7
JENNA
Rain continues to pelt against the side of the house. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and lightning flashes—its brightness fills the small bedroom. There’s no way I’m falling asleep in this mess. Even if it weren’t storming like crazy, I still wouldn’t be sleeping. The only reason I came to bed in the first place was because the lights went out.
Watching the movie was safe. It kept my focus off of Cole—of his mouth and hands. The popcorn helped too, and I’m so glad I thought to bring it over when I did. But now, lying here all by myself in the dark, all I can think about is him. My mind refuses to give me any relief, and my body begs for it. Being in his arms earlier? I can’t explain it, but it just felt right. The only other man I’ve ever been that close to was Mark, and henevermade me feel the things I felt with Cole. It makes me sad to think I wasted so many years with someone only to walk away realizing the feelings I held were mediocre. These new feelings I have for Cole are hardly that way, but they make me nervous—not that anything bad is going to happen, but that something more could happen. Something good. Something amazing.
And I know that makes me sound crazy. Who knows? Maybe I am. But I can’t get involved with Cole. I feel like I barely know who he is anymore. Sure he’s still the same Cole I remember, but he’s changed, he’s … distant. I guess war does that to people.
When he disappeared four years ago, without a goodbye, without telling anyone where he was going, a piece of me left with him. He was the last thing in my life that made me feel like my brother was still alive, and without him around I just felt lost. I understand he was dealing with a lot of demons during that time—we all were. The effects of what happened in Afghanistan weighed heavily on his shoulders, but why he didn’t stay around and let us help him get through it just baffles me. We all lost something—someone. I just don’t get why he felt like he needed to deal with it alone? I could’ve helped him. Icanhelp him. I just need him to let me.
Thunder cracks again, still in the distance, but it’s loud enough to make me jump. My attention turns to the doorway after, and I catch the faint moans coming from the other side. With my curiosity peaked, I step out of the bed and slowly make my way from the room. I can barely see where I’m going, but the moans grow louder as I enter the main area of the house. It sounds as if Cole is having a nightmare or something. I flip the light switch but nothing happens. Carefully, I feel my way around the kitchen and grab the box of matches when my fingers find them. A soft glow fills the room as I walk the lit candle over to the sofa and place it on the coffee table. Cole’s entire body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his hair is damp. I’m speechless. I’ve never seen anyone have this kind of reaction to a bad dream.
I cautiously sit down on the edge of the sofa and gently press my hand to his shoulder, noticing a thick scar. “Cole,” I whisper. “Shh. Cole, it’s okay. It’s just a bad dream. Come on, wake up.” I keep my voice steady and easy as I try to coax him awake. His breathing becomes heavier and he moans again. “Cole,” I say louder and shake his shoulder. “Come back to me. Open your eyes.”
A few moments later, Cole’s eyes widen and dart around the room—panicked and disoriented—until they find me. “Jenna?”
His voice is pained, and the hurt within it makes my chest tighten. “Yeah, it’s me,” I say and brush my fingertips across his dampened hairline.
Cole’s hand catches mine as he holds it against his face, closing his eyes and breathingdeep. “It was so real,” he murmurs. “I could hear, smell, and feel everything.” He opens his eyes, and he looks so lost that a lump rises in my throat.
When he releases my hand and moves to sit up, I scoot over and decide to give him some space. “Let me get you some water,” I say and stand up from the sofa.
His hand flies to my wrist, causing me to stop and turn to him. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” I say softly, and I take my seat back next to him—only then does he let go of my wrist. I’m not quite sure what to do, or what he needs me to do, so I just sit there with him in silence.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and puts his face in his hands. “I couldn’t save him.” His voice is muffled, but I’m able to make out the words. “He asked me to cover him, and I …” Cole’s voice breaks and he takes in a shaky breath. “I didn’t see the shooters behind us.”
My chest is heavy with pain as I realize Cole is telling me about what happened in Afghanistan. About Adam. All of these years I’ve wanted to know, but now I’m not so sure I can handle it. I need to hearthis,though—need to let him talk about it and release the grief that he’s kept bottled up for so long. My hand rests gently on the back of his shoulder, and I move my palm back and forth in a soothing motion.
“It’s all my fault,” Cole says and scrubs his face with his hands before sitting up slightly. “Adam’s gone and it’s all my fault.” He turns to me, and his eyes are so glassy. “I’m so sorry, Jenna.”
My own eyes are warm and watery, and that lump in my throat is about to break through my exterior. Still, a tear slips from my eye and down my cheek as I pull Cole into my arms and hold him tight. “It is not your fault,” I reassure him and feel his arms wrap around my waist. “You did everything you were supposed to do. It was an ambush, Cole. You almost died yourself.”
“It should’ve been me,” I hear him say with his face buried into my shoulder. “Adam was good, and I’m …”
“Stop that,” I tell him and pull away to look at him. His eyes are so pained and haunted, it nearly kills me. “You’regood.” I emphasize my statement, hoping to get through to him. “You’re a good man, a good son, a good brother, and a damn good Marine.” He notices my curse, heck I’m a little surprised too, but I’minthe moment and need to make sure I have his attention. “Adam knew what he was getting into when he signed up. You all did. He died doing what he loved, so don’t let his death be in vain.”
“I miss him, Jenna,” Cole says. “It kills me every day that I lived and he didn’t.”
“I miss him, too.” Lifting my hand, I stroke my fingertips along the side of his face. “But we have to keep going, Cole. If we keep dwelling on the past, on the things we can’t change, we’ll be miserable, bitter people.” I rest my hand against his jaw as I hold his gaze. “I know it’s hard, but we need to move on.” My thumb strokes his cheek. “Stop just existing andlive.”
Cole’s hands tighten around my waist seconds before his mouth is on mine in a blaze of heat and passion.
A slow moan escapes from me when Cole’s tongue thrusts into my mouth, and I wrap my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before—like his life depends on it. He devours me with every lick, every stroke, every flick, and the overwhelming sensation quickly sends a rush of achingheatto my breasts and between my legs. “What are we doing?” I murmur against his lips.
Grasping my hips with his large hands, Cole kisses me harder and pulls me so I’m straddling his lap. “Living.”
