In the Stillness

CHAPTER 14



Apparently I smoke now. Thankfully, since the boys were up early this morning, they went down for a nap shortly after lunch. Honestly, my first thought was to go to the bathroom and cut. This morning’s fight with Eric was the nastiest one we’ve ever had. I can’t cut, though, and it’s driving me insane. I just want to a little. Just a little. I need a release from this pressure cooker Eric and I are living in—I need to exercise some control. So, when the boys fall asleep I thankfully remember the cigarettes I bought before I went to visit Tosha.

I’m two cigarettes in when Tosha walks up our back stairs.

“Jesus, you look like hell.” She sits next to me and holds out two fingers. I hand her a cigarette and a lighter. After the first long drag, she looks at me. “Eric called me today.”

“Shocking.” I was truly prepared for this. “What’d he say?”

She leans forward, resting her arms on her knees. “He said he knows you’re cutting . . . wanted to know if I knew anything about it. I lied.”

“Thanks.”

“He said you threatened to take the kids away?”

I exhale long and slow. “It’s my trump card, Tosh. It’s all I had when he was staring at my hips . . .”

“Your hips? I thought the cuts on your arm were the last time you were going to . . . never mind. Look, you’re starting to scare me.” She reaches over and grabs my hand. I interlace my fingers with hers as tears work their way down my cheeks.

“I need to leave him, Tosh.”

“So leave. Don’t take yourself down in the process, Nat. He’ll just take it out against you during custody hearings.” She squeezes my hand. “You have to be in control of you.”

* * *

Finally, the call came. Ryker was coming home. After surgery in Germany to reconstruct what they could of his right shoulder, he was shipped to Walter Reed. He was only there for a couple of weeks, but we didn’t talk during that time. I was taking finals and missed both of his phone calls, and then I had trouble reaching him. It was kind of a nightmare.

“Hi Natalie, Honey . . .” was how Ryker’s dad, Bill, started the call. His voice was bright, and I cried. He told me Ryker would be home the next day.

I wiped away tears of joy and relief. “So what do I do? How do I . . .”

“I’ll pick him up. You can come with me, if you’d like.” He was smiling, I could hear it.

“No, no. You can go get him, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“No, really Bill. . .”

The truth is, I was nervous to see him get off the plane. I don’t know why, but it was like the moment was too heavy for me to deal with. I wanted to run full-speed into his arms, but, then, he was shot in the back and I had no idea what point he was at in the healing process.

“Ok, then, will you at least come to the house and wait for us to come home?” His tone was expectant.

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I hadn’t cut since the night after Lucas’s funeral because that time I felt a little too out of control—almost afraid that I wouldn’t be able to stop. But, I wanted to the night before Ryker came home—I didn’t sleep at all. I can’t really explain it. I was elated to hold Ryker again, to feel his lips against mine, but I was almost more anxious than I was the night before he left. I mean, he’d been to war, his best friend died . . . I didn’t know what that did to a person, but I knew I was about to find out.

Bill left me the key for his house, so I sat nervously in the living room, jumping to look out the window at the sound of any car. Apparently Ryker’s mom had flown to see him at Walter Reed but was back in Wyoming

From what Bill told me, as soon as Ryker was finished with therapy, he would be discharged from the National Guard. Whether or not he wanted to re-enlist was up to him and how his injury healed, Bill said. I didn’t want to think about that. I just wanted Ryker.

Compose yourself, I thought as Bill’s car finally pulled into the driveway. Let him get out of the car and make it to the house. I don’t remember when I started crying, but tears were spilling helplessly down my face as I watched Ryker and his sexy smile get out of the car. I noticed he was holding his right hand at kind of an odd angle, but knew that was nerve damage from the bullet.

Screw composure.

I ripped open the front door and flew down the three stone steps that separated me from the man I loved. An audible sob stood in place of where I’d intended to call out his name.

“Natalie!” His smile was bigger than I thought it would be, and I was relieved.

When I threw my arms around his neck, I felt him lift me in the air with only his left arm squeezed around my waist.

“I love you,” I said over and over again as I kissed his lips. My body was shaking with tears and nerves. When he finally set me down, I noticed Bill wasn’t around. He’d quietly gone inside.

Ryker stroked his hand over my head and down my hair, tugging playfully at the ends. “I missed you like crazy, Nat. Come here.” He pulled me once again into a hug.

I pulled away with my hands still on his face, studying every feature. His blonde buzz cut was as tight as always. I rubbed my hand over his head, making him smile. He was much darker, making his piercing blue eyes even more striking. I wanted, for just a second, to crawl into his eyes and see what he’d seen. To understand what I’d be dealing with. For the moment, though, I thought it better to leave well enough alone. He was home, he was smiling, and that was good enough.

“How’s your shoulder?” I felt like an idiot as soon as I said it. Um, shot. That’s how it is.

Ryker shrugged. “Fine. The bullet tore through and f*cked up a bunch of nerves. I’ll be good with therapy. Let’s go inside.”

Do I mention Lucas? Where’s my damn handbook?

We walked over to the couch and sat down; Ryker never let go of my hand. Bill entered. “I’m heading out for a few minutes to give you kids some time alone.” He turned to Ryker. “You’ve got one hell of a girl here. It’s good to have you home, son.” Bill gave a firm pat to Ryker’s knee and headed out the door.

I suddenly felt warm, like I was blushing. I swallowed hard and turned toward Ryker. “I missed you, Ry.” I pressed my forehead into his uniform and started sobbing.

“I’m here, Babe, it’s okay. I’m fine. It’s fine.” He rubbed my back and kissed my head. Consoling me when he was the one just home from war. He lifted me onto his lap, pushing down on my hips as he kissed me without holding back. “I want to take you upstairs,” he moaned into my ear.

God, I wanted it too. “Are you sure? What about your dad?” I whispered breathlessly.

Ryker chuckled. “Why do you think he left? He’s a man, not a saint.”

And with that, I let my soldier lead me up to his childhood bedroom, where I’d only been once before. I lay back on his bed, but I noticed that he was still heavily favoring his left arm.

“Here, lay down,” I said, shifting from underneath him.

“No . . . it’s fine.” His brow furrowed in apparent frustration.

“Let me take care of you.” I smirked as he conceded.

I ran my fingers across his name, stitched in his uniform, before slowly unbuttoning and helping him out of his clothes. He shifted anxiously beneath me as I kissed from his neck to his hips.

“You’re killing me,” he chuckled, biting his lip.

Smiling, I quickly undressed as he sat up on his elbows, praising me with his eyes.

“You’re so goddamn hot, Natalie. Get over here.” He playfully grabbed at my legs.

I properly welcomed my soldier home. My hair created a curtain between us and the rest of the world when I leaned forward and kissed him with everything I had.

I wish I could have left that curtain there, because when I pulled it away and we were curled up in his bed, Ryker asked me to go to Lucas’s grave with him.

* * *

By the time the boys wake up from their nap, Aunt Tosha has time to play with them for a few minutes before leaving. Since she only sees them a few times a month, she has loads of energy and creativity for them. Her nose ring makes them laugh, and she tickles them into a frenzy. She’s fun, and it reminds me to have fun with them, too.

“Seriously, Natalie, just register for some classes for the fall. Eric said you can, so just do it.” She blows raspberries on Max’s bare belly in between her words.

I try to answer while stopping Oliver from climbing all over the couch. “Ollie . . . Ollie . . . Ollie! Seriously,” I turn to Tosha, “the only class I’m taking lately is ‘Selective Listening one-oh-one by this guy.” I giggle as I tickle Ollie. “I thought identical twins would be more identical in their behavior. Oliver was sent to me to specifically test my patience, I just know it.”

Tosha sighs. “All right, Natty-bug-”

“You’re an ass.” I don’t bother spelling it out in front of little ears as I smack her arm.

She laughs and pats my shoulder. “I gotta go.”

On her way out the door she whispers to me, “You know you can always stay with me and Liz whenever you need to.”

I hug her. “Thank you.”

She runs into Eric on her way down the stairs. She greets him pleasantly and tells him congrats on the job.

Eric bounds up the stairs with a smile on his face, which fades for a split second when he meets my eyes, but returns full-wattage as the boys tackle him in the entryway. I turn for the kitchen and start slicing strawberries for afternoon snack. Eric stands next to me, handing me two bowls for the strawberries. He does things like this; we have a huge fight and just a few hours later he’ll saunter in like nothing happened.

Not this time.

“Tosh said you called her.” I continue slicing, but notice his jaw flicker out of the corner of my eye.

“Damn,” he whispers.

“Well, what the f*ck, Eric? Do you think her loyalty is to you? Why would you call her?” Walking over to the table, I call to the boys, “Max, Ollie, come sit for snack.” Max bounds to the table while Ollie stares at the TV. “Oliver, now.” I use the sternest inside-voice I can muster. He jumps, startled, and races full-smile to the table.

“I’m freaked out, Natalie, that’s all.” Eric grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I love you and I’m scared about what you’re doing to yourself.”

Did he inhale too many vapors at the lab today? This morning he was threatening me, and this afternoon he’s concerned? I stare at him, trying to study his motives through his eyes.

I’ve got nothing.