Winter
2011
She tugs lightly on his earlobe, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger. His hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her closer.
"Time to go to bed," she whispers against the shell of his ear and she smiles as he shivers as the words drop onto his skin.
"I'm up," he mumbles and opens his eyes a little. "I've been up the whole time."
She runs her free hand over his cheek and says, "Liar. I could hear you snoring."
He yanks on her arm and she tumbles on to the couch, lying partially on top of him. "Can't go to bed now." His chin tilts into his neck so he can see the side of her face. "You're lying on me."
"Mmm," she mumbles sleepily, tucking her head into the space between his neck and his shoulder. "Suck it up, sailor." She rubs her face against the soft cotton of his sweater.
The house is dark now except for the family room and the hallway. The logs burn an orangey red in the fireplace. It's quiet now. The children are asleep; she hasn't heard their feet as they run from room to room in a while. Beneath her cheek, his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. Outside, the wind whistles around the corners of the house; the snow falls silently to the ground; and the streets are empty. Her eyes drift shut, lulled by the quiet, comforted by him.
Spring 2004
Her car slid easily into the space behind his. All through the drive, she'd been tempted to flip on her turn signal and follow the direction of its arrow. To drive straight when his car turned left. She fought the urge to throw up when Mattie must have realized she was trailing them and leaned over the backseat to wave.
She pulled her key out the ignition and clutched it tightly between her fingers. The clefts and grooves formed angry red lines on her skin and she had to force herself to let go and get out of the car. Wind blew her hair forward. It pushed at her skirt and wrapped it around her legs. She picked her way carefully over pavement, trading in her normally confident walk for mincing steps that wouldn't let gravel or dirt force its way into her sandals.
He was leaning against his car door, watching her struggle against the wind. Mattie and Jen were already at the building's door and Mattie was gesturing impatiently at them, looking nervously at the sky. "Need a hand?" he drawled the question out.
She let go of her hair and skirt and held her arms out to her sides. "With what?" She held up her purse. "You can carry this if you want."
He looked skeptically at the little bag. "I don't think so."
"I can pretend you mugged me if it'll make you feel more manly." She smiled and combed her fingers through her hair. "I think the rain is going to miss us."
He glanced up at the sky. Deep purple clouds were illuminated by flashes of lightening, revealing piles of thick clouds. His hand slid down her forearm to cuff her wrist. "I don't think so."
Mattie was bouncing in the doorway. "Colonel, I didn't know you were coming over." She nodded at the door. "Open it please," she smiled up at Harm. "It's an emergency and I forgot my front door keys. Are you here for work or something?" she asked, shifting her attention back to Mac.
Harm pushed the door open. "Or something," he answered for her. "There you are."
"Thanks," she said as she dashed inside. Jen trailed after her, waving at the couple and giving them a curious look.
"We're going to be the subject of so much office gossip on Monday," Mac murmured under her breath.
His arms were crossed over his chest. "Does that bother you?" His gaze was fixed on the elevator doors and he had the smallest hint of a smile.
She leaned back against the elevator wall, feeling the cold seep through her skirt. She pressed her shoulder blades together to keep her spine from settling against the wall. "Well," she answered, "you know what the gossip mill is like."
"I do," he replied. "Are you backing out?"
She sucked her lip between her teeth and rested a hand on her hip. "No," she said slowly. Her voice betrayed her nerves and the two letter word had a few more syllables added to it. The elevator ground to a halt with a stomach lurching jolt. "I'm starting to worry about the safety of your elevator."
"Starting
to?" he questioned, his eyebrow raised to punctuate his sarcasm.
Unlocking his door, he ushered her in and flipped on a light. He watched
as she wandered around his apartment, exploring it as if she had never
seen it. Her fingers trailed over the kitchen table and he could see
her shoulders rise and fall beneath the fabric of her shirt as she
took a deep breath before turning
around.
They stared at each other from across the room, each wondering what they were doing. He reminded himself that he was happy and content. After a rocky year, and the upheavals of the previous one, he was finally finding even ground. And he couldn't figure out why he insisted on throwing everything off again. Sarah Mackenzie was a seismic event in his world and he didn't know how he'd be able to piece it together again when she left. He regretted telling her that he wouldn't let go of her. He regretted not telling her sooner. And he wondered how he'd let go of her when the night was over.
The tension pulsed. It throbbed around them, radiating out from them and beating in the corners of the room. The small circle of light from the lamp dissipated as it stretched to light the whole room. It oozed across the furniture and floors before giving way to the dark. They stood still, frozen in the half-light, paralyzed by the awkwardness between them.
"I should go," she said suddenly. Her thumb hooked around her purse strap and her foot extended towards the door.
He took a step closer to her, then paused. Raising an eyebrow, he asked again, "Backing out? Where's that gung ho Marine attitude?"
She pursed her lips, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the smile off her face. "Do you really think that's attractive? That's about the least sexy thing I've ever heard. Seriously do you think that's going to work?"
"Yes." He inched closer. His hands reached out for hers and pulled her towards him. She shivered lightly as she felt his thumbs run over the insides of her wrists, tracing the sides of her bones in feather-light caresses. Her lips parted slightly and she leaned in to kiss him.
Her
brain begged her to stop. Her heart pleaded with her. But she couldn't
make her body respond to their demands. It was going to ruin everything
between them. She would never be able to look at him the same way
in the morning. She prayed that she wouldn't do anything stupid like
telling him that she was in love with him. Then her thoughts dwindled
away like spun sugar until all she could focus on was him. Her heart,
helpless to do anything else, sighed and succumbed and waited quietly
for morning.