1. Novel

  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 25
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 25

IN A BLINK, I’m only a few houses away from her driveway as the source of her annoyance bursts out of the front door, half-dressed, shirt in hand while making a beeline for his car.
Ignoring the immediate sting of jealousy, I make it to her driveway in a blur, taking a mental snapshot of the license before meeting the asshole at the front bumper of his expensive sedan. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he barely acknowledges my murderous stare while issuing his warning.
“I wouldn’t recommend going in there.” He glances back at the house as he opens his driver’s door muttering, “Crazy bitch.”
Needing to get to her but tempted to make him swallow his fucking tongue, her cries reach me where I stand—deciding for me on which instinct to act on just before the asshole races out of her driveway.
Burning his plate into memory for safekeeping, I pound up the porch steps two at a time, and am stopped short outside the screen door by the sight of her.
Crouched in the middle of her living room floor, wearing nothing but fitted white cotton underwear, Delphine rocks back and forth, arms wrapped around her legs.
Without thinking, I stalk in and easily lift her from where she sits and into my arms. Mixed mumbles pour from her lips, and I faintly make out a few of her whispered words as I search her for any signs he was aggressive with her.
“W-wrist and u-l-na . . .” she croaks in a delivery I can’t decipher, “d-damage t-to . . . pipe . . . will heal.” Her voice breaks on the last two words as if they’re a lie before her face crumples and a guttural sob escapes her.
Panicked by her state, I desperately search her, satisfied when I come up empty for fresh injury. It’s when I start walking with her that she seems to lift slightly from her stupor, relaxing in my hold only when she realizes who’s carrying her.
“Tyler.” She whispers my name in a dream-like lilt, which in any other circumstance would sound sublime coming from her perfect lips. She peers back at me with vodka-glazed eyes, a black smudge beneath one of them, her lipstick slightly smeared. My heart fractures at the image of her I’ve been replaying all night in contrast to her current state. Cradling her to me while trying to ignore the feel of her in my arms, I stare back at her, heart pounding, without any fucking idea of what to say.
As I take the hallway toward her room, she continues to keep her silver-gray gaze fixed on me, arms tightening around my neck as I walk her into her bedroom. Crimson threatens to snake into my vision as I eye the bed while crossing the threshold, finally getting my words out.
“Are you hurt?”
“Non . . . that is not possible,” she declares defiantly, even in her weakened state. “Men cannot hurt me anymore.” She shakes her head as if the notion is laughable. “No man in my life has been worth the conflict they cause,” she spits icily. “Not one. Al—” She cuts herself off, refusing to say her ex-husband’s name. But I know it. All too fucking well now. A name branded into my psyche as well as my hatred for him.
Alain.
“This whole charade between men and women,” Delphine whispers, “this notion of true love,” she expels with disgust, her tone gathering a bitter strength as I stand at the edge of her bed while idling with her securely in my arms, “makes those who believe in it weak, pathetic fucking fools.”
“I can’t, at all, disagree with you for the moment,” the declaration spoken straight from said fool’s mouth as I gently deposit my weakness on her bed.
“Non?” she asks, staring up at me, eyes sweeping back and forth.
“Yeah, for the moment, I’m with you on that,” I say as she studies me closely. Forever searching, weighing words for truth. Trust issues seem a mild blanket statement in comparison to what she’s battling. And fuck how I want the trust to seek the rest of those answers. At this point, she’s become more than a person but rather a place I want to be, and I think that’s what bothers me most about the space she’s put between us.
Pulling the covers up to guard her modesty, I avert my eyes after glimpsing a peek of her quarter-sized, rose-colored nipples, holding my groan inward. Palming the sheet to her chest, she barks out a mocking laugh while pulling a cigarette out of a pack from her bedside table.
“You Americans and your modesty,” she scoffs. “Men and women should have no issue stating their desires, showing both passion in their words and allowing dominance in their lovemaking without restraint.”
“I’m also with you on that.” Grabbing her lighter, I spark up her cigarette before she has a chance to. “I’m not really good at restraint in that particular area.”
She takes a long drag, speaking on exhale, seeming unphased by my confession or simply lost in her rant. I glance around for her bottle to check the level and come up empty.
“The men I encounter always claim to be titans, forces to be reckoned with. Whispering ignorant promises. Every single time.” She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “That connard probably could not please a woman if he had two cocks, let alone be half the man he declared himself to be,” she sighs, seeming to truly see me before sobering considerably and dropping her gaze.
“Mon Dieu, Tyler, I’m sorry.” She blows out a long breath. “This, I . . . no, that was not meant for you to see.” She points toward the living room. “Or to hear or for us to discuss.” She shakes her head, clear shame in her expression. “Forgive me. Sometimes, I forget you are so young.”
How I fucking wish you would.
I don’t bother to mention that naked women don’t intimidate me in the least. It’s her bare skin I can’t allow myself to feast on because I can still feel the silk of her skin buzzing on my fingers.
“Not that young,” I pointlessly remind her.
Briefly, I wonder what my moody, French version of Yoda would think if she knew I’m more Anakin inside than any pure-as-the-driven-snow, guileless, clueless Luke Skywalker. Laughably, and now ironically, in the same fucked predicament as Anakin—infatuated with an older woman who sees him as nothing more than a kid.
“Dom is not here.” She bites her lip, keeping her eyes lowered. “I wouldn’t have brought him home if—”
“I know, he’s at the meetup, and you don’t have to justify it to me.” I hate the words, rebuke them altogether the second I release them as jealousy snakes its way back in. Because I want her to feel accountable to me. I want her making excuses for why she even fucking entertained another man tonight. And stupidly and hypocritically, even as I’ve done everything in my power to fuck her out of my headspace with my hookups, I now want her fidelity.
As she keeps her eyes lowered, I memorize what I can—the arc of her slender neck, olive skin, and contoured shoulders. Her hair down and still tousled, looking like black silk as it cascades in thick waves over each of her shoulders. Even when I look at her objectively to try to reason with myself, she only looks slightly older than the girls my age, with one exception—by comparison, she’s a fucking bombshell with the insides to match.
“I didn’t come to see Dom,” I state, unable to hold the hint of underlying heat, which costs me fucking dearly when her eyes drift up and hold a beat. Fuck.
“Turn your head, Tyler.”
Doing as I’m told, I hear the rustle of fabric. Not long after, she sighs her consent, and I turn back to find my view interrupted by the large T-shirt she procured from a nearby pile of laundry. Just next to it sits her infamous cigar box, her French translation bible never far from it.
She was triggered tonight, and the knowledge of why is never far from my psyche.
Eyeing the closest picture, I see who I now know is Alain with Delphine possessively in his grip, a sadistic fucking look in his eyes. The utter hate and territorial jealousy I feel for someone I’ve never met threatens as I palm the back of my neck, fighting the anger his presence—even in his permanent absence—evokes from me. “Can I . . . get you anything?”
“No,” she answers sharply, too sharply as she does when she senses my eyes on her for too long.
Securing my mask tightly in place while pushing all desire-filled thoughts away, I flit through the number of questions I’m becoming more impatient to ask as she rattles below me. The one most burning. ‘What was so special about Alain that you endured his abuse for so long?’ Instead, I ask the only one that truly matters. “Are you okay, Delphine?”
The use of her name has her staring back at me, unflinching, despite the state I found her in. If anything, she seems to be filling with contempt. She retrieves her cigarette from the dirty ashtray on her nightstand, resting against her tattered wicker headboard while pulling the sheet up and over her crossed legs.
“How old are you now, Tyler?”
“I turned eighteen a few months ago,” I relay, knowing it means fuck all to her.
She runs her thumb down the side of her cigarette. “Old enough to do yourself and the women in your life a service.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Don’t make promises to women you have no intention of keeping, in and out of the bedroom.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Will you? I doubt it,” she scoffs, exhaling a plume of smoke, her steady stare penetrating. Guard rising, a snake-like fog starts to cloud her eyes. Its arrival letting me know her alcohol-drenched brain is convincing her that I’m going from ally to enemy. There’s nothing I can get her. There’s no way to get to her, and it’s time to go before she lashes out. “I’m going to head home.”
“Why?” she asks with a venomous smirk that brings my irritation to its breaking point. “You don’t like taking advice from a woman?”
“No, because your lecture is unnecessary, hence the shaking thighs of the girl I just drove home. I know very well how to fuck, Delphine, so I’m covered there. Sorry your date didn’t work out as well,” I grit out. “And as far as your advice, I’m all ears for it whenever Smirnoff isn’t the one helping to cultivate it. Nor am I willing to tune into it when you’ve got a warped sense that I’m the enemy and a cruel, calculating fucking look in your eyes for me that we both know I don’t deserve. So yeah, tonight, I’m going to pass.”
When her lips part in clear surprise, a sick satisfaction thrums through me that I got any reaction from her at all.
“Sorry,” I draw out dryly, my tone anything but apologetic, “I’m utilizing my mask a little less these days, General. Advice of yours I chose to take because I’ve aged into playing the fucking adult game now.” I shake my head, speaking on exhale. “The fuck am I doing?”
Knowing better than to argue with alcohol, I bite out my parting words. “Take care. I guess I’ll see you around.”
She bites her lip and nods as I turn and stride toward her bedroom door. I’m a step outside of it when I hear her whispered confession.
“I miss fishin’ buddy very much.”
Freezing, I turn back to see the release of a tiny tear and go utterly still at the sight of it. She stares back at me in shock that I heard her barely audible confession as the ice around my heart instantly melts at her acknowledgment. The rest of it sliding off as I watch the tear I know belongs to me trailing down her cheek. A tear that has me stepping back toward her bed in demand of an explanation. When she sees my intent, her mouth opens and closes but I shake my head in warning, refuting her any ability to try and backtrack.
“You miss me?” I ask, point-blank, holding her gaze in demand of an answer. But it’s the defeated look in her eyes that speaks volumes before her lips finally part.
“Oui,” she whispers, “I miss you very much. You were my only friend.”
“Then why in the fuck did you push me away?”
She bites her lip, and her eyes drop.
“Okay, we both know why, and I’ll own that I behaved badly and probably acted exactly like you expected I would. That’s on me. And trust me, I regret it. But I have always respected your boundaries, and you all but slammed the door in my face. So the way I see it, we’re both assholes. But right now, you’re being the bigger one.”
“I am sorry, Soldier,” she whispers. “You are right. I have no business giving advice.” She nods. “I was a fucking fool to try to go on a date. Merci. Thank you for coming to help me, again.” Her lips shake with her delivery. “Just forgive me and go.” She nods toward the door. “You do not deserve this. My contempt, it’s not for you. It’s for me.”
My heart fucking stutters as she waves me away. Again.
“Please, Tyler,” she urges, “go, I am fine. I will be fine.”
Refusing her order, I remain standing at her bedside, positive she’s used to people dismissing her after she shoots her venom—leaving her in the state she’s in. But what if, and maybe for the first time, someone stayed? Someone remained there to witness what happens after. Knowing I’m stepping on a landmine, I keep my footing steady.
“Or . . . you can cut the shit, stop tap dancing around the truth, realize I’m here for you and fucking talk to me.” I double down by kneeling at her bedside. “Talk to me, damn it. Tell me why you’re so upset. If it’s not the asshole who just left, then what is it?”
“Tyler, this is not for you to deal with . . . or to decipher.”
“The fuck it’s not. You just said I’m your only friend, and I still want to be. I care very much about you, so let me in.”
She stares at me for long seconds before her eyes drop to the letters flowing out of her cigar box. Her features pinch in anger as she grabs a fist full of them into her palm.
“This, this.” She lifts the clenched paper eye level. “This is proof enough that ‘love the fucking liar’ can make a fool of you. Make you weak, pathetic.”
“So what is it about those letters that haunts you so much?” I ask, my investment in her pain obvious in my tone. “Is it regret?”
She takes another drag of her cigarette, considering me as she lowers the letters, the anger fog dispersing as she slowly exhales her answer. “So much regret, Tyler. So much.”
“For?”
She bites her lip, her eyes blurring. “For trusting men who made me believe their own ideas of themselves and punishing me for reminding them of who they told me they were. For letting them punish me.”
“And you can’t come back from that?”
“Look at me,” she challenges.
“I am,” I state with an edge in her defense.
“I am what failure looks like,” she admits hoarsely.
“Not to me,” I whisper back, unable to help my question, eyeing the letters as a few heartbeats pass. “Delphine, what happened with your ex-husband?”
She pauses for a long moment, and for a few of those tense seconds, I think she won’t answer before she finally speaks. “I woke one day, and poof, he was gone . . .” Her eyes cloud. “As if he never existed.”
I frown, knowing that can’t be the whole truth of it.
“You don’t know where he went?”
“I don’t know anything.” She shakes her head in frustration. “My fucking mind is a battlefield. Every day I wake up at war with it, fighting this fucking haze I cannot escape, and I do not remember any of it!” she croaks as she lowers her eyes and the letters on her lap. “Pieces, tiny, tiny pieces, but never a clear memory anymore, and I read . . .” She releases an anguished sob, and my heart flinches at the sound. “I read these fucking letters so many times, but the haze will not clear to let me understand what happened to me. To understand where the Delphine who came to America went and why. I spend so much time trying to remember, Tyler. So much time in the fucking bath, in the battle, and fail every time.” She cries openly now, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“And I hate her,” she sniffs, her voice filled with venom, “the pathetic girl who wrote these letters. I despise her. I want to erase her from existence because the girl cannot be me! I don’t understand her.” She voices my own questions aloud, seemingly having no idea of the answer. “I cannot forgive her. I refuse to forgive her.” Her jaw shakes as her eyes turn murderous. “Every day, I fight to be nothing like her, to never again be deceived by ‘love the fucking liar.’ Being a brash bitch is better. Anything is better than that fool.” She nods toward the letters. “But even she fucks up her life and has become a failure.”
Pushing the scattered papers off her lap, she sinks into bed. Head resting on her pillow, she turns toward me as my hands twitch to grab her—to pull her into me and shield her from herself, from her own abuse.
Instead, I slowly lift my hand to palm her crown, gently sweeping my thumb along her hairline as she levels me with the despair in her voice.
“The truth of what happened to me, to my husband, died with Celine and Beau in that fire, and maybe . . . I died with them because I feel like a ghost to myself now.” Her breath stutters as she bares herself to me, gutting me. “I am so tired of losing,” she whispers hoarsely, “of failing. So very tired, Tyler.”
“You’re not losing, Delphine,” I whisper back.
She shakes her head to rebuke my words as I press in.
“I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.” Sliding my hand down, I cradle her face, tucking my fingers between her cheek and her pillow, running my thumb along her jaw.
“I heard you. I swear to God I heard every word you just said, and now I want you to listen to me,” I urge. “For once, I want you to listen to me and try to take my words to heart. Will you try that for me?”
She nods, her eyes focused on me, no longer searching.
“All today was, was just another bad day. Nothing more. So don’t give it any more power than that. The sunset you love so much is proof you fought bravely, so keep remembering that on your bad days . . . and remember that when the clock ticks past midnight, it’s another chance to win. I’ve seen you on good days, and you have them. It’s just that days like today are good at making you forget them. But you have them. I’ve been there. I’ve seen them. I’ve seen the bold, vibrant, life-filled, beautiful woman on days she’s won that battle. So, don’t believe the lie a bad day is telling you. And truth be told, you’re winning every day you show up.” I press in. “Fighting for yourself will never be failing.”
I continue to run my thumb gently over her cheek as her breathing evens out, and her chest bounces slightly in the aftermath. “Do you want to tell me why you went on a date tonight?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Many reasons.”
A notion comes to me, but I bite the question away and ask another, keeping my thumb running lightly over her skin in a soothing motion as she further sinks into it, her eyes softening as her lids lower.
“Swear to me he didn’t hurt you,” I implore her.
“Non,” she whispers, “non, I scared him.” She laughs without humor.
“Well, you don’t scare me,” I whisper, stilling my palm on her cheek. “So, do you want to have one of those good days with me when you open your eyes, General? Because I miss my fishin’ buddy and best friend too,” I admit, praying it doesn’t cost me but unable to hold it in any longer. “I miss her so fucking much.”
Behind her fresh tears, I see a sliver of hope just before she nods, the fire in my chest going inferno because I know I’ve kept her trust.
“Good. Then get some sleep because this soldier is eagerly awaiting your next order, and regardless of what you think of yourself.” I swallow and swallow again, allowing the love I feel for her into my voice. “This soldier is in fucking awe of the fighter you are.”
I sit with her a minute longer, caressing her lightly, until her eyes start to lower.
“See you tomorrow?” I rasp, my heart thudding at the look of her under my touch before I gently pull my hand away.
She faintly nods again in reply. The soft look in her eyes, the way she’s staring back at me, has my chest blazing. But I force myself to my feet and toward the door, every step fucking grueling as my heart pounds in protest to go back to her. Just as I get to the threshold, her whisper reaches me.
“Il a prédit que je détruirais ce qu’il y a de bon dans tout homme qui choisirait de m’aimer.” He predicted I would destroy the good in any man who chose to love me.
I glance back to see her sliding her hand beneath her pillow. Her eyes focused on me. “Malheureusement, je savais déjà que c’était vrai.” Sadly, I already knew it was true. She holds my gaze intently for another beat.
“J’espère que l’amour est bien plus tendre avec toi, mon beau garçon.” I hope love is much more kind to you, my beautiful boy.
I swallow as she nods toward the switch. “Please turn off the light.”
I do and stand there until her eyes flutter closed and continue to darken her door before leaving her with a whisper, a hope of my own.
“Si seulement tu me laissais te montrer à quel point l’amour peut être bon, belle femme.” If only you would let me show you how kind love can be, beautiful woman.
* * *
WINTER 2005
General Half-Pint: Privit what doign this delpihne queston mark
I always know who this is, General Half-Pint. 😉
General Half-Pint: You mad e wink face. I make it ;/
Not quite, but you’ll get there.
General Half-Pint: I ment to do mean face ha ha
I had a feeling. Feeling a little feisty tonight, huh?
General Half-Pint: Oui and yuo will looes next batile so bad
Looking forward to your ass-whoopin’
General Half-Pint: You army gong be so broke so can not fixx it
Damn. Should I be scared?
General Half-Pint: Hmm mabye
See you later, General.
General Half-Pint: Not if see yuo first
You nailed that use of expression! I’ll make an American metaphor master out of you yet, and damn, you’ve got a mouth on you today.
General Half-Pint: Is not mout h imbcile is txting
I’m aware we’re texting, but I can hear you speaking every time you text.
General Half-Pint: Oh can hear this questin mark I’m so kick yuo in your asshloe
In my asshole? That sounds painful and yet intriguing.
General Half-Pint: Shut muoth Hurr y up I talk ng to the floor os to come to me
Okay, that text I didn’t understand. You’re talking to the floor?
General Half-Pint: Sory privit I my haze bad tonigt you at me tomorw batle
Got it. I’m sorry the haze is bad tonight. I’ll be there.
General Half-Pint: No wink fcae queston mar k
I always have a wink for you, General. How about two? 😉 😉
* * *
General Half-Pint: Solier Dom tell you came to my hosue an I wsa not here I sad
Yeah, I think I just missed you. You’re sad?
General Half-Pint: I mis you to nigt
You miss me, General?
General Half-Pint: wht, you not say you miss me fish budy question mar k
I always miss you, General.
Every fucking minute of every day I’m not with you. You looked so beautiful riding passenger yesterday, that sweaterdress, your gorgeous hair blowing in the breeze as you flashed me that fucking smile of yours. I thought I was going to lose my shit.
Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Delete. Hold.
I can come back.
General Half-Pint: Plse come me now tmrrow to far way for good da y
Tomorrow is too far away?
General Half-Pint: Oui for goo d day with m y solder
If tomorrow is too far away from a good day with your soldier, then your soldier is on his way.
* * *
General Half-Pint: Jean stil l say me txet so bad /; tel l not txet him agn
I’m sorry. Your texting is improving a little.
General Half-Pint: Non no top dace arond trut h solder
Okay, not dancing around the truth. It’s still pretty bad. You still get your letters backward a lot and misspell a lot of words, but I understand every single text you send. So how about you only text me and call everyone else?
General Half-Pint: good battle plan
You just sent a perfect message, General. PERFECT.
General Half-Pint: Took sooooo lon g to write.
I’ll wait as long as it takes for a text from you. Perfect or not. I don’t care. Don’t let it worry you, okay?
General Half-Pint: I read wroet english bteter before haze and now so bad
So you used to be better at it, doesn’t mean you have to beat yourself up for it.
General Half-Pint: Jean ebarrses me
Please stop before I stage a very accurate swing on my best friend that will daze him so hard it will feel suspect.
Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Delete. Hold.
I’m sorry. He can be such a dick.
General Half-Pint: Don t be maen dom abot me
I won’t. I wasn’t even thinking about being mean to Dom.
General Half-Pint: Solder is Liarrrr tongiht
You have got to teach me how to do that Jedi mind trick.
General Half-Pint: Dom somtim take my smile waay but my solder gve it b ack.
I’ll give you back every fucking smile he steals from you, baby. I promise.
Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Delete. Hold.
Don’t worry about your asshole nephew. Dom’s just mad because his boots fucking stink. 😉
General Half-Pint: The y stink so bad I love wehn you make win k face )
See, that text you just sent was almost perfect. And I know you love wink face, that’s why I do it.
General Half-Pint: the haze maek lettrs hard to dicpher when mind asshleo
Delphine, when did the haze start?
Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Delete. Hold.
I’m sorry your mind is being an asshole, and it’s hard to make out the letters. We’ll just keep practicing together.
General Half-Pint: Oui Is so harrd to readn wriet English now
I’ll help you all I can.
General Half-Pint: merci solder you such good friend be txtin budyy
I’m your man.
General Half-Pint: Oui Fish bud y goodnigh t
* * *
General Half-Pint: asshole if cme hous do not tikcle me
Asshole, huh? Your insults are so often spelled correctly that it’s suspicious, General.
General Half-Pint: Imbeicle
Spoke too soon, but now that I know how ticklish you are, you are screwed.
General Half-Pint: non no screw me
Don’t I know it.
Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Delete. Hold.
I didn’t mean it like that.
General Half-Pint: I knw imbeciel was joke No tickl me if come to house asshole e
You secretly like my tickling, so you’re the lying asshole, but all right, no tickling tonight. This asshole is on his way.
General Half-Pint: K make wink face texte to mee
How about I wink in person?
General Half-Pint: maybe hurr up
* * *
General Half-Pint: Hve bad day soder is snow
I just ran in it, but it’s late. I didn’t know if you were up. I can come over. We can watch a Star Wars DVD.
General Half-Pint: I am not cry tonght solder wan t to try to face snow alone I stroger now
You are stronger, much stronger, but that doesn’t mean you have to face the snow alone. Let me be there for you. Maybe you can tell me why you hate it so much.
General Half-Pint: Non merci, non tnight do not want tell tired of cry in bath strongre
Okay, no crying or baths tonight, and we don’t have to talk about it, but you can stop texting.
General Half-Pint: you don t wan text me is to much tired soder questn mar
No, not because I’m tired, but because I’m jumping over the fence. 😉
* * *
General Half-Pint: thikin non bad day but mad day mad faec ;/
Thinking about what things? Why are you mad, baby?
Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace.
Thinking about what things? Why are you mad?
General Half-Pint: I hate job thin boss tr y fuck me
Your boss is trying to fuck you?
General Half-Pint: he say imbcile things digusgtng
Give me his address. I’ll fix the problem with your disgusting imbecile of a fucking boss really fucking quick.
General Half-Pint: Not funn y ha hah
Well, I’m not fucking laughing, Delphine. We will be talking about this face-to-face.
General Half-Pint: Don be imbicile jealus man
You have no fucking idea.
Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Delete. Hold.
We’ll talk about it later.
General Half-Pint: non hate jealous non soldeir I am roll my ey es
No need to roll your eyes and I’m not jealous. He shouldn’t be talking to you like that.
General Half-Pint: Oui I will smash bos s imbeclie cock
Smashing his cock could do it. But you know you can quit working now anyway. Your nephews are officially fucking rich.
General Half-Pint: Not take ezekil jean mone y I not ea rn it
Ezekiel didn’t earn it either, a horse did. 😉
General Half-Pint: Ha I laugh merci it felt so go od to lagh
😉
General Half-Pint: I feel beter now you gave me wink face. NO one else ner text me are only frineds I go to frezer not for icecream
It’s okay if I’m the only one. I’m the only friend you need, right? We can talk about why you go to the freezer and not for ice cream when you’re ready. Want me to come over?
General Half-Pint: Is okya just bad work I okay don have to come to me
Too late, General, I’m already jumping the fence 😉
SPRING 2006
General Half-Pint: Tyler, you are the best friend I’ve ever had in my life. You are so warm and kind. It comes from your eyes. I love the way you speak to me and listen to me. I don’t think a man has ever really listened to me before like you do. Maybe Ezekiel. You make me smile every day, even on bad days. You battle snow with me. You make my heart feel lighter. Free. I am so happy when I’m with you. Thank you for being the friend you are to me. I can’t say this to your face because of my brash, but I want you to know I care about you very much. I hope I make you happy too sometimes like you make me. I hope I am the same friend to you that you have been to me. I hope you take this text to your heart, my soldier, and know that you have changed my life in many good ways.
I’m so fucking in love with you. I’m trying so hard not to drop my wrench right now, fly to wherever you are and confess how much while trying to keep my shit together in front of the clowns surrounding me. I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked at me before we last parted. I want you so fucking much, but I’ll be as patient as you need me to be. I promise . . . but please look at me that way again. Even if you don’t, I’ll wait for you for a dozen more seasons just for the chance.
Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Delete. Hold.
General . . . I’m blown away. That text was fucking perfect. How did you do that?
General Half-Pint: She asked me to text you for her. She really wanted to convey it right. Hi Tyler, I’m Michele.
Oh, hi.
General Half-Pint: Sorry, didn’t mean to make this awkward, but you should see the look on this woman’s face. She talked about you for a good ten minutes before asking me to text you for her. I don’t know what you’ve done to her, but if you have a brother, send him to the ABC liquor store off Main. I’m giving her the phone back now. Just thought you should know. Please don’t hurt her.
Never, and thanks.
General Half-Pint: Soldier is me delpine again I hope not embarses you qusetion mark
Fuck no. God no. Not embarrassed at all. That meant so much to me. But General, I’ll take your words any day. Your words mean just as much. Even if they aren’t perfectly typed, they are perfect to me. Okay?
General Half-Pint: Oui Is so much tex makee my brian exploed but I want you knw feel frmy my hart
We can’t have your beautiful brain exploding, now can we? And your soldier got your heartfelt message loud and clear. Can I come over?
General Half-Pint: I go t go work soo n sad face
Well, I just really wanted to come over to say my own heartfelt words to you. But I’ll just text you that I feel the same. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, too, General. You make me happier than you’ll ever know. But shhh don’t tell anyone, or feelings will get hurt. Sean is a crybaby, so shhhh 😉
General Half-Pint: non, no tell sean non be brash bitc h make cry wha ha ha
Ha ha! I like brash bitch very much. Please don’t ever change, Delphine. 😉
General Half-Pint: Imbecile
Ah, yep, there’s my girl. 😉
* * *
General Half-Pint: You so cath so mush fish today soilder WoWWWWW
But you cooked them. 😉
General Half-Pint: IT tasted so bad shitttt do not lie assh-iole I saw you gaggle
Hey, hey, let’s not be too brash. It was edible-ish.
General Half-Pint: Bullshiittng I threw up got throw all ovoer toliet
Ok, I’ll be honest. I threw up, too. For like an hour. Maybe we shouldn’t eat fish from the pond anymore.
General Half-Pint: Non agree not eat poson fish but we fish agan soon quest mrak
Very soon. I’ll pick you up early. Night General Half-Pint.
General Half-Pint: Nigth solider of my heart. Maybe see yuo in dream
I have no idea how to fucking take these messages anymore, and I’m losing my fucking mind. Please ask your God to put me out of my misery. I’m leaving soon, and I know I might need to let the idea of us go, but I can’t. Especially when you say things like this and look at me the way you’re starting to. I know I can’t risk losing you to hasten our season, either. I’m going blind with the need to touch you, to kiss the wrinkle between your brows away and bite the lip you hold when you concentrate. To grab your shaking hand and press my lips to it until it’s shaking in a way that feels good. God, how I want to make you shake in a way that feels good.
“But I can’t. I’ll lose you, baby,” I blow out through a breath of frustration. “So I’ll keep deleting these confessions, but fuck how I’m tempted to let one slip through. To hit the send button and see how it lands. But you’re worth waiting for, General. You’re worth this hellacious ache. You’re worth it.”
Hitting the combination of back and delete buttons I’ve alternated for months, I compose a text that borders the truth, but I know won’t endanger us.
This soldier of your heart wants to see you in his dreams, too, General. 😉
“Why does it have to be in our dreams, baby?” I rasp, gently sweeping my thumb over her words on the screen before flipping the phone to pass it over the slick Marine Corps sticker attached to the back of it.
A sticker my recruiter gifted me on my last visit to his office. Rotating my phone in my hand, I weigh the view of her text against the sight of the sticker, the act mirroring the crux of what’s happening inside me. What was originally the plan is starting to feel more and more like a choice.
It was my first face-to-face with Preston—a birthday gift from Tobias months ago—that amped my long-term vision and is now keeping me torn. I want both the woman and the career, but I can’t put off enlisting much longer.
Stilling the phone back on the screen side, I scroll all the way back up, getting lost in months of texting. Even with the feelings our back and forth evokes, the sinking suspicion that started weeks into our exchanges begins to blanket me.
Not an hour later, I close one of Mom’s books, worrying my lip painfully in indecision as the gnawing continues.
The apprehension remains as I step into a scalding shower and stroke out some much-needed release. Palming the tile, I pump the top of my cock as I choke out her name to one of a hundred visions of her, too easily summoned. This one fresh, ingrained just days ago. The vision of her crystal, sitting on the dock in a pale blue sundress, one of the straps resting at the top of her arm, leaving her shoulder bare. Her olive skin ripe for my bite and soothing. Her mischievous silver stare slowly lifting to mine as her lush lips followed.
When the gnawing continues as I towel off and dress, it becomes more and more apparent that I won’t get a second of sleep until I finally accept defeat and that I’ve gone as far as I can on my own.
Decision made, I grab my phone from the bed, the stinging ball lodged in my throat, increasing the burn as I exit my bedroom in search of my mom. Knowing that if I’m right about my suspicions, it will fucking annihilate me.
Searching the house, I bypass Dad, who’s fast asleep in his recliner, as Mom busies herself in the kitchen, packing his lunch for tomorrow. As of late, Dad’s been helping Uncle Gray at the farm to ease himself back into the workforce.
An effort that hasn’t gone unnoticed but remains unacknowledged by me. He’s only inside mere months of decent behavior outside of the hellish years he put us through. While my heart wants to forgive him—especially after witnessing his spiral in the garage—my memory refuses to allow it as I dodge his every attempt to bridge the gap between us. Even attempts at small talk.
Easily pushing thoughts of Dad away as my heart rattles in my chest, I tilt my head in a silent prompt when Mom spots me approaching the kitchen. Her light expression immediately morphs into one of maternal concern as she nods before silently following me into the garage. Once inside, she stares up at me, her eyes creasing with worry. “Shit, Son, you’re scaring the hell out of me. What’s wrong?”
“Mom,” I croak, the fissure in my heart widening as her eyes do in alarm.
“Normally, I’d tap into my patience here,” she says, raking my expression, “but I’m terrified, so spit it out.”
“I need your help,” I whisper, hearing the mournful timbre in my voice.
“Anything,” she says, “anything. Talk to me.”
“If I do, not a breath of this conversation is to make it an inch outside of the garage or to anyone else, and I mean anyone. Not ever.”
“You have my word, please,” she assures, the concern in her voice increasing tenfold. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
“This isn’t about me,” I assure her, choking on the ache in my chest as my eyes start to burn, “this is about the woman I’m in love with.”
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