she wraps her perfect legs around my waist. Then she gasps, her head dropping back, and I know she’s feeling it too. My dick is rock hard and it’s pressing against her through her leggings, which we both wish weren’t there.

I have just enough sense to know it’s a good thing they are. This place is perfect for a first kiss, but the first time she gives herself to someone like that had better be more than this. And it had better be with someone who can give her the world. Reluctantly, I set her down.

When she glances up at me, her eyes are glazed over and a content smile hides behind the petulant way she sticks out her lower lip. I bend down and give her a final brush with my mouth before standing and backing up. “Now, you’ve been kissed.”

Lexi shakes her head, and there’s a new wariness in her eyes. “No. Now I’ve been ruined.” Her fingers find mine, and she winds them together. “I’ll forever compare any other guy to you, and I’ve got a sneaking suspicion no one else can compete.” The sad way she says it tells me she knows there can never be more between us, but I don’t think she truly knows why. With my free hand, I cup her cheek. “Just so you know, it isn’t any of those things. You aren’t ugly, and you aren’t too young.” Granted, she
is
a bit young. But in the grand scheme of complications between us, the three years’ age difference is nothing. Although I rarely feel like it, I’m young too. I guess it’s what you do with your years that matters, not the number of years you’ve lived.

“Then what
is
it? Not to be obnoxious, but, you’re obviously attracted to me.” She cups the front of my pants with a wicked grin, and for a moment my head spins.

I suck in a sharp breath, and she explores upward with her fingertips. “It’s sort of hard to explain.”

“Does it have anything to do with the tattoo?”

The memories assault me immediately, and I know no matter how tightly I close my eyes, there is no shutting them out. “Yes,” I manage to rasp out. It has everything to do with the tattoo.

Lexi squeezes my hand, and keeping hold of it, she walks around so she can get a better view of my back. At last, she sighs. “It’s too dark out, I can’t read it. What does it say?”

“A thousand words won’t bring you back, I know because I’ve tried. Neither will a million tears, I know because I’ve cried.”

“That’s beautiful. Who said it?”

I feel naked under her scrutiny, and if I was less of a gentleman I’d ask her for my shirt back. “I don’t know. It’s only attributed to ‘anonymous.’”

“Well, ‘anonymous’ is one smart but sad cookie.” I feel her other hand tracing the words that sprawl across my shoulders.

“I like it because it reminds me the only thing that matters in the end is what we do. Words, apologies, tears... When you really screw up—I mean the type of life altering screw-up that can get people killed—it’s only what you do that matters. The intentions, the emotions don’t.”

“Will you tell me about her?” Her finger traces the names beneath the quote.

“Who said anything about a ‘her’?”

Lexi sighs and doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her looking at me expectantly. I turn my head, staring out at the mountains. After several moments of silence, Lexi drops my hand and hugs me, leaning her cheek against my shoulder blade as she wraps her arms around my waist. I put my hands in hers, and we just stand there like that for uncountable minutes, letting time swirl around us as we remain locked together in an embrace that isn’t quite romantic, but is undoubtedly intimate. For some reason, with her behind me, it’s easier to find the words than if I had to look her in the eye. At least this way I can’t see the disappointment.

In a trembling voice, I start to talk.

—-♥—-

L
exi

I hope Kevin can feel my support, rather than my exasperation. The permanent way he’s etched himself with a reminder of his shame breaks my heart. I can’t imagine any mistake so bad that it’s worth branding yourself with it forever. I was expecting a story of a relationship gone wrong, but when Kevin finally talks, that’s not what I get at all.

“I’d been enlisted for about a year when my orders came down, sending me to Afghanistan. I wasn’t as upset about it as some of the other guys in my unit. They had wives and kids, where I just had me. Once we got there, we were assigned to a small camp near Kandahar. Our official goal was outreach and goodwill. The administration here at home had decided we had to win over the people, if we wanted to win the war. We worked with lots of villages, but there was one we spent more time in than most.

“I met Nuri our second week there. She was the rare success story, the type you don’t hear much about. Her family was much more progressive than most. Before the rise of the Taliban, her mother had been a scientist, along with her father. Afterward, Nuri’s mother taught in an underground school.  Nuri could have come to America, gotten an education, and she could have done anything. Her family had the means, but she wanted to stay and help those who weren’t as lucky as she was. At first, I didn’t understand. The more I saw there, the more I thought she was a fool for not leaving without a second glance back. But then as I got to know her better, I slowly came to understand.”

“She wanted her life to matter,” I say, understanding completely. For some of us, simply living isn’t enough.

Kevin shakes his head, but he doesn’t deny it. “How is it that you understand in five minutes what some days I still struggle to understand after nearly three years?”

I squeeze my arms around him, reveling in his solidness, giving him what comfort I can.

“Nuri’s parents died the year before I met her, and the loss of them motivated her to work with other orphans. Except she wasn’t content to just care for them, feeding and clothing them, teaching the girls to be future wives and mothers. Nuri wanted them to have access to everything the world could offer, so she began to teach them to read, and to think, just as her mother had done years before.”

I don’t know much about the politics of the world, but I know enough to surmise that her choices made Nuri a target.

“My unit and I, we did what we could to protect her, and a year passed. There were various scares, small-grade attacks meant to incite fear, not damage. At least until one day when my unit was instructed to head to the next village over. A group of Americans—reporters, politicians, and aid workers—were locked in conflict with a few radicals who refused to let them leave. We were being called in to extract them, by any means necessary. Tension had been ramping up for several weeks prior to that—they were starting to see us as meddling, more than assisting—and it was only a matter of time before the virtual powder keg was going to blow.

“I also knew there was a chance that if things went well for us with the extraction, it could incite retaliation in Nuri’s village. I begged Nuri to come with me, so I could protect her. I argued that she might be able to mediate, to help. But she knew exactly why I wanted her to come, and it was exactly why she stayed behind. If she came with me, who would protect the kids?

“I didn’t want to go. I had never disregarded orders before, but I would have. I would have gladly stayed, determined to protect her, as well as the kids she cared so much about. But her sister lived with her husband in the other village, so Nuri begged me to go, to make sure she was safe. So I went.”

“Did your unit save the Americans in the other village?”

Kevin’s voice takes on a bitter edge. “Yes.”

He doesn’t sound at all like someone proud of saving someone’s life. I know there is more to this story, and I don’t think I’m going to like it.

“If the situation had shown me anything, it was that Nuri was someone truly important to me. My tour was due to be up in a matter of weeks, and the thought of leaving her behind was eating me alive. There was a bazaar on base where local craftsman and vendors brought all sorts of things for those stationed there to buy. I stopped there when we transported the civilians we rescued back to base. It didn’t take me long to find exactly what I was looking for. Although I probably paid at least three times what the simple band was worth, I didn’t care.

“The next morning I made it back to the village, along with my unit. We saw the smoke an hour before we arrived, but didn’t want to believe what we were hearing over the radio. More fighting had broken out while we were gone. In the other village, there had been retaliation over the escape of the Americans. As a result, all the homes in Nuri’s village that housed those known to be friendly to Americans were torched.”

I gasp, overwhelmed with the horror of it.

“So was the orphanage. Nuri and all of the children died, trapped inside.” Kevin’s voice is a broken whisper.

Oh dear God. Nausea wells in my stomach, and I force it back. Tears I didn’t realize had welled in my eyes spill over, creating tracks of sorrow down my cheeks. A sob wracks its way through me as I think about all those children, the woman Kevin loved, and the guilt that fills him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I tell him vehemently. Beneath my cheek, his shoulders heave as he breathes, heavy with emotion. I wish somehow I could give him peace. Even though the tattooed skin on his back is smooth, I imagine that I can feel it, a burning reminder to both of us what he has endured.

“It was a diversion—the reporters, they were never going to kill them. My intuition told me to stay behind with a few others from my unit to protect the village—to protect her. But she begged me to go save her sister. My feelings for her clouded my judgment, and she paid the price with her life.”

I’m sure I’m not the first to tell him it isn’t his fault, and I doubt he’s going to listen to me any more than he listened to anyone else. But I’ve got an idea. “Do you have a pen?” I unwind my arms from around his waist, and wipe away my tears with the back of my hand.

Ken digs in one of his pockets, then hands it over. I can just make out his confused expression in the moonlight.

“Give me your hand.”

I think I detect a trace of amusement playing at the corner of Kevin’s mouth as he obligingly does as I asked. In careful letters, I write, “I saved Tess Sterling.”

“What? I didn’t save Tess.” Kevin peers closely at his hand.

“Sure you did. Your information helped Axel and the FBI figure out what was going on, so you helped save her. If you’re going to blame yourself for something you didn’t do directly, it’s only fair that you give yourself credit for things, even if you didn’t do them directly, either.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“It does now. And at least it’s in front of you rather than on your back, so maybe if you see it enough you’ll remember. You’ve got to quit beating yourself up. Is this how Nuri would have wanted you to live?” I take Kevin’s other hand in mine and write, “I gave Alexis Feron a mindblowing first real kiss.”

Kevin watches me as I write, and when I look up, his face has softened. “Mindblowing, huh?”

World-altering. But all I say is, “Yeah.”

—-♥—-

L
exi

It’s as if all my limbs are filled with lead when an ungodly noise wakes me from a dead sleep a mere three hours after crawling into bed exhausted.

What. The. Fuck? My roommate from hell has flipped on the lights and has her laptop playing some weird sound that I think is supposed to be a song, but sounds like a dying cat attempting to rap about the periodic table.

A quick glance at my alarm clock reveals it’s only four-thirty in the morning. I lift my head a few inches from the pillow, gawking at her. She’s singing along now, and seems completely oblivious to the fact that others are trying to sleep. On the floor, Kevin is just sitting up when I launch a pillow across the room, smacking Stephanie in the back of the head.

Her eyes are wide with indignation when she whips her head around, her lips quickly pulling together into a self-satisfied smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No. Kevin and I were having a contest to see which of us could keep our eyes closed the longest. Did you happen to see who won?” It’s not even five am, of course I’m sleeping, and she damn well knows it.

“I just figured since you had no problem staying out so late, waking me up when you came in, you wouldn’t mind if I got a head start on my studying, right?”