He chuckled. "Perfect. By the way, dinner's on me tonight." With a sheepish smile, he added, "Since you paid for, uh . . ." He held up the doughnut.
"My pleasure." An image of him pitching that ball flashed through my mind. No, really. My pleasure. "You know, you could probably throw a few more and see if you can upgrade that thing."
"To what? A giant Bundt cake?"
"Or a dozen doughnuts?"
"Just what I need." He eyed it. "Though I have been meaning to get some throw pillows . . ."
"I'd pay to see that."
"Of course you would."
Wandering back toward the game booths, Clint glanced around, and that sad, nostalgic smile came back. "I'll have to bring my kids here one of these days."
"They might have more fun during the summer. There's a lot more going on."
Clint nodded. When he turned to me, his smile was a touch more guarded. "Hopefully they'll be able to come out then. I think they'd have a good time."
I wasn't sure what to say, but fortunately, he picked that moment to ask, "So . . . dinner?" He nodded toward the shore end of the pier again. "Looks like there's a couple of places down that way."
"Sure. Yeah. Let's see what's there."
We fell back into amiable conversation, avoiding the subject of his kids and why they weren't with him, and he seemed to relax a bit. My curiosity ate at me, but I figured that, as with everything, the information would come out in due time. When he was ready to open up, he would, so I let it go.
The first restaurant didn't seem all that appealing-too crowded and with a weird smell wafting out the door-but the next one was quieter and didn't smell like bilge water. The menu was posted outside the door, so we stopped and gave it a look.
"Anything sound good?" I asked.
"Hmm." His lips quirked. "The soup of the day sounds interesting."
I skimmed the menu until I found it. "'A classic recipe with a local touch.'"
"What does that even mean?"
I glanced out at the ocean, then scowled at the menu. "I'll bet it means they put some kind of seafood in it."
Clint laughed. "What's wrong? You don't like seafood?"
"I don't mind seafood. What I don't like is surprise seafood."
His eyebrow arched. "Surprise seafood?"
"Yeah. Like when I ordered pasta in Guam, and after a few bites, I realized the little dots of parmesan cheese were actually suction cups that had fallen off the tentacle that was buried in the noodles."
He made a gagging noise. "Oh. God. Gross."
"Exactly. So I'm fine with seafood-I just want to know in advance if it's in there, you know?"
Shuddering, he nodded. "I think that would put me off pasta forever."
"Eh." I shrugged. "It wasn't that bad. No worse than the things they serve on ships."
"Ugh. Seriously. I could tell you some stories about things I've eaten underway, but you've probably eaten variations."
"I'll bet," I said. "And I've probably heard or told variations of most sea stories anyway, food-related or otherwise."
"Probably, yeah."
I schooled my expression. "You know the difference between a sea story and a fairy tale, right?"
He raised an eyebrow. "No . . ."
"A fairy tale starts with 'Once upon a time,'" I deadpanned. "And a sea story starts with 'Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit!'"
He threw his head back and laughed, and my stomach fluttered. God, I loved the way he smiled. "That one I hadn't heard."
I just chuckled, pretending he hadn't made me weak in the knees by laughing. Then I gestured at the restaurant. "So, uh. Think we should give it a try?"
Clint smiled and motioned for me to go inside. "After you."
This was my new normal, and I loved it-lying in bed with Travis, naked and satisfied. Sometimes we'd watch TV. Sometimes we'd just talk about whatever. The nights when we couldn't be together like this were weird. I'd spent my whole life not lying in bed with him, and now when I wasn't doing that, I wasn't sure what to do with myself.
There was one part I hated about nights like this, though-the inevitable end.
Tonight, we were kicked back in bed where we'd been watching some dumb cop drama, and the episode was winding down. They'd figured out who the perp was, and were exchanging wisecracks to kill time before the credits rolled. In a minute or so, we'd have to decide if we'd watch another, or if we'd give in to the clock above the screen that said it was quarter to eleven.
As if on cue, a cop made one last snarky comment, everyone laughed, and the credits came on.
Beside me, Travis sat up. He arched and twisted his back, which popped audibly a couple of times.
I ran the backs of my fingers up his arm. "You all right?"
"Yeah." He put his hand on my thigh. "Just a little tight from staying in one place too long." He glanced up at the clock, and I barely kept myself from sighing with preemptive disappointment before he said, "I should probably call it a night." He kissed me softly. "Early meetings and all that."
"Yeah. I've got a few myself."
We both rose, and between us, found the various pieces of clothing we'd tossed on the floor. I pulled on a pair of boxers while he got dressed. As we headed for the front door, I was tempted as always to ask him to stay the night, but that wasn't a good idea quite yet. We were fine in bed when we were both still awake. When it came time to go to sleep, that had the potential to get . . . complicated.
So like we did every time, we paused at the door for a long kiss good night, and then he was gone.
Alone in my bedroom, I lay back on the pillows, hands laced behind my head, and grinned up at the ceiling. A year ago, all I'd been hoping for was some light after two solid years of darkness. Six months ago, I'd been content to make it through the day without losing my mind. No amount of encouragement from my few remaining supporters had helped. It was always darkest before dawn? Fuck you. This won't last forever? Kiss my ass. You'll get through this? Fucking prove it.
In all that time, I had never once imagined feeling like this again. Genuine happiness? Affection? Excitement about anything?
Holy shit. There really was some light at the end of all this. Maybe I was finally coming out on the other side.
Nothing would ever be the way it was before, but for the first time in a long time, I could believe that the future had a shot at being a good one.
The next night, after we'd found ourselves in the usual tangle of sheets, it was getting close to that time again. When one of us would have to broach the subject, and another amazing evening would come to an end.
But throughout the night-when I wasn't balls-deep in his mouth, anyway-a thought had been nagging at me. We'd been doing this for over a month now. Maybe it was time to test the waters.
I pushed myself up on my elbow. "Do you, um . . ." I pretended my heart wasn't pounding. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"
Travis tensed, avoiding my eyes. "I . . ."
We were in my bed, naked and comfortable, and though I was nervous about the prospect of sleeping beside him, I wasn't ready for him to leave. Except if he stayed, then there was a good chance he'd see me at my worst.
I cleared my throat. "You can say no."
"It's not that I don't want to."
"But . . .?"
"I guess it's just something new." He laughed halfheartedly. "Something we haven't done before."
"True."
He ran his hand up my bare chest. "I would like to, though. If you're sure."
"I am. I . . ." I hesitated. "Listen, in the interest of full disclosure, my PTSD is no joke. I, uh, have the occasional night terror." Occasional? "They can be kind of . . . um . . ."
"Violent?"
Swallowing hard, I nodded. "Yeah."
"Me too."
My heart skipped. "Really?"
"Yeah."
We held each other's gaze. Just like when he'd first told me about his PTSD, as much as I would never wish this kind of trauma on anyone, I had to admit I found a hell of a lot of relief in the realization that he knew what it was like to dread going to sleep at night.
"So we both know what can happen," I said.
Travis nodded. "We do. I'm still in if you are."
My nerves were slowly subsiding, so I grinned. "I'm in."
Before long, we were settled in to go to sleep together. It was strange, not watching the clock or trying to force myself to stay awake so I wouldn't accidentally drift off next to him.
"On the bright side," he murmured, brushing his lips beneath my ear, "you've worn me out enough tonight I'll probably sleep like the dead."
"Me too." I wanted to believe that so badly.
Please, God, don't let my past fuck it up. Give us a few good nights first.
Travis draped his arm over me, and we lay like that for a while. Eventually, though, it got a bit hot with both our body heat and the covers. I was on my side. He was on his back. We weren't touching anymore, but I still loved having him here. I'd hated sleeping alone ever since my ex had kicked me out of the house.