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Unspoken(85)

By:Jen Frederick


His voice was low, almost hushed.

“That’s not the romantic notion that’s sold, but it’s the one that keeps you going. You don’t want to let your brothers down, and they won’t let you fall, either. Ten years from now, I could meet a Marine on the street, and he’d buy me a beer and lend me a hand. I’d do the same for him.”

He let the tags fall from his hand until he was holding only the chain. Slowly, he lifted the chain and slipped it over my head. Too stunned to move, I sat quietly as he pulled my hair out from under the chain and moved the closure to the back of my neck. He lifted the tags to his mouth and then let them drop, the weight dragging the chain between my breasts. My hand came up involuntarily to clench the tags. He closed his fingers over my fist.

“Now whenever you feel alone, know that I’ve got your back. No matter who’s against you, know that a thousand others wait to avenge you.”

“But I’m not a Marine,” I whispered back, my voice catching on the tears threatening to spill out.

“You’re a fighter, Sunshine. Plus, you belong to this Marine.”

“What if you want these back?” I fingered the tags.

He gave me a crooked grin and shook his head at me. “I’ll know where you are.”

“Is that a threat?” I tried to joke, but the effect was ruined by the two big fat tears that rolled down my face and plopped onto our joined fists.

“A promise. You aren’t ever going to be too far away from me.” He lifted me again, as if I were weightless, and carried me over to the bed. When he laid me down, I heard the clink of metal as the tags jostled against each other. “I’ve got other promises to make to you.”

He laid his mouth against the chain at my throat and followed the path to the tops of my breasts. My tears were lost under a wave of desire, just as he’d probably intended.

“With your tongue?”

“With this body, I thee worship,” Bo said against my skin.

And I surrendered to him and my sore heart began to lighten as it absorbed all the unspoken promises Bo made with his mouth, fingers, and tongue.





Chapter Twenty-Seven



AM

“RANDOLPH,” BO BARKED INTO THE PHONE the following morning. I couldn’t hear who it was, but as the conversation went on, Bo tensed.

He threw the phone on the nightstand and took in a deep breath.

“What is it?”

“Finn’s dad died.”

I gasped. “Oh that’s terrible. What happened?”

“Heart attack. Dude wasn’t even fifty. Shit!” Bo cursed and rubbed his face. “I need to get over to the house.”

He quickly donned his jeans and shirt and shoved his sockless feet into his boots. I jumped up, gathered his books, and stuffed them into his backpack that Noah had dropped off the night before. Bo shrugged on his coat and pocketed his phone.

I held his backpack out to him and he ignored it momentarily, crushing me to him instead. “I’ll call you later.”

“No problem.” I shushed him. “Go be with Finn.”




BO DID CALL, MUCH LATER. “Funeral’s going to be in a week. Can you come?”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. “How’s he taking it?”

“Numb, I think. We’re just playing video games right now to keep his mind off it.”

Bo stayed over at the house the rest of the week and skipped Friday class as well, likely comforting Finn. We talked every night on the phone. They had taken Finn out paintballing, and Bo had helped demo and rebuild a house that Finn was flipping. They were trying to keep Finn as busy as possible.

I called my mom twice that week to tell her I loved her. On the second call, she confronted me and demanded to know what was wrong.

“You never call this often, honey.”

I gave her the truth. “A friend’s dad died. He was pretty young.”

Mom made some sympathetic tuts. “That’s too bad, dear.”

“What would you do if Roger died?” I’d never asked the question before, always scared of the answer. How would my delicate mother, who had never worked before, provide for herself?

“Roger has taken care of me,” Mom swiftly replied.

Ordinarily I wouldn’t press but I had to know. “How?”

“He’s given me a nice insurance policy, honey, and I’ve money set aside from him. We’ll both be taken care of,” she reassured me.

“What if Roger stopped coming by?” Once I had become aware of money and household payments, I recognized how careful my mother was with her money.

I learned not to ask for expensive jeans or the name-brand fuzzy boots every other girl in my class wore. I took care not to overspend at school, not wanting to be a burden on my mother and not willing to go to Roger for more assistance. Maybe I’d judged Roger unjustly and my mom was just really thrifty. The phone call with Roger made me look at everything differently.