Fisher's Light

“Do you think once you’re finished with boot camp that you’ll get shipped out immediately?” she asks quietly.

I shrug against her, resting my chin on top of her head.

“I don’t know, possibly. It’s all over the news that the shit is really hitting the fan over there. If they tell me to go, I have to go, Lucy. As much as I want to stay here with you and never leave, this is something I believe in, something I have to do.”

She turns in my arms under the blanket until we’re facing each other, cupping my face in her hands. “And that’s one of the reasons why I love you. You love your country selflessly, and I understand that you have to do this. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss you or worry about you or wish that you were here with me, but you need to do what you believe in, Fisher. I’ll always be here, waiting for you when you get home.”

For the first time since I signed on that dotted line to join the Marine Corps, I’m actually having second thoughts. Not because I’m afraid to go to war, because I’m afraid of losing Lucy. I’m afraid that once I leave, everything will change. I just need to have a little faith that we are strong enough to make it through whatever comes our way.

Chapter 24

Fisher

Present Day

Jesus Christ, I’m going to puke. I’m going to throw up right here on the sidewalk.

I agreed to meet Bobby at Barney’s to shoot some darts mostly because I was sick of listening to him bitch about how I need to get the fuck out of Trip’s house before I turn into an old man like him. For the last couple of days, I’ve done nothing but pace back and forth at Trip’s, wondering if Lucy read the journal pages I gave her. Did they make her sad? Did they make her happy? Did they remind her of a time in our lives when we had nothing to worry about but spending as much time together as possible?

Obviously, she either didn’t read them or they didn’t mean jack shit to her. Across the street, right in front of everyone, she’s got her tongue down Stick-Up-His-Ass-Ford’s throat. Fine, not down his throat because I’m sure such blatant displays of public affection would be beneath him, but still. Her hands are resting on his shoulders, his hands are holding respectably to the sides of her waist and their lips are fused together.

People are walking right by them not paying any attention. Don’t they see how wrong that is? Doesn’t it make them want to throw their fist against the wall and scream at both of them to cut that shit out?

Probably not. I guess it’s just me who feels like killing someone right now.

In theory, I know it’s just a kiss, but in my mind, it’s like they’re practically fucking right against the wall of Fisher’s Bank and Trust. A kiss is intimate, it’s trusting and you don’t give it to just anyone, but she’s fucking giving it to Staph-Infection-Ford like it’s no big deal, like she wasn’t clawing at my back and sliding her tongue through MY mouth and breathing heavily against MY lips a week ago.

I clench my hands into fists and count to ten when they finally break apart, Lucy giving him a small wave as he walks down the street in the opposite direction. I should walk away myself and pretend like I didn’t witness this shit, but I can’t. My old friends anger and rage are bubbling right beneath the surface, urging me to come out and play. I kicked them to the curb months ago when I learned techniques to express my emotions in a healthy, constructive way, but their call is so loud it’s ringing in my ears.

I charge across the street, my focus on Lucy as she turns and heads down the side alley next to the bank. People call my name and wave to me, but I ignore them. Turning down the alley, I see her halfway down, covered in shadows as she heads toward the beach. I watch the muscles in her smooth legs tightening as she walks and the skirt around her ass swish from side to side as her hips sway with each step.

I move faster, slowing when I’m right behind her and I can smell her skin and feel her heat. My arms wrap around her body and I quickly turn, pushing her face-first against the wall.

She starts to scream and struggle against me and I quickly wrap my hand around her mouth and press my lips to her ear.

“Shhhh, it’s just me.”

She immediately relaxes in my arms, her body melting against mine and it makes me angrier. She just had her hands and her lips on another man, but the sound of my voice still turns her to jelly. It should make me happy, should make me feel good about returning to this island to get her back, but it just fills me with jealousy.

“I saw you fucking kissing him,” I whisper angrily in her ear, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist while my other hand trails down her stomach to her thigh.

Lucy whimpers as my palm reaches the bare skin of her leg and I slowly slide it up and under her skirt.

She whispers my name softly, but I cut her off. I don’t know if she’s trying to get me to stop or urging me on and I don’t give a shit about finding out right now.

“Those lips are MINE.”

My hand keeps sliding up under her skirt, stopping when I reach the waistband of her underwear. My conscience is screaming at me to back away, but as soon as my hand slips under the cotton material and my fingers feel how wet her pussy is, I know there’s no stopping this.

“This body is MINE and it fucking kills me that you’re giving it to him,” I whisper raggedly as I swirl my middle finger against her clit.

Her hands come up, her palms smacking against the building on either side of her head as I tease her with my finger. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">