RAYNE COLLAPSED ON THE bed in a hotel room overlooking the waterfront in Boston. Trying to catch her breath, she wiped sweat from her brow. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling the vibration of her heart thumping against her palm. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the rhythm. Listening to Mark panting next to her, his body warm, she drew in a long breath, the smell of sex in the air helping her forget, if only for a minute. Forget the feel of Landon’s skin on hers, the heat in his eyes as he said he loved her, the itch of his five-day beard when he kissed her neck.
Landon had survived bullets, bombs, and a helicopter crash. He was deployed to some of the most dangerous parts of the world where his chance of survival was slight, at best. He had walked away from all of that with barely a scratch. The one assignment that was supposed to be safe turned out to be the one he’d never walk away from.
Rayne hated it. She hated herself for not worrying about Landon as much as she should have. She hated Landon’s friend, Alexander, for breaking his promises to her. Above everything, she hated the people who took Landon from her. She wanted nothing more than for them to feel her pain, but knew that would never happen. She was left alone with her rage, unable to dispel it. The only thing that helped was the feel of Mark’s slick skin against hers as they both worked through their pain and grief the only way they knew how.
Mark reached across the mattress, searching for Rayne’s hand, squeezing it. She pulled away. She didn’t mind the intimacy during sex. When she was finished, though, she didn’t want to be touched or to talk. She just wanted to be left alone. Mark knew that. Why was he acting different now?
Draping the soft robe with the hotel’s insignia over her body, she opened the sliding glass doors and walked onto the balcony, lighting up a much-needed cigarette.
“Want to talk about it?” Mark’s deep voice came up behind her.
She whirled around, pulling the robe closer to her body, glaring at him. Regardless of the fact he was the one who paid for their hotel room every week, she hoped he would get the hint and leave while she took a minute to pollute her lungs with toxins.
She blew smoke in his face, studying his resilient expression. There had been a change in him over the past few weeks. When they first met, he battled his depression just as fiercely, if not more, than she did. His anger consumed him. Recently, however, there was a calmness about him. He smiled. He looked people in the eye. He no longer had that agitated expression on his face as if he were about to snap at the next person who asked how he was. Rayne noticed he seemed a bit more open and agreeable, a trait she now found herself envious of.
How come he gets to move on while I’m stuck in this place? Will I be banished here forever?
“No,” she barked, spinning around to look at the city lights once more, everything twinkling in shades of red, green, and white.
Merry fucking Christmas, she thought.
“It might make you feel better.” He approached her, leaning back on the railing.
She tried to ignore his proximity, his presence, his peace, growing even more irritated.
Sighing, she put her cigarette out, resisting the urge to use his arm to do so, and stormed back into the luxurious hotel room, searching for her discarded clothes. She had never taken Mark back to her place, and vice versa. What they had was superficial. Permitting him inside her home, allowing him a glimpse into who she was as a person, was too intimate. She didn’t exactly live anywhere she’d be proud to call home anyway.
“I told you I don’t want to hear any of that shit from you.” She whipped around to face him. “And what’s with the change in personality lately anyway? Four months ago, you were just as angry as I was. Hell, probably more so. Now, just like that, you’re cured?”
“What can I say?” He shrugged. “Going to group therapy’s been helping.”
She eyed him for a minute. “Bullshit. I’ve been going to that same meeting for over six months now. The only peace it’s brought me is knowing there are other people consumed by grief, too. Other people’s pain is the only thing that gives me hope. But that hope is fleeting when, one day, they stop coming because they’ve been able to move on. They’ve been able to accept their new life, their new normal, but I’m still stuck in stage two. I’ve been angry for a year now. One…entire…year.” Her neck strained as she spit out her words. “Then, almost overnight, you’re able to just flip the switch and find comfort in your anger and accept what’s happened?” she scoffed, incredulous. “I don’t buy it for a fucking second. Tell me what’s really going on.”
Mark studied her intently, in direct contradiction to the empty gaze with which he typically gazed upon her. There was heat. There was electricity. There was life. She wanted that life, too. She was tired of being angry, of barely living.
“Please, Mark,” she quivered, her voice almost inaudible. She felt weak, showing him a side of her she promised herself no one would ever see. She had been so strong for too long. She was willing to do anything to return to her old life.
Exhaling, he sat at the foot of the bed, patting it, gesturing for her to join him.
She took measured steps, keeping her guard up as much as possible. Her spine straight, she lowered herself onto the mattress, keeping her eyes fixed on him.
He scanned her face, a moment passing. Abruptly, he stood up. “Glass of wine?” He headed to the fully-stocked wet bar by the balcony doors.
“No, thank you.” Truthfully, she had been craving some sort of drink since she left work earlier that evening. She didn’t know what Mark wanted to tell her and she needed a clear head…or as clear as she could possibly have with all the anti-depressants she took.
“Come on,” he pushed, pouring a robust red wine into two glasses and bringing them over to the bed. “Don’t make me drink alone.” He winked, holding a glass toward her. His chestnut eyes were alight with a rejuvenated energy.
Rayne wondered if it was the sex that had that effect on him or something else. His entire body buzzed with vigor and liveliness, something she hadn’t felt in months. Hell, she couldn’t remember the last time she smiled, apart from the forced smiles she gave her coworkers, assuring them she was okay. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. She was anything but okay. She was sinking. Each day she woke up without Landon by her side, another weight pulled her deeper and deeper into the abyss.