Page 25 of Light on Love
Gripping the arm of the chair as her knuckles turn white, Laurel listens closely. Still hearing nothing, the panic she had been feeling since the first boom erupted spikes to a new level. If someone has gotten to her, what has happened to Brett? What would they have done to him because of her? She’s unable to catch her breath at the thought, nausea rising in her throat.
A creak sounds from downstairs, and she shrinks back in the chair, dizzy with fear. She can hear footsteps climbing the stairs until they stop in front of the door. There’s jostling, and then the click of the lock disengaging. Laurel stifles a cry as the door opens.
“Brett!” she breathes, the tears finally escaping her. He’s there, standing in black camouflaged tactical pants, a matching quarter zip, and black combat boots. She stands to try to reach him and instead shrinks to the ground in sobs.
“It’s alright. It’s all over, I’m here. I’m here, it’s alright,” he murmurs as he meets her on the ground and wraps himself around her. She buries her face in his neck and breathes in musk and citrus, breathes in Brett.
“I didn’t think it was you,” she whispers. “The way you were walking, it wasn’t like you.” Laurel pulls back as the realization takes over. “You’re hurt, that’s why you were walking like that,” she says, the panic rising within her again.
Looking him over, Laurel notices his hand on his side, covering the bloody wound. “You’re hurt, Brett,” she says again, pulling him up and leading him into the bathroom. She flips the light on and leans him against the counter. Brett is unnaturally still, watching her lift his hand and pull his quarter zip, and the t-shirt underneath, off him.
She’s revealed a gash running down his side. “What happened?” Laurel asks, bringing her hand to her mouth in alarm. Brett doesn’t answer, instead reaching out and taking hold of her hand.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes, you’re hurt because of me. Please.”
Brett kicks opens the cabinet behind his leg. “Gauze and materials to clean it are in there. Stitches obviously are out of the question, there is glue in there instead. I can glue it, that’s too much to ask of you.”
When she reaches for the materials, he continues, “there were eight of them. The explosions were traps I set at some of the weaker points along the ranch perimeter. I’ve had the guys setting up trail cameras at each of my IEDs, so it was easy to figure out which ones went off. The blasts took out three of them, I had to get the other five. Grey and Floyd are taking care of the bodies now. After I got the last five, we checked all the cameras and any blind spots to make sure I didn’t miss anyone. I didn’t. Miss anyone that is. You’re safe.”
“I just need you to be okay,” she replies as she focuses on cleaning his wound. Brett wraps his arm around her waist and presses a kiss against her temple.
“I’m okay now, honey,” he says, keeping his arm around her.
Laurel finishes cleaning the wound and picks up the glue. “How do I do this?”He takes his bloodied hand off the bathroom counter and wipes it clean on the wet towel she had just placed beside him. Then he brings it up to run his thumb along her jaw.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She ignores him and examines the tube. “I’ll just wing it then.”
Brett chuckles in response and it’s like a shot of life for her to hear that sound. He explains what she needs to do, and she follows along step by step. Finishing by placing the dressing over the glue, Laurel runs her fingers down his bare ribs.
Brett watches her fingers dance across him in silence for a moment. “I’m sorry I got blood on you.” He motions to her shirt, the top buttons still undone by his hand just hours before. She rests her cheek on his chest against his frogman tattoo, relief beginning to settle into her. He hugs her to him, one hand gently massaging the back of her head.
“I was terrified,” he says softly. “And mad. Honestly burning with rage. That’s never happened to me before, I was a good team lead because I kept a level head no matter the situation. But the idea that they were here to hurt you, I couldn’t contain it. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tear them apart slowly, make them feel it for even thinking about touching you,” he admits solemnly.
Laurel lifts her head and looks into Brett’s eyes. She notices the rage still burning there, though just embers now. She reaches up and pulls his mouth to hers, urgent to ease his rage for him.
He meets her urgency, plunging his tongue into her mouth, teeth grazing her. She sucks and nips his lips, kissing like they are desperate for one another. Pulling back to take a breath, Laurel weaves her fingers through his hair, holding his forehead against her.
“I get anxious, worrying isn’t new to me. But the fear I felt that something was happening to you out there… the idea of you being hurt was worse than when they told me I was being hunted,” she admits, still playing with his hair. She needs to feel him. Being able to touch Brett helps her know he’s really there, really okay.
Brett lifts his head as she shutters, the fear coming back to her. He kisses her slowly, gently, as if he is trying to show her how her words have impacted him. Below them the sound of a door opens, and Laurel stills.
“It’s just the guys, I told them to come talk with us when they were done,” Brett assures her. He steps into his closet and throws on a new t-shirt before reaching for Laurel once again. Tucking her in tight under his arm, they make their way downstairs to meet with the others.
Grey and Floyd are in the living room, pouring themselves a drink when Laurel and Brett enter. Laurel’s eyes travel to Brett’s empty whiskey glass by the couch and she feels disbelief that it was just hours earlier she was straddling him on the couch. Her cheeks flush at the memory and she can feel Brett’s gaze on her.
When she makes eye contact with him, his eyes study her before looking towards the sofa himself. Brett smirks, understanding where her thoughts had been.He gives her butt a teasing squeeze before they reach the guys.
Grey looks up, concern in his blue eyes. “You good brother? I saw how bad you were bleeding.” He motions towards Brett’s wound.
“All good,” Brett replies swiftly and guides them all out to the back porch. The three men each take a seat in rocking chairs and before Laurel can go to her own, Brett sweeps her up on to his lap. She settles in, content to still be in his arms even though they are no longer alone.
The sun is beginning to rise around them, and the beauty of the cotton candy sky feels wrong to her after the night they just experienced. Brett, however, seems to be savoring it. She can’t help but wonder how many times in his life he thought he’d never make it to sunrise. Her heart feels heavy at the thought, and she presses in tighter to him, as if afraid he might disappear.Brett plants a kiss on her temple in response.
“Could you have Coop call everyone and tell them no work today?” Brett asks.