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Touching Scars(3)

By:Stacy Borel


Timber was speechless. Nobody had ever spoken to him this way. Part of him was completely turned on by this feisty five foot three inch person in front of him. He’d had no idea that a wildcat was inside of this small package. But another part of him was hurting from the deep blow to his ego. He didn’t know how to respond to her accusations.

Swallowing hard, Timber said words that he’d wanted to say to her when he saw her on the ground crying. “I’m sorry.”

Katherine dropped her hands that were on her hips and walked around to the driver side door. “Save it, Timber. Your apology means nothing to me.” She was about to climb into her car but stopped. He saw tears glistening in her eyes. “Change.”

“What?” Timber wanted to reach out to her and tell her not to cry, but it seemed like a completely illogical thing to do.

“If you’re so different from them, then change. Stop being the guy on the side that accepts the mean things those guys say to people like me. Do something about it. Then maybe your apology will start to mean something.”

With that, Katherine got into her car and drove away, leaving Timber standing there. As he walked back to his car, he made a choice. He couldn’t say that he would stop his friends from doing the same things that they’d always done to everyone else, but he would make sure that they left her alone. Her words had cut him like a knife, and sometimes the truth really fucking hurt.





“SIR, CAN I GET YOU something to drink?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I glanced up at the flight attendant that was looking at me expectantly. She had a smile on her face that I was certain was forced. I had a feeling she had been standing there trying to get my attention for a while. I was off in my own head. Being up in the air without any sleep for the past eighteen hours had messed with my head. Our first stop was in Bangor, Maine. It would be the first time I stepped foot on American soil in over a year.

Though the woman was attractive, I wanted her to stop looking at me. Her eyes watched me with weariness, as if she knew where I was coming from and she felt sorry for me. I didn’t want her fucking pity. I wanted to feel numb.

“Crown and coke,” I bit out.

She nodded and began pouring the smooth amber into a plastic cup. She’d given me two of those mini bottles which I appreciated. I pulled a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet and handed it to her and told her to keep the change. When she handed me my drink, she stood there while I tipped my head back and swallowed the cup’s contents in three gulps. It would take a few minutes for the alcohol to warm my blood, and I was feeling more and more irritated that I was being scrutinized by this stranger. I turned towards her, handed her the empty cup and gave her a stiff smile.

“Thanks.”

The smile that was plastered on her face faltered when she saw the hardness in my eyes. She nodded, moving on to the next row. Thank fuck. I was pretty sure if she had stood there any longer I would have told her we could take the staring into the lavatory and she could stare at me while I fucked her from behind and she watched in the mirror. I may be screwed up in the head, but I’m still a man with needs. In fact, I wondered if I should pull her back with me and do it anyway. Maybe having sex would help me forget.

I rolled my eyes at my own thoughts. Meaningless sex with someone might give me a temporary release, but it wouldn’t stop the nightmares that came every time I closed my eyes. All I could see were the faces of my friends, my brothers. I leaned my head back and stared at the headrest in front of me, refusing to let sleep pull me under.

An hour later, we were making our approach to Bangor International Airport. I’d been here before after my first tour in Iraq. That was three years ago. At the time, I was happy to be home and truly enjoyed the welcome wagon that greeted us as we got off the plane. This time, I was dreading it. Veterans from the area come and meet us, to thank us for our service, and shake our hands. They wave flags, and other people in the airport stop what they are doing and clap. I know that they don’t know what it’s like over there. They don’t know what I’ve seen, and I know they are just showing me their gratitude. But this time I don’t want their happy smiles and ‘thank you’s’. I want to be getting off the plane with my full squad. I just want to walk through the terminal, find a seat, and sit down until I have to board my next flight. I want quiet. Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be finding my peace ever again.

It was exactly as I predicted. The double doors that lead out to the terminal seating was surrounded on each side by old men wearing their covers and retired military uniforms, saluting each of us. Men, women, and a few children were amongst the vets with small American flags, smiling and clapping. Damn if it didn’t make my heart ache. I nodded at the few servicemen that made eye contact with me. As soon as I was passed them, I set my carry-on down in the chair beside me. Taking a deep breath in through my nose and exhaling, I tried to calm my taut muscles. I felt tightly wound, like I would blow at any point.