Page 89 of Proof Of Life
My heart feels heavy listening to their pain. I know that pain, it’s a dark and lonely place. Thank God I have West, but Mandy and Jax don’t have anyone to call their own, besides the group.
In the heavy silence, I realize it’s my turn, and that they’re waiting on me to speak. It feels like a day for sharing secrets, and although West and I haven’t discussed a timeline for coming out to the group, we told my parents, and he handled that well. He also told Mandy, and he felt good about that. I don’t plan to tell them outright, but it doesn’t sit right with me to have them thinking that I’m ready to start dating, especially if they’re going to continue to tease me about it like I know they will. That’s what brothers do.
“It’s been a long week. The awards ceremony took a toll on us. And that was only one of many tough days recently, but somehow it all pales in comparison to the one bright and shining spot this week.” All the good feelings I associate with West, the way he makes me feel, so complete and alive, has a smile spreading across my cheeks that I can’t fight. I want to tell them I’m in love with my best friend. I want to shout it to the entire world. I want to tell them I’m happier than I’ve ever been and that even on his worst days, I’m still so fucking grateful for him. “It’s probably the brightest spot of my entire fucking life. It really puts everything in perspective.”
Am I blushing? My face feels hot.
I must be because the ridiculous cat calls start up—whistles, a slow clap—I have the worst poker face.
“What’s her name?”
“When can we meet her?”
“Does she have a friend for West?”
In a move that surprises everyone, but no one more than me, West pushes to his feet. He stands before me and, with a look I can only describe as let’s-fucking-do-this-because-I-love-you, he straddles my lap and hooks his arms around my neck, touching his forehead to mine. Softly, he brushes his lips over mine, waiting for me to part them, and when I let him inside, he strokes his tongue along mine in a deep, passionate kiss that almost makes me forget we’re not alone.
“It’s about fucking time,” Riggs bitches, clapping the loudest.
“Get some,” McCormick yells.
“Fucking McCormick,” West mumbles against my lips. “Maybe you should consider dating dudes; it might change your luck.”
McCormick looks affronted. “Fuck you.” But then his expression changes as he appears to consider it. “What are you doing later?” he asks Stiles.
“Oh hell, no! And don’t call me later, asking me what I’m wearing.”
“And no dick pics either,” Jax adds. “Nobody wants to see your junk. Again.”
“I was drunk dialing! I meant to send that to a chick,” McCormick swears. “Y’all are a hateful bunch of Bitches,” he whines when every single one of us breaks out in laughter.
I stare up into West's eyes, and I see everything I feel for him reflected back. All the love, all the trust, it’s all there clear as day. I slide my arms around his waist and press my lips to his again.
Fuck the Bitches. This is our moment.
“I love you,” I breathe against his lips.
“Love you more.”
McCormick: Are you doing it right now?
Stiles: If he doesn’t answer, it means yes.
“Brandt! Can’t you make them stop? This is getting ridiculous.”
“You’re a retired SFC. You have leadership skills. Use them,” he shouts from the bathroom.
I poke my head in the bedroom and call, “Come on, before we’re late. We still have to pick up Mandy.” I’d shut my phone off if it wasn’t such an important day.
Brandt emerges and grabs his wallet and keys from the dresser. “I'm betting you’re more nervous than he is. You need to relax because you’re going to make his anxiety worse.”
“You’re right. Fuck. I don’t know how to calm down.” I’m fucking blowing this. Mandy needs a rock-solid, supportive ball buddy, not a saggy limp nut like me.
We climb into the Jeep and I’m glad he’s driving because my head is a mess.
“Tell me about the Sherman.”
“The M4?” The question catches me off guard. It’s so unexpected I forget my panic. “It wasn’t a total piece of shit like the bad rap it always gets. It had super thick armor, and because it was taller than other tanks, it was a little more comfortable and roomy inside. They were easily repaired right there on the battlefield and ran on gasoline rather than diesel, which was both good and bad. But the Panzer blew it out of the water. Fucking Germans.”