#esme rake

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay to come down there?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just wanted to make sure.”

He watches as she descends the remaining stairs and approaches, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floors. Her hair is loose and dishevelled from sleep; thick, dark tresses framing her face, tumbling over her shoulders, and spilling down her back.  Her tiny frame drowns in a man’s button-down shirt;  crisp and cool cotton in charcoal grey,  the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.  One of many offerings that Gaspar had left behind in a plastic bag on the kitchen table;  faded and tattered t-shirts and old jeans with holes in the knees and pockets and loose threads dangling from the cuffs.  With nothing appropriate for a woman -especially one of Esme’s petite stature- available, she’d been relegated to washing her original clothes by hand; tattered and stained by blood and now drying over a chair on the small back porch.

Despite the dim lighting, he can see how heavily body and spirit bear the toll of the day;  a slump to normally confident shoulders, a limp that replaces the normal bounce to her step. The sparkle of those dark eyes diminished;  now dull and lifeless from a potent mixture of exhaustion,  discomfort,  grief, and concern.   And when she stands in front of him, he can see the damage done to her pale, smooth skin;  a bruised and slightly swollen left cheek, a red and angry abrasion that mars her forehead and disappears into her hair,  and a small split to her bottom lip that appears sore and tender.

Yet, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

His hands find her hips as she steps between his splayed thighs. “You should be asleep.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you.”

“I’ve been resting my eyes. Here and there.”

“I damn near had a panic attack. I woke up and didn’t even remember coming here.  I didn’t recognize anything,  you were gone.  That’s what totally freaked me out.  I didn’t know where you went, and I thought maybe something bad happened and you had to leave us here or…”

“I’d never do that.   No one is getting left behind. Especially not you.”

“It just scared me.  Not knowing where I was.  Being disoriented and alone and…”

“I only left because I didn’t want to wake you up.  I couldn’t shut my brain off.  And if I’d stayed up there and just kept tossing and turning…”

She reaches out;  gentle fingertips exploring the bruises and wounds that litter his face.  “Are you feeling any better?”  

“A little.  The meds kicked in about ten minutes ago.”

She gently explores the cut above his right eyebrow and the abrasions on his cheek. “Did you take a lot?”

“I only took a couple.  Just to take the edge off.  Nowhere near enough to knock me on my ass.”

“I mean, I know it’s not any of my business; how many pills you take or how much booze you drink.  But…”

“We talked about this. A couple of days ago. About how it’s becoming your business.”   

 When their plans to travel together after the job in Dhaka had been made official,  they’d been accompanied by a conscious decision to turn his life around. Or at least attempt to.   There’s an optimism he clings to;  the belief that their immense attraction to one another will follow them into the ‘regular world’.   That it isn’t solely rooted in similar experiences and shared circumstances; their equally traumatic childhoods,  their time in the military and their failed marriages, the stress and the unpredictability of the ‘job’.    

 It’s the first time in years that he’s felt any sense of positivity regarding the direction of his life; finding himself no longer obsessed with wanting to catch a bullet or interested in drinking himself to death.  It would be the biggest mistake he’s ever made; turning his back on the second chance that lay before him.  And he’s determined to put the work in; wanting to clean himself up and give her the kind of man she wants, needs, and deserves .

“I worry about you.”  Pushing her hands into his hair, she allows the longer strands to slip through her fingers.  “I know you’re not to use that; someone giving a shit.”

He can’t remember the last time someone expressed any kind of concern in regards to his well-being.  While boldly -yet erroneously- calling herself a friend, Nik views him as both a nuisance and a commodity.  While none of the other mercenaries on her payroll come close to possessing the same level of skill and knowledge, his issues with drugs and alcohol often get in the way of her securing a client -and a mission- only he can conquer. Her friendship comes with a price;  relying heavily on his ability to keep himself alive and the cash rolling into her bank account.  And Mia had never been an affectionate or nurturing person;  lacking those traits long before their marriage had started to sour.  A byproduct of her career and upbringing, she’d always been rather cold and distant; expecting the man to be continuously ‘rock steady’ and admittedly ‘turned off’ by any show of softness or vulnerability.

His mother.   She’d been the only one who’d ever shown him that kind of care and concern.  Loving him unconditionally; with every breath she took and every punch and kick his father had rained down upon.  Continuously -and selflessly- putting herself…mind, body, and soul…in the direct path of his ire to keep her only child safe. Attempting to give him some semblance of a normal childhood despite all the bloody noses,  broken ribs,  split lips and trips to the emergency room.    It was the last time he’d ever felt loved;  the only person who allowed her to show and express emotion and experience moments of fear and weakness. 

Nearly three decades.  Since anyone has given a shit.  And it seems so foreign now; finding himself at the receiving end of even the smallest forms of affection.  

“It’s been a long time,” he admits.

“That’s not right,” she laments.  “That’s not right at all .”

Her hands continue to move through his hair; gently and repeatedly combing the dirty blond tresses.  He finds himself unable to take his eyes off her; transfixed by the tenderness that both touch and gaze possess.  The couch side lamp bathes her skin in a soft, almost ethereal glow;  highlighting the juxtaposition between the bruises and cuts that mar her flesh and the gentle smile that curves moist lips.  

 It takes his breath away;  her emotions -a mix of concern,  adoration, and lust-  written so plainly upon her face. He doesn’t deserve it; someone regarding him in such a manner, wanting and needing him to the depths and lengths she’s already shown.  And while part of him whispers to push her away and spare her the hurt that he’ll eventually cause,  an even louder and more persistent one screams at him to never let her go. 

A shiver travels through him as her nails lightly scrape along his scalp and down onto the nape of his neck; those small, delicate fingers dancing over his skin before deftly and easily manipulating the sore, tense muscles below them.  His eyes close; a sigh of both weariness and contentment escaping his lips as his head falls forehead and his brows rest against her.   It’s intimacy in its purest;  her touch soothing as he completely lowers his guard and allows himself a rare moment of vulnerability.   She won’t judge him for it;   won’t scoff, scold or mock upon discovery of a chink in his armour.    Not the type to view him as less of a man because of a show of weakness;  instead preferring to nurture the rarer, softer fragments that linger under his tattered edges and worn and weathered exterior.

When she gently tugs on his hair, he tips his head back and gazes up at her;  eyes riveted on hers as she affectionately strokes his ears and slowly traces the outer edges with the tips of her index fingers. It isn’t until she releases a sigh of her own and scraps her top teeth over her bottom lip that he physically reacts; his hands smoothing over the curve of her hips and down the sides of her thighs before slipping under the bottom of her shirt. He hears her sharp intake of breath when rough, calloused palms glide across soft, supple flesh. Sees the way her eyes darken when he traces a slow, methodical circle around her navel and gently tugs on the hoop that passes through it.  Feels both the shiver that passes through her and the goosebumps that invade her skin as his fingertips skim along the waistband of her simple cotton panties.

“This is wrong.”  Her voice trembles as she speaks. Barely above a whisper. “This is so, so, so wrong.”

“You could be saying  that about the last five days.” 

“I don’t mean that.  Us.  If there even is an us.”

His palms follow the curves and slopes of her ass and hips.  Finding himself amused by her disappointed pout when his hands slip out from under her shirt.   “I thought that was pretty obvious.” 

“I meant this. Here. Your friend’s place.” 

“If it makes you feel any better…”. His fingers tend to the buttons on the simple cotton garment. “…he doesn’t actually live here.  It’s a safe house.  He has no real ties to this place.”

“Always so rational.” 

Allowing the shirt to fall open, his hands once more find her hips;  fingers pressing into the supple flesh as he aggressively pulls her closer.  She heaves a shaky sigh and violently shudders when his lips press against her stomach;  her fingers burrowing in his hair as the tip of his tongue draws a lazy circle around her belly button and his teeth pull at the stainless steel hoop.   Her nails digging into his scalp when he presses a series of kisses along her abdomen;  slowly travelling from hip to the other, then stopping at the strip of lace that covers her pussy.  And nuzzling his nose against her, he can smell and feel the moisture that dampens the thin fabric. 

Her hands tighten their grip on his hair as he presses a line of warm, moist kisses across her waist; his mouth travelling slowly from hip to hip as his calloused fingertips drift over her ribcage.   It’s a power juxtaposition;  the softness of his lips paired with the roughness of his beard.   She’s overwhelmed by the things he manages to stir inside of her; a level and ferocity of want and need that no one else has brought to the plate.   On the good days, sex with Mark had been a chore; she merely tolerated it and certainly never initiated nor truly enjoyed it.  On the bad days, it was expected of her;  threatened and forced and punished -severely- if she had the nerve to say ‘no’ or push him away.   After the marriage fell apart, she’d sworn off all forms of sexual activity that involved a partner;  convinced she could happily live the rest of her life tending to things on her own. 

And then she wandered into the debilitated shack in the middle of the Australian outback.

A violent shiver travels the length of her body as his hands and mouth travel upwards.  Suckling and nipping at her collarbone while his palms cup her breasts;  a whimper escaping her lips when his thumbs brush against her nipples.  He reaches for her hair, his grip tight and unrelenting as he pulls her down into a kiss; his strength and power cause her to lose her balance and tumble into his lap. His hands aggressive and needy as they easily manipulate her much smaller and lighter frame;  settling her on his lap,  her knees on either side of him.

Both kisses and touch are rough and unapologetic. Bruising lips and duelling tongues as his hands dispose of remaining clothes and hers yank at shirt buttons and belt buckle and hurriedly open the clasp and zipper on his pants.  There’s no romance;  no extended foreplay, no whispers of adoration or praise, no tenderness or adoration.  And she audibly gasps when he pushes into her with one strong, fluid thrust;  her head falling backwards and her nails digging painfully into the bruises and cuts that mar the back of his neck and shoulders.  

He remains undeterred;  the pain is no match for the depth and the power of the want and need that take over every fibre of his being.  His mouth finds the hollow of her throat;  licking, sucking, and biting at the skin as his palms find the smooth curves of her ass.  Fingertips biting into the soft, supple flesh as he controls every movement.

****

They sit in silence; basking in the afterglow with her sideways on his lap and her legs hanging over the arm of the chair, both his arms wrapped around her. Her head on his shoulder; one hand resting on his side,  the fingers of the other repeatedly brushing the hair at the back of his head and the nape of his neck.  Clothes discarded earlier in haste gathered up and put back on; avoiding the awkwardness if Ovi awakens and wanders downstairs or Gaspar shows up unexpectedly.   His palm rests on the side of her left thigh;  fingertips repeatedly moving over the skin in slow, smooth circles.

“Tyler?”

He turns his face into hers, lips meeting her brow.  “Mmm?”

“Where should we head first? Where do you want to go the most?”

“What?”

“When we travel.  Once all this is over.  What should we put first on the list?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t really thought about it.  Wherever you want to go, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s it. Leave the hard work to me.   I’m terrible at making decisions. I’ll pick something now and by this time next week, I’ll have changed my mind a dozen times.”

“Why don’t we get the hard stuff out of the way? I know you’ve been freaking out about the idea of going back to Colorado and having me meet your folks.   If we do that first, you’ll be able to relax; have a good time when we go other places.”

“You know…” Esme presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “...sometimes you are wise.  So wise.”

“Are you saying I’m a dumb ass all the other times?”

She nuzzles the sensitive spot under his left ear with the tip of her nose. “Never.”

He’s getting used to it; her almost overwhelming need to give and receive affection.  She’s the first partner he’s had that’s been so needy in that respect, and decades of being touched starved has caused him to be standoffish at times;  unsure of how to react to her not being afraid to seek out physical contact.  But she’s patient and understanding and never takes initial resistance or hesitation as a personal slight.  After only five days, he’s both accepting and responding with much more comfort and ease; not realizing just how much he’s missed tenderness and affection.   And amidst all the chaos, unpredictability,  and fear of what’s to come,  her mere presence gives him a welcome escape.  The touch of her hands, the feel of her lips, and the smell of her hair somehow easing the weariness and the tension. Even if only temporarily.

“You don’t really want to go there, do you?”

“I want to see the mountains.  Go snowboarding.”

“You do realize we can  do those things without going near my family, right?”

“It was your idea.  To take me to meet them.”

“And now I realize what a shitty idea it is.  And no…”  Laying a hand on his cheek, she turns his face towards her. “...you are not the reason I don’t want to see them.  I mean, you are .  But not in the way you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“I’m not ashamed. Or embarrassed.  When it comes to how we met and how quickly things happened between us.   And it has nothing to do with who you are and what you do or…”

“Esme,  none of that shit crossed my mind.”

“It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.  I know what they’re like; I’ve put up with their bullshit all my life.  They thrive on bullshit and drama. Especially my mother.  Why would I want to subject you to that ? You haven’t done anything to deserve that kind of punishment.”

“Haven’t you been waiting your entire life for someone to come along and put your mother in her place?  Well, the time’s come. Now’s your chance.”

“You have no idea what she can get like.  Just how awful she is.  She’s a miserable, evil bitch.  And I can only imagine what kind of shit is going to come out of her mouth. About you, about me…”

“I’m not your ex-husband.  I’m not the type that’s just going sit there and let it happen.  She steps out of line, I put her back in it.”

Smiling, she reaches up to brush the longer strands of hair off his forehead. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I would.  Someone’s got your back now.  And she should know it.”

“My hero,” she playfully croons, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin.

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore.   I’ll let her know.  And I won’t be nice about it.”

“You really are a knight in shining armour.”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Knight in slightly tarnished armour?”

“I’ll let you have it.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence;  her head against his shoulder, the nails of one hand lightly and repeatedly brushing against his beard. His chin rests on the top of her head as calloused fingertips continue tracing random patterns on the side of her thigh and back of her knee.  And he’s once more on the edge of sleep when he feels her move against him; eyes flickering open, finding her staring up at him.  Those enormous dark eyes once more filled with concern, her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“Who?”

“Ovi.”

“We’re going to get him out of here.  Get him back where he belongs.”

“I mean after .  When this is over.  What happens when you do get him home?  His father’s in jail. There’s no one there to protect him.”

“ I haven’t stopped to think about that.  Yet.”

“Asif will never let him live. Think of the disgrace.  He isn’t going to give up, Tyler. He’ll go after him again.  And this time, things will end up so much worse.  It won’t be about money, or power, or influence.  Or disrespecting or embarrassing Mahajan.  It will be about revenge.  And you know what people like Asif are capable of.   They’re violent and depraved and the things he’ll do to Ovi…”

“This is why you couldn’t sleep, huh?”

“He’s just a kid.  He doesn’t deserve this.   And if there’s no one around to keep an eye on him…”

“What do you think we should do?  How would you handle it?”

“I don’t know.  But there has to be something, right? That we can do? That you can do?”

“Short of sticking around in Mumbai and keeping an eye on him until shit dies down…”

“Would that be something you’d be willing to do?”

“Would you? Be willing to do it?”

“I’m not sure,” Esme admits.  “It wouldn’t be the safest place, you know? We’d all have targets on our backs.  Hanging around,  just waiting for trouble to show up? Not my idea of a good time.”

“What else is there? What other options do we  have?”  

“We could bring him with us.  We could put off travelling. Spend some time hiding out somewhere. We could take him to your place;  lie low in the outback for a bit. Or we could go to Prague. Stay at my place; just until we know the coast is clear and that  Ovi will be safe back in Mumbai. It makes sense, right? For you to be the one to do it.  I know there wouldn’t  be any pay at the end of things, but…”

“It’s not about money. It stopped being about that hours ago.”

“I just think it makes sense; that we take him with us.  You can keep him safe.  He trusts you.  And I think that…”

“You know what I think?  I think it’s been a long day.  And I think you’re tired and overwhelmed and you need to try and turn your brain off.  Or at least quiet it down a bit. I know you’re neurotic as fuck sometimes, but…”

She grins.  “You already figured that out, huh?”

“Less than a day into knowing you.”

Scowling, she tugs playfully at the hair covering his chin. 

“Why don’t we just let it go for now; cross that bridge when we get to it.  Because it’s been a hell of a fucking twenty-four hours and my brain needs some peace and quiet.  And I know yours does too.”

“I just…”

“Not right now, okay? Let's try and get some sleep.  We need it.”

Nodding in agreement, she nestles her cheek against his shoulder. Several minutes passing before she gives a loud yawn and once more sits up/

“Esme…”  Tyler doesn’t open his eyes. “ I swear to God…”

“I have a lot on my mind, okay? It’s really noisy up in there. And I won’t be able to sleep until it quiets down a bit. Humour me? Please?” 

Sighing,  he opens his eyes and slides a palm to the back of her head; fingers pushing through her hair to gently massage her scalp. “What’s going on?”

“I need to ask you something.  And it might cross a line or two or trample on a couple of boundaries.   I know we haven’t known each other long and it’s kind of personal and you might want to tell me to mind my own fucking business, but  I’m just asking because I’ve been getting some really bad vibes and I’m nervous and worried and…”

He chuckles; her tendency to ramble when excited or nervous never crossing the line between amusing and insufferable. “Just take a breath, yeah?  It can’t be that bad.”

“It depends on what you consider bad. Or intrusive.”

“I think we’ve reached a point where nothing could be considered intrusive. Considering what’s been going on the last five days and just happened twenty minutes ago…”

“I’m only asking because I’m worried.  And a bit scared.  I…”

He squeezes the nape of her neck.  “Just ask.”

“How well do you know him?”

“I take it we’re not talking about Ovi this time.”

“Gaspar.  How close are you guys exactly?”

“We’re mates, I guess.  If we’re in the city, we’ll go out and grab something to eat, have a beer or two.”

“Would you say you’re solely ‘work buddies? That the only time you see him is if there’s a job involved?”

“Yeah, I’d say.  It’s not like we see each other regularly or we hang out when it’s our downtime.  I don’t exactly call or text him or shit like that, if that’s what you’re asking. Why…?”

“So you’re not friends friends. You don’t visit one another, you don’t know much about each other’s personal lives, you’re not on one another’s Christmas card list or…”

“I barely see the guy.   We’re work friends. Colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less.  We won’t be visiting each other any time soon.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m being a huge bitch and personally attacking your friend or assuming bad things about him or…”

“Are you going to get to your original question sometime today or…?”

Taking a deep breath, she releases it slowly, then chews pensively on her bottom lip.   “Do you trust him?”

“He owes me his life.”

“That isn’t what I asked.  Do you trust him?”

“Honestly?  I’m not sure.”

She sighs.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“I can’t shake this awful feeling that he’s up to no good.  Something just isn’t sitting right; the way Nik was so resistant when you told her to call him,  the way he looks at me like he wants to throw me to the wolves, the things he says…”

Tyler frowns.  “He talked to you? When? What did he say?”

“He didn’t confront me or anything like that.” The lie rolls easily off her tongue. “ And it’s not so much what he says, but how he says it.  He won’t even call me by name; when he’s talking to you he calls me ‘the girl’ or ‘that girl’.   That’s not a huge red flag to you?”

“Don’t take it personally. He’s always been a bit of an asshole.” 

“Something’s not right, Tyler.  And I know you’re feeling it, too.  Nik never would have put up such a fight about calling him if she wasn’t worried about something. ”

“I think everyone’s on edge.  We’re sore, we’re tired, we’re…”

“You just said you’re not sure if you trust him. So you’ve got the vibes, too. I know you do.”

“Whether I trust him or not,  this is our only option.   I have more control over things here than if we’re on the street, constantly looking for a place to hide out.  Do you trust me ?”

“With my life. You know I do.  But that doesn’t mean I can just ignore this.   The way I’m feeling.  Something is… off .  I can’t put my finger on what , but it is.  And the sooner things die down and we can get the hell out of here, the better.”

“If I start feeling worse about things…about him …I’ll get you and Ovi out of there.  I’ll figure something out;  find a place to lay low until Nik can get us out of here.  I won’t let anything happen to you.  And I will get you out of Dhaka.”

“Gotta get yourself out of here, too.  Remember our deal? Both of us or neither of us.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“You said you’d think about it.”

“I have thought about it.”

“And?”

“And I can’t make any promises.  Not when it comes to that.  You know how bad things can go. And how quickly it can happen.”

She scowls.  “That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“It’s the only one I have to give you.  Right now, anyway.  Are we done?  Did you get everything out of your head you needed to? Quiet things down a bit.”

“It’s a little better.”

“You’re safe, Esme.  Nothing can touch you here.  And if anything even tried…”

“I can’t pretend I feel good about this.  About him .”

“You don’t have to.  But for now?  Try and get some sleep.  It’s been a long fucking day.  And if you don’t settle down, shut your mouth, and close your eyes soon…”

“You’re such a sweet talker,”  she chides, and nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose.  “Let’s stay here a little bit longer.  Just like this.  I need it.  I need you .”

He obliges; wrapping both arms around her and pulling her even tighter against him.  Laying a palm on the back of her head, he draws it down onto his shoulder;  fingertips gently stroking her hair until her body relaxes against his. Her breathing softening and slowing as  she finally drifts off to sleep.

****

Despite succumbing to exhaustion, Tyler’s senses remain hypervigilant. Aware of the slightest change in temperature,  the softest of noises out on the street, every sigh and mutter Esme makes as she sleeps on the couch across the room, and each creak of a spring whenever she rolls over or adjusts her position.  His hearing is keen. Picking up on the rumble of an engine and the opening and shutting of a car door; a dog in the near distance barking at the intrusion.  

He senses the other man’s presence the moment he steps into the room; clocking the the shifting of floorboards beneath feet,  the rustling of a brown paper bag,  heavy, deep breathing, and a combined smell of cologne and perspiration.   He remains silent and motionless; not wanting Gaspar to be aware of his wakefulness.   The soft glow of the couch side lamp allows him to watch every move the taller, heavier man makes; his breath catching and his jaw clenching as Gaspar approaches the sofa.  

His hands curl into tight fists as Gaspar briefly observes a sleeping Esme,  then removes the throw from the back of the sofa;  draping it over and tucking it securely around her tiny body. Feeling both nausea and fury building inside of him when his old friend touches her; smoothing her hair away from her face and running a fingertip over the bruises on her left cheek and above her eye. And he isn’t entirely sure what he feels;  disgust, worry, rage.  Possessiveness, even.

 “What the fuck are you doing?”

Gaspar gives a small start, then an awkward chuckle as he turns away from the couch.  “You scared the shit out of me.  I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.  Now answer my question. What are you doing?”

“The windows are open. It gets chilly at night. I was just making sure she was warm.” 

His body aches as he stands.  A throbbing that seems to spread outwards from his bones; travelling from the roots of his hair to the tip of his toes. Reaching for the sling he’d discarded earlier, he winces as he pulls it over his head, gritting his teeth as he settles his injured arm into place.   Approaching the couch,  he places his body between it and Gaspar as he reaches down to wake her; grazing his knuckles along her swollen and bruised cheek. 

“Hey…”  Tyler softly jostles her shoulder.   “...Esme…”

Giving a loud yawn, she stretches languorously and turns her face towards him;  pressing her brow against his forearm.

 “Tyler…” 

It claws at his throat and heart; the way his name leaves her mouth so softly and tenderly.   It’s terrifying;  what should have been a ‘no strings attached’ arrangement quickly -and effortlessly- becoming so much more.   She’s the first person to attempt to get past the walls he’d built in the wake of his son’s death; effortlessly managing to burrow beneath the layers of guilt and grief and regret.  Breathing life back into him and making him feel again.

“Esme…”  His voice is louder, pushing past the last remaining veils of sleep. “...you need to get up.”

Rolling onto her side, she peers up at him, concern immediately furrowing her brow. “What’s wrong? Is there trouble? Do we need to leave? Do we…?”

“There’s nothing wrong.  No trouble.  Why don’t you go upstairs?”  Curling his fingers around her bicep, he guides her into a sit. “You’ll be more comfortable up there.”

“Okay,” she sleepily agrees, gathering the throw around her shoulders as he helps her to her feet.

Although Tyler notices Gaspar’s disgust when she briefly rests her forehead against his chest, he doesn’t hesitate;  placing his hands upon her shoulders and gently squeezing. “Try and get some more sleep.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“Alright.” Yawning once more, she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes; wrapping the throw around her as she shuffles through the living room and up the stairs.  

Both men remain silent.  Until they hear the squeak of the bedroom door as it closes, followed by her soft footfalls overhead.

“Now it’s my turn,” Gaspar speaks in a harsh whisper.  Shoulders tightly drawn, eyes narrowed in a mixture of anger and disgust. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and that girl . And whatever the fuck is going on between you.”

“Esme.  Her name is Esme.   And whatever’s happening between us? That’s none of your business, mate.”

“You’re my friend. That makes it my business.  What is wrong with you?  This ? This latching onto someone. Practically throwing yourself at their feet.  It’s pathetic; watching you trip over yourself trying to get her to even look at you.”

“I’m getting it just fine.  Without having to do that.   And when have I ever had a job like this?  Working with someone? This isn’t normal for me.  She’s not normal.”

“It’s embarrassing; the way you are with her.  I saw it the second you walked in here; needing to be near her all the time, always finding ways to touch, batting your eyelashes at her every chance you get.  When did you get like this? When did you get so soft ?”

“Keep getting on my ass like this and you’ll find out who’s soft.”

“You need to get your head on straight.  You’re a mercenary, aren’t you Tyler? Then start acting like a mercenary.  Because this ? Her ? It’s wrong and you know it.”

“What’s going on with Esme and I has nothing to do with the job.  And nothing to do with you .  So if you don’t mind, mate, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about her.  Or go near her.  Just keep your distance. Because if I see you touching her again…”

“Get your shit together!” Gaspar snarls.  “You want to get out of here alive? Stop whatever is going on with that girl…”

“It’s too late for that.  To stop it.  So just back off and…”

“Don’t you understand that I’m worried about you?  That I see what’s happening? What she’s doing to you?  Are you that fucking blind that you don’t see it?  She’s using you, Tyler.  She’s lying and she’s manipulating and…”

“She’s not. She’s not doing any of that.”

“It’s what she does for a living.  Did you forget that?  Why she’s even involved in this job in the first place?  It’s who she is.  In the same way being a mercenary is who you are. She cons people for a living. And now she’s conning you . Because you’re her only chance of getting out of here alive.”

“That’s not what she’s doing.”

“Do you think she loves you?” Gaspar gives an incredulous laugh. “Is that what you think? That she sees you as some knight in shining armour that’s come along to sweep her off her feet?”

“You need to let this go, mate.  Because there’s nothing you can say or do…”

“This is what she does, Tyler; what she gets paid for.  She wanders into people's lives and turns them upside down. She lies and she uses and she…”

“That’s not who she is away from the job.”

“It’s exactly who she is. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.”

“You don’t know her, Gaspar. You don’t…”

“And you do? It’s been what? A week? If that?  You think you know who she really is? That she isn’t using you and playing you the same way she has so many others? Why are being so fucking naive? Are you that lonely? That desperate? That you can’t see what’s going on?”

“You weren’t there.  Back in that hotel room.  You don’t know the things that happened or…”

“Oh, I know what happened.  You’re a red-blooded male, she’s an attractive woman.  It’s not hard to figure out.  And it must have been really damn good.  Bceause for you to be so naive and so fucking blind…”

“...or the things we talked about.  You need to let this go.  I don’t know what you’re trying to do or why you’re doing it…”

“She is going to ruin you, Tyler.  She is going to lie and manipulate and tell you everything you want to hear. She’s going to keep whoring herself out to you so…”

His fists clench. “I’m warning you, mate.  Don’t talk about her like that. Don’t talk about her at all .”

“Do you honestly believe someone like her would want someone like you?  That she doesn’t know what a mess you are? Look at her; she’s way out of your league and can do so much better,  Why would she want you ? All your baggage, all your bullshit. The pain meds and the booze and…”

“She knows I can change.  That I will change.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to run off with her? When all of this is over?  You’re going to get out of Dhaka and the two of you are going to live happily ever after? That’s bullshit and you know it.  Everything that comes out of her mouth is a lie; all the sweet nothings, all the pillow talk, all the promises.  And if you yanked your head out of your ass long enough to realize it…”

“I’m only going to tell you this once more.  It’s none of your business.  Don’t talk about her again. Don’t go near her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look at her.”

“You’re in for hell of a rude awakening the second you leave here.  When you finally realize that everything she said…everything she did…was nothing but shit.  She’s using you, Tyler. Doing whatever she has to make sure she gets out of here. And when she does, she will leave you an even bigger mess than you were before.”

Smirking, he gives his head an incredulous shake. “We’re done here.”

Gaspar snatches him by the arm, preventing him from leaving. “This is going to blow up in your face.  And she’s going to leave you an even bigger mess than you already are.”

“Mind your own business, mate. That’s the last time I’m going to warn you.”

  “You have a really nice smile, you know that?”

Giving a small, embarrassed chuckle, he takes a large swallow of beer.

“What? You’ve never heard that before? No one has ever told you?”

“Once. A very long time ago.”

“I find that hard to believe.  What’s the deal with that? People just too blind to notice? Or do you just not do it much? Smile.”

“Someone needs a reason to, yeah? I haven’t had one of those in quite a while.”

“You’re doing it now.  What’s the explanation for it?  The whiskey, beer, or tequila?”

“I’m thinking  it has less to do with the booze and more to do with the company.”

She feels the heat that rises in her cheeks and quickly spreads to her ears; a mixture of embarrassment and the handful of tequila shots and glasses of beer that have already been consumed. “Did you just bust out your game on me, Tyler Rake? Because THAT was smooth.”

“Game? What game? I don’t have any game. That’s just me telling it like it is. What’s the saying?”  Reaching for one of two remaining full shot glasses on the tray in the middle of the table, he sets it in front of her, then takes the final one for himself. “Drunk minds speak sober thoughts? Or some shit like that.”

“Well, it certainly makes you chatty, that’s for sure.”  She picks up her shot and leans across the table; tapping the tiny glass against his before downing the liquor. Wincing and then rapidly patting her chest -in vain- to relieve it of the near-painful burn the tequila leaves behind.  “I don’t mind, though.” She sets the empty glass upside down on the tray. “I like it.”

“What?”

“This side of you.”

“Yeah?” Tyler nods his thanks to the waiter who arrives to retrieve the tray of empty shot glasses and deposit a platter of various appetizers in the middle of the table.   Waiting until the man departs before addressing Esme once more. “What side is that?”

“The non-mercenary side.  It’s… nice .”

“Nice, huh?” (Chuckling, he takes a swig of beer. “Something tells me you won’t  find it that nice once you get to know me better.”

“What is there that could possibly scare me off?  I’m stuck in this shitty-ass life too, you know. I think it’s safe to say there’s nothing I haven’t seen or heard.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“All I know is that I’m pleasantly surprised. With what I’ve seen so far, anyway.   Away from the bullshit, you’re a normal guy.  You’re not constantly bragging about the number of people you’ve killed and all the gory ways you’ve done it.  It’s… refreshing .”

“Refreshing.  I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”

“Something tells me you’re not the total hardass everyone thinks you are.  All they know is mercenary Tyler. That’s all that exists to them.”

“Maybe there’s nothing more to it. Maybe that’s all I am.”

“You’re too different.   You’re not like everyone else.  You hide yourself away from the rest of the world. You’re not out there bragging about what you do.  You’re not hanging out  in  bars talking about your kill sheet or telling stories of all the gory ways you can kill a man with your bare hands.”

“How do you know I’m not?”

“People talk, especially in this circle. No one knows anything about you outside of the job.  It’s like you don’t even exist; you get in and out and barely leave anything behind. Sometimes, it’s like you were never even there.  Some people wonder if you’re even real; if you’re nothing more than an urban legend that’s just evolved over time.  If the stories are just that. Stories.”

“Well,  now you can go back and let them know that I’m real. That I actually do exist.”

“Believe it or not, like you, I try to keep my distance, too.  Put that world behind me when I finish a job.  A form of self-perseverance, you know? I can’t live in that world twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.  I need time away;  just disconnect from it and pretend that I’m a normal person, living a normal life.  Whatever normal is, anyway.”

He nods in understanding.  “What I want to know is how you’ve heard all this stuff about me.  How you seem to know more than anyone else.”

“It’s not that I know more than they do.  It’s just that I SEE more.  I look at you differently, I guess.  I see things they don’t.  Or maybe they’ve just never bothered to look for them.”

“Something tells me there’s a little more to it than that.”

“Well, what can I say?”  Reaching for her bottle of beer, she finishes it in one long pull.  “You’re not the only one that’s really good at their job.”

****

They engage in small talk as they indulge in the appetizers and start in on the new round of shots and a pitcher of beer. Both aware of the physical closeness that has developed between them; neither experiencing discomfort or attempting to shy away from it. The toes of their shoes touching under the table while their fingertips often brush together;  staying in contact as their forearms rest on top of it.   

Whether it’s merely the booze making him feel at ease, Tyler finds himself enjoying her company;  liking the sound of her voice and the way she smiles and laughs.  She possesses a layer of confidence that often thins to the point of revealing something else entirely: a shy and awkward child who while in need of attention, acceptance,  and adoration, worries about how she’s being perceived.   And there’s a sexiness under that youthful, girl next door persona that had initially attracted him;  something unique and appealing about the handful of piercings and the sneak peeks of ink that the slight shift of her clothing gives him. Numerous colourful and intricate tattoos that grace soft and supple flesh.

“Tell me more about yourself, Tyler Rake.”

“I don’t know how much more there is to know. You seem to have a pretty good handle on things. Your spying has served you well.”

“I’m hardly a spy.   It’s not like I’m some female James Bond running all over God’s creation.   I just know where to go for information.  What places to look, what people to talk to. I’m an intel specialist.”

“Which is a fancy name for a spy.”

“Potato, po-ta-toe. Seriously, though…” Reaching for the pitcher of beer, she tops off both their glasses. “...tell me.”

“Probably easier if you tell me what you DO know. That way I can just fill in the gaps. If there are any.”

Her eyes sparkle as she lifts her glass to her mouth; rim pressed against her lips she grins at him from across the table. “You’re difficult.”

“I can be.”

“Lucky for you, I love a challenge.”

“Something tells me that or a little thing, you put up a hell of a good one yourself.”

“Well, maybe if you play your cards right, you’ll find that out firsthand.”  She immediately becomes embarrassed; noisily setting her glass down on the tabletop and then covering her face with both hands. “Oh God…” She laughs into her palms. “...that was just so wrong. So, so, so wrong.”

“I didn’t have a problem with it.”

“That was just way out of line. I’m sorry. I never should have said that. I…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

“I  know better than to drink this much.  And I  normally don’t .  Because of shit like this.  I get a little too…I don’t know…bold.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is.  I didn’t see anything wrong with what you said.  Believe me, it takes a lot to embarrass me.”

“Sometimes it takes very little to embarrass me.  And saying what I did…”

“Hey…”  He lays a hand on her forearm, emboldened when she doesn’t question the touch or pull away from it; proceeding to repeatedly graze the pad of his thumb along her skin.  “...it’s no big deal.  There’s no reason to get worked up. Not with me, anyway.”

She gives a smile of appreciation. “Word of warning.  I can be a little…neurotic…at times.”

“I’ve noticed. You know how you mentioned what was lucky for me? Well, I guess it’s lucky for you that I don’t scare easily, either.”

Her eyes widen. The heat in her cheeks and the tips of her ears increasing.

“There. Feel better? Now you’re not alone.  We’re BOTH embarrassed.”

She laughs in response and he reaches for his beer; the fingertips of his free keeping that small, innocent contact with the side of her forearm.

“So what DO you know? About me?”

“More than you realize.”

“Like?”

“You were born in  Port Douglas.  A little town in Queensland. You were an only child; your father worked in construction and your mother was a homemaker.  But she taught right up until shortly before you were born;  home economics and sociology were her specialties.  She even won Queensland Teacher of the Year.  Twice in a row.”

“How do you know all of this? How…?”

“Come on now…”  Her eyes sparkle mischievously.  “...a woman has to have some secrets.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.”

“You don’t get to be this good at my job without knowing where to look and who to go for information.  And without learning how to hack  into a government computer or two.”

“I’m almost afraid to find out what else you know about me.”

“There were no skeletons in the closets I looked into. Well, nothing major, anyway.”

“If you know about my mum, you know what happened to her.  You read about the accident.”

“I did”  Sighing, she chews pensively on her bottom lip. “And I’m sorry. That you lost her.  Especially as a little boy.  It’s hard enough to lose someone you love at any age, but that?  That’s just...horrific.  I wasn’t going to bring it up, by the way.  If you hadn’t mentioned it…”

“It’s alright.  It’s a long time ago.  Almost thirty years.”

“It still bothers you, doesn’t it. Losing your mom. Especially the WAY you lost her.”

He nods. “Yeah, it does.”

“You don’t need to say anything else. And I definitely won’t push you on it.  But if you ever WANT to talk about it, I’m a pretty good listener, and I wouldn’t mind hearing about her. Or about what you were like when you were a kid.  It’s kinda hard to imagine you like that, you know? What you were like before all of this.”

“I was just a normal kid, I guess.  Did normal kid shit. What else do you know? Or should I be scared to ask that?”

“Like I said, I didn’t find anything major.  Nothing I’d  consider even remotely alarming.”

“Humour me.”

“I know that you joined the military straight out of high school.  And that you’d only served a few years and completed a couple of tours before they approached you about joining special ops.   That’s a pretty huge deal, you know. The fact they came to you.  Usually, it’s the other way around.”

“I guess something I did impressed them.”

“You had three medals for outstanding bravery.  And you were only twenty-three.  I’d say that’s pretty damn impressive.  You were practically a kid still and you passed the training for SASR. With flying colours. Do you know more people have died in training than they have in war? While working special ops?”

“You really are into doing your research, aren’t you.”

“Well, if I’m going to be pretend married to someone, I think it’s only fair that I find out if he’s an axe murderer or not. I don’t want to be sharing a hotel room with a serial killer.”

“How do I know you’re not one?  Isn’t it the ones you least expect?”

“I guess you’ll have to hope and pray for the best.  Or at the very least, sleep with one eye open.”

“You know what I have a hard time wrapping my head around? You being caught up in this shit.   Someone like you in this kind of life? It doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“ Nothing about this world does, Tyler. For any of us.”

“Makes less sense for you. You’re not the kind of person who should be doing this.  You’re way too smart for this shit. You could be out there doing something that actually matters.   Helping people.  Fixing things. Making the world a better place.  But this? This life?  Someone like you shouldn’t be here.  You deserve better than this.  Way better.”

Tilting her head to the side, she regards him intently, fingernails drumming against her glass. “You don’t think any of this matters? What we do?”

“Honestly? Not really, no.”-

“You don’t think we make things better?  You don’t think we help people? Fix things?”

“Not in a way that really makes a difference.”

“It makes a difference to the people that hire us.   They wouldn’t need us if they didn’t need to fix things.”

“You know just as well as I do that not everyone calls us to  ‘fix things’.  Most of the people that hire us? They’re just as big of a dirtbag as the person they want us to get rid of. When was the last time you did a job where the client had a solid reason to ‘off’ someone?  I’m talking about an abused wife who can’t escape her husband,  someone who wants the guy who molested his kid to suffer, a grieving husband that wants revenge on whoever raped or killed his wife. I’m talking about people who actually need help.  Not just hiring us out of spite. or to send a message, or to put the fear of God into someone.  Do you even remember the last time that happened?”

“To be honest, no.”

“You can’t tell me that doesn’t bother you.  Being out there, doing what you do, for absolute fucking dickheads.  You don’t belong here.  And I’m not just talking HERE. In Dhaka. I mean in this life.  You deserve so much better than this.”

“And you don’t?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe that.  You’re not like everyone else, Tyler.  I’ve been around a lot of mercenaries.    I’ve heard the things they talk about;  they gloat about the lives they’ve taken and the ways they’ve taken them. They’re proud of themselves.  They wear other peoples’ blood like badges of honour.   And they expect everyone to be so impressed. To just bow down to them. Idolize them.”

“A lot of people DO.   That’s the problem..”

“It’s gross.  Being like that.  They even use it to try and pick up women. Believe me, I know firsthand. More than one has tried.”

“I bet they learned the hard way that you’re not the type to put up with that shit.”

“Everyone expects me to be so meek and mild.  They take one look at me and think I’m going to be a huge pushover.  And they don’t like when ANY woman sticks up for themselves.  Never mind someone that looks like me.”

“Something tells me a lot of people underestimate you. I know I did.  I’ll admit it.”

“It’s why I’m so good at my job. No one ever expects me to be up to no good. Or be able to hold my own.  It’s not a bad thing.  I mean, it’s kept me alive this long, hasn’t it? Flying under the radar.”

“You’re tough for a little thing, that’s for sure.”

 “I’ve had to be.   I grew up with five older brothers. Only the strong survived in that house.”

“Jesus Christ.  That many brothers? Did they wait on the front porch while you were out on dates?  Threaten to bury the bodies somewhere they’d never be found if guys even thought of messing with you?”

“Dates?” Laughing, she sips at her beer.  “What dates? Like guys even knew I existed.”

“Yeah, right.  I’m sure all the boys knew you existed.”

A blush once more creeps into her cheeks,  eyes sparkling as a grin stretches from ear to ear. “And you say you have no game.”

****

It’s shortly after midnight when they begin their stroll of the hotel grounds; not ready to retire for the night.  And while he sips at a bottle of water in hopes of softening the effects of the booze and warding off the potential hangover,  she eats chocolate ice cream out of a paper cup; purchased from a street cart just metres from the front entrance.   

She feels warm and giddy; a mixture of the alcohol consumed and the immense attraction to the tall, strong, blue-eyed Australian who walks alongside her.    Finding herself consumed by a powerful combination of intrigue and lust; eighteen months without experiencing the touch of another human has her responding to even the simplest and most innocent of touches.   Vividly aware of the weight of his hand as it rested on the small of her back; safely and protectively leading her through the crowded bar and towards the exit.   She enjoys how he places a hand on her hip and gently pulls her closer to make way for other hotel guests on the winding path.  And it’s almost uncomfortable; that familiar, intense ache that builds deep within the pit of her stomach. Immensely attracted to not only the rich, deep tone of his voice and his much larger and stronger presence but also the smell of perspiration and cologne or body wash that clings to his skin and clothes.

“So what else do you know?” Tyler asks.   “Just how deep did you dig?”

“I kept it pretty superficial.   Once I saw you didn’t have an extensive criminal record…”

“Drunk and disorderly.  I was nineteen.   And stupid.”

“...I figured I didn’t need to turn over too many stones.  I know that when you weren’t on active duty, you were stationed all over Europe;  mostly doing diplomatic security jobs.  Prague,  Lucerne, Vienna, Brussels,  Berlin.    All of those are a pretty long way from Australia.”

“You find out any personal stuff? Other than my drunken brush with the law?”

“Just what DID you do to get arrested?  Or is that top secret? Will you have to kill me if you tell me?”

“Not if you promise never to tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“And it’s not top secret.  Just embarrassing.”

Esme stares up at him in wait, spoon poised against her lips)

“I pissed on the side of a cop car. Then threw up in it after they cuffed me and tossed me in the back.”

“Oh…” Eyes widening, she pops the serving of ice cream in her mouth. “...yeah…that is a little…embarrassing.”

“If you laugh, I just may have to kill you.”

“I’d be laughing with you, not at you.”

“Yeah…”  He chuckles. “... sure you would.”

“I guess you were kind of a lightweight back then, huh?”

“Just a bit.”

“For what it’s worth, I’ve had my own humiliating experiences. That involve  alcohol and vomit.”

“Is that one of the things I get to find out if I behave myself?  Play my cards right?”

“Maybe,” she sing-songs, then offers him the cup of ice cream,  to which he refuses with a shake of his head.  “I have a confession to make.  I DID try and dig a bit deeper. When it comes to personal stuff.  The SASR keeps  that shit locked up tight, though;  even my spying and hacking skills couldn’t get past them.”

“You know, you could have just waited to ask me. I would have told you whatever you wanted to know.”

“I wasn’t sure how well received being nosy straight to your face would be.  I thought it would just be easier;  save me a lot of humiliation when you got all bent out of shape and told me to ‘fuck off’.”

“That never would have happened. I probably would tell other people that, but you…”

“So it’s okay, then? To ask? Personal stuff?”

“What’s the worst that could happen? I just won’t answer. “

“There ARE a couple of things I’m curious about,” she admits, and briefly steps away; tossing her spoon and container into a nearby garbage bin before returning to his side.  “PERSONAL things.”

“Alright…”

“And if I’m totally overstepping, just tell me.  You don’t have to spare my feelings. If I’m  being too much of a nosey bitch, just say it.”

“Well, I might be a little nicer than that,” he teases.  “What do you want to know?”

“Why were you honourably discharged?  You’d served ten years;  you were well-decorated and respected, you’d taken part in almost a dozen tours, your superior officers had nothing but amazing things to say on all your performance reviews.  And then things just went bad. So suddenly.   What…?”

“Life just fell apart. During my last trip to Kandahar.  I fucked up my back pretty bad and instead of having it taken care of when I got home, I started drinking all the time and taking way too many Oxy’s.  I was a mess.  I became a liability instead of an asset.  So they cut me loose before things got worse.”

“They didn’t even give you a chance?  To turn things around? Clean yourself up?”

“I was pretty much a lost cause.  There were other things;  shit going on at home that was pretty messy.”

“Family stuff, you mean? I’m assuming you had one. A family.”

“I did. I had a wife.”

“Things just didn’t work out or…?”

“We’d been having problems.  For a few years.  We’d talked about getting divorced more than once;  just cutting ties and moving on with our lives.   We jumped into things;   we were both lonely and looking for a quick fix.   Neither of us was getting any younger; we both wanted a family and were  tired of looking around for ‘the one’.”

“You know, I stumbled upon a quote once. About how  ‘it’s easier to think  you’re in love than it is to accept that you’re alone’.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“I don’t remember.  I probably read it somewhere.  Or heard it on a TV show. But it’s true.  I’ve been there.  Sounds like you have too.”

He nods.

“Did you end up having a family?  Any kids?”

“I had a son.”

“Past tense? HAD? What…?”

“He died a few years ago.”

“Oh god…shit…fuck. I am sorry. I didn’t…”

“There’s no reason to feel bad. And you definitely don’t need to apologize.  You didn’t know any of that happened.”

“Still, it makes me feel like a shitty person.  Being as nosy as I am.  I didn’t mean anything by it; I was prying with the best intentions, not the worst ones. Had I known that you went through something like that, I never would have gotten so personal.”

“I told you it was okay. To ask personal shit. I kinda saw this coming.”

“You should have just said no; when it came to answering personal stuff.  Or just told me to mind my own goddamn business. You wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. Well, maybe a little bit, but…”  She playfully digs an elbow into his side. “...I would have gotten over it.”

“I already said it’s okay.  I’m fine with it; you asking me shit like that and answering it.  There’s nothing for you to feel bad about. Or sorry for. If there were, I’d let you know.”

“Nik warned me; that you could be brutally honest at times. And that you tended to be a little…prickly.”

“She said that?”

“Well, she wasn’t as nice about it.  I guess she just wanted me to be prepared.  She said you weren’t always the easiest person to be around.  That you’re used to working alone.  So you might not be so open to the idea of me tagging along.”

“I wasn’t,” he admits.  “At first, anyway.”

“And now?”

“Now I think I can at least tolerate you.”

She laughs at that. Liking the way his hand finds the small of her back when she gives a small, drunken stumble; offering no objection when his palm slides to her hip. And stays there.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry.  About your little boy. It’s a horrible thing to go through; losing a child. Probably every parent’s worst nightmare.”

“You’re a parent?  You’ve got kids?”

“No.  I have a lot of nieces and nephews, though.  And I did come close. Sort of. To having a baby.  I was barely into the second trimester when things went wrong.”

“Now it’s my turn to apologize. And feel like an asshole.”

“Oh, god. Don’t.” She places a hand on the middle of his back, rubbing in slow, reassuring circles.  “It was a hell of a thing to go through and the entire experience nearly broke me, but in hindsight? Considering just how evil my ex-husband ended up being? Losing that baby really was for the best.  I know that probably makes me sound like a horrible person.”

“No. It makes you sound like an honest one.”

“It would have been a disaster; having a baby with him.   Not to mention totally unfair;  no kid should ever have to live in a house like that.”

“He was that bad, huh?”

“There are no words to describe just how bad.  And because I’d rather not ruin our night, it’s probably best I don’t get any further with this.  Or he’ll end up being the next name on your hit list. I’m pretty sure of it.”

“Sounds like he’d deserve it.”

“I won’t lie; it would give me a sense of satisfaction…and closure…if someone handed him his ass.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing lined up after this job.  If you’ve got his address, we can head there right away.  I don’t mind putting my foot up his ass. Or in his teeth.  Or both.”

“As much as I appreciate you wanting to defend my honour, I think it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.  He’s someone else’s problem now.  Which means for the first time in a long time, I get to live.  How I want. I’m finally able to just…breathe.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m willing to teach him a lesson. Free of charge.”

“Don’t tempt me. I just may take you up on that one day.”

“I’d ask for details…about your ex and the shit he did…but something tells me I really would fly into a homicidal rage.”

“You seem like the protective type. Not that that’s a bad thing, believe.  Some of us have never had someone like that in our lives.  And I’d tell you. About him and the things he did.  If I was ready for that kind of thing. And believe me, that’s not a slight against you. In any way.  I’m just not there yet.  Mentally.  I haven’t quite reached that kind of head space yet.  I will, though.  Eventually.”

“You know where to find me.  When you’re ready.”

“Is that permission to just show up on your porch? A second time? Just walk right up to your front door, totally unannounced?”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t turn you away, that’s for sure.”

A furious blush creeps into her cheeks, rapidly spreading to her ears and the back of her neck. And she grins up at him as her hand moves to his hip, playfully squeezing  “Be careful what you wish for, Tyler Rake.”

*****

Instead of retiring to their rooms,  they sit on the edge of the hotel pool.  He can’t remember the last time he’d just ‘hung out’ with someone of the opposite sex; his relatively non-existent social life consisting of camping and hunting trips with old military buddies and the occasional one-night stand.  

He finds it easy being with her;  she’s refreshingly optimistic and bubbly,  and unapologetically assertive;  confident in her skills and abilities, the mercenary world somehow not destroying her view of the world and the people that inhabit it.   Her honesty and openness encourage him to follow suit;   allowing him to carry on with light-hearted and intense conversations, and feel completely comfortable in his skin while doing so. 

 It’s a mixture of that comfort, the booze he’d consumed, and his immense physical attraction to her that had him unable to resist; not arguing when she’d grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards the pool. Nor when she kicked off her shoes, rolled up her pants, put her feet in the water and invited him to do the same.

“So is it my turn now?” Tyler inquires. “To ask the personal stuff?”

“I’ve already told you my deepest and darkest secrets.  About my ex-husband and his bullshit,  how I lost a baby.  How much more personal can you get?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of normal, everyday stuff.  Whatever makes you, you .”

“What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly had the most exciting life.  I was born and raised in Colorado; a little sparrow fart town named Snowmass, about half an hour from Aspen.  I’m the baby of the family and the only girl. I came as a complete surprise. And believe me, my mother has never let me forget it.”

“You think she’d be happy; having a little girl after all those boys.”

“You’d think.  But I was an ‘oops’ and she reminds me every chance she gets.  Needless to say, we don’t exactly get along.  I avoid her like the plague.”

“What about your dad? He still around?”

“He died when I was seventeen.  I do have a step-father though; he and my mom got married less than a year after my father died. Which I wouldn’t have been too pressed about, had he not been a friend of my dad’s for over forty years.”

“That’s kind of fucked up.  Your mum stooping that low.”

“Her bullshit knows no bounds.  My stepdad isn’t a bad guy; he was good to me and supported me through the last year of high school and was the only one cheering me on through university and when I joined the corps. And he did give me a sister.    Riley.  She just turned nineteen.  She’s the only one I do miss. Out of the entire family.”

“You’re not close to your brothers?”

“Not really.  They’re all a lot older than I am.  Except for Kyle.  He’s a firefighter. In Denver.  We have a love/hate relationship.  One minute we’re best of friends, the next we want to strangle each other.  He does my mother’s bidding; spies on me every chance he gets,  always gets on my ass about something, and reports every little detail about my personal life back to the wicked witch of the midwest. It’s why I fly under the radar;  use a phone that can’t be traced, change my IP address every time I email someone back home, use a post office box instead of giving my address.”

“Your mum’s that bad, huh?”

“That’s putting it lightly.  She’s an acquired taste.  And that’s putting it nicely.”

“Sounds like your mum and my old man would get along great.”

“I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy. Unless your dad is a gigantic piece of shit just like her.”

“That’s something else I’ll have to tell you about. When I’m ready.”

“Already thinking about the future, are you?” Esme teases, playfully nudging his arm with her elbow. “Are these heart-to-hearts going to happen the next time I just randomly show up on your doorstep?”

“Maybe I’ll just randomly show up at yours. If Nik will give my address away, yours isn’t safe either.”

“You don’t have to go that extreme.  You can have my address.  Something tells me you’re one of the few people I can trust with that kind of info.”

“Where do you live? Where is home?”

“Prague.  I have a little apartment not far from The Vltava River.  I spend a lot of time down there;  reading, writing, meditating. Sometimes I even go running. When I’m not being lazy.   It’s my happy place; being near the water.   I always feel so calm. Relaxed. Grounded.”

“How’d you go from Colorado to the Czech Republic? There’s a lot of miles in between.”

“I ended up in New York City first.  After my marriage fell apart.  I ended up doing some freelance work.  I wasn’t tied to just one handler; I  could do whatever job I wanted, with whoever I wanted.  And the money was good.  Very good, actually.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Why do any of us leave?”

“Usually ‘cause we cross the wrong people.”

“One too many bridges burned,” she laments. “ I had worn out my welcome in The Big Apple, so I decided to just take off. Start a new life somewhere else.  And I’d always been fascinated by Prague. Since I did a project on it in grade eight geography.  I’d fallen in love with the people, the scenery, the architecture.  I didn’t have anything holding me back, so I just left.  Found a little place there and that was that.”

“How the hell did you end up crossing paths with Nik?  If you’d left the life behind when you took off from the States…”

“G got the ball rolling.  He’s married to my cousin; one of the only family members who knows what I actually do for a living. I was getting bored sitting around doing nothing and I knew I wouldn’t be happy in a normal nine-to-five, so I put the word out.  That I was looking for work.  G mentioned his boss needed an intel person and he arranged the time and date for Nik and I to meet. And that was that. She had a job for me in forty-eight hours and I’ve been working for her ever since.”

“I still don’t understand how the fuck someone like you gets caught up in a world like this.”

“How did you get caught up in it?”

“I asked you first.”

“Well, technically you didn’t actually ask. Not this time anyway.”

Tyler smirks.

“I warned  you I can be a bit much.”

“And I already told you:  I  enjoy a challenge.”

“I’ve scared away many a man in my time. Most can’t handle me.”

“What can I say?” He shrugs. “ I’m not most men.”

“No.  You certainly aren’t.  You’re a breath of fresh air, that’s for sure. Especially in this circle.”

“You probably won’t be saying that in a couple of months. If you last that long. I tend to scare people away too.”

“Intentionally, or..?”

“Sometimes.”

“You haven’t scared me away.”

“I’ve been making an effort not to.”

“Just so you know,  I don’t get intimidated. And I don’t frighten easily.  I’ve gone up against a lot of bad people. Who have done some pretty terrible things.  And lived to tell about it.”

“Everybody meets their match eventually.”

“I don’t think you’re it.  Not in a bad way, anyway.”

“You’re pretty straightforward, aren’t you.”

“I may look meek and mild, but you’ll learn pretty quick that I’m anything but.”

“Remember earlier? When you told me to be careful what I wish for? I think you should be taking your own advice.”

“You know what I think?” Leaning into him, she rests her chin upon his shoulder, then reaches out to place her hand on his cheek. The pressure and slight bite of her fingernails encouraging him to turn his face into hers. “I think you need to learn that I don’t listen to any man.”

*****

When they finally decide to retire for the night, the amount of alcohol consumed and its lingering effects have peaked.  For him it’s a calm and warmth that encompasses his entire body yet still manages to loosen his lips; sharing stories of childhood surfing lessons,  his love for playing the guitar, and a talent for drawing that he hasn’t explored in over twenty years.  For her it’s an amplified giddiness;  excitedly talking about snowboarding in Aspen, her love for New York City, Central Park,  the loft apartment she’d once owned in Queens, and her childhood dream of owning a bookstore. 

Instead of being annoyed by her incessant chattering,  he finds himself completely enthralled by her; captivated by her infectious, bubbly personality, and the deep-rooted intelligence that always lingers just under the surface.   It’s a two-fold attraction that he hasn’t experienced in over a decade, and certainly not to the depths that he currently finds himself submersed in; enamoured not only by her zest and enthusiasm for life despite the darkness of the world surrounding them, but also the physical attributes she brings to the table. Her petite, seemingly fragile stature, the striking contrast between smooth, pale skin and shimmering dark hair, and a smile that crinkles the bridge of her nose.  And the sound of her voice and her laugh.  Filling him with amusement and contentment.

They linger in front of her hotel room door; Esme leaning back against it, facing him.

“Thanks for not telling me to fuck off earlier,” she says, as they linger in front of her hotel room door.  “When I found you in the bar. ‘Cause I had a pretty good time.  It was a lot of fun.”

“It was.  Surprisingly.”

“I hope pleasantly, at least.”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it.”  It’s a statement, not a question.  “Since you just kicked back and relaxed.”

“I do have friends you know.”

“War buddies?”

“In more ways than one.”

“And there’s Nik,” she points out. “And Yaz.”

“They’re colleagues.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Nik sees me as a commodity. And a nuisance.”

“For what’s worth, she worries about you.”

“She told you that?”

“Not in so many words.  I’m just really good at reading people.  I’ve needed to be; my job doesn’t leave any room for misjudgement. Or error.   That’s why I realize that tonight is probably a rarity for you;  just hanging out and chatting. With someone other than your military friends and work buddies.”

“Aren’t we work buddies?”

“Technically in less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be your wife. Your fake one mind you, but still.”

“Do I need to get you a ring?”

“I think we can forgo that formality. Knowing Nik, she has all that covered. All the little details needed to sell things.  Honestly though…”  Leaning back against the door, Esme crosses her arms over her chest. “...this isn’t like you, is it.  The way you were tonight. So friendly and chatty. Especially with a woman.”

“When I want company…when it comes to women…I know where to get it.”

“I’m not talking about sex.  I’m talking about.. this .   The way you were in the bar. And afterwards.  It’s different for you.  I’m different.”

“Just  a bit.”

“Life hasn’t been kind to you. And you definitely haven’t been kind to yourself.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you’re a shrink and this is all just a bunch of bullshit.  This job.  Maybe there’s some kind of intervention about to happen. Nik brought you on to talk some sense into me.”

“I’m not a shrink. Or a therapist.  I’m just someone who takes the time to see other people. Really see them.  And I see you.”

“I’m almost scared to ask.”

“You’ve isolated yourself.   You keep your distance.  You don’t like to get close to people.”

“Everyone who gets close to me gets hurt. One way or another.”

“Not intentionally. On your part.”

“It’s just easier this way; not letting anyone get too close. I don’t get a chance to fuck things up. And they don’t get a chance to see how big of a mess I really am.”

“I think I’ve figured that part out.  I think I figured it out the second I met you.  It was in your eyes.  There’s a lot of hurt there.  You carry a lot.”

“I’ve got broad shoulders.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to do it all by yourself.”

“Remember what I told you? About being careful what you wish for?”

“I’m not some meek and mild little girl. I have dealt with messier than you, trust me.   You’re not the monster you think you are, Tyler.”  Placing her hands on his chest, she perches herself on her tiptoes; bravely brushing her lips against his jaw).“ Thank you.  For walking me here. Making sure I got back safe and sound.”

“I know I’m an asshole, but not I’m not that big of one.”

“Well, for an asshole, you were a perfect gentleman.  Maybe when all this is over and we’re far away from here, we can do it again.”

“I’d like that.” 

His response surprises him; knowing it’s against his better judgement.  The rational side of his brain is screaming at him to walk away;  eager to spare her weeks or months -maybe even years- of wasting her time on him.   But the attraction is too great;  he’s crippled by those enormous dark eyes,  that soft, playful smile,  and that flirtatious tilt to her head as she peers up at him.  It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to want this profoundly and deeply. Years spent filling his nights with random hookups he felt no real connection to; just warm bodies used for physical satisfaction.   But this is different;  going far beyond the basics of lust and hunger and need.  And it both confuses and scares the shit out of him.

Reaching up, she trails a fingertip across his cheek.  “Goodnight, Tyler.”

“‘Night, Esme.” 

 While she turns towards her room, he waits;  wanting to make sure she’s safe inside with the door bolted before leaving.  Suddenly hyper-aware of the things occurring around him;  the smell of coconut and honey that lingers on her skin,  the oppressive humidity that causes droplets of sweat that bead at her temples and glisten on her shoulders, and the tendrils of hair that flutter in the breeze and brush against the nape of her neck.  He’s unable to resist;  reaching out to brush away those loose strands,  his calloused fingertips gliding across soft, smooth skin.   And he feels the way she shivers under his touch,  hears her sharp intake of breath followed by a long, airy sigh, and sees the goosebumps that invade her flesh.

She again turns to face him, her back pressed against the door. “Look, I don’t normally do this kind of thing. I’m not the type to form connections, either.  Especially with people I work with.  And I just want you to know that I  don’t make it a practice to hook up with mercenaries.   I didn’t want you thinking that…”

“I was thinking anything .  Nothing bad, anyway.”

“And I know this is going to come across as really bold and I hope what I’m about to say won’t make you think of less of me.”

“Esme…”

“But do you want to come in for a little while? Or a long while? I mean, that’s entirely up to you.  How long you last for.  Oh… fuck…”   Her eyes widen in embarrassment; a blush creeping into her cheeks and spreading to the tips of her ears. “...that is not what I meant.   What I meant was ‘stay for’.  How long you want to stay for.”

He chuckles. “I know what you meant. And yeah, I’d like that.  I’d like that a lot .”

She gives a sigh of relief and an awkward laugh. “I was really nervous there for a second.  Like I said, I don’t normally do things like this; pick up guys in bars, or mess around with people I work with. Not to mention I do not handle rejection well.”

“I have a hard time believing anyone would turn you down.”

She continues her nervous rambling. “Honestly, had you told me to go and get fucked and not in the sexy, fun way? I probably would have gone inside and cried myself to sleep. And then totally disappeared off the face of the earth.  Not even Nik would have been able to track me down; I would have gone completely off the grid and..”

Laying a hand on the nape of her neck, he pulls her into him,  effectively silencing her with a kiss.  Desperate and needy; his fingers pressing into soft, delicate flesh as his tongue hastily pushes its way into her mouth.  Both hearing and feeling the sigh that she releases;  her body leaning into his as her arms wrap around her torso and she eagerly responds.  

She’s breathless when it’s over; her eyes remaining closed as her head falls upon his chest and the world seems to spin around her. Her feet are numb; her knees impossibly weak as her body relies on his to keep her on her feet.  It’s been a long time since she’s been kissed like that.  If she ever really has.  Both finding and losing herself at the hands of a strong and confident man; someone who knows exactly what…and who he wants.  Possessing a skill and finesse despite the hunger and urgency;  his mouth a fervent captor, hers a willing and submissive prisoner.  A kiss so intense and demanding that it felt like she was being claimed.  Yet somehow still possessing a remarkable tenderness that lingers under the bruising aggression.  

As her eyes flicker open, her hands find her chest; palms flat against solid muscle.   “That was…” She lets loose a long, shaky breath; a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she peers up at him.  “... nice .”

“Yeah…”  His hand slips from the nape of her neck;  his eye fixated on her full, moist lips as his knuckles graze along the smooth curve of her jaw. And he’s unsure what exactly causes the change of heart;  the aching and longing that suddenly surpasses the simple need for sexual gratification or the way her eyes -influenced by both alcohol and lust- sparkle up at him.    There’s so much caught up in how she looks at him;  a mixture of hunger, want, and unwavering trust.   

It’s been a long time since anyone had displayed that kind of faith in him. And he’d single-handedly destroyed both it and them .   

“Let’s go inside.” Her hands slide slowly down his chest and sides, lingering at the bottom of his simple black t-shirt before turning towards the door. “We can…”

“Wait…” His fingers curl around a slender wrist before she can fish the keycard from her pocket..  “…Esme…”

“Wait?” She laughs as she turns to face him.  “Are we capable of waiting? After a kiss like that? ”

“I can’t do this.  I can’t…”

Cocking her head to the side, she frowns up at him.  “What do you mean you can’t? Less than thirty seconds ago, you were more than ready, willing, and able.  So…”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Or that I don’t want you .  This just isn’t a good idea; mixing business with pleasure. Things will get messy; we won’t concentrate on what we’re supposed to be doing and shit will go wrong and the kid will suffer ‘cause of it.”

“That’s bullshit.  And both you and I know it.”

“Things will go wrong. Eventually.  They might be good at first…”

“I’m not asking for a commitment here.  I’m not expecting you to put a ring on it; marry me and father my children and spend always and forever with me. I just thought that we…”

“I  can’t do it.  I’m sorry.  I want to. Believe me, I do. But I just can’t .”

“Tyler…” She reaches for him; fingertips brushing against the fabric of his shirt before he backs away. 

“You deserve better than this.  Better than me .” 

“Don’t say that. Don’t…”

“ I didn’t mean for it to get this far.  And normally I wouldn’t run away. I’d take you up on things and…”

“Then just do it. Ignore whatever’s going on in your head. Just…”

“Goodnight, Esme.”  Skimming his knuckles along her cheek, he hooks a finger under her chin and tilts her face towards him; lips grazing hers before backing away.  “I really am sorry.”

“Tyler, you don’t have to go. You can stay.  We don’t have to do anything.  We can just hang out. Talk.  You can even sleep in the extra bed. We don’t have to…”

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

She stands on her tiptoes as he leans down to kiss her; fingertips brushing against his beard before cradling his cheek in her palm. Giggling into his mouth as the briefest of contact causes Millie to launch a protest from inside the truck.

“No! No! No! No making babies! Do it on your time, not mine!”

“Bossy,” Tyler smirks “Like her mother.”

“I’m bossy? Are you kidding me? You’re the king of the bossy people.”

“You are a hundred times worse than I am.”

“Excuse me? Who tried pushing who around in Dhaka?”

“I was merely doing my job. Keeping you safe. Watching your ass.”

“Literally. That last part.”

“I was in charge. I was supposed to tell you what to do. And when to do it.”

“And what did you get for all your hard work?”

“Laid. A lot.”

She frowns. “You know what I meant.”

“You told me to get fucked. And not in the fun, sexy way either. Although that did happen. A few hours later.”

“Well…” with her hands on his chest, she stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “…if you behave yourself and play your cards right, , it’ll happen later, too.”

He attempts to kiss her once more, his lips briefly make contact with hers; interrupted by Millie once more expressing her disgust and displeasure.

“Can you two stop already! I want to get to the beach! Before the water dries up and disappears forever?”

She’d spent years both missing and wanting him. Trying desperately to remember even the tiniest of things. The sound of his voice, the way he laughed, how much thicker his accent would be when he first woke up. His eyes barely open and his hair in complete disarray as he shuffled into the kitchen either completely naked or sporting a pair of boxer briefs worn dangerously low on his hips.    And when she’d greet him cheerfully and enthusiastically, he’d scowl and mutter under his breath about ‘fucking morning people’ and call her ‘little Mary Sunshine’.    His griping immediately followed by aggressively grabbing her by the hips and pulling her into him; his hands pawing and kneading at her as he kissed her.   With the same passion, exuberance, and hunger as he’d possessed the very first time. 

“Daddy!” Millie’s voice tears her away from the edge of sleep.  “Daddy, come here! Come watch the clouds with me! Please?”

Curious, she forces her way out of the sea of wrinkled sheets and blankets.  Grabbing a knit cardigan from its resting spot on the bench at the end of the bed,   she shrugs into it as she pads to the window.  Peering out just as Tyler -clad in only a pair of camo board shorts- turns his backwards ball cap the proper way and then gingerly lowers himself onto the grass beside their little one  Both father and daughter stretched out with their hands joined together and resting on their stomachs,  and their legs crossed at the ankles. 

Soon Millie’s voice floats on the air as she points out certain clouds and what they look like; giggling when her dad joins in and gives exaggerated and vivid descriptions of his own.    It’s everything she ever dreamed or wanted;  from the moment she’d learned that she was carrying a baby…HIS baby… within her belly.   A chance for the universe to reunite them;  to allow Tyler to not only be a father to the child they created together,  but also for her to be able to witness it.   There’d been many moments where she’d imagined what he’d be like. Cuddling their newborn during a feed, allowing her to sleep upon his chest,  holding her tiny hands as she learned to walk,  seeing the tears well in his eyes the first time she ever called him ‘daddy’.    And now, as she watches them together,  tears prick at her eyes as emotion tightens her chest.   The reality somehow better than anything she could have ever dreamed of. 

*****

“Mommy!”  Millie races towards her as she steps off the bottom stair of the back deck, grass smooth and cool under her bare feet.    “I thought maybe you were dead!”

 They’ve moved on from their cloud watching and back to their previous activity;  Millie in possession of a lone marker and a pad of paper, Tyler using wooden stakes and a roll of twine to mark the final of the four corners of a small section of land along the fence. Lucy naps on her back under one of the many trees along the one side of the yard,  while Bea -wearing a bright pink harness- finds herself attached to a lead clipped to the clothesline. A way of keeping her from running off.

“As you can see, I’m very much alive.”  Leaning down, she pulls Millie into a hug. Noisily kissing each temple and cheek. 

“It’s almost lunchtime.  You slept forever!”

“There’s no way it’s THAT late.”

“Ten minutes to noon,” Tyler confirms as he joins them. Using a forearm to clear droplets of sweat from his brow, he takes a long pull from a beer bottle.  “It’s non-alcoholic.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Yeah, but you wanted to.  I could tell. Remember when I said I’ve been sober? Since you left?  I meant it.  And it’s not going to change, either.”

“It’s really nasty!”  Millie pipes up.   “I snuck a sip. It tastes like shit!”

Esme frowns.  “Amelia…”

“Well, it does! I’m just saying. Look!”  She holds aloft the sketchpad. “Look what we did!”

“What’cha got here?”  Dropping to one knee, she takes the book as Millie settles herself on her thigh.  “What is all this?”

“Those are gonna be our gardens! We’re going to have ten all together! That’s a lot! And daddy says we can plant whatever we want in them. Maybe we can do one with just watermelon!”

“We can plant whatever your little heart desires.  You did this all on your own?”

“I drew everything, but daddy did the measuring and then told me the numbers to write down.  So he would know how big to make everything.  He said in a couple of days we can go to his building place,  get some wood,  then bring it back here and start working on stuff!”

“You’re just quite the little helper aren’t you?”

“I’m not the helper, mom! I’m the boss!”  She scampers off towards the tree in the far back corner of the yard; jumping onto the swing that had only been hung the night before.

“Well, there’s something else she gets from you,”  Tyler chides, curling his fingers around one of her biceps as he helps her to her feet.  “She’s delusional as hell. When it comes to this whole being the boss thing.”

“Oh please.”  Esme gives a dramatic eye roll.  “I’ve always worn the pants and you know it.

“I’ve just always let you think that.”  A hand on the small of her back, he draws her into him, covering her lips with his in a long, slow, impossibly soft kiss.   The tenderness that can exist inside such a big, strong man never failing to take her breath away.  “Good morning. Or in this case, afternoon.”

“Why’d you let me sleep so long? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You need the rest more than anyone.”

“You’re still healing too.”

“I didn’t get busted up nearly as bad as you did.  Plus, I didn’t need your help. I’m not a rookie at this being a dad thing. I might be a little rusty…”

“You…” Placing her hands on his hips, she stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “...are doing just fine.”

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you.  You just looked so cute; nothing but the top of your head and your toes sticking out from under the blanket.  And you were talking away when I left to make Millie breakfast.”

“What was I talking about?”

“Something about how I was the hottest, sexiest guy on the face of the earth.  The best lover you’d ever had.”

“Man, those painkillers must make me hallucinate.”

Tyler scowls.  “Why are you so mean to me?”

“You know I’m teasing you. Just like you know I think all of those things about you. Thank you…” Wrapping her arms around his torso, she rests her head against him.  “...for letting me sleep. I must have needed it.”

“I just want to take care of you.  Make you happy.  Keep you that way.”

“Something tells me you’ll do a very good job of it.”  Turns her back towards him, his arms circling her waist as she leans against him. Watching as Millie and Lucy snuggle under the tree; Millie talking to the dog and gazing lovingly at her as she gently rubs her ears.  “She’s been keeping you on your toes?”

“From the second she opened her eyes.  I don’t know where she gets it. All that energy.  Either I’m getting old, or I’ve met my match because she can wear me out like no one else. Unless we’re talking about her mother who woke me up TWICE last night.”

Tilting her head back, Esme grins up at him.  “I was needy, alright? Not to mention we have five years to make up for.”

“All the bad people I’ve gone up against, all the times I’ve been shot, stabbed, and gotten the shit kicked out of me?  I will have survived all that, only to have you be the one who ends up killing me. All five feet, one hundred pounds of you.”

“Well, look on the bright side. At least you’ll go doing what you love the most.  And with a huge smile on your face.”

“Doing what I love most? I wasn’t surfing.”

“You fucking asshole!” Laughing, she jams an elbow into his stomach.  “Now who is being mean?”

Tightening his hold on her, he leans down to lightly kiss her temple,  ear, cheek, and finally the corner of her mouth. “You know I’m kidding. Just like you know it IS the thing I love to do the most,  My favourite pastime.  And at times, my favourite food group.”

“No one loves pussy quite like you do, I’ll give you that.”

“Not ALL pussy.  I only love yours that much.”

Grinning, she turns to face him. “How the hell did you ever survive the last five years?”

“I didn’t.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “In many ways.”

“But….”  She runs her hands up and down his sides. “....that’s all behind us now.  Or it will be.  Eventually.”

“We’ll get there,” Tyler assures her,  her face cradled in his palms as he kisses her; lips move softly and languidly against her own.

“I…”  She reaches around to pat his ass “...am going to go make myself a tea.  And figure something out for lunch.”

“You figure it out, I’ll cook it.”

She stares at him pointedly. 

“I want it to be edible.”  He chuckles and steps back as she directs a slap at his crotch. “Easy now, easy. You want more kids don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” she retorts, and heads for the house.  “I’m starting to wonder.”

“Hey!”  He calls to her when she reaches the stairs of the deck. “I love you.”

Smiling over her shoulder, she continues her ascent. “I know.”

*****

She familiarizes herself with the kitchen. Opening and closing cupboards and drawers,  and marvelling at how their plans have come to life in front of her. The room had been completely gutted; new electrical and plumbing installed,  discoloured and battered white appliances exchanged for stainless steel and old barn boards repurposed as flooring. Boring and dated wood cupboards and counters replaced with gray-blue topped by white granite;  the smooth surface bearing swirls of blue and silver that shimmer when caught by the sun.  An island with bar stools had also been added, along with a breakfast nook she’d insisted upon.

It’s a pleasant surprise.  That he’d gone ahead with the things they’d decided on together. long ago convinced that he would have gone with different plans to stave off the anger and hurt surrounding what she’d done to him.  

She moves to the far counter; the kettle already filled with water and ready. Smiling when she discovers a box of her favourite brand of tea; already opened and waiting, accompanied by a post-it note bearing a sweet message done in Millie’s printing: “We luv you mommy”.   And it’s as she reaches for a mug from the small selection gathered around the coffee maker when she sees it; a knock-off Hello Kitty cup she’d found years ago in a second-hand store in Kununurra.   One of those unique and quirky treasures you can’t resist picking up; cheap and tacky, but able to bring about a smile and make those early mornings a little brighter.  

Regardless of its low cost and sheer ugliness,  it may as well be made of gold and worth a fortune.  It’s appearance taking her by surprise; emotion tightening her chest and clawing at her throat.  Tears pricking at her eyes as her fingertips trace the picture splashed across the porcelain.

“It’s the only thing you left behind.” Tyler’s voice causes her to give a small start. “Other than the note and your cell.   And you wiped that completely; you didn’t leave a single, goddamn picture on it.”

“I thought it would be easier for you. To accept that I was gone.   I thought pictures would just make things worse.  Give you something to dwell and obsess over.”

Shutting both the screen and sliding glass door, he steps further into the kitchen. “Trust me, I didn’t need pictures for that. I was able to completely dwell and obsess without them.”

“I can’t believe you’d keep this.  It’s just a stupid little mug.   You only paid like five bucks for it.”

“Might as well have been worth a million. It’s all I had.  My only connection to you.”

“I never thought I’d see it again.  I didn’t even realize how much I’d missed it. It seems silly, right? Missing something like this?  Something so simple.”

“I remember how much you liked it.  How excited you got when you saw it in the little thrift store. Your whole face just lit up. And you did that thing you do; when you’re really happy about something. That little bounce up and down on your heels.  I noticed Millie does it too.”

“She did get some things from me. Not many, but..”   Her voice trails off as the emotions get the best of her, clutching the mug to her chest with one hand, as the other comes to cover her face as she dissolves into tears.

“Hey…” He’s quick to comfort her, plucking the mug out of her hand and placing it on the countertop.  Palms repeatedly running across her shoulders and down her arms in hopes of soothing her. “...come on, now.  Don’t do that.  Don’t cry.   There’s no reason to.”

Her head falls against him as her arms wrap around his torso. “I’m sorry.  I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know.” His palms squeeze her shoulders, then slide around to her back.  Slowly and comfortingly sliding from the nape of her neck to her waist.  “And it’s alright.  It’s…”

“It’s not alright.  It will never be alright. Not really.  I did a horrible thing to you.   I hurt the only person who ever gave a shit about me.  Who loved me regardless of what a mess I was.   Even when I couldn’t love myself.  You almost died for me.  Trying to keep me safe. ALIVE.  And how did I repay you? By totally fucking you over. By…”

“Esme…”  Pushing his hands through her hair, he moves dark strands off her forehead and away from her cheeks, then cradles her face in his palms.  “Don’t talk like that.  That’s not how…or why…things happened the way they did. In Dhaka. I didn’t do it because I needed you to repay me.  And I sure as hell never wanted that. You thinking you had to.”

“You deserved so much better.  Than what I did to you.”

“You did the right thing.  Even I realize that now.  And if I can come to terms with it and accept and admit it…”

“I just left.  I didn’t even give you…US…a chance.  You were right; we could have stuck together and got through it.  We could have just run away and hid; lie low until Nik handled things with The High Table. We could have…”

“But we didn’t.  And we can’t go back and change it. We can’t…”

“I should have stayed.   Or I should have come here; I should have showed up and told you what happened. We could have just left.  Stayed under the radar until it was safe.  We…”

“Listen to me…”   His fingertips press into her cheeks. “...you gotta let this go.   All this shit that’s going on in your head? You need to get it out of there.  I forgive you.  I told you that. I keep telling you. How many more times do you need me to say it?”

“It doesn’t matter if you say it a million times.  If I can’t forgive myself…”

“You need to.   I need you to.”

“I don’t know how.   I don’t know how to let all of this go.  I don’t know how to stop hating myself.”

“Remember what we talked about?  About getting help? That was your idea, yeah?   That we go and talk to someone about all this?  That’s what we’ll do.   We’ll go alone or together or both.  I don’t care how we do it.  But you’re right.  We DO need it.”

“I think I need it more than you do.”

“Even if that’s true, you’re not in this alone.  I’m not going just to throw you to the wolves and make you deal with it by yourself.  We’re in this together.  Just like we were when things went completely to shit.”

“You mean in Dhaka or when The High Table showed up?”

“Both. What is it you said back then?  What do you say even now?”

“We’re stronger together than we are apart.”

“I’m not letting you deal with this on your own.  You just need to trust me.  That I’m not going to bail. Or throw you in the deep end and leave you there.  You’re not alone in this. Far from it.  You trust me, right?”

“You know I do.   You’re the only person I really do trust.”

“It’s going to be okay.   We’re going to get past all of this.  I’m not going to be holding onto the anger and you’re not going to feel guilty all the time.  I’m not going to lie.  It’s going to take some time.  But we’re not going to feel those things forever.”

“You know, when you’re the sensible one? I don’t know whether to be proud or terrified.”

“Always the smart ass.”  Kissing her brow, he draws her into him; hands locked together in the middle of her back.  “No more, okay? No more crying.  You know I hate it when you cry.   And this isn’t why I left that mug out where you’d find it. So you’d feel like shit.”

She draws away, one hand remaining on his hip as the other swipes at the tears on her cheeks. “It’s not the mug. Not really.  I mean, it was. But I was happy to see it.  That’s what started this.  What set me off.”

“You’ve really been through it. Just in the last couple of weeks alone.”

“It’s like a letdown, you know?  The calm after the storm.  So many things happened in New York.  Those people coming after us at Alessio’s and hiring you and seeing you for the first time in five years and you getting to meet Millie...”

“Yeah,  it’s been a pretty wild ride. I won’t deny that.”

“And then you and her nearly get killed and Winston and his bullshit and then the accident and having to stay at Nik’s and…”

“Breathe, Me. Just breathe.  Here…”  Moving to the stove, he drops a tea bag into the mug and fills it with boiling water, followed by a good helping of milk. “...just take a drink and try to calm down.”

“When in the history of telling someone to calm down has it actually calmed them down?”

“Hey, I’m doing my best here.” Pecking her lips, he leans back against the island.  I don’t pretend to have all the answers.”

“It’s just catching up to me. All at once.  It’s overwhelming.   And now being here…in this place…this house…with you….”

“That should be a good thing.”

“It is.  It’s a VERY good thing.   It’s just surreal.   I remember when we first saw this place.   When we came here with the realtor;  when we walked through it and made an offer.  How excited we were when it was accepted.  That’s when it all became so real. When we  realized that things were coming together. We had our own home and our lives were changing. We were changing.”

“Sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago. Other times it feels like just yesterday.”

“We had a future.”

“We have a future now.”

“We had plans. Things we wanted to do together.”

“And you know what? We’ll make new plans. We’ll do all kinds of things together.  Only this time? This time it’s not just you and I.  There’s someone else caught up in all this. And if you ask me, that makes it even better.  The fact we have this amazing, beautiful little human we get to share all this stuff with.”  

“You know, sometimes you know exactly what to say.”

“I have my moments.”

“We did good, huh? With her.”

“We did.   And she’s one of the few things I’ve had in this life to be proud of. Other than you. And my son.”

The screen and glass doors slide open and Millie hurries in; Bea cradled in her arms and Lucy scampering behind.

“Mommy! Daddy! I’m hungry! Can we….”  Her voice trails off, eyes darkening and brow furrowing with worry.  And she quickly sets Bea on the ground and rushes over, bare feet smacking against the wooden floor.  “Oh no! What happened? Mommy!”

“Nothing happened, baby. I’m fine.  I…”

“You’re crying! Why?”  Millie glances up at Tyler.  “What’s wrong? Why is mommy crying?”

“She just got a little emotional. While we were talking about some stuff.  It’s nothing serious.”

“You weren’t mean to her, were you?  You didn’t say something nasty and make her cry, did you?”

“I would never.”

“Momma!”  Millie attempts to scale her mother’s legs, and before Esme can scoop her up off the ground, Tyler steps in; sparing her still-healing body extra weight.  “I don’t like when you cry, mom! It makes me sad. It makes my heart hurt.”

“I’m okay, sweetpea.”  Running a hand over Millie’s hair, she presses a kiss to her forehead. “Daddy didn’t do anything wrong.  He’d never hurt me.  You don’t ever need to worry about that, okay? He’s not like Alessio.  He’s far from it.  He loves us.  He wants to protect us.  And he’d do anything to keep us safe.   You never have to worry about someone being mean ever again, alright?”

“Daddy will punch ‘em in the face!”

“I’d do a lot worse,” Tyler promises. “And see…”  He holds Millie lower, so she can see into her mother’s eyes. “...mumma is okay.  It was nothing horrible.  She’s just been through a lot.  It’s all starting to catch up to her.”

“And I got your surprise,” Esme adds. “The tea bags and your little note.  And it just made me a little emotional. To know I’m loved that much.”

“And you got your special cup! Don’t forget that!”

“I could never.  Your dad bought that for me.  Before you were even thought of or talked about, let alone already in my tummy.”

“How did I get in there?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re way too young to know those kinds of things.”

“I’m going to be five, mom.”

“Which is still way too young. Sorry, you’re just going to have to wait.”

“How long do I gotta wait?”

“Until you’re older. So for now…” She lays one hand on Tyler’s back and the other on Millie’s, then leans in to kiss their daughter’s cheeks.  “...you stay little. For as long as you possibly can.”

****

They arrive shortly before three in the afternoon; Alcott bearing his brilliant, infamous grin, one hand holding boxes of fresh baked goods and treats from a local bakery,  the other kept comfortingly and reassuringly on the small of Mia’s back.  He’d called a mere forty-five minutes before;  reminding them that he’d promised Millie he’d visit before returning home, then adding that he wanted to bring a ‘special guest’ with him.  It had been Mia who had volunteered to bring Bea to Australia, Alcott had revealed;   wanting to be a part of the ‘mission’ without getting her hands dirty or having her identity -for both business and personal reasons- out in the open.  The political affiliations that came with her job left little to no room for error;  those with ties  The High Table -and with bridges to burn between them- could result in career suicide.   

And threats to her safety.

A brief yet intense -although calm and rational- conversation ensued.  Tyler was fine with being in the presence of his ex-wife; they’d both been given their closure when she’d visited him in prison and he was more than content with his role -or lack thereof- in her life.  His main concern focused instead on Esme and her feelings. The desire to keep her secure and comfortable in both her own home and their relationship.   Not wanting her to feel as if she were the outsider; face-to-face with his past while they were so intent on enjoying their present and building their future.  But she’d assured him that she was more than willing to meet the woman who’d once been a huge part of his life;  marrying him and giving him a child and going through such a tremendous loss with him.  She was an adult after all;   she was fully aware he had an existence before her, in the same way she’d had one before him.  And while no doubt the experience would be awkward, she had no ill feelings towards the woman;  she’d be kind and welcoming unless she was given a reason NOT to. 

While the men head to the backyard to assemble a wooden play structure for Millie, the women retreat to the kitchen; both silent as they stand across the room from one another. Nerves raw and undeniable;  each hesitant in approaching the other. Unsure of exactly what to say or do to break the ice and alleviate some of the tension. 

Mia makes the first move.  Issuing a shaky, anxious sigh before speaking. “This is…”

“Awkward.” Esme gives an uncomfortable laugh, then leans back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest.  It isn’t the woman’s presence that unnerves her, but her appearance.  While Mia is tall and slender,  they share other features; brown eyes, pale, smooth skin, and long, dark hair.  Not what Esme had expected; long ago painting a portrait in her mind of someone remarkably different; tall and athletic, blond with blue or green eyes.  “Just a bit.”

“I tried to talk him out of this.  Bringing me here.  It’s not a slight against you. I just don’t think it was a good idea. For anyone involved.  Sometimes, no matter how long it’s been or how many chapters we’ve closed,  there’s never a good reason to mix the old with the new.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re more than welcome here.  Russell’s my friend.  My best friend, practically. And you’re part of his life, so…”

Mia manages a smile. “I think you and I are the only two people in this world that call him that.  His real name.”

“He’s such a big part of my existence. And Millie’s.  He has gotten me through a lot of extremely tough times.  All those moments where I thought I couldn’t possibly do all of this on my own and he’d just show up out of the blue; give me a chance to catch my breath.  And  a shoulder to cry on.”

“He’s a very special man. And he talks highly of you. Very highly.”

“We understand each other.   The life that we’re both caught up in.   A regular person wouldn’t be able to deal with it; knowing what we do for a living and where our paychecks come from.  I don’t think I’d want to be in it; if I was living a normal life, doing normal things.”

“It’s not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure. But love makes us do crazy things.”

“It does.”  Esme glances over her shoulder and out the window above the sink; watching as Lucy chases a giggling Millie around the yard. “This must be really weird for you.  Being here.   Seeing Tyler like this.  With a new family.”

“It’s been years;  since we had a family together. Or tried to have one. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t difficult. Watching him with you.  With Millie.”

“I don’t know if there’s lingering anger towards him, or if there’s still some feelings there or maybe even a bit of both,  but we’re not trying to rub anything in your face.  I mean it when I say you’re welcome here; no matter how awkward and uncomfortable it might make us BOTH feel.   It’s not entirely pleasant for me, either.   It’s nothing personal against you, it’s just the whole…’ex-wife versus soon-to-be wife’ thing.  God, I hope I’m making sense.  I tend to ramble a bit.  When I’m nervous.”

“I don’t want you to be nervous. This is YOUR home. I didn’t come here to cause issues.  To make you feel unsettled.  Russell thought it would be good for both of us;  to meet one another, just hang out, talk.”

“For some, my opinion matters to him.  He takes how I feel about things…about people…to heart.”

“Forgive me for asking this, but it’s something I need to know. For my own peace of mind. Did the two of you ever…”

“No. God no. There has never been…and never will be…anything between us. We’re friends. Colleagues.  That’s it.  There’s always been strict boundaries between us; lines in the sand we drew that neither of us would ever cross.”

“You’re used to people asking.”

“They assume; that there’s either something going on or that something has happened in the past.  But I’m telling the truth; neither of us thought about anything else, let alone acted on it.  He’s a wonderful man.  And maybe if we’d met a different way and not travelled in the same circle and knew the same people….” Esme shrugs.  “...who knows.”

“He’s hoping we’ll be friends.  Find some kind of common ground. Other than the fact you’ll be marrying my ex-husband. Soon, by the sounds of it.”

“ We’re planning within the next month.  And while I have no qualms about being your friend,  I have to consider how Tyler would feel about it.  I don’t know where things were left with the two of you. Or where they stand now.  But I can’t delve into something with you without knowing if he’s comfortable with it.  I mean, I’m okay with the idea.  And I hope you are, too.  But it’s only fair that I consider him. And his comfort level.”

“You’re right. It is only fair.”

“I know when he gets something in his head, Russell can be a bit overbearing, but he does things with the best intentions.  He might not always consider all the angles and layers,  mind you, but at least he means well.  And I know my opinion doesn’t hold much water, but you’re good for him. He needs someone level-headed.  Reliable. Someone who gets the job but isn’t directly tied to it.   He’s calmed down a lot; since he met you.  He seems more…I don’t know…settled.”

“It hasn’t been an easy road.  With us. I’m not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“Well, there you go.  It’s not just the ‘ex-husband thing’ now. We actually have TWO things in common. I’m not easy to live with either.”

Mia manages a small laugh.

“Maybe both these men are gluttons for punishment,” Esme chides, then moves to the stove. Filling the kettle with water and then gathering up mugs; placing them and a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar on the island.   “I hope you don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way; I can see how you might think I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. But Russell IS my friend and I just want what’s best for him. I want him to be happy.”

“Okay…”

“I think he’s hoping for something more. Something long-term.  Stable. Permanent, even.  And for what it’s worth, I hope things turn out that way. I know he can be stubborn as hell and a complete and utter smart-ass to the point you could just choke him, but he’s a good guy.   He has a huge heart.  And I think he’s pretty crazy about you.”

“I’m hesitant,” Mia admits, and slides onto one of the stools at the island.   “To get too deep into things.  The last time I did?  The last person I trusted to that point? It didn’t end well.  It’s made me very…cautious.”

“Look, I’ve been there, okay.  I don’t know how much you actually know about me, but I was married and it was a disaster.   My ex-husband was a complete and utter prick.  A monster. There’s no other way to describe him.  He was abusive in every way a person can be.  And when things fell apart…”  Preparing the pot of tea, she carries it to the island, setting it down before taking a seat across from Mia. “...I swore ‘never again’. I told myself that I was perfectly okay with spending the rest of my life single and dying a crazy cat lady.”

“Well, something came along and changed everything.”

“Something came along, alright.” Filling both mugs with tea, she slides one across the granite countertop.   “All six foot three, two hundred pounds of it.  I probably would have been able to resist had it not been for the blue eyes and the accent.  I guess what I’m trying to say is that if I can get past all of my ex-husband’s shit and trust someone again, anyone can.  Jesus…”  Sighing heavily, she sips at her tea. “...that sounded really insensitive, didn’t it? Considering what you went through…” 

“No. It didn’t.   At least not to me.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through.   It’s my worst nightmare; something happening to Millie.  And I’m so sorry; that your son got sick and you lost him and your husband didn’t bother to stick around and…” Esme chews nervously on her bottom lip. “It wasn’t fair.  To any of you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.  It’s been a while; since I talked about it. About him.”

“I know what Tyler did was wrong.  And I’m not trying to make excuses for him.  He’d be the first person to tell you that I’ve always held him accountable for what he did; I’ve always let him know it was a horrible, stupid decision he made.”

“Tough love.”

“A little, I guess.  But it wasn’t malicious.  It wasn’t intentional.  He didn’t do it to hurt you or your son.   He was scared; he didn’t know how to handle what was happening and he couldn’t deal with seeing his boy suffer.  God, I DO sound like  I’m making excuses for him.”

Mia reaches out to lay a hand over Esme’s.  “You don’t.”

“Tyler had never been taught how to deal with things. Properly.  I mean, I’m sure he told you about his mom; losing her when he was just a little boy.   And about his father; how fucked up and abusive he was.”

“He didn’t talk about it often.  He didn’t like to mention it; how things were for him growing up.”

“He didn’t know how to cope.   He’d never had a dad;  not one that loved him and protected him, anyway.  Tyler has this obsession with fixing things;  he thinks he should be able to solve every problem and make even the most crappy of situations better.  And when he can’t, he just shuts down.  He gets overwhelmed and frightened and he just reacts.  Horribly, sometimes.   And I’m sorry that he did.  You deserved better than that. So did your boy.”

“Did he ever tell you? About the letter I sent him? After our son died?”

“He mentioned that you wrote to him.  But said he didn’t read the letter until years later. I wasn’t with him then; I’d already been gone a couple of years and he was in Austria and we weren’t in contact with each other.”

“I do forgive him.  For what he did.  But I can’t forget.”

“No, I imagine you can’t. I don’t think I’d be able to either.”

“If I’m being honest, things went bad long before our son got sick.  It wasn’t a happy marriage;  Tyler was gone a lot and I underestimated how hard it would be to be a soldier’s wife.  I started to realize I didn’t want that kind of life. I loved him, but I despised him even more.  I was angry, and I was bitter,  and I was lonely.  I made my own bad decisions.”

“Look, whatever went on in your marriage?   Whatever choices you made?   How bad things got with the two of you?  That’s between you and Tyler.   All I know is that neither of you are horrible people.  Shit happens; you were dealt a pretty crappy hand. In more ways than one.  I guess I’m just trying to stick up for him.  Let you know that he’s not a monster.  He’s a good man.  A good man that made shitty choices.”

“You really do love him.”

“I do.  More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone.   And I’m sorry. That your boy and you didn’t get the  Tyler that Millie and I have. Because he IS a good person; a big man with an even bigger heart. And I WILL defend him.  Against anyone and anything.  Until I’m not able to do it anymore.”

*****

“He told me about you.   When I went to the prison to see him; after my sister and her kids were safe..”

“He talked about me? Why would he…?”

“I had gone there to let him know that we’d made it out of the country.  That I’d made a deal with the Americans to place Ketevan and the kids in witness projection.  In exchange for information;  names and faces and whereabouts of people connected to the Nagazi.  And to give him closure.  When it came to our son.”

“He mentioned that you’d shown up there.  That you’d put his mind at ease; when it came to how your boy saw him.  Especially in the end.  Thank you for doing that for him. Because I was able to fix a lot of things and talk him down off a lot of ledges, but I was never able to give him that.  Closure.  No matter how badly I wished I could.”

“He told me that he’d met someone. Fallen in love with them. Made a life with them.   And then he’d lost her.”

“Did he tell you how? Did he tell you what I did?”

“He said that you just walked out.  That you left a note saying you were sorry and that was it.  He didn’t have much to tell me. I was under the impression that he didn’t even  understand why you left.”

“He didn’t know.  Not until he arrived in New York City.  I never told him.   I WANTED to.  So many times I wanted to pick up the phone and call him or text and explain why I had to leave.     I came close so many times;  I’d let it ring and I’d either hang up when he answered or I wouldn’t leave a voicemail.  I’d listen to the greeting though. Just to hear his voice.”

“He told me you were the love of his life.”

“He said that to you?”

“It was a little hard to hear. I guess I always thought it would be me. Or selfishly hoped it would be. But he was so honest about it.  About YOU.   He said you’d saved him; in every way a person CAN be saved.   And that you changed him.  Made him want to be a better man.”

Esme swallows noisily the lump of emotion caught in her throat.  “He’s always been way more than I deserve.”

“I saw the change.  In his eyes. The way he carried himself.  I heard it in his voice; the way he talked about you.   He was in so much pain; he didn’t understand what he did to make you leave and he was so desperate for someone…anyone…to give him some kind of reason.”

“The whole goddamn thing was…IS… such a mess.   He didn’t do anything wrong.  And I didn’t leave because I didn’t love him.  I left because I DID.”

“I was so angry.  At you.  Because  I could see how much he loved you and missed you, and how much you hurt him.   And despite what he’d done to me and our son, I felt protective of him.  I didn’t understand; how you could have claimed to love him so much and given him so much hope and then just walked away.”

“I didn’t have a choice.  I wish there’d been another decision to make. Or that I’d at least been able to think more rationally. Come up with a better plan that included BOTH of us.  But I panicked; I was scared and I didn’t want him getting hurt. Or worse.”

“Russell told me what happened. How the High Table came for you.  Sent an adjudicator.”

“Tyler wouldn’t have survived.  He would have done anything to protect me and it would not have ended well.   I would never have forgiven myself; if something happened to him because he was trying to take care of me.  He’d already almost died once for me; trying to get me safely out of Dhaka.  I wasn’t going to let there be a second time.”

“You did the right thing.  You made the right decision.”

“At that moment, I did.  I wanted to protect him. Even if it meant I had to destroy myself to do it. But I got too many people involved. Friends of Tyler’s lied to him; who knew where I was and kept it a secret yet pretended they were helping him track me down. I made a huge mess of things.  Every step I took seemed to make things so much worse.  And afterwards? When things settled down and Millie was still a baby?  I STILL didn’t contact him.  I kept her a secret.  I didn’t even give him a chance. To be a dad.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was selfish.  I was scared.  I was convinced he hated me so much that he’d turn us away.  That he wouldn’t want anything to do with her.   And we’d talk about it; having a family together.  He wanted to be a dad again;  he was nervous and scared, but he was looking forward to it.    We both were.   So to keep Millie from him...”

“Sounds like we’ve all made our fair share of bad decisions.”

“Tyler didn’t deserve what I did to him.    He was the last person that should have been punished like that;  he was the only one that ever made me feel loved and wanted.   He spent months trying to fix the mistakes of another man;  helping me pick up all the pieces and put myself back together.  He never complained; he just did it.   And how did I repay him? I left him.  And I kept his daughter from him.”

“He forgives you, Esme.  For leaving.  He may have a harder time getting over keeping Millie a secret;  it’s a hell of a thing to find out that you have a secret child out there.  But he’ll get there.  Eventually.  He’ll forgive you for that, too.”

“But what if I can never forgive myself?”

“You need to.  Because if you don’t,  it’s going to weigh you down.  Cause a lot of problems.   Do you think Tyler wants that? You hating yourself for the rest of your life? He loves you.   If he didn’t,  we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation.  He would have left the second he found out you were the one who hired him and brought him to New York.    He didn’t stay because it was a job.  Or because he needed the money. He stayed for YOU.”

******

Millie bounds into the house; cheerfully greeting her mother and then standing at the side of her chair. Wrapping her arms around Esme’s neck and tightly squeezing; giggling when her mom repeatedly pecks her sun-kissed cheeks.  Momentarily scurrying off to grab a juice before returning to her mother’s side. Perching herself upon Esme’s thigh as she peels off the plastic to the straw;  shoving the latter into the hole on the top of the box. Taking a sip with her head tilted to the side as she eyes Mia curiously.

“Hi.”

“Hi.   You must be Millie.”

The four-year-old nods enthusiastically, then takes another pull from her straw.  “Well, my real name is Amelia. Amelia Grace.”

“That’s a beautiful name. For a beautiful girl.”

“But I like being called Millie.  I think it’s cute.”

“It is. It is very cute.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mia.”  

“I like that.  It’s super pretty.  And it kinda sounds like my name. Millie, Mia. See?  Are you friends with my mom?”

“I am now.”

“My dad?”

“Your dad and I have known each other a long time.”

“And your uncle Duey’s girlfriend, right?”

Laughing, Esme plucks the barrettes from Millie’s hair; using a palm to smooth down the wild and unruly tresses before securing them above both ears and her forehead. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m nosey.”

“That I know.”  She nuzzles Millie’s temple with the tip of her nose, then presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Are you? Uncle Duey’s girlfriend?  ‘Cause he really needs one.”

“Millie…” Her mother gently scolds. “...you can’t…”

“He does, mom! He needs someone to love! Someone who loves him, too. Like you have daddy and daddy has you! Are you, Mia? Are you his girlfriend?”

“I guess you could say I am. You know, you’re very smart.  You’re four?”

Millie nods. “I’ll be five in seven months! I’m supposed to be starting school soon. Daddy says once he knows for sure that no bad guys are going to show up and cause problems.  I hope it’s soon! I really want to go and meet new friends and learn new stuff. Do you think it’s different here? School? Than where I lived before?”

“I don’t think it will be too different.  Probably just a lot of different words for things. That you’ll have to get used to.”

“We just moved here, you know. Mommy and I.  I didn’t even know that I had a dad! Not until like a week and a bit ago. Well, I knew I had one.  ‘Cause momma didn’t make me all by herself. But I just didn’t know where he lived. Or what he looked like. Or even what his name was!  And then, BOOM! He just showed up. In New York City!  ‘Cause he wanted to protect mom and me from the bad people.  And get us somewhere safe.  Now we’re here! In our new home!”

“He sounds like a very good dad.”

“He is!  He’s the best daddy EVER.  We do lots of fun things together! He lets me help him cook,  he puts games on his phone for me,  and he lets me watch Bluey on it all the time! Sometimes, he’ll even watch Bluey WITH me!  And he always gives me an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert and reads more than four bedtime stories! Four is supposed to be the limit, but…”

“The more the merrier.” 

“Exactly!”

“Well now that you’ve squealed on your dad and completely thrown him under the bus…”  Esme pats Millie on the hip, an encouragement to slide off her lap. “...why don’t you go and see if he’ll whip something up for dinner. For the five of us.  Maybe throw some stuff on the barbecue while I…”

“Mom, it’s called the barbie here.”

“Okay, little Miss Aussie. The barbie.  Go and ask him, alright? And I’ll put together some things in here.”

“Alright, mom.” Spresses a noisy kiss to Esme’s cheek, then scampers towards the sliding door. Pausing with one foot on the deck and the other still in the kitchen. “Mia? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Were you the one that brought Bea here? For me?”

She nods.

Millie rushes back into the kitchen; throwing her arms around Mia’s neck and tightly embracing her.  Esme notices how she’s initially shocked;  her entire body stiffening, hands forming tight fists as she considers how to react.   But the longer Millie holds on, the more comfortable she becomes; swallowing noisily and her shoulders relaxing. Tears brimming in her eyes as she returns the hug.

Millie steps back.  “Thank you. For bringing Bea to her new home.  I really missed her.”

“I couldn’t keep a little girl and her best friend apart any longer.  And thank YOU.”

“For what?”

“Just…thank you.   Is it alright to kiss you?”

The four-year-old nods.

Cradling Millie’s face in her palms, Mia presses her lips to her brow. “You are a very, very, VERY special little girl, Amelia.  Don’t ever let anyone tell you or make you think any different.”

“I always say I won’t ever let anyone dull my sparkle!”

“You hold onto that. Until you’re old and gray, alright?”

“Alright.”

“You’re a lucky little girl. To have the mom and dad that you do.  They both love you so very much and would do anything for you.   And you know what?  They’re so lucky…so blessed… to have YOU.”

****

“I am so sorry.” Esme is quick to apologize the moment Millie rushes outside.  “I didn’t know she was going to do that.  Just hug you.  She has such a huge heart; she loves the world and everyone and everything in it.  And she sees everyone as her friend.  I would have stopped her. If I’d known…”

“It’s alright. There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.  It’s been a long time; since I was hugged like THAT.  I didn’t even realize I needed to be. Not until it was happening.  It felt…nice.   She’s an incredible little thing.  Just so beautiful.”

“Thank you. But don’t let that cute little voice and those blue eyes fool you, she can be a handful. And then some.”

“I think we both know where she gets THAT from.  Not to mention,  she looks just like him.”

“I have been hearing that since the day she was born.   The nurses in the delivery room even talked about it; they went on and on about how she must look like her dad.  She had this head full of blond hair;  it was so light and fine, and thick.  She even had his nose and his chin, his ears. Not to mention those eyes.  It was like none of my genes even showed up the day she was made.”

“She reminds me of my son.  I see a lot of him in her.   He was even built just like her;  tall and lanky with legs that seem to go on forever.”

“Tyler says they have a lot in common.  The way they smile, the facial expressions they make.  Even some of their likes and dislikes.   He told me that your boy loved to colour and draw.”

Mia nods.

“Millie’s quite the creator, too.    She always has some masterpiece on the go.   I’m sure our fridge will be covered in pictures soon.  She certainly got her artsy side from him;  I can’t draw a stick figure to save my life.”

A lull falls in the conversation, and Mia uses the opportunity to refill their mugs with the remaining tea.

 “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted,” Esme says, as her fingernails tap against the porcelain of her cup.   “When I was a little kid, I already knew I wanted to be a mom; probably to make up for the fact that mine sucked so badly.   I always swore I’d be nothing like her;  I’d be loving and nurturing and my kiddo and I would do all these amazing things together.  Have a great relationship.”

“From what I’ve seen, you’re doing good so far.   It must have been so hard;  going through the pregnancy and the birth all by yourself.  Not to mention the next four years.”

“It was so bittersweet.  I had this beautiful baby girl. I was finally a mom.  But I couldn’t even share that…her with him.   I wanted nothing more than for Tyler to be there;   go through the pregnancy with him and have him come to the ultrasounds and see his little girl’s heart beating.   All the little things I’d wanted to do with him; buying baby clothes and stocking up the diapers,  decorating a nursery,  and putting a crib together.  And the big stuff;  having him there when she was born and him cutting the cord and cuddling with her.  I wanted all of that.  And I feel so fucking robbed.  Is that selfish?”

“Not at all.”

“To have everything you wanted, but have nothing at the same time.   Do you know how many times I called him?  When I was pregnant with her? At least two dozen.  I always hung up if he answered or didn’t bother to leave a voicemail when he didn’t.   I even took a picture of her right after she was born;  when she was just a few minutes old.   I was going to text it to him;  I attached the photo and everything.   But I couldn’t go through with it. I chickened out.”

“I’m sure he would have loved it if you’d reached out.   I heard it in his voice.  Saw it all over his face.  It destroyed him when you left.  And it was eating him up inside;  not knowing why you did, or where you were.  Or if you were even still alive.”

“I couldn’t take the risk;  that he’d find out where I was and track me down.   Things still weren’t finished with The High Table;  I was still practically under lock and key at The Continental. Not to mention I had my baby to protect.  I couldn’t chance it. Tyler showing up in New York City and The High Table getting hold of him.   I just couldn’t.”

“And afterwards? When things were finished?”

“Like I said, I was scared.  That he’d be so hurt and angry that he would turn me away.   That he wouldn’t even want anything to do with Millie.   I made such a mess out of things.”

“Not that big of a mess. You’re here with him, aren’t you? And your little girl?  I would say that half the battle has already been won.”

They lapse into silence; each lost in thought as they sip at their drinks. And  Esme glances up and out the sliding door as Miilie shrieks and giggles in the backyard; dangling upside down from a branch on the tree in the back corner. Alcott tickling her sides as he keeps a watchful eye on her. 

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Esme muses.  “I lost a baby;  when I was still married to my ex-husband.  I wasn’t very far along, but it absolutely destroyed me. In hindsight, as painful as it was to go through it, it was for the best; having a kid with that man would have been a nightmare.   But when my marriage fell apart, I thought that it was it; he’d ruined me to the point that I’d never trust or let anyone get that close to me ever again.  Then along came Tyler. And eventually, Millie.”

“Would you like to have another?”

“I’d love to.   A couple more would be nice.   I think part of me wants it more for him than for myself.  A way of making it up to him, in a way.  Give him the experience he didn’t get to have with Millie.   I robbed him of a lot.  Now it’s my turn to make amends. And it seems like there’s a whole mountain of them waiting.”

“If I learned anything after my son’s death, it’s to take things day by day.  Don’t look too far ahead.  Remember, one step at a time.  You’ll get there, Esme.  It may seem impossible on some days, but you will.”

She nods as she considers Mia’s words. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing Bea here.   It killed Millie; having to give her up for a little while. I honestly didn’t think the job would drag on this long.  Or end the way it did.  I thought I would have been out months ago.”

“I imagine in that circle,  things tend to NOT go according to plan.”

“It’s unpredictable.   Things can change so quickly. I learned that the hard way.  In Dhaka.”

“Russell told me all about it.  How Tyler almost died.   And would have, had you not stuck around to stop it.”

“I couldn’t leave him there.  He’d made his amends; the second he’d sacrificed himself to save me and Ovi.   He deserved a second chance.  And if it meant putting my own ass on the line,  to make sure that happened, it was a chance I was willing to take.”

“He’s lucky, you know.  To have found you.”

Briefly returning to the guest room, she tosses her damp hair up into a messy bun and snags a plaid shirt of Tyler’s off the back of the door; slipping it over her simple white cami and baggy satin pants as she heads downstairs.  The screen door audibly squeaks as she steps onto the front porch; the wood planks smooth and cool under her bare feet as she pads towards the end of the deck. As she approaches, he glances up from his cell phone; lounging lengthways across the patio swing with one leg dangling over the edge and the other stretched out across the cushion.  

He greets her with a smile.  Quickly switching off his phone and setting it on the deck. “You check on her?”

“Of course.  She’s down for the count. When she does finally crash, she crashes hard.”

He reaches for her. A hand on her hip as she lowers herself down onto the swing; settling herself between his legs, her own stretched out as she leans back against him.  Resting a forearm across her collarbone,  his hand sneaks its way through the opening of the plaid shirt; palm flat against her skin,  fingers splayed,  the tips of three meeting the neckline of her cami.  His free hand moves from hip to stomach; lips pressing a series of kisses on her cheek, ear, temple, and side of her head. 

 His eyes briefly close as he inhales deeply.  “You smell good. I’m surprised you still use that stuff.”

“Why would I stop? It’s always been your favourite.”

“How many other guys got to smell it over the last five years? They all tell you it was their favourite, too?”

She scowls over her shoulder.

“I’m kidding.”  Placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, they lapse into a comfortable silence. Enjoying the cool, crisp breeze,  rustling of the treetops, and the chirping of the crickets in the nearby bushes. And he plants a foot on the deck, easily moving the swing back and forth as his calloused fingertips continuously swirl across the swells of both breasts and her collarbone.

Her fingers push through his as his palm rests on her stomach. “I remember when we first bought this place and we would talk about this;  getting a swing and hanging out on it every night.  Talking and relaxing and just enjoying one another.   I’m kind of surprised; that you went through with getting one.”

“Why would that surprise you?”

“Well,  it wasn’t exactly your thing . You just went along with it because I wanted one.”

“I knew it would make you happy.  I remember you talked about the swing at your grandparents' place;  you and your grandma sitting out on it,  knitting and crocheting and even bird watching. It was something you wanted. So why wouldn’t I give it to you?”

“You always have spoiled me.”

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“I guess I didn’t think you’d get one if I wasn’t around.  That you’d want to avoid something like that; being surrounded by things that would remind you of me.”

“That’s exactly what I did get them. So they would remind me of you.”

Smiling,  she tilts her face up towards him; his lips covering hers in a long, soft kiss. And she gives a long, content sigh when she pulls away, tucking her head under his chin.

“Things went pretty good, yeah?” A fingertip draws a slow circle around her navel.  With Alcott and Mia here. Wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.”

“Your feathers didn’t seem too ruffled. Being around her.”

“Why would they be?”

“It’s not always easy being around an ex.  Even under the best of circumstances. But when it’s someone you’ve been through some really difficult shit with…”

“That was years ago.  And the marriage was practically over before the bad shit even happened, so…”

“It still happened.  You still went through it.  With her.  There’s kind of a bond, don’t you think? Left behind? How can there not be?”

“Do you have a bond with your ex?”

“It’s two totally different situations. My ex nearly killed me.  He put me in the ICU.  You can’t compare Mia to him.  I know things were rough between the two of you and things were over before your son even got sick, but…”

“I don’t think I like where you’re going with this.”

“...but they weren’t completely horrible, either.  You didn’t hate each other.  There was no abuse…of any kind…going on.  You just weren’t as compatible as you thought you were.”

“It was a little more than that.  What does it matter, anyway?  That was years ago.  Before I even knew you existed.  My son had already been dead for a few years. When we met.”

“But you didn’t get closure… real closure…until after me.  I’d already been gone two years; when you took the job in Georgia and Mia showed up at the prison to see you.”

“Esme, I don’t want to fight.”

“I’m not fighting.”

“Not yet. But it sounds like you want to.”

“I’m merely pointing out why it would be understandable if things were a little tense. Or why there might be some lingering bond between the two of you.”

“I don’t know what you thought you saw or heard while she was here, but nothing is lingering between us. Never mind some kind of imaginary bond.”

“You were married to her. She was your wife.”

“You’re right, she was . Past tense.  She’s now my EX-wife.  And she was going to be my ex-wife whether my son got sick or not.  There’s no bond.   Nothing that ties us together.  We’re only in each other’s lives because she’s banging someone I know.  That’s it.”

“So you felt nothing? When you saw her?”

“I mean, I guess it was good to see her again; know that she’s happy and doing well and her life seems to be going how she wants it to.”

“But you felt nothing?  No stirring of anything? No fond memories? Nothing warm and fuzzy?”

“Why are you even asking me this? If you saw Mark, would you feel anything towards him?”

“You mean other than the fact he’d send me into a homicidal rage? No.”

“Did you expect to feel something?  Want me to? So we could fight about it after?”

“Of course I didn’t want you to.  And I don’t want to fight. I just…”

“Mia hasn’t been a part of my life in a long time.  Doesn’t matter if we were married or not.  I don’t feel anything for her.  In the slightest.   I love you .  Only you.  It’s been only you for years.  And it’ll be only you until the day I die. Or you kill me. Whichever comes first.”

“If you don’t learn to put your dirty underwear and socks in the laundry hamper, trust me, I will end up killing you.”

“Don’t ever ask me something like that again, okay?  Because you should know better. Do you really think I would have been okay with her coming here if I felt anything for her? I would’ve kept the two of you apart.”

“I’ll admit…”  Lifting the heavy forearm from her chest, she rolls onto her stomach, pressing herself against him. “.. I didn’t stop to think about that .”

“I’d never disrespect you like that.  I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a total prick.”

“Just a bit of one,” she teases.

“Mia is nothing to me.  But you’re everything. You and Millie.”

“It was harder than I thought it would be; being around her.  And that’s not because of any personality flaw on her part;  she was more than friendly, and we got along well. Not to mention she was amazing with Millie.  It’s all on me. Feeling awkward, inferior…”

“Why would you feel any of those things?  Mia isn’t in my life. You are. I love you .  And if I have to tell you that a million times a day for the rest of my life…”

“I’m jealous, I guess.  That she got to be with you. That…”

“That makes no sense.  Aren’t you with me? Right now?”

“It’s just a little unsettling;  coming face to face with your past.  I knew you were married;  that you had a wife and son.  I knew all about things falling apart;  you wanting a divorce before even finding out your son was sick and then him getting cancer and you leaving and him dying while you were away.  You never held anything back when we were in Dhaka.  But hearing things and actually seeing them?  I wasn’t prepared for how that would make me feel.”

“I told you when Alcott called that I didn’t think it was a good idea if he brought her.  I was okay with it; I’d closed that chapter years ago.  But I knew it wasn’t going to end well. For you .  That you’d seem alright with at first, and then all hell would break loose later.  But you said you were fine with it and it wouldn’t let it bother you…”

“And it didn’t. Not at first anyway.  But now they’re gone and I’ve had time to think about it…”

Sighing, Tyler brushes loose strands of hair off her brow. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“You get yourself all worked up and backed into a corner and it’s like you don’t hear a damn word I say.  I could tell you a million times; how much I love you and only you and how you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and no one else might as well exist.  But it doesn’t seem to matter.  It doesn’t seem to register with you.”

“It’s not that I don’t hear you.  Or that I don’t believe what you say. It’s just…I don’t know…I guess I’m just a little insecure.”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“I’ve always been like this.   You know that.   I’ve got tons of confidence in other things;  how well I do my job,  how ‘book smart’ I am. Sometimes even my parenting skills.   But when it comes to me ? How I look and what I offer someone else? Not so much.”

“For what it’s worth, you’ve got a lot to offer.  You’ve just never been around anyone that appreciated any of it.”

“You know, sometimes you say some profound shit.  Have you been on my phone? Listening to my podcasts? I’m pretty sure I heard something just like that on one of them.”

“I only did that once.  And it was some kind of sex podcast.  Why do you even need to listen to that one? It’s not like you’re not getting taken care of. Properly.”

“Hey, you never know. One day I might hear something even we haven’t tried.”  Laying her cheek on his shoulder,  she reaches up to continuously run a finger along the curve of his chin. Several minutes passing before she raises her head to look at him. “You know it’s not you, right?”

“What’s not me?”

“The way I can be sometimes.  All insecure and neurotic.   It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.  I lived with you for a year, remember?  I’m not a rookie.”

“I just hate feeling inferior. Like I’m in competition with someone.”

“Who the hell would you have to compete with? There’s no one else, Esme. There’s just you.  Which is exactly the way I want things.   And inferior? To who? Mia? What the fuck are you…”

“She’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Not… that.  I totally painted a picture in my mind of what she’d look like. And the only thing I got right is her being tall.   I thought she’d be some kind of beach babe;  all long and toned and lanky,  blond hair, green or blue eyes.”

“Yeah, you were way off.”

“I didn’t think she’d be so beautiful.  Or so intelligent and sophisticated.  So…I don’t know…put together.  And it… she made me feel like I’d never measure up. No matter how hard I tried.”

“You don’t need to try and do anything.  I don’t expect you to be like her.  I don’t want you to be.  You’re inferior to no one, Esme.  There’s not one person in this world that can even come close to you. And I know sometimes…maybe even all the time…it’s hard for you to believe that, but it’s true. Would I ever lie to you? About anything?”

“No.”

“What is it you say sometimes?  About how I’m ‘nothing if not brutally honest’? I would never bullshit you.  Especially about something like this.  I don’t love Mia.  I don’t think I ever did.  But I never question how I feel about you.  I never have. Not even when you weren’t around.”

“I just…” She chews pensively on her bottom lip. “...I was a little weirded out, okay?  About how much we look alike.”

“Who looks alike?”

“Mia and I.”

He can’t help but chuckle.  “What?  What are you talking about?  You two look nothing alike.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it.  The resemblance.”

“Esme, I am telling you, I do not see it.  You don’t look like her at all.”

“We could be sisters.”

“The hell you could.”

“Dark hair, dark eyes…”

“Have you ever considered that maybe I just like brunettes?”

“You honestly don’t see it? It wasn’t intentional? Picking me?  You didn’t do it because I reminded you of her?”

“That never even crossed my mind when we met. I have never put the two of you in the same category.  Ever.  You look like nothing and you are nothing like her.  You are a completely different person; inside and out.  And that’s why I ‘picked’ you.  Why I was attracted to you.”

“I don’t know…”  She fidgets with the ‘chain’ around his neck. A thin strip of braided paracord with a custom-made dog tag; engraved with birth date, emergency contact name and number, blood type, and various allergies.  A must-have in the mercenary world; a way of communicating your needs if you’re injured and unable to do so yourself.  And in the worst-case scenario, identifying your body.  “...I see it.”

“You’re probably going to get really pissed at what I’m about to say and I know I’m risking being banished to the couch for it, but what you’re seeing? What you’re thinking? That’s all up in here.”  He gently taps a fingertip against her brow.  “It’s all in your head, Me.  You are nothing like her.  And I mean that in the best possible way.”

“You don’t think I look like her?  Not even a little bit?”

“I am telling you the truth. I don’t see it.  Not in the slightest.  And I know you can’t help it. It’s not your fault that you get like this.  I know why you do it, and I know what…and who…caused it.  But I’m not him.  I’ll never be him.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because sometimes  I wonder.   I’m sorry that he treated you the way he did.  You didn’t deserve any of that.  But I can’t keep paying for his mistakes.  I spent a year doing it. When we first met. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life… our life…doing it.  I’m not the enemy, Esme. Regardless of what your brain tells you.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this. I don’t mean to treat you like that.  I know you’re not him.  I know that you never will be.  But it’s so hard sometimes. Even now. Getting past all of that.  And I hate that I get this way. Because I love you and I don’t want to hurt you and…”

“You’re not hurting me. You’re hurting us .  You get that, yeah?”

She nods

“There’s only you.” Cradling her face in his palms, he kisses her. Long and soft and sweet.  “There will always be only you.”

****  

His foot continues the rocking of the swing. Her body now resting on its side on top of his; her head on his chest and both of his arms around her. One hand on her hip, and the other on the small of her back.  Both of her arms wrapped around his one bicep.

She presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you. And for loving me like you do.  I know I’m hard to put up with sometimes.  I’m not an easy person to live with.”

“And I am?”

“You’re no picnic.  But I think sometimes I’m the bigger nuisance.”

“You’re not a nuisance at all.”

She glances up at him.

“Okay, maybe just a little bit of one.” Shooting her a playful wink, he drops a kiss on her brow.  One hand moves to the back of her head,  drawing it back down into his chest; fingers pushing through her hair and continuously and softly kneading at her scalp.

“When do you go back to work?”

“By ‘work’ I’m assuming you mean the normal, everyday shit. Not the mercenary stuff.”

She nods.

“There’s nothing etched in stone.  Before I left for New York I told my boss I didn’t know when I’d be back;  I had personal shit to tend to and I wasn’t sure how long it would  take.”

“He was okay with that?”

“I have a lot of vacation days stored up.  Besides, we’re not the busiest station. They won’t miss me.”

“What about the business?”

“Koen has things under control.  If he needs me, he can just call or text.”

“Does he know? About me? And Millie?”

“I told him you’d gotten into some trouble and hired me to get you out of it. And yeah, he knows. About Millie.”

“What did he say?”

“I didn’t give him a chance to say much.  There was too much going and I didn’t need to add any of his bullshit to my plate.  I told him we’d talked about; when I got back into town and had more time on my hands.”

“Is he the one that did Millie’s room?”

“I gave him a list.  Stuff that would get things started. So she’d have something to work with when she got here.”

“Speaking of lists…”

“I’ve seen her list.  The kid knows what she likes and what she wants, I’ll give her that.”

“You know, you don’t have to cross off every item on it.”

“The hell I don’t.”  

“She doesn’t expect the world, Tyler.  I haven’t been raising her like that.  She’s not the kind of kid that throws a fit because she doesn’t get everything she wants.”

“She may not expect the world, but I’d do anything to give it to her. Her and her mum.”

“This is a battle I’m not going to win, isn’t it.  You’re going to spoil her senseless, aren’t you.”

“Every chance I get.” 

“So no work for a bit?”

“Are you hoping I go back? Trying to get rid of me? Out of your hair?”

“I just want to know how long we’ll have you all to ourselves.”

“I’ll hang around for as long as you want me to.  There’s no rush.   It’s not like we need the money. There’s no chance of running out in our lifetimes.  Or even Millie’s, for that matter. So if you want me to stay home even longer than planned....”

“Well, we do have five years to make up for. I don’t think your boss will like it though. You staying off for too long.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he likes or dislikes.  I’ve got you and Millie now. A family. The two of you are my priority.  If he has a problem with that, he can fire my ass. Then I’ll go and get a job at another station.  His isn’t the only one that exists.”

“I’m just not ready to share you. With anyone.”

“Millie might have something to say about that.”

“Obviously she’s an exception.   It’s been a long five years.  I need to have you around for a bit.  But can you do me a small favour?”

“Anything.”

“Can you not get fired until I get a chance to see you in your uniform? And your turn-out gear?”

“Baby, I will wear those out of work. Just for you.”

“Oooo…”  Pressing a kiss to his ear, she gently bites down on the lobe. “...kinky.”

With a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into a kiss; both her arms circling his neck as she eagerly responds. And she gives a small yelp when he slaps a palm against an ass cheek and then pinches the supple flesh through the fabric of her pyjamas.  Rolling onto his side, he brings her with him;  his back against the rear cushion, her head tucking into the crook of his elbow as one leg slips between both of his. 

She pulls back to look at him, two fingers sweeping hair off his forehead.  “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean? What…?”

“You’ve been a little… off …since Mia and Alcott left.”

“Jesus fuck, let’s not get into that again.”

“I’m not insinuating they had anything to do with it. I’m just saying you’ve been a little disconnected.  Closed off.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Your shoulders are tight and you’ve got the line that pops up in the middle of your forehead.  Not to mention your eyes are darker.”

“You really do know me better than I know myself.”

“You’ve never been good at hiding it. When something’s bothering you.  So what is it? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Tyler frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Regardless of what you think…”  She runs a fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.  “...you can be both badass and beautiful at the same time. “

“You’re full of shit.”

“Look how beautiful Millie is.  She looks just like you. So you’re  not going to win this argument.”

“I rarely win an argument with you. Even when I know I’m right about something.”

“You know how to pick your battles.  Sometimes,  it’s just better to surrender. If you know what’s good for you.  But seriously…”  She trails a fingertip along his jaw. “...what’s up?  And don’t say nothing.  I always know when you’re lying.”

“You know how you talked about there being a ‘let down’? After everything that’s happened in the last two weeks? Hell, even in the last five years?  How it's been a lot for you to deal with? How suffocating and overwhelming it is?”

Esme nods.

“I think I’m starting to feel it.”

“Well, I think that’s pretty normal.  You are human.  And it’s not like it was a regular job.  It was extremely personal.”

“It’s all catching up to me.  What we’ve been through. And not just in New York City.”

“Do you regret it? Showing up there? Do you…?”

“Why the hell would you even ask me that?  You and Millie are the only good things I have in my life.  The best thing I ever did was take that job.  Other than six years. When I went along with Nik’s dumb ass ‘fake marriage plan’.”

“It may have been a dumbass idea, but it worked, didn’t it? In more ways than one.”

“I’ve never regretted anything when it comes to you.  Not even after you left. I never once wished I’d never met you.  Even if you did rip my heart out of my fucking chest.  Nothing could ever make me regret you.”

“ I don’t deserve that.  Someone loving me like  I don’t…”

“I’m not trying to sound like a prick when I say this, but you’re not exactly the best judge of character when it comes to  things you deserve.” 

Grinning, she presses a chaste kiss to his lips and tousles his hair. “ Touché . So…”  She pushes her hand through his dirty blond tresses, allowing the longer strands to slip through her fingers. “...is there we talk about?  What’s going on with you?”

“It’s like you;  we’re at the end of things, and it’s all starting to catch up to me. You’re right; it is overwhelming.”

She lays her forearm across his collarbone, chin on top, waiting.

“I don’t even know what to say.  Or how to describe it.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time. I’ve got all night.”

Sighing,  he briefly closes his eyes;  stringing thoughts and words together inside his head;  hands repeatedly travelling up and down her back before settling on her hips.  

“I’m tired, Me. I am so fucking tired.  I’ve spent three-quarters of my life fighting; either someone or something. And I can’t do it anymore. I’m forty years old and most days I feel eighty.” 

“Life hasn’t been kind to you. And you haven’t been kind to yourself .  You’ve shouldered so much; since you were just a little boy.  You didn’t deserve the cards you were dealt.”

“Some of it was my fault.  I can admit that.  I’m not arrogant enough to think I’ve never done anything wrong.  I  made some shitty fucking choices.   And I didn’t exactly cope with things properly; I got into the drinking and the meds and fucked myself up even more.  Let’s not pretend I’m innocent. I did bring some of this… a lot of this…on myself.”

“I’m the first one to tell you when you’ve fucked up.  I’ve never held back on that.”

“You’re the only one that’s ever had the balls to do it. Which is kinda funny considering you never grew past the age of twelve and I can pick you up and put you in my pocket.”

“I don’t know if it’s so much that I have ‘balls’. I think it comes down to how much I love you.  How much I hate seeing you beat yourself up all the time. And you know what I learned? Pretty much right after we met? You’re the type of person who needs to take accountability. For your own peace of mind.”  

“I treated people horribly. People who deserved a hell of a lot better. Who actually gave a fuck about me.”

“Mia.”

“And my son.  Things weren’t great.  Long before he got sick.  Our marriage was a mess; I wasn’t capable of putting them first and she wasn’t capable of being with someone like me.  She didn’t want that kind of life; a husband and kids.  Not really.  She thought she did. That she’d be okay with travelling from base to base,  country to country.  But she wasn’t happy. Not with me, anyway.”

“I think it was less about you as a person and more about you as a soldier.  I don’t think she was prepared for that; the life that came with being with someone like you.  Even I didn’t like it after a while and I’d been in that life myself. I was in the corps before I married a Marine.  Became a military wife. And even I struggled.”

“She wasn’t perfect.  Not by a long shot.  Neither of us were.  But she didn’t deserve what I did to her.  I couldn’t give her what she wanted; someone devoted entirely to her.  She needed her career.  She needed to be close to her family.  And being with me didn’t give her either of those things.”

“Did you want to be with her?  In your heart of hearts?  Can you look back at things now and say you were in love with her?  That you got involved for the right reasons? That you truly wanted to be married and have kids and…”

“I did want those things. I wanted to be a husband. A dad.   But I don’t think I wanted those things with her .  I just convinced myself I did.”

“Did you love her?”

“I don’t know. I think I did.  I think I loved her based on what I thought love was.  Now I realize I may have loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her.”

She nods slowly as she considers his words.

“Makes me sound like a real fucking prick, doesn’t it.”

“No. It makes you sound honest.”

“Did you love Mark? Before he became a complete fucking asshole?”

“I don’t know,” she admits.  “I was so young.  Naive.  And he made so many promises;  he wanted to take me away,  give me an amazing life,  and love me forever.  Or so he said.  I realize now he was always full of shit; he’d jumped right into the love bombing and I was too dumb and inexperienced to recognize it. I was so desperate for an escape and he knew that.  And he used it against me; said everything he knew I wanted to hear.  He got me exactly where he wanted me and then showed his true colours.  In the worst possible ways.”

“He really does bring out the homicidal tendencies in me.”

“He wouldn’t be worth your time. Or your energy.  Not to mention I think he’d be terrified of you.”

“Good.”

“Sometimes I do think about it.  The two of you coming face to face. You just going absolutely fucking feral on him.  I won’t lie; it would give me an immense amount of satisfaction. Seeing him suffer.”

“Then let’s make it happen. Just give me his address and we’ll catch the first flight out of here and you’ll get yourself some quality entertainment.”

“As much as I would enjoy seeing him get demolished and I love you for wanting to defend my honour, I’d rather you stay out of jail. Wasn’t once enough?”

“You could get me out there. You managed the first time.”

“I think I’ve called in every possible favour I’ve ever had coming to me. So let’s not take the chance, okay?  Let’s just keep you right where you are.  Here with me and Millie.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

She smiles as she receives a kiss on her forehead, then she settles her cheek on his chest.  They lounge in silence, listening to the creak of the swing, the crickets, and the rustle of the leaves; his hand slipping up the back of her cami and moving in slow, repetitive circles in the middle of her spine. And when he feels her move against him,  he opens his eyes and finds her staring up at him. “What?”

“I know there’s more.  And don’t even try to deny it.”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“The best.  In many ways.”

“I won’t argue with that.”  

She places her chin on his chest,  a fingernail continuously scratching across his beard.

“I keep thinking about something that happened in Dhaka, with Ovi.  When we were at Gaspar’s place.   He talked about his dad; sitting across the table from him and knowing that he’d killed someone that day.  And how it made him feel sick.”

“His father was a horrible person.  Drug dealing, gun running, racketeering.   Look at the mess he got his son into. Never mind that he threatened to kill Saju’s wife and son if he didn’t get Ovi back from Asif. He was a monster, Tyler. Don’t…”

“Right now, Millie looks at me like I’m some kind of hero.   I protect good people and save them from bad people. To her it’s cool; I’m big and I’m strong and I kick all kinds of ass.”

“She’s four years old, babe.  She’s just a little girl.”

“That’s exactly my point.  Right now, all that matters to her is that I stick up for people who can’t stick up for themselves. Her mother needed help and I showed up.  I kept her mum and her safe;  I got you away from all the bad stuff and New York City and to somewhere safe.”

“You’re her dad .  That’s how she sees you.   You’re her daddy and her daddy just so happens to help people. She doesn’t need to know the details; the kinds of skills you have and the things you’ve had to do to survive.  She doesn’t…”

“But she’s going to grow up, Me.  And she’s going to start asking questions. About what I used to do. She’ll remember everything that went down in New York;  Alessio’s people coming after you and her, the sniper at the Continental, having to sneak her out of there and take her somewhere safe.  She already talks about the bad guys all the time;  about how she’s not scared of them anymore because I’m around to keep her and her mum safe. If she’s only four and she’s already talking like that…”

“There’s years before anything like that happens. Before she starts to question what you really did for a living. Right now she’s tiny and innocent. She feels safe and secure. And we need to keep it that way. For as long as we can.”

“But what about when she does ask? Because it will happen.  Have you thought about what you’re going to tell her?  When she asks why the bad guys came after the two of you?”

“I haven’t,” Esme admits.  “I figured I had more time;  to think about what I’d say when I needed to say it.”  

“I’ve done some horrible fucking  things. And not everyone I’ve done them to have deserved it.”

“But more have .”

“I have so much blood on my hands.  That I’ll never be able to wash off.   What do I tell Millie? When she finds out what I really did for a living. The extent of it.  When she finds out I killed people? For money.”

“You tell her that the things you did? You did them to help people.  And to survive.  She doesn’t need to know anything else.”

His voice is gravelly as he speaks around a lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. This life.  Not the one with you and Millie. The…”

“The mercenary one.”

“I don’t have much left in me.   I know I can protect you;  if someone were to show up and cause problems and try to get to you and Millie.  There’s no way they’d even get close to either of you.  But beyond that…”

“It’s almost over; that part of your life.  Once Nik takes care of things in New York City, and ties up all the loose ends, you can walk away. For good .  We can have a normal existence. Whatever normal is.  You can go back to firefighting and running your business and Millie can go to school and we can sign her up for all those things she wants to try.”

“And you? What are you going to do?  Go back to school?  If you got accepted for the nursing program the first time, I’m sure you won’t have trouble with a second.”

“I think that ship has sailed.  Honestly, I think I’m perfectly content being a homemaker;  focusing on being a wife and a mother.”

“If that’s what you want, I have your back.  It’s not like it isn’t doable; the well isn’t going to run dry.  Not in our lifetime.  Probably not even in Millie’s.”

“I’ll have a lot of things to keep me busy.  Decorating, gardening, baking.  Growing babies.”

“I love how you just casually threw that last one in.  Where’d that come from?”

“I’ve just been thinking about it.  A lot , actually.”

“I thought you wanted to wait.  Six months to a year.  Isn’t that what you said?”

“It is.  But like I said, I’ve been thinking a lot about it and I don’t see why we can’t do things sooner.  Millie will be five; I don’t want there to be too much of a gap between her and a sibling. And we lost five whole years;  we can’t get any of that time back.  So is it really so bad to rush into things? To get married and start adding to our family?  It won’t stop us from doing what we planned;  finding a therapist and working through things and making them… us …better.”

“I just want you to be sure.  That it’s what you really want.”

“You have to want it, too.  I can’t exactly make babies on my own.”

Cupping her face in his palms, he presses a long, soft kiss to her lips. “I want it too.”

“So does that mean we can start ASAP? No more playing it safe?  We can just let nature take its course?”

“If it happens, it happens.”

“Kinda scary, huh? The thought of more than one Millie running around the place?”

“You kidding? She’s an angel.”

“So was Lucifer.”  She squeals when he aggressively pinches her ass, then giggles when he shoves a hand through her hair and yanks her into a kiss;  much longer and hungrier, her body pressed tightly against his,  hands slipping up the back of his shirt, nails lightly and repeatedly travelling up and down his back. And she sighs when he finally breaks away, both breathless as he wraps both arms around her.  

Rolling onto his side, he keeps a protective hand on the small of her back and the nape of her neck to prevent her from falling off the swing. His calloused fingertips gently scraping against soft, warm skin. “I just want to be someone you can be proud of.”

Esme pulls back to look at him. “Where’d that come from?”

“I just want to be the kind of husband and father you can brag about.  When you’re out with your friends.”

“What friends?”

Tyler frowns.

“Even if I did have friends, when did you start caring what other people think about you? You’ve never given a shit before.”

“I don’t care what other people think about me. I care what you think about me.  And if you ever do get a chance to brag. I’d like to be someone you can actually brag about.”

“You already are.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“I’ve always been proud of you.  There’s never been a reason not to be.”

“I’m a mercenary.  I kill people. For money.  That doesn’t exactly come with bragging rights.”

“It’s what you did, not who you are.  And I’d never tell anyone something like that anyway.  First of all, it’s none of their goddamn business. Second, we both know it’s a security risk; telling people what we actually do.  All the bridges we’ve burned and the toes we’ve stepped on?  No one can be trusted with that kind of information.”

“And you call me paranoid?”

“I’ve always been proud of you, Tyler.  I know how far you’ve come.  I know how big of a mess you were when we met;  how close you were to drinking yourself to death. or ODing on pain meds, or putting a gun in your mouth.  And I was there; in Dhaka and on that bridge.  I saw what happened to you.  And how hard you fought to make your way back.  I know I like to joke about how I'm the main reason you stuck around in the first place…”

“You were the main reason. Hell, you were the only reason.” 

“But you did all the hard work.   I know how difficult it was; how painful and tiring all those therapies were.  It was a long process; getting back on your feet. No one would have blamed you for throwing in the towel. But you never did.”

“I had a reason not to. Do you really think I would have given a fuck if you hadn’t been around?”

“I think eventually you would have.  Nik or Keon would have smacked some sense into you, for sure.  And I know I complain sometimes about how stubborn you are…”

“Sometimes?”

“…but it’s not always a bad thing.  You’ve shown more than once that you don’t give up easily.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. When it comes to why I’m even still here.” 

“I’ve always been proud of you. For a lot of different reasons. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn’t.”

“You’re the only person who’s never made me feel that way. Like I’m some kind of failure.”

“Believe me, you are anything but.”

“I have an ex-wife and a dead kid that would disagree with you.”

“I knew this would happen. That her being here would bring all this up. No matter how much closure she gave you when she showed up at that prison. Why didn’t you just say ‘no’? When Russell called and asked if he could bring her here?”

“I didn’t want him to think I was a total prick. Or more of a prick than he already knows  I am. And the last thing I needed was him thinking I didn’t want her here because I’m jealous or some shit.”

“Are you? Jealous?  That he’s with her?”

“I don't give a shit who either of them are fucking. Don’t ask me something like that ever again.  I didn’t say no because I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal; if you could deal with her being here, so could I.”

“I’m not the one who has a past with her.”

“That's just it. It’s a past. Which is why I didn’t think it would bother me.”

“You know what I think? I think it’s a mix of a whole bunch of different things. That has you dwelling on stuff and getting overwhelmed by it. You’ve always been like this. I could always tell when things were piling up on you because you’d spend so much time inside your head.  I know it’s been a long, really tiring two weeks.  But we’re almost there. It’ll be finished soon. And then we can just move on and enjoy our new life.”

“I just want to do things right this time. I want to be the kind of husband and dad you and Millie want and need.  Deserve .  I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t.  And you already are what we need and want.  We love you. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t. You really need to get out of your head. Stop listening to all that bullshit inside of it.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Trust me, I know. I have my own shit that lives rent-free in my brain.”

“Just a bit.”

“But you’ve always been the one to help me deal with it.  You’ve always managed to  shut all those mean, ugly voices up.  Maybe it’s time for me to be that person for you.”

“You are that person, Esme. You always have been.”

Smiling,  she ruffles his hair and tucks her head under his chin.

“The only  peace I’ve ever known in my life has been when I’m with you.”

She pulls back to look at him. Taken back to the honesty in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes. “Really?”

Nodding, he presses his lips to her brow, then lays a hand on the back of her head and draws her into his chest. “Thanks for that.”

*****

“Mommy?” Millie’s voice -just above a whisper and trembling with emotion- jars her from a deep, comfortable sleep.  And a tiny hand rests upon her shoulder; shaking as insistently and vigorously as possible.  “Momma. Wake up. Wake up, momma please.”

Her eyes snap open; blinking against the strands of moonlight that greet them.  “Amelia…” She reaches out; brushing wayward pieces of dirty blond hair off her daughter's forehead and out of her eyes. “…what is. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I had a bad dream. A really bad dream. I made a mess in my bed. And all over my jammies. Posie got wet too.”

“Alright…” 

Tossing off the layer of blankets, she swings her legs over the side of the bed; wrapping both arms around Millie and lifting her into her lap. Ignoring the urine-soaked pyjamas in favour of cuddling her daughter close; one hand on the back of Millie's head as she holds it against her shoulder,  the other rubbing slow, comforting circles on the little one’s stomach.  Lips to the four-year-old’s temple as she quietly sings “Here Comes The Sun” and slowly rocks back and forth. And when Millie’s sniffling finally subsides, Esme gives a gentle tug on her braid;  encouraging her to look up at her.  “You okay now? A little better at least?”

Millie nods.

“Let’s go and get you into the tub. Then we’ll throw the dirty stuff in the wash and get new blankies on your bed.”

“You’re not mad at me, are you? For making a mess?”

“No, baby. I’m not mad.  Why would I be? These things happen. It’s nothing that can’t be cleaned.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up. And got your jammies wet.”

“Don’t worry about those things. I’m not. All that matters is that you’re okay. That you’re feeling better. Come on…”. The aches and pains linger in her body as she scoops Millie up and settles her on her hip. “You’re getting big, buttercup. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to do this. Carry you.”

“Big like daddy! I’ll be taller than you soon! And I’m not even five yet!”

“Only you can manage to be a little savage at four in the morning,” Esme teases, and playfully tickles Millie’s side.  

“I'm going to be super tall, momma!”

“You got your daddy’s genes that’s for sure. Arms and legs for days.  Speaking of daddy, let’s just let him sleep, okay? He’s had a really long couple of weeks.  And some really tough days.  He needs his rest.”

“So he can stay big and strong and protect us from the bad guys!”

“And so he has the energy to keep up with you. You crazy little monkey.”

Gathering up a pair of yoga shorts and a t-shirt for herself, she carries Millie into the master’s ensuite and prepares a bubble bath to share.  Afterwards, they retreat downstairs to the kitchen; Esme braiding her daughter’s still damp hair before preparing herself a tea and some cheese toast and Millie’s customary after-nightmare snack: a bowl of apple and cinnamon oatmeal, and a glass of white and chocolate milk mixed together.   Then they snuggle on the couch;   wrapped in the plaid throw that normally graces the back of the easy chair.  Millie enveloped in her mother’s arms as she presses herself tightly into her side; a thumb stuck firmly on her mouth, head resting on Esme’s chest. Across the room, the television is tuned into an Australian children’s channel; playing back-to-back episodes of Bluey.  And when a lull in programming comes and Millie tries -in vain- to stifle a yawn, Esme gently plucks the thumb from the four-year-old’s mouth.

“You doing alright? Feeling better?”

“A little. My tummy still feels weird though.”

Laying a palm on her daughter’s stomach, she rubs in slow, comforting circles. “It was a pretty bad dream, huh?” 

Millie nods.

“No. Not right now. Maybe later.”

“Well, if you feel like talking about it, just let me know, okay? It’s better to get things out in the open, sometimes.  Instead of holding onto them. You’ll tell me about it, right? When you’re ready?”

“I promise, momma.”

“You are such a good girl.”  Esme drops a kiss on the top of her little one’s head. “Such a good, sweet girl.”

Silence falls as Bluey returns to the screen, and Millie abandons sucking her thumb in favour of playing with her mother’s hair; repeatedly combing her fingers through it and twirling it around her index digit. “Momma.”

“Yeah?”

“It was really scary. When you got hurt.  I was worried; that you weren’t going to get better and you were gonna die.”

“I know things didn’t look good, but I wasn’t even close to not being here anymore. I was just really banged up.”

“And bloody. Don’t forget bloody. There was a lot of blood.”

“I know you were scared. And I am so sorry things happened the way they did.  But you were so brave, Millie. So brave and so strong.  Just like your daddy.”

“He  says I get it from you.”

“Of course he does.  You were such a big help;  when it came to taking care of me.  You always cheered me up. I loved hanging out with you; having breakfast and lunch in bed, but getting my hair brushed,  giving me manis and pedis. And I’m sure your dad appreciated it; keeping an eye on me and helping him out.”

“He was scared too, you know.”

“I know.  He’s a big man with an even bigger heart.  You are so much like him, Millie. In so many ways.  And that’s a good thing. A very good thing.”

“It’s nice, momma. It’s really nice.”

“What is?”

“Having a mom and a dad. It means I get twice the lovins.  And twice the spoiling.”

“I don’t know about that. When it comes to your dad, I think it’s more triple the amount. Quadruple, even.”

“Does it make you sad? That it’s not just us anymore? That you have to share me?”

“It’s a little hard getting used to it; no longer having you to myself and being the only one to make decisions. But no, I’m not sad. Because I get to share you with your daddy.  And he is my all-time favourite human.  Present company excluded, of course.”

“Soon you guys are going to get married! And I’ll get to wear a pretty dress and brand new Spidey sandals.  Maybe we can have a girls' day before that.  We can have brunch and get facials and manis and pedis. Do you think we can do that?”

“I am one hundred percent sure we can.”

Millie gives a brilliant smile, then a long, content sigh as she once more rests her head upon her mother’s chest.

“I am so sorry, Amelia.”

“For what?”

“That we didn’t come here sooner. So you could meet your dad.  And I know you’re little still and a lot of this probably makes zero sense, but I didn’t keep you away to hurt you. Or him.  I really did do it to protect you. Both of you.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will. When you’re older.  For now, just know the things I did. I did because I love you. And your dad.  And I thought I was doing what was right.”

“I know you love me, momma.  And that you’d never do anything to hurt me.  On purpose.”

“I do love you.  So very, very, very much.  And one day, when you’re bigger and you do understand why things happened the way they did,  you’ll forgive me.”

“I don’t need to wait that long. I already do forgive you. You’re my mommy. I love you no matter what.”

“I am so lucky.” She squeezes her daughter. “So very, very lucky.”

They once more lapse into comfortable, companionable silence as another episode of Bluey starts.  Millie fighting in vain to stay awake for its entirety; excessively yawning and rubbing her blurry eyes with the heels of her palms.  And she looks up at her mother with a sleepy grin when the latter eventually flicks off the television. “Momma?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we can go to the beach today?”

“I’ll tell you what; we’ll go and get some more sleep and when everyone in the house is awake, we’ll talk about and make some plans. Sounds good?”

“Sounds good.  Can I sleep in the big bed? With you and daddy? I don’t want to go back to my room yet. My big blankie is still in the dryer. And so is Posie.”

“I’m sure daddy won’t mind.  And he’s a human furnace. He can keep both of us warm. 

Come on…” Tossing the throw into the nearby chair, she wraps her arms around Millie and stands, letting loose a loud, dramatic groan. “You really are going to be bigger than me in a few years, I think.  I don’t know how much longer I can manage; carrying you around like this.”

“Daddy will still be able to. ‘Cause he’s big and strong and I’m nowhere close to being as tall as him! Do you think one day I might be? As tall as him?”

“Anything could happen.  I don’t know if you’ll get to six foot three, but…”

“He really is a giant!”

“Yeah…” Chuckling, she presses a kiss to Millie’s temple.  “...he really is.”

**** 

He stirs as Millie climbs into bed. Groaning loudly and rolling onto his side;  eyes squinting against the first rays of sun that peek through the curtains.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with sleep; rumbling deep within his chest, accent much thicker. “Everything okay?”

“Millie had a bad dream,” Esme explains, as their daughter crawls her way into the middle of the mattress. “I told her she could come and snuggle with us.”

“I made a mess in my bed,” Millie chimes in.  “And all over my jammies and blankets  and Posie.”

“But it’s all cleaned up,” Esme adds, as she slips under the covers.  “Everything is freshly washed and in the dryer. Including Miss Posie.”

“Mommy didn’t even get mad. When I made the mess.”

Tyler leans in to press a kiss to Millie’s brow. “I bet your mom barely ever gets mad at you.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. She has her moments.”

“I’ve been on the receiving end of those moments.  I feel your pain.”

“You two are just comedians twenty-four seven,” Esme grumbles, and rolls onto her side to face him.

He uses a fingertip to swipe loose strands of hair off his daughter’s forehead. “Must have been a pretty bad dream, huh?”

Nodding, the four-year-old slips underneath the blankets. Until completely covered from head to toe. “I don’t wanna talk about it though.”

“She wouldn’t tell me either,” Esme laments.  “But I said when she’s ready, she knows where to find us.  I’m hoping it was just a one-off. That it’s not going to turn into a regular thing.  It's been a while since that happened.”

“Still think we should find her a  t-h-e-r-a-p-i-s-t?”

“I think we all need one. Correction. I don’t think, I know we do.”

“Let’s give it a few days, yeah? Get somewhat settled first.  Maybe we can…” He frowns when Bea hops onto the bed, then stretches out across his feet. “No cats in the bed!”

Esme grins.  “Babe, you used to let chickens sleep with us. The cat stays.”

They settle into a comfortable silence. Facing each other, Millie burned under the blankets. And with a smile curving his lips, he lays an arm across his and Esme’s pillows, cupping her head in his palm as he presses a lingering kiss to her brow. “You should have woken me up. I would have given you a hand.”

“I had things under control.   She just needed a bath, some snuggles, and her normal after-nightmare snack.”

He arches a quizzical brow.

“White and chocolate milk mixed together, and a bowl of apple and cinnamon oatmeal.  It’s become our ‘thing’ when she has a bad dream; she has her snack and we cuddle on the couch and I rub her tummy.  She gets a sore belly when she has bad dreams.”

“She has them a lot, or…?”

“Not really.  She went through a bit of a stage where they were a little more frequent;  typical little kid nightmares about monsters chasing her or hiding under the bed and in the closet.”

“And killer clowns!” Millie pipes up from her ‘hiding spot’.  “Don’t forget the killer clowns!”

“How could I forget them? I don’t like clowns, either.   You good under there?”

A lone, tiny hand sneaks out from the comforter and flashes a thumbs up.  “I’m good!”

“I really did have things under control,” Esme assures him.  “And I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.  You need your rest.”

“So do you.”

“I’m almost completely back to normal.  Things are just starting to hit you.  It’s time to rest, Tyler. Or at least try to.  I know you can’t totally let your guard down yet, but..”

“I’m never going to be able to let it down. Not when it comes to you and Millie. Not completely, anyway.”

“You always have been protective.   Sometimes a little too much.”

“If you think I was bad before, just wait. After spending five years away from you? And everything that happened in New York City…”

Esme lowers her voice to a near whisper. “I think that’s what her dream was about.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“She didn’t want to talk about it.  Which isn’t unusual for her;  it usually takes a bit for her to calm down enough to tell me what happened. But she did tell me that it was scary;  my accident and seeing me hurt.”

“She’s not the only one it freaked out.”

“She talked about how much blood there was.  And that she worried I wasn’t going to get better. That I was going to die. I tried telling her that it never came close to that;  things were a bit ugly and I was pretty banged up, but that was never going to happen.”

“I tried to keep her from it. How bad things looked.  I didn’t want her to see you like that. Fuck, I didn’t even want to see you that, and I’m a grown-ass adult. So I can’t even imagine what it’s done to her.”

“She’s so strong, Tyler.  So brave and so strong. Just like you.”

“I think her mum has me beat. In both those departments.”

“I think once she gets used to living here and having you in her life and gets settled in school and activities, the bad stuff will start to fade. At least I hope it will.”

“She’s her mother’s daughter. She’ll be just fine.”

“And I think it will do her a world of good; to talk to someone about everything that’s gone down.  It’ll do us good, too.”

“I gotta admit, I’m not entirely thrilled about spending time with another shrink. I didn’t exactly get along with the last one.  That we saw after Dhaka.”

“You’d been through hell.  I mean, you were clinically dead just a few months before. You were still healing and busting your ass to get back on your feet.   I think it’s understandable that you’d be a bit prickly.”

“That sounds like a nice way of calling me an asshole.”

“I’d never call you that.  At least not out loud. And especially not to your face.”

Smirking, he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. 

She sneaks a hand out from under the mound of blankets, then uses her fingertips to clear strands of hair off his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That it scared you.  The accident.  And that you had to see me that way. I know you’re used to being on the other side of the fence.”

“All I could think about was how I’d just gotten you back. After five fucking years.  I barely survived that . How the hell was I going to survive you being gone permanently? With no chance of ever getting you back.”

“But here I am.  Almost back to normal.  You protected me. Made sure they couldn’t get close enough to finish the job.  If you’d been hurt worse and hadn’t been able to do any of that…”

“Let’s not even think about that.  Let alone talk about it.  You need sleep.”

“So do you.”

“I’m not the one who got up at the ass crack of dawn with the kiddo.”

“I’m used to it.  I’ve got four years of this mommy thing under my belt. You’re not getting up yet, are you? It’s not even six am.”

“Six am is a late wake-up for me.  I got some shit I need to do: I normally go for a run and work out a bit.  And I need to check up on Koen.  Make sure he’s not fucking things up.”

“It won’t kill you to miss one day of working out. And Koen’s a big boy; he can handle things on his own.  Just stay here…with us…for a little bit?  I’m not asking for much, just a half an hour, an hour at the most.”

“Let me guess. Until you fall asleep.”

“Please?” She slides her head across to his pillow.  The tip of her nose pressed against his. “ Stay?  Just a while.  Millie got her snuggles. Now it’s my turn.  And there’s nothing better than a snuggle from my favourite human. My person.”

“Well now that you put it that way…”  Tangling her fingers in her hair, he presses a series of kisses to her face. The centre of her forehead, the bridge of her nose,  temple, ear and cheek, and finishing at the corner of her mouth.  

She already knows him so well; fully aware of his reluctance to accept his limitations and the worry he harbours that he’s somehow ‘letting her down’. Afraid -despite the months of devotion she’d already shown by remaining by his side in the hospital, that her continued care of her would soon become taxing; burdened by the task of helping nurse him back to health both physically AND mentally. Despising the mere notion of appearing weak in front of her; he’d turned down all suggestions to sit and rest; ignoring the reminders that they had lots of time left together. There was no rush; there were many more hours -days, weeks, months, YEARS- ahead to enjoy the fresh and get ‘out and about’.

The first hour they’d spent wandering the outdoor market; picking out produce and eggs, various baked goods and freshly cut meats. Afterwards, they indulged in a filling lunch at one of the smaller restaurants. Tucked into a booth at the back of the quaint establishment; engaging in small talk interspersed with sexual innuendos and flirtatious comments while sipping lattes and cappuccinos, and sampling various Austrian foods and desserts. Ending the day by finding a home furnishing store and ordering the first items to personalize their house; a bigger fridge, a stove, a mixer for her baking and new pots and pans. Everything she’d need to make cakes, cookies, pies and other desserts. A brand new -and much more comfortable- bed, dressers, a desk and bookshelf.

They’d only returned to the cabin once a list was made of the other ‘wants and needs’; workout equipment, new laptops, a larger TV. Paint for the both master bath and the much smaller, main washroom, cupboards and countertops for the kitchen. While unsure of how long the Gmunden would be home, they’re determined to make their surroundings as cheerful and livable as possible; planning on keeping the place a ‘getaway’ when it was time to move on to something bigger. Whether it be in Australia or one of the half dozen European cities that had made a ‘shortlist’. Prague, Paris, Zurich, Amsterdam, Copenhagen.

She shivers; a chill setting in as the nearby fire begins to die. Setting her mug on the cluttered dining table, she moves towards the fireplace; adding a handful of dry wood and then using the poker to stoke it ‘alive’. She holds her hands out towards the flames, warming both front and back and rubbing vigorously at her upper arms. And when she hears a dull thud and glances over her shoulder; Lucy’s ears immediately perking up, dark eyes widening, head raising out of curiosity. Tyler’s bad leg -brace and all- now hanging over the side of the couch, foot on the floor as he continues to sleep.

Esme pads towards him; carefully picking up his leg and placing it back on the couch. Peeling the throw away from his body, she stretches it out; tucking it tightly around his sides, under both legs and over his feet. And when she attempts to step away, he grabs ahold of her wrist and pulls her closer; fingers gliding over the top of her hand before pushing their way through hers.

His eyes remain closed. Voice -heavy with sleep- resonating deep in his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Babying you.”

Tyler scowls.

“I was making sure you were comfortable. Your bad leg was hanging off the couch; if I left it like that, you’d wake up in a world of hurt. Not to mention your big ass feet were poking out of the blanket. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“My feet aren’t that big.”

“Your feet are massive, okay. You can house a family of four in each of your shoes.”

“Maybe your feet are just abnormally small. Like the rest of you.”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Especially when you're sleepy. You’re extra pouty when you’re sleepy.”

“I do NOT pout.”

“You most certainly do.”

He presses the heel of his palm into one eye, followed by the other, then squints up at her. “Everything alright? You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Did something happen? You have a dream where I got hurt or something? Not one of those Dhaka dreams, was it? Gaspar getting a hold of me and taking me to Asif and…”

“No. Thank god. I don’t want to go through that again. Even if it isn’t real. There was no dream. I guess you’re just beginning to rub off on me. I’m starting to worry all the time now.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine. Everything’s good.” Leaning over the couch, she presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “Everything’s very good, actually.”

“Yeah…” As a slow grin spreads across his face, he reaches up to loop wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “...it is.”

“Try and get a little more sleep, alright? You overdid it, today. And I don’t want you to be paying the price tomorrow.”

“Something tells me that’s inevitable.”

“You need to know your limitations. And be okay with them. Slow and steady wins the race, right? I don’t want you pushing it and getting hurt. Pace yourself, babe. That’s the only way you’ll get back to a hundred percent.”

“I was never there to begin with.”

“Well, with all the repairing and fine-tuning they did in Dubai, you’ll probably end up being in even better shape than before. But that’s a long way away. And that’s perfectly fine. You know that, right? That you don’t have to rush things.”

“I just want to be who you need me to be. Who you deserve. I just want to make you happy.”

“You know what makes me happy? You taking care of yourself. And letting me help along the way. THAT’S what makes me happy.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Not just me in general?”

“I think that goes without saying. Now…” Pulling the throw up to his chin, she tucks it around his body and then combs her fingers through his hair. Lips warm and soft as they meet his brow. “...you get a little more sleep and I’ll figure something out for dinner.”

“Will it be edible?”

Smirking, she flicks the tip of his nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Fuck you, Tyler.”

Chuckling, he grabs hold of her sweatshirt and pulls her downwards. An arm circling her waist when she loses her balance; giving a small shriek of surprise and then giggling when she lands on top of him. He settles one palm in the middle of her spine and cradles the back of her with the other; fingers pushing through her hair and softly massaging her scalp.

Neither speak again. And she finds herself quickly and easily relaxed by the warmth radiating off his body, the sound of his heart beating within his chest, and the familiar smell that clings to his skin and clothes. She feels content and secure. Adored. Protected. And she basks in the moment. Enjoying the contact; remaining where she is until his breathing slows and softens and his arms fall limp at his sides.

*****

She takes Lucy for her nighttime walk while dinner finishes; soup simmering on the hot plate, a salad waiting in the fridge, garlic loaves keeping warm in the toaster oven. Bundled up in boots and parka, knit beanie and mittens, she trudges through the snow and down to the dock; enjoying the cold, crisp air and the blanket of stars that shimmer within a black velvet sky. She feels free for the first time in a LONG time; able to breathe without the fear of either the past or present breathing down her neck. At last content in her own skin and comfortable and relaxed in her surroundings. Finally able to shed the last of her baggage; the mountains of bad decisions, the trauma left behind from time with an unstable and horrifically abusive man, a child and teenagehood spent walking on eggshells. She had devoted years to driving herself to the brink of both mental and physical exhaustion; weary and worn trying to win the love and respect of the woman who’d given birth to her, but had hated her from the moment she took her first breath.

It seems easier to deal with now. The memories of cruel words and vicious hands, the agony of the wounds inflicted both internally and externally. She has a safe place to fall; someone she trusts with both life and heart. Who wants nothing more than to make her happy and keep her safe, secure, and protected.

Someone who will stop at nothing to make those things a reality.

For once in her life, love doesn’t hurt. It’s patience and it’s sacrifice. It’s caring more about your partner than you do about yourself. It’s feeling happy whenever they’re in the same room as you; enjoying the sound of their voice and laugh, their touch and the taste of their kiss. Never able to get enough of them; the conversations and the feel of their hand in yours. And the way your body not only easily melts into theirs, but is also capable of eagerly and hungrily responding.

They’re halfway back to the cabin when she sees the lights flicker on; followed by the TV and Tyler’s form passing by the living room window as he limps his way into the kitchen. This is her life now. Her home. It’s modest and simple, yet she doesn’t find herself craving more. It’s the most content and comfortable she’s been in a long time; finally ‘seen’ and understood by someone who doesn’t judge her based on her past or things she’d done to make money and survive. Who somehow doesn’t see the mountain of flaws and imperfections that she does. Carving out an existence together; optimistic about both the healing process and their future together.

She’s a foot from the door when her phone vibrates in her jacket pocket. Using her teeth to yank off her mittens, she fishes the cell from its hiding spot; frowning when she sees the name and number plastered across the screen.

It’s become far more than a once-daily experience. Over two dozen texts and voicemails left; ranging from sugary sweet requests for her to call back to annoyed sighs and questions of her whereabouts and her well-being, Culminating in the ranting and raving of a narcissist; attempts at gaslighting, vile name-calling, and threats to ‘track her down and beat her ass’ and ‘drag her back to where she belongs’. And she’s finally had enough; unwillingly to disrupt or sacrifice the peace, comfort, and happiness she’s finally submerged in.

“Hello?”

“So you ARE alive.”

“Is that disappointment in your voice?”

“Don’t start. I didn’t call for THIS.”

“What did you call for, mother? What HAVE you been calling for? Non-stop.”

“You’re my baby. My little girl. My only daughter. Have you ever thought that…”

Esme rolls her eyes. Instead of opening the door, she heads for the battered and weathered loveseat that resides on the porch; sighing heavily as she drops heavily onto it. Lucy dutifully follows behind; lying across her feet, head cocked to the side as she curiously watches her. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, I haven’t been drinking! Why would you…?”

“The only time you ever say anything remotely nice to me is when you’ve got a few in you. How much have you had? If you’re at this level of ass-kissing, it has to be at least a bottle of rye. Or two.”

“Like I told you, I haven’t been drinking. I…”

“You didn’t call to hear my bullshit, and I didn’t answer to hear yours.”

“Okay, so I may have had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner. But…”

“And likely half a dozen for dessert.”

“What is your problem? I call to check up on you and see how you’re doing and this is the treatment I get? For caring about my child? It’s been months since we’ve spoken. Since you’ve even attempted to touch base. I’ve left you all kinds of voicemails and text messages and.…”

“What is your sudden interest in my life? What do you suddenly care about how I’m doing and what I’m doing? If I wanted you to know, I would have talked to you a long time ago. I called you from Dubai. I let you know that I was alive and well, didn’t I?”

“That was almost ten months ago! Almost a full year. Despite what you think, I DO care about you, Esme. I DO love you.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“You were the one that pushed me away. Severed ties. When you decided to up and leave the Marine Corps and abandon your family. You just packed everything up and moved to New York City and…”

“My then-husband put me in the ICU. I left to get away from him. To start a life without him. I…”

“You could have worked things out. Instead of filing for divorce. You could have tried harder. Despite all of his issues and all of his anger, he’s a good man. And he WAS good to you. At times. You just choose to ignore that. If you were just honest with yourself…”

“Being honest with myself would have been knowing to leave YEARS ago. Not waiting until he nearly killed me.”

Her mother scoffs. “It wasn’t THAT bad. But you have always been a tad dramatic. Quite infamous when it comes to exaggeration. Now, I know things got a little…testy…at times, but…”

“A little testy? He used to beat the shit out of me, mom. If he didn’t like the food I made, he’d throw it on the floor, force me down on all fours, and make me eat it. Like I was a fucking animal. ‘Testy’ doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.”

“I know Mark has his faults. I know he wasn’t perfect, but…”

“He used to rape me. When I’d say ‘no’. I was property to him. Something he owned. He said it was my ‘wifely duty’ to put out for him. And it was his duty to punish me when I didn’t. So yeah, he had his faults, alright.”

“You’re not exactly an easy person to live with, Esme. You’re not some angel yourself.”

“I don’t claim to be perfect. In way, shape, or form. But didn’t deserve any of the things he did to me. You have some hell of a nerve sticking up for him, you know that? Choosing him and his bullshit over your own daughter? But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve always been lower than dirt to you.”

“You always have to be the victim, don’t you.”

“I WAS the victim. I was Mark’s, I was yours. But here I am, mom. Thriving. Making a life for myself. Being happy. All those you and Mark tried to kill inside of me? They’re still here. And you’ll never get close enough to hurt me ever again.”

“And just where ARE you making this wonderful, imaginary life for yourself? Where are you…?”

“It’s not imaginary. It’s very much real. And you know, it might not be all sunshine and roses. But it is wonderful. In a lot of ways.”

“Are you with him?”

“I am.”

“So it wasn’t just a passing thing. Like we’d all hoped. When you’d called to say that you’d met someone and were running away with them…”

“I didn’t run away. I didn’t have anything to run away from. I started over. Made a life for myself.”

“You had a life here. A mother, a stepfather, brothers, nieces, nephews…”

“I haven’t bothered with any of you…REALLY bothered with you…in years. I haven’t lived in Colorado in a long time.”

“When you abandoned your husband and your marriage and…”

“I saved myself. You can pretend that Mark is some sort of golden boy; that he’s God's gift to women and has never done anything wrong in his entire life. You can ignore all the evidence that’s been gathered against him; the police and hospital reports, the pictures of all the bumps and bruises and scratches and broken bones. You burying in the sand or up his ass doesn't change the fact that he’s a massive piece of shit.”

“You’re not exactly perfect yourself, Esme. I’ve lived with you. I know what kind of challenge you can be. You’re stubborn and high-strung and confrontational and…”

“And I didn’t deserve a damn thing that man did to me. Look, if you called just annoy the hell out of me, congratulations. You were successful. I’m going to hang up now. Because I don’t have the time or the tolerance for your bullshit. Goodbye, mother. Don’t…”

“Where are you?”

“Somewhere you won’t find me.”

“Are you back in the States?”

“No.”

“Well, I know you didn’t go back to Prague. Kyle showed up at your place a couple of weeks ago; the landlord told him that someone had come for your things and handled what was left on your lease. Paid off the final eight months. In cash.”

“Now you have Kyle doing your dirty work for you? When you say jump, does he ask ‘how high?’? You really will stop at nothing to weasel your way into my life. Stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“You’re my daughter. My child. My…”

“No, mother. I’m a grown adult. Who is minding her own business and building a life for herself. Don’t start pretending to start giving a shit about me. It’s a little too late for that.”

“Am I at least allowed to know where you are?”

“I’m safe. That’s all that matters.”

“With him.”

“He has a name. I know you have this unhinged, bizarre hate towards him, but…”

“He took you away from me. From your family. He’s keeping you god knows where…”

“I’m here willingly. I’m here because I want to be. No one is keeping me under lock and key. Or holding a gun to my head. Why can’t that be enough for you? Knowing that I’m okay. That I’m safe and secure and protected. That I’m happy. Why…?”

“You barely know him. You…”

“Tyler, mom. His name is Tyler. Can’t you show him just that little bit of respect? He saved me. In every way a person CAN be saved. And we’re happy here. With each other. We’re making a life together. And I don’t want you or anyone else ruining that for us.”

“Where exactly is here? Australia? Did you go back there with him?”

“No. Not yet. We’ll get there, though. Eventually. Right now we’re just taking things easy. Lying low. Concentrating on each other. Getting to know one another.”

“And you can’t tell me where all of this is happening?”

“We’re in Europe.”

“Europe is a big place, Esme.”

“‘We’re in Austria.”

“Where in Austria?”

“Bergenz.” The lie rolls easily off her tongue. “A little place right near Lake Constance. It’s nice and quiet. Nothing fancy.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Throwing your life away for some man. You barely know him; you went away on a business trip and ended up someone’s whore. You…”

“I love him. And he loves me. He…”

“You’re in love with what he can give you. How rich IS he?”

“What the hell kind of question is that? I’m not some gold digger, mother. I never have. But for your information, he’s just a regular guy. Strictly blue collar. He’s not a rich man by any stretch of the imagination. At least not when it comes to money, anyway.”

“What kind of blue-collar job puts someone in the hospital for months on end?”

“I already told you. He does private security. A job went south. He got hurt. Badly.”

“And you just somewhat randomly happened to meet him? While doing your own job? You do realize how suspicious that sounds, don’t you?”

“It’s what happened. We ended up in each other’s paths. It’s as simple as that.”

“The whole thing reeks, Esme. Your entire story. How you met him, what he does for a living, what happened to him in some shit hole, third world country. You must realize how lame this all sounds, don’t you? How pathetic? I know you’re hiding something.”

“I told you the basics. You don’t need to know anything else. What goes on between Tyler and me? That’s our business. Not yours. So you’ll just have to learn to accept it; the fact I met someone and I’m not coming home.”

“The hell I do.”

“Look, let’s just end things here, okay? You know I’m alive. You know I’m safe. That’s all that matters.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Before things go bad. It’s how things in your life are. It’s how YOU are.”

“Goodbye, mom.”

“Don’t think you can come crawling back here when he tosses you to the curb. When he finally grows tired of your bullshit and lashes out. Just like Mark did. Don’t you…”

“I said goodbye, mom.”

Ending the call before anything else can be said, she sits with her eyes closed as she attempts to regain her composure. She feels light-headed and nauseous; her chest is impossibly tight, her hands tremble violently as they tightly clutch the phone. And she doesn’t move until Lucy gives a pitiful whine and rests her head on her thigh.

“Everything’s okay,” she assures the dog. Managing a smile, she scratches under Lucy’s chin, strokes her ears and ruffles the fur at the nape of her neck. “I’m fine, sweet girl” Leaning down to place a kiss on the dog’s nose, she laughs when her face is bathed in kisses in response. “Best therapist ever,” she declares and stands. “Now let’s go and get some dinner”

*****

Tyler stands at the counter; briefly glancing over his shoulder when he hears the door open. Greeting her with a smile before returning to the task at hand; removing plates, cups, and cutlery from cupboards and drawers, stirring the pot of soup that simmers on the hot plate.

“I was starting to get worried. Thought maybe a coyote got you. Or that you decided to run away from home.”

“Was that wishful thinking on your part?” she teases, as she toes off her boots and yanks the knit beaning from her head. Smoothing a palm over her hair, then shoving the garment into one of the pockets on her coat. “Were you hoping I disappeared? Or that I ended up some tasty snack for the wildlife?”

“Yeah…right…” He uses a pair of metal tongs to scoop salad onto the empty plates “I can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”

“I have bad news for you, buddy…” Shrugging out of her coat, she places it over his as it hangs on a hook next to the door. “...you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get rid of you at all. Have you ever considered that?”

“Have you ever considered you’re a glutton for punishment? What’s the saying?” Wanders into the living room, she shoves her feet into a pair of Ugg slippers before joining him in the kitchen. “Be careful what you wish for?”

“If spending the next forty, fifty years with you is the worst that could happen to me, I’ll consider myself extremely lucky.”

“Jesus…” Desperately needing that closeness, connection and security that only he can provide, she steps behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back. “...maybe your brain injury IS worse than they thought.”

“This is probably the most coherent I’ve been thinking in years.” He gives her the time she needs; alternating between sipping a mug of coffee and repeatedly cleaning the same spot on the counter as she clings to him. Not moving or speaking until she pats her hands against his stomach, squeezes his hips, and steps back. Gulping down his drink before turning to face her. “Everything alright?”

“I finally got up the nerve to answer the phone. I wish I could say I’m pleasantly surprised about how things went…”

“That good, huh?”

“Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, but still pretty goddamn awful.”

“I’m sorry. I never should have got on you about talking to her. I just thought the sooner you did, the sooner she’d just leave you the fuck alone.”

“It’s not your fault she’s a total cunt. And you were right; I did need to get my head out of my ass and deal with her. She would have just kept calling and leaving voice messages until I finally had a mental breakdown. Which…who knows…could be her end game.”

“What did she want?” Handing her a bowl of salad and a fork, he leans against the counter and digs into his own. “Just checking up on ya? Making sure I’m not holding you hostage? Putting drugs in your food? Forcing you to comply and stay in my…what did she call it…den of iniquity?”

“She’s a crazy bitch. She wanted to know when I was coming home. Colorado hasn’t been home in over a decade. I don’t know why the hell she thought I’d head there. Want to hear the most fucked up part? A total mommy dearest moment? She sent my brother Kyle to Prague. To my apartment. I guess she thought I was bullshitting about where I was. That I was merely locking myself in the house and ignoring everyone.”

“Must have been a hell of a shock when he found your place was empty.”

“Just a bit. I told her we were in Austria; just lying low, taking it easy and recuperating. I didn’t say EXACTLY where, though. The last thing we need is her sending a search party to Gmunden.”

“Isn’t the biggest place. They could probably just ask in town and then track us down.”

“It wouldn’t be too difficult. I mean, a six-foot-three Australian with a bad limp and a resting asshole face doesn’t exactly blend into the crowd.”

“You’re going to have to tell her eventually. The WHOLE truth. Because it WILL get out. Somehow. And not hearing it from you will cause a whole world of trouble.”

“It’s not an easy thing to tell people, you know? Would you want to hear it? That your kid was caught up in black ops? That she was selling people out to mercenaries? That she was making money lying about who she was and using and deceiving people?”

“It would be hard to hear. But, they’re still my kid and…”

“My mother is NOT like us. She doesn’t think the way we do. And she’s hardly a parent. At least she was never one to me.”

“Are you embarrassed? Of the truth?”

“What would I be embarrassed of? And please don’t say you, because that is the furthest thing from the truth.”

“I kill people for money. Or I used to, anyway.”

“We are not getting into that conversation. You know where I stand; how I feel about what you do…what you DID. And you’re not going to change my mind But for the record? No. I’m not embarrassed of you. I have no reason to be. I didn’t do anything wrong: I knew exactly who you were and what you did and I went into things willingly. And I STAY in them willingly. I’m not trying to hide you, Tyler.”

“I never said…”

“I’m trying to protect you. And I know what you’re going to say; you’re a big boy and can take care of yourself and you don’t need little old me doing it for you.”

“You are just putting all kinds of words in my mouth tonight.”

“And I don’t mean PHYSICALLY protect you. I mean, look at me. I’m all of five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet. I wouldn’t do much damage even if I tried.”

“I don’t know, it’s the little ones you usually need to watch out for. They’re cagey fuckers.”

“I’m talking about protecting you…US…from them. I know what my family is like. Especially my mother. She’s already on the warpath; talking all kinds of bullshit and trying to make you sound like some horrible, controlling and abusive person. She finds out the truth? She will make things worse.”

“I don’t give a fuck what she thinks about me. You should know that by now.”

“But I care. It hurts, alright? Hearing her talking about you like that. Because I know who you are. I know what you’ve been through and how you almost didn’t make it out the other side. And because I love you. Who wants to hear mean shit about the person they love?”

“I just think you need to take it with a grain of salt. I don’t want you getting worked up over it. I’m not the only one that’s been through it. In the past ten months. You shouldn't have to go through THIS, too.”

“If I tell her everything, she will make it her mission to tear us apart. She will do whatever she can to come between us. And I know you think I’m brave and strong and…”

“You are. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

“...maybe I am. Most of the time. But I’m tired. I don’t have it in me to fight right now. I am so tired, Tyler. Is it really so wrong that I can’t do it right now? That I just want a fucking break?”

“No.” Plucking the bowl out of her hand, he sets it on the counter, then gathers her into his arms. Hands continuously running up and down her back as her arms circle his waist and her head rests against him. “It’s not wrong at all.”

“I just want it to be US. At least for a little while.”

“As long as you need it to be, okay? No rush.”

“I just can’t do it. I can’t deal with her. Not right now.”

“You don’t have to. She calls back, I’ll answer. You don’t need to worry about her. I’ll take care of things.”

She looks up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What did I do wrong?”

“What do you mean? What…?”

“To make her hate me like she does. What did I do? To deserve it?”

“You didn’t do a goddamn thing. The way she is? It’s not about you. It’s about her. She’s a bitter, nasty old woman. She’s dead inside. She doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but herself.”

“But she’s only like that with me. She’s never loved me. She never even wanted me. Why? What did I ever do? If she’d just told me, I could have fixed things. I could have been better. I could have…”

“Esme…” Cradling her face in his palms, his thumbs swipe at the tears that glisten on her cheeks. “...it’s not about you. It never has been. You didn’t do anything wrong. And you didn’t deserve it. You still don’t.”

“I’m tired. I am so tired.”

“I know.” He presses a kiss to her brow, then gathers her even tighter into his chest. “It’s time to rest now, okay? You’ve fought enough. You don’t need to do it anymore. I’ve got just enough in me to do it for both of us.”

“I just want it to be us. No one else. Just us.”

“It will be,” he assures her, feeling her body tremble against his as she openly sobs. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. She can’t hurt you anymore. No one can.”

****

“When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

They lay on the couch; caught up in a mess of naked limbs and tangled blankets. Basking in both the aftermath of their lovemaking and the warmth from the nearby fire.

His knuckles slide along the small of her back. “Where did that come from?”

“I know, totally random.” Esme laughs against the side of his neck. “Not the most romantic of pillow talk, huh?”

“And you say I’m terrible at it.”

“You talk about food and football and how long it’s going to take you to be ready to go again. Whispering sweet nothings is definitely NOT your forte.”

“Sweet nothings? Who are you trying to kid? You’re not into the shit. You like the absolute filth that comes out of my mouth. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“The filthier the better.” Spresses a series of kisses along his jaw, stopping at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t want you to change, though. I kinda like you the way you are. You’re perfect. At least for me, anyway.”

“Are you sure you’re not the one with the brain injury?”

“You’ll never see yourself the way I see you. I’ve relegated myself to that fact.” Rolling onto her stomach, she places her head on his chest. “I think talking to the wicked witch of the midwest brought some things up. About my childhood. And where I ended up compared to where I’d hoped I’d be.”

“Where DID you hope you’d be?”

“Not here, that’s for sure.”

“So but ass naked with a mercenary wasn’t high on your list of dream scenarios, I take it?”

“No. But that certainly turned out extremely well, didn’t it? Of all the things I have no complaints about, you’re at the top of the list. Well, I could do without your snoring and how you leave your dirty clothes in front of the hamper instead of putting them inside…”

“I’m working on it. I’ve lived alone for a long time. I haven’t had to worry about that kind of shit in a while.”

“As far as cohabiting goes, I’ve lived with A LOT worse. And you’re hot, so you tend to get away with a lot more than other mere mortals.”

“Yeah, you’re not hard to look at either. Which is why I don’t get on your case about squeezing the toothpaste tube in the middle. Or how you leave half-empty mugs of tea all over the goddamn place. That’s something I don’t get, actually.”

“What’s that?”

“How you always leave some behind when you make yourself a drink. But if I do it for you, you drink the whole thing. What’s up with that?”

“Because when you make it, it’s perfect. It tastes just right. Way better than when I do it myself.”

“I think that’s all in your head. How different could it be? It’s boiled water and a tea bag. A bit of milk.”

“I can’t explain it, alright. It’s just the way it is. It’s just so much better.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re spoiled. Or you like to be, anyway. All that independent woman stuff? That whole ‘I don’t need any man’ thing? I think deep down it’s all an act. That you like being taken care of. Probably because no one has ever done it.”

“Is that so wrong?” Raising her head from his chest, she smiles as he pushes a hand through her hair. Fingers slipping through the long, dark tresses; calloused tips brushing against the nape of her neck before travelling down the length of her spine. “If I DO like it?”

“Nothing wrong with it at all. I just wish I was better at it. Not really my strength, you know? Taking care of other people.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“I think you give me too much. That, and my past kind of speaks for itself.”

“You’re not exactly the guy you were back then.”

“Maybe not. But I’m not even the guy I was when I met you. At least not physically. I can’t take care of you and protect you the way I could nine months ago.”

“Nine months ago, you were clinically dead. I think you’re allowed to be a little rusty. Besides, if you had to? If there was some kind of threat? If I was in danger? You’d find a way to protect me. Nothing would stop you. Not even a bad shoulder or a bum leg. It’s one thing I never worry about when I’m with you. If I’m safe or not.”

“I may not have all the right words, and I may not know how to handle things sometimes, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Esme. To make you happy. Keep you safe. Even with my fucked up head. And body.”

“You’ve come a long way. In less than a year. And you’re not broken, Tyler. Mentally or physically. A little banged up and dented and tarnished, maybe. But not broken.”

“You have this uncanny ability of always seeing the best in people. Whether anything good exists in them or not.”

“A lot of good exists inside of you. I’ve never doubted that. I’ve always seen it. It was in your eyes; I saw it the second Nik introduced us. You had this kindness in them. This humanity. This sadness. You were carrying around all this baggage and all this pain, but it was still there. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met on the job. In many ways.”

“Admit it, you were just thankful you didn’t end up having to be pretend married to some ugly, miserable old fuck,”

“Well, you certainly aren’t ugly. Or old.”

Tyler smirks. “You smart ass.”

“Before I met you, I’d never felt protected. Safe. I didn’t even realize I wanted…or needed… to feel those things.”

“I’m just sorry that everyone in your life has been such a fucking disappointment. Especially that dick head ex-husband of yours.”

“Falling for his bullshit was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. The only thing bigger? Staying with him. I always told myself I’d never be that type of woman; someone who would just roll over and take the abuse and hold onto this faint hope that I could change him. Talk about being a judgy bitch, huh? I never understood why women stuck around. How could they be so weak and pathetic? Why would they just sit back and ‘take it’? And then it happened to me and I realized it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t as simple as just walking away.”

“There’s nothing weak or pathetic about you. I learned that quickly. IN Dhaka. Never mind everything you put up with afterwards.”

“The saddest part of it all is that I started to believe every word that came out of his mouth. That he was the best I could do. I was lucky to have someone like him; he kept a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on my back. Even if I didn’t deserve those things. He always called it tough love; the beatings and the verbal abuse helped ‘toughen me up’. I was too sensitive. Too soft. Especially for someone who’d been in the Corps. He used to say I must have ‘slept my way’ through the system.”

“You know, the more you talk about him, the more homicidal I become.”

“As much as I appreciate you wanting to defend my honour and rip him from limb to limb, it’s not why I bring him up. I don’t do it to piss you off; I do it so you’ll know more about me. We didn’t get much time for that kind of thing, you know? We were only in Dhaka for five days and then you were unconscious for half a year after that. We didn’t get much of a chance, did we? To learn about one another.”

“Yeah, we have been sort of thrown to the wolves, haven’t we? Not that I’m complaining. It hasn’t been that bad.”

“Hasn’t been that bad, huh?” She laughs, and tugs playfully at one of his ears. “I know you’re just speaking for yourself when you say that. Because I swear, living with you sometimes…”

Grinning he brings a hand down on her ass in a playful slap, then lightly pinches the supple skin. “Why are you mean to me all the time? Why do you tease me so much?”

“Because it’s fun. And it’s not being mean, I promise, everything I say? I say out of love. And pure animalistic lust.”

“That’s my favourite kind.” His free hand gently gathers up her hair. Moving it away from her face and off her shoulder; palm smoothing down it as it lays on her back. The smile quickly fading, his eyes darkening. “You know it wasn’t your fault, yeah? All the things he said. The things he did. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’m starting to realize that. It’s taking a lot longer than I thought; coming to terms with just how awful he was and what I allowed him to get away with. I thought it would be easier; I’d just be able to put it behind me as soon as I got away from him.”

“You need to stop blaming yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was never about you, Esme. It was always about him.”

“When I finally left, I told myself I’d stay single forever. It just wasn’t worth putting myself out there; having to explain my past and defend the choices I made. And forget about trusting someone; every person I’d ever had any faith in turned out to be nothing but a fucking disappointment. How do you get close to someone after going through all that? How do you ever feel comfortable with anyone again? Let them even get remotely close?”

“Something must have went wrong, huh?” He chides, and tugs on a strand of her hair. ‘Cause here we are.”

“Before you, the only thing I ever knew…or thought I knew…about love was that it hurt. It was painful; physically AND mentally. Everyone I’d loved…who had claimed to love ME...destroyed me.”

“No. They didn’t. Because if you did, we wouldn’t be here right now. Talking about this. You wouldn’t have even looked at me twice, let alone given me a chance. They didn’t destroy you, Esme. They tried. But it didn’t work.”

“Everything changed when you came along. I changed. All those things Mark said to me? About how no one would ever want me? That I was too difficult to love and didn’t deserve to be? It took you less than a week to prove him wrong.”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of prize, okay? I’ve got my own issues. Maybe not nearly as bad as his, but…”

“You never hid them from me, though. And you never used them to hurt me. You made me feel beautiful. You looked at me like I was the most incredible woman on earth. And that was only four days into things.”

“To me you were, You ARE.”

“You’re not the monster you think you are, Tyler. You’re a good man who has been through some bad shit. Who’s had to do some questionable things out of self-perseverance. And yeah, maybe you have made some bad decisions. But believe me, even with all your baggage? The drinking and the pain meds? You are nowhere near being like Mark.”

“I’m trying. I don’t want to be a mess forever. You deserve better than that.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re not as messy as you were. I think nearly dying had something to do with that; hard to be an alcoholic and a junkie when you’re in a coma for seven months.”

“I think rehab would have been slightly less painful. Than taking a bullet to the throat.”

“How quickly you forget the seven others they pulled from you.”

“Trust me, my body reminds me every day. The only thing I really hate? About how it went down? The fact that you had to see all of that. That you had to see me completely fucked up.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know how bad things would go. And yeah, it’s going to stay with me. For quite a while. But I’ll deal. I’ll just take it one day at a time.”

“You know you don’t have to do that alone, yeah? Deal with it?”

Smiling, she presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “I know.”

Gathering up the edges of one of the blankets, she pulls it further up their naked bodies; tucking it under her chin as she once more lays her head upon his shoulder. Her breath is warm and sweet against the side of his neck as his fingers continuously glide up and down her spine; her own tracing the tattoo on his right rib cage and repeatedly combing through his longer strands of hair. He enjoys the closeness in a way he never had before; failing to remember the last time anyone had made him feel that relaxed and comfortable. This beautiful, impossibly tiny woman somehow his refuge. The one person that makes HIM feel safe and secure.

“You never did answer my question.”

He turns his face into hers, lips meeting her brow. “I forgot what it was.”

“When you were a little boy, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

“You mean other than as far away from my old man as possible?”

“What kind of things did you dream about? What did you hope to be doing as an adult?”

“I had a couple of things that were pretty far-fetched. Although when I was little, nothing seemed impossible.”

“What were they?”

“I wanted to be a professional surfer. Or a pro football player.”

“Honestly, I’m not surprised with either of those choices. You wanted to play for the Western Bulldogs, didn’t you.”

“Guilty as charged. They’ve always been my favourite. Which is weird, considering I was born and raised in the East. Once I got a bit older, I started thinking more realistically about things. Decided I wanted to be a firefighter. Or a cop.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I just can’t see you as a cop. I don’t know why. Definitely a firefighter, though. You’d look so hot in turn-out gear.”

“I didn’t think that kind of thing would turn you on. Not with your brother being one..”

“My brother is…I don’t know…my brother. Totally not in the same league as you. How come you never went in that direction? You would have passed all the training; you were athletic, you had the size, the strength. What made you choose the military?”

“My graduating year, they had one of those ‘career days’. You know where people from all different lines of work come and peddle what they do and try to drum up interest. There was a recruiter from the army there and I’m sure you know what they’re like; fatigues, boots all polished, overly cheerful and optimistic.”

“I was offered that job once. When I first joined the Corps. I was told it was a better choice for me; it suited my personality better.”

“What did you tell them? To go fuck themselves?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“I bet you were underestimated right from the day you were born.”

“I’ve always been a study in contraction. People expect meek and mild. I know you did.”

“I did. And man, did I ever find out the hard way. You didn’t waste your time telling me to get fucked.”

“And not in the fun, sexy way, either.”

“Nope. That came a few days later.”

She laughs against the side of his neck, then places a line of kisses along his jaw. “And when it did, it was very fun and very, very, VERY sexy.”

“I have no complaints.”

“So…” Lifting her head from its resting place, she uses two fingertips to clear strands of hair from his brow. “...this recruiter…”

“You’re nothing if not persistent.”

“I like to know things. About you. And I want to know ALL of them. All the things.”

“This guy knew how to sell things. He made it sound so awesome. I’d get to play with guns, learn how to drive a tank, jump out of airplanes. They’d even pay for it if I wanted to further my education; become an engineer or an instructor or just make my way up the food chain and be an officer.”

“Would you have wanted to be one? An officer?”

“I don’t think so. Being out there breaking a sweat and getting my hands dirty was always my thing. The idea of wearing a uniform, sitting behind a desk and getting old and fat doesn’t do it for me, you know? But you know what really sold it? I’d get to see the world. Travel to different places. On their dime.”

“Yeah, even in the States they try hard to sell that side of things.”

“I hadn’t even turned eighteen yet. I was desperate to escape; I wanted to be as far away from my dad as possible and being in the army made the most sense. But I was young and dumb; I never stopped to think that ‘seeing the world’ really meant going into war-torn places; displacing people even more, killing them, even.”

“That’s not ALL you did. You helped more people than you hurt. That’s something I’m sure of.”

“Isn’t helping what hurts them most of the time?”

“It’s easy to see it that way, I guess. Sometimes the road to helping others isn’t a pretty one. And war is ugly; you and I have seen that firsthand. But isn’t it sometimes beautiful, too? When the means lead to an incredible end? When you see just how much you’ve helped someone? How better their life becomes simply because you showed up in it?”

“I don’t know how you do it. See things…people…the way you do.”

“I learned a long time ago that if I didn’t find the good in everything and everyone, I wasn’t going to survive. Not mentally, anyway. I was there too; in the Middle East. And we may not have had the same job and the same responsibilities, but I saw just how awful things were. I heard the horror stories.”

“You of all people didn’t deserve to be there. Going through all that.”

“But I chose it. The poor people that lived there didn’t. And you know what? it’s so much easier to remember the bad stuff. One horrible thing can wipe out a hundred good things.”

“Every so often, that psychology degree of yours comes out to play.”

“It’s less what I learned in school and more I learned OUT of it. Not to mention PTSD is a monster. Sometimes it makes it pretty hard to see the good in anything.”

“Is there you start psychoanalyzing me? Do you charge by the hour or…?”

“It’s just the truth, unfortunately. And you DO have PTSD.”

“I’m not the only one in this room…this bed…that does.”

“Maybe…” (trails a nail along the length of his jaw, over the scar that mars the bottom of his chin). “...but you’re the only one officially diagnosed, so…”

He doesn’t push it; knowing she’s not in the right ‘headspace’ to confront her demons. That choosing to focus on his healing and his battles effectively -for now- silences and numbs her own.

“What about you?” His hand moves through her hair; dark, silky tresses slipping easily through his fingers, palm coming to rest in the middle of her back.

“What about me?”

“What were you like? When you were a little girl? Not that you ever grew… physically…past twelve.” Grinning, he places a kiss on her brow when she laughs. “What did a young Esme dream about? What did she want to be?”

“God, so many different things. I always had these lofty, little girl dreams; wild and crazy things that would never come true. Like marrying a Crown Prince or becoming a famous actress and winning a record number of Oscars. I even used to practice my acceptance speeches in the bathroom mirror. Or I’d write the next great American novel; it would top the charts around the world and I’d win a Pulitzer. I even once thought I’d invent a cure for cancer and win a Nobel.”

“I’m sure a couple of those weren’t too far out of reach. You could find a cure for cancer. Or write a novel. You’re still young.”

“The craziest thing I ever wanted to be? A fighter pilot. A female Maverick from Top Gun.”

“Now that I CAN’T see.”

“Once I realized I needed to concentrate on something a tad more realistic, I switched to teaching and nursing. I would have loved to have gotten into pediatrics. Or taught kindergarten kids. Catch them when they’re still so innocent and curious and so in love with the world and everyone in it.”

“You’d be amazing at both of those. I can see why kids would love you.”

“Why? Because I’m just as small as they are?”

“Well, THAT. But just the way you are. WHO you are. You see the good in the world. Everything you’ve been through…the things you’ve seen and heard and even DONE…you still find beauty in everything. Not to mention you have the patience of a saint, Look how long you’ve stuck around. Put up with my shit.”

“You’re not as difficult as you think you are.”

“But I AM difficult.”

“You have your moments.” She kisses him; signing into his mouth when he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her tighter against him.

“You know, you could still do one of those things. Teach or be a nurse. You’ve got a lot of years ahead of you still.”

“I’m going to have to figure out something. I can’t sit on my ass for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not like there’s a rush. We’re not exactly poor. We’re not going to run out of money anytime soon. And if you wanted to go back and work for Nik…”

“No. HELL NO. That ship has long sailed. You’re not the only one that’s retired. You know what I really want to do right now? Until it’s no longer financially possible or we drive each other crazy? Whichever comes first?”

“What’s that?”

“Just…live. With you. And without having to worry about what comes next. “ She once more settles her head on his chest; a hand on his shoulder, thumb continuously brushing against the Roman numeral tattoo that decorates the skin. “Do you want to know what I REALLY wanted to? When I was growing up? Something I still think about from time to time?”

“Of course I want to know.”

“I wanted to own a bookstore.”

“You know for some reason, that makes total sense with you.”

“I kept a journal for the longest time. Completely dedicated to the dream. I’d write down all my ideas, and even sketch things out. I had it all planned out. It would have snow-white walls, but I’d fill the place with tons of colourful furniture and decor and have neighbourhood kids submit artwork I’d frame and hang. And I have dedicated spaces for people to hang out; chess tables, comfy chairs to settle down and read a book in, a courtyard out back if they wanted fresh air. I’d even have drinks and treats. Coffee, tea, and juices, muffins and cookies and sandwiches.”

“Sounds like a pretty awesome place.”

“I’d have a dedicated kids' space; everything in primary colours, a little play area and craft station, a small party room where they could celebrate their birthday. There’d be fish tanks; a couple for turtles, even. And some cages for birds and a few hamsters. And there’d be a bookstore cat.”

“You had all this planned out?”

Esme nods enthusiastically. “I even had the name picked. Do you want to hear it?”

“You should know by now that you don’t need to ask if I want to hear things.”

“I wanted to call it Turn the Page.”

(smiling, he uses two fingers to loop strands of hair behind her ears) “That’s perfect. And you sometimes still think about it? Owning a place like that?”

“Sometimes. We all hold on to some little dream, don’t we? Something from our childhood that can’t seem to let go of?”

“I mean, it’s not like it’s impossible. If it’s something you really want to do…”

“It’s just a little something I like to think about from time to time. That dream of mine got me through some pretty rough shit growing up. I always could escape to it; when my mom was being extra horrible.”

“Would you WANT to do it? Is it something that would make you happy? Having your bookstore?”

“Right now, I have all I need to make me happy. All I want to concentrate on? Is you. Us.”

Pecking his ips, then moves onto her side; her back pressed against the rear cushions of the sofa, face nestled in the crook of his neck, Their eyes closed as his fingers continuously graze up and down her spine and they listen to the crackling of the fire and winter storm raging outside; the howling of the wind and the rattling of the windows and the patter of ice against the glass.

She yawns noisily, then rubs her cheek against him) “I love you, you know.”

“I know. And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You make me want to be a better man.”

S raises her head to look at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. “What?”

“You do. I want to be better for you. I want to be the kind of man YOU want. That you can be proud of.”

“I DO want you. And I AM proud of you.”

“But I want it to stay that way. I don’t want to go back to who I was. I want to be better. Do better. Be what you need. And deserve. Hey….” (gives an awkward chuckle when the tears escape, quickly using his fingertips to swipe them off her cheeks) “...don’t do that. Don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

“I think that’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. It’s the best compliment I’ve EVER gotten.”

“It’s all true. It’s the way you make me feel. Not just wanting to BE better, but knowing I can get there.”