“That was…unexpected,” Stanford says with an awkward laugh.

Bringing my hands up to my heated cheeks, I try to cover the redness I know is there.

“I’m sorry. I don’t…I didn’t.”

I stammer, completely humiliated and having no clue how to talk myself out of this situation.

“It’s okay, Luce. I just wasn’t expecting that. I thought you wanted to take things slow and you caught me off guard. You don’t seem like the type of girl to do something so…crazy,” he says as he runs his hand over his hair to flatten down the mess I made of it when I was practically ripping it out by the roots.

He’s so busy trying to fix his hair and hold his shirt together that he doesn’t see the irritated look on my face. Why the hell does a woman have to be considered crazy because she wants a man and isn’t afraid to show it? Granted, it wasn’t Stanford I was so hot for, but that’s beside the point. Unless my hearing is as off as my mind tonight, the guy I’m dating just called me crazy.

“I think you should probably go,” I inform him, crossing my arms in front of me and trying not to tap my foot.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

He closes the distance between us and kisses my cheek, running his hand down the top of my head, and I have to force myself not to jerk away from his touch. I’m being a bitch and I know it. Stanford’s right, I acted completely unlike myself tonight and I can’t really blame him for being a little shocked by my behavior. We’ve made out, we’ve done a little light petting above the clothes and I’ve always stopped him when he’s tried to go further. All of a sudden tonight, after running into my ex-husband, I practically maul him on the couch. In the middle of the sitting room at the inn. Where any of the fifteen guests in residence could have walked in.

Yep, definitely losing my mind.

I push the attitude and anger deep down and put a smile on my face, walking him to the front door.

“How about I take you to lunch tomorrow?” Stanford asks. “I have a meeting at the bank at eleven and it shouldn’t take too long. Maybe we can have a picnic on the beach or something.”

I smile and nod. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll make sure Ellie can cover things here and I’ll meet you at the bank. Say, around noon?”

“Perfect,” Stanford agrees. “Sleep tight, Luce. And really, don’t worry about tonight.”

I keep the smile pasted on my face as he gives me another quick peck on the cheek before walking out the door. I make sure not to slam it behind him and take a deep breath as I pace anxiously around the sitting room.

Damn you, Jefferson Fisher. Why in the hell did you have to come back now, when things were finally starting to look good in my life? Stanford is a good, stable man and he treats me well. I have no business fantasizing about a man who shoved me aside and didn’t want me. The only reason he pulled that shit tonight at the bar was because he saw me with Stanford and couldn’t handle it. Why the hell he thinks he has any reason to be jealous is beyond me. His ego probably couldn’t stand the idea that someone else would actually want me after he ripped me apart. The next time I see him, I’m going to make it perfectly clear that he needs to stay the hell away from me. I’m sure Melanie would be more than happy to pick up where they left off last year.

Chapter 11

Fisher’s Therapy Journal

Memory Date: February 25, 2014

I’m a monster.

If there was a stronger word to describe the person I’ve become, I would use it, but this will have to do until I can come up with something better.

I shouldn’t have turned the light on. I should’ve remained in the dark and tried to convince myself that what happened tonight wasn’t real, but lying here with the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the room, I can’t take my eyes off of the evidence of my disgusting behavior.

Not even an impromptu dip in the ocean after Lucy went upstairs to get ready for bed could clear the horrible images from my mind. As soon as she left the kitchen, I walked right out the back door, down the steps to the beach and into the ocean, still wearing my military hiking boots and camo pants. I dropped down into the water, fully clothed, and wished for the water to wash away the shit I’d just done to my wife.

For the first time, my head is filled with the horror of what I did to Lucy instead of what I did overseas, and I want to scream until my throat is raw.

Lucy sleeps peacefully next to me on her stomach and I gently trail my hands down her naked back, stopping when I get to her hips.

The hips that are covered in bruises roughly the size and shape of my fingers.

Jesus, I left marks on her. My beautiful, perfect girl and I marked her with my anger and the need that consumed me so completely when I walked in the door and saw her standing there that I couldn’t control it. The entire plane ride home, all I could think about was wrapping her in my arms and letting her skin and her soft touch wash away all the dark and evil things I saw the past year. I didn’t even stop off at a hotel like I usually do to change into civilian clothes. I didn’t shower, I didn’t shave; it was all I could do to get to her as fast as possible before my mind ripped in half.

I walked through that door and saw her standing there in a pair of drawstring pants that hugged her hips and legs and a tight tank top with no bra and all I could think about was being inside of her. All I could concentrate on was burying myself in her so deep that all the bad thoughts went away. I charged at her like an animal and I took her against the wall like a rabid beast. I was punishing her for being so soft and sweet and beautiful when all I’d known for the last year was hard and awful and ugly. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve to have her sitting here waiting for me, day after day, month after month. I don’t deserve to come home to someone like her who loves me so completely, even when my body and my mind take me away from her and make me forget how good I have it.