solution. Neither of us wanted to say it, but we were talking kill or be killed. The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club wasn’t going to do it for us, but Trask had agreed to. I knew he did it because he still had feelings for me, and I had taken advantage of that.
I’d wanted to know what he did, but when I actually heard it, my reaction had been shitty. It was like I had forgotten growing up on the poor side of town. The god-complex a lot of doctors get must have already started sinking in, because I was trying to use Trask, not ask for his help.
I came into the bedroom with a towel around my body. Trask was there sitting at a desk below a window. I stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching him and beating myself up in my head.
“Hey,” I said, trying to remember the voice I used way back in high school as we used to lay on the hood of his car, “I’m sorry, Trask. I acted like an ass.” He didn’t turn around, so I went on.
“You were right about what you said. I never wanted you to go into the military. Even though we were splitting up, I didn’t want to lose you . After we left, I was a wreck all through the war. Every name, every new explosion on TV; I always died inside thinking it was you.”
Trask’s voice was low, weighed down by memory. He spoke without turning around. “I wasn’t anywhere near Iraq or Afghanistan.”
“I didn’t know that. I didn’t know anything about you after you enlisted. I just waited to hear from friends that you had died, or worse: I waited to hear your name on some newscast. It was torture for me, Trask.” My voice remained steady, but there was no stopping the tears. He turned around.
Before I knew it, I was in his arms. The heat of his naked body engulfed me.
I started sobbing into his shoulder as he held me. I had buried my feelings for so long, but there was no keeping them hidden anymore.
“Hey, hey. Hope, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...” He held me for a long time, letting me pour my emotions out.
“I thought this was all behind me, and then there you are, saving me with your tattoos and your Joe Cool attitude. Jesus Christ, Trask.”
“I know, I know.” His voice was soothing and low. He stroked my hair, keeping me close to his body.
Trask moved me toward the bed, my towel falling to the floor between us. He laid me down, the soft sheets cooling my skin. I rested my head on his chest for a while, listening to his heart pounding steady and true. It was a long time until he spoke.
“I do what I do for my family. Those old farts are my family.” I could hear the sincerity in his voice, his bass tones rumbling in his chest. “You came to me to help your family, right?”
“Mmhm.”
“Okay, then. You have to understand that I’m willing to do whatever it takes for you, even if the Sons aren’t. At the same time, though, you need to be willing to accept whatever it takes. That might be a fight, that might be blood, that might be bodies.”
After a long pause, Trask asked, “Hope, can you accept that?”
I could. I didn’t want to hear it, but I knew that Trask could keep what was left of my family safe, no matter what.
I pushed myself up from his chest. I met his chestnut eyes. Nodding, I pulled myself up next to Trask’s head and whispered in his ear, “I trust you. I trust you completely.”
He let out a low groan as he pulled my naked body on top of his. We made passionate love like we had done years before. It was slow, deep, and without any struggle over power. The violent sex of the night before had been wonderful and erotic, but it was sex between strangers. The morning was sex between lovers.
After a hearty but quick late breakfast, Trask and I sipped coffee outside his container home. The sun was still climbing, and the air had a chill in it. There were a few molasses slow clouds in the sky, and if it hadn't been for the handgun sitting on the table between us, it would have been a lovely morning.
Trask
I’d wanted to know what he did, but when I actually heard it, my reaction had been shitty. It was like I had forgotten growing up on the poor side of town. The god-complex a lot of doctors get must have already started sinking in, because I was trying to use Trask, not ask for his help.
I came into the bedroom with a towel around my body. Trask was there sitting at a desk below a window. I stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching him and beating myself up in my head.
“Hey,” I said, trying to remember the voice I used way back in high school as we used to lay on the hood of his car, “I’m sorry, Trask. I acted like an ass.” He didn’t turn around, so I went on.
“You were right about what you said. I never wanted you to go into the military. Even though we were splitting up, I didn’t want to lose you . After we left, I was a wreck all through the war. Every name, every new explosion on TV; I always died inside thinking it was you.”
Trask’s voice was low, weighed down by memory. He spoke without turning around. “I wasn’t anywhere near Iraq or Afghanistan.”
“I didn’t know that. I didn’t know anything about you after you enlisted. I just waited to hear from friends that you had died, or worse: I waited to hear your name on some newscast. It was torture for me, Trask.” My voice remained steady, but there was no stopping the tears. He turned around.
Before I knew it, I was in his arms. The heat of his naked body engulfed me.
I started sobbing into his shoulder as he held me. I had buried my feelings for so long, but there was no keeping them hidden anymore.
“Hey, hey. Hope, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...” He held me for a long time, letting me pour my emotions out.
“I thought this was all behind me, and then there you are, saving me with your tattoos and your Joe Cool attitude. Jesus Christ, Trask.”
“I know, I know.” His voice was soothing and low. He stroked my hair, keeping me close to his body.
Trask moved me toward the bed, my towel falling to the floor between us. He laid me down, the soft sheets cooling my skin. I rested my head on his chest for a while, listening to his heart pounding steady and true. It was a long time until he spoke.
“I do what I do for my family. Those old farts are my family.” I could hear the sincerity in his voice, his bass tones rumbling in his chest. “You came to me to help your family, right?”
“Mmhm.”
“Okay, then. You have to understand that I’m willing to do whatever it takes for you, even if the Sons aren’t. At the same time, though, you need to be willing to accept whatever it takes. That might be a fight, that might be blood, that might be bodies.”
After a long pause, Trask asked, “Hope, can you accept that?”
I could. I didn’t want to hear it, but I knew that Trask could keep what was left of my family safe, no matter what.
I pushed myself up from his chest. I met his chestnut eyes. Nodding, I pulled myself up next to Trask’s head and whispered in his ear, “I trust you. I trust you completely.”
He let out a low groan as he pulled my naked body on top of his. We made passionate love like we had done years before. It was slow, deep, and without any struggle over power. The violent sex of the night before had been wonderful and erotic, but it was sex between strangers. The morning was sex between lovers.
After a hearty but quick late breakfast, Trask and I sipped coffee outside his container home. The sun was still climbing, and the air had a chill in it. There were a few molasses slow clouds in the sky, and if it hadn't been for the handgun sitting on the table between us, it would have been a lovely morning.
Trask
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