“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he soothed, caressing my bare back. “I know how upsetting this has been for you. I’ve got you, just like when you were in the ropes. You’re brave enough to give this to me too.”
Brave was the last thing I felt, but I surrendered to him once more. I sobbed a few fragmented phrases into his shoulder, offering my remorse, trying to convey the magnitude of my pain and my inadequacy to bear it. But mostly I couldn’t speak at all while the traumatic emotions poured into the space he’d opened: the horror, the grief, the helplessness. The searing loss. The desolate wasteland I’d so nearly been condemned to. And a new one, guilt — for leaving Graham to suffer on his own, and for adding abandonment on top. For not seeing that he would have walked that wasteland with me.
“Thank you,” I whispered when the worst had passed. “For not letting me leave you.”
His lips found my temple. “Thank you for letting me stay.”
When I’d expelled another full breath, I moved back enough to look at him. He met my gaze, and the passionate tenderness I saw there set some kind of wild longing loose in my chest. Not to achieve or obtain anything, but simply to be with him, through the peaks and valleys and all the mundane stretches in between. As if one lifetime might not be enough.
His fingers brushed my damp cheek before landing at my jaw and guiding me in for a kiss sweeter than any we’d shared.
“How about we get into bed?” he suggested when we parted. “I’m sure Avery wants to be with you right now too.”
When I glanced over, our witness was scrubbing tears from his own lashes. “Yes, please,” he commented, clearing his throat. “Would have come over there, but didn’t want to ruin the moment. Or bust any stitches.”
That brought a slight smile to my face. I got up and climbed in from my side of the bed so as not to jostle him, and soon we were all installed under the sheet. Since Avery still had to be careful of his healing abdomen, I nestled against his side and prompted Graham to settle at my back, his arm linking the three of us.
We talked a little, about anything and nothing. I didn’t remember the details afterward, because they didn’t matter. What mattered was that these men loved me, and I loved them, and we were together. And if fate spared our lives, we always would be.
One rain-cleansed evening a few weeks later, after a line of thunderstorms had left leaves sparkling with droplets in the westering sun, Graham and I hiked to the overlook where the three of us had met before our resoundingly successful first sex experiment. Avery’s recovery had progressed well over the past month, and he was finally reaching the point where he could get out more for meals at the hall and short visits with friends. He’d been heavily involved in planning Verity’s second birthday party, which had taken place yesterday with much fanfare in the shade of a decorated canopy tent he’d recruited friends to help set up especially for the occasion. I didn’t necessarily think a toddler’s birthday celebration was a worthwhile use of energy, given that she wouldn’t form any permanent memories of it, but Avery’s excited fussing over her simple gifts and his jubilant laughter at her attempts to ride the alpaca were a healing tonic for me.
I still didn’t like leaving him in the evenings very often, but he’d invited Vik over for company, and they’d both encouraged Graham and me to spend some time away together, something we’d rarely accomplished since our reconciliation.
The August downpour had left behind fresh, cool air and fragrant forest scents of wet bark, late-flowering vines, and layers of half-decayed leaves and needles. It had been relatively dry this summer, so the storm was welcome, and I didn’t mind getting a little damp passing through dewy undergrowth.
Graham and I watched the sun ride to the horizon from our usual perch on the cliff’s edge, trading stories and news from around the fort. Volleyball season was in full swing, along with the traditional nocturnal gatherings for a dip in the creek. Gavin’s daughter Madelyn had recently asked Graham for some guitar lessons, and she’d proven to be a capable pupil. They’d been getting together at least once a week for practice on his well-traveled six-string, and he was actually really enjoying introducing her to music she never otherwise would have heard. The officers’ band he fronted, with a few new members this year, was already planning their setlist for the annual founding celebration in the fall. He hadn’t been involved with the bluegrass combo since ending his relationship with Jade, but she’d been kind enough to share her well wishes after the attack, and she and Graham had been on more casual speaking terms since then, which I knew was a relief to him. He disliked being either the bearer or the recipient of grudges.
When we grew tired of sitting on stone, we moved to the grassy dell at the back of the ledge. Shadows had crept up from the trees in the valley, and dusk was gathering in the hollows beneath. It was still damp, but Graham had brought our picnic blanket in his pack, so we laid it out, and he propped the tan waterproof bag between him and the earthen wall. I could have sat next to him, but instead I took one of my new favorite positions: lying on my back with my head in his lap.
He welcomed me with a fond smile and one hand idly stroking my hair, and I took the other to hold against my chest. It had been like this between us since he and Avery put me through that intense submission scene. There was a new depth of security and connection, and I didn’t care whether my delight in close contact with him befitted my stoic reputation. I didn’t feel a need any more to censor my emotions or mute my interest. Being near him, being the object of his attention, brought me pride and pleasure and joy, and the more I let him see that, the more he reflected the same back.
“Glad you decided to come out with me, Major,” he told me in my favorite warm, playful tone. “We don’t do this often enough.”
“No, we don’t,” I agreed. “Should be easier now that Avery’s feeling better.”
“Hard to believe sometimes it’s barely been a year since you brought me up here to get to know him. And then brought me to your bed to get to know him in a whole other way,” he said, the grin evident in his voice. “Best first date ever.”
“Certainly could not have anticipated the import,” I smiled.
A few peaceful minutes passed while Graham caressed my head and the scattered clouds took on shades of rose and violet. Twittering chimney swifts chased each other on their way to roost for the night, and small hawks wheeled slowly in the distance on the light, storm-fresh breezes.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked, pausing his hand at my crown.
“Course.”
“Do you not want to be married to me?”
I glanced up, alarmed by the implications of the question, but his tone and expression conveyed only relaxed curiosity. My gaze retreated back to the twilit forest. On some level I must have known this conversation was coming, but I was completely unprepared for the cocktail of nerves and longing suddenly stirring in my gut.