Another war. Another story. Same trapped feeling of never leaving.
Adam lugged the suitcase into his bedroom and dropped it on the bed. This time he wasn’t packing for the desert. This time he was packing for leisure. The luxury of spending time with the lovely princess. His brother’s Lily Flower. His stomach flipped, making him feel like a sixteen-year-old girl with a crush on the quarterback. Only this was no crush. This was something else altogether. This was a desperate need. Lily had been his lifeline when the nights turned cold and the bunkers were eerily quiet.
The last time he’d come home to his barely used New York apartment, he’d found a letter in the mail slot. It was a letter from Nick. The last one he’d ever receive.
The finality gripped his chest. Nick had written often and Adam enjoyed receiving his letters. They had become his tether to sanity while he was abroad. He especially liked when Nick wrote about his Lily Flower. Somehow Adam felt as if he already knew her. Nick spoke so fondly of her, and yet there was something dark he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Adam assumed Lily and Nick were intimate from the mounds of affection Nick piled on when he’d go on and on about her. The night he’d opened the envelope containing a picture of Nick and Lily sitting on her swing, he about lost it.
Nick was laughing so hard his eyes were wrinkled and squeezed shut. Lily was curled up beside him with her head resting on his shoulder; a mischievous grin tilted her full lips. An easy smile that spoke of a woman who knew a secret but wasn’t about to let anyone else in on the ruse. The picture was a bit worn now. The edges were frayed and a white line creased the center where it’d been folded and refolded every time he’d taken it out of his wallet.
When he’d spotted her at Nick’s wake, he’d known her right away. The picture in his wallet was a tease, a hint of her beautiful body. She had the perfect form he’d always coveted. Round hips, soft stomach, big tits. Yeah, he was a breast man for sure. The one thing he did know how to do was tease the subs’ breasts. Feathers or whips, he had that one down to an art form.
Art form. His thoughts rolled back to his brother and how they’d competed to earn badges at scout camp. Truth be told, his little brother had started the campfire on his own, but Adam wasn’t about to let his little brother take all the credit. He went over to the dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. The sash was still there—had traveled with him to Bosnia, Kuwait, Pakistan, Iraq, Afghanistan, Russia, China, and Cuba. The green material was stained all over, missing a few badges too. But not that damn fire badge. He’d made sure that one got sewed back on a time or two. By the end of the summer, it was going to have to make yet another trip. Hopefully this would be the last overseas assignment he took for a while. The time to stay stateside was creeping up on him. Had been for several years, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him moving and the jobs coming. This time away would be a perfect refresher before he had to fly out again.
Sometimes, in the ravaged dumps Adam ended up in, there was no phone service, no e-mail connection. Nick’s handwritten words always seemed to reach him just when he was most exhausted or homesick. Stories reminding him that home was real, the people he loved most were safe, and life was moving along while he was stuck in hell.
Nick’s letters talking about his friend-slash-landlady were Adam’s favorite. Days spent painting and eating, swimming and laughing. Adam could’ve leaned down and almost smelled the sunshine on the paper.
Lily was his beacon of hope. She’d been his reason to come home. The elusive flower was what kept him from heading out on another mission to capture the essence of war. His book was going to have to wait. He had a worn body ready for some R & R.
He opened the closet door and pulled two shirts off the plastic hangers. As he folded the shirts on the bed, he pictured the way Lily’s full curves would look wrapped in a silk ribbon binding. He’d seen the guys at the club bind their subs, but he’d been too scared to try it. The concept definitely intrigued him to the point of dreaming about it. Now, if he could just learn how to do it.
Chapter Three
When the doorbell rang, Lily tossed the kitchen towel onto the counter and almost sprinted to the front door. Today was Renee’s afternoon to visit, and Lily had been dying all night in anticipation of their playtime. She grabbed the pitcher of iced tea, and Renee picked up the two glasses on the counter. They walked out to one of Lily’s favorite places on all the property, her grandmother’s swing.
“Did they find the other driver?” Renee asked Lily as they sat down, each digging their toes into the grass to get the motion swaying.