No Man Left Behind: A Veteran Inspired Charity Anthology by Elizabeth Knox (black authors fiction TXT) 📕

“Does it bother you a lot?” I ask, pointing to his leg.

“Hell yes, it is more discomfort than anything else, after a long day or when it is really hot outside, and I am sweaty,” he says.

“I think what you have done, how far you have come, even since I met you. I think you are very brave and a good man,” I tell him and I have no idea what is coming over me.

He timidly runs his knuckles down my cheek. “That is because you make me want to be in a better place. Getting to know you, the kind of person you are, not to mention when you are around, I don’t feel so numb and the fact you don’t take my crap, makes me want to spend as much time with you as I can.” His lips crash over mine and I am stunned. The urge to kiss him back is overpowering. The way he tastes like mint mixed with a hint of coffee. I grip him hard pulling him closer to me.

When I pull away, we are both panting. I can feel my heat overpowering me, creeping up my body.

“I’m sorry, I have wanted to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says, shocking me.

“It’s okay. I’ve wanted to do that as well, I just wasn’t sure if you wanted me to,” I confess to him. I want to scream at him I want more, please don’t stop kissing me.

He grabs me, wrapping me in his arms. “I have wondered what you tasted like since the day you barged into my house,” he tells me and I couldn’t do anything but sigh.

“I have to work tomorrow night but can I come back over after my shift?” My voice was just above a whisper.

He leans in kissing me tenderly. “I would love for you to come over, what time is your shift over?” he asks.

My feet hurt, my back aches, and my heart hurts. Sometimes my job takes so much out of me, I don’t know if I have it in me to go back again.

Work was crazy and I am so thankful it is over. When I get to Jackson’s I can hear shouting coming from the bedroom.

“Jackson, wake up!” I say, trying to stir him out of his nightmare. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you were screaming in your sleep,” I tell him filled with concern.

“I know, I’m sorry” he says, and I can see he is drenched in sweat.

“I promise, I’m okay, it was just a dream. It’s all over now. Come on, climb into bed,” he says. Nothing sounds better than to climb into bed with him and forget about my day.

“What happened?” Jackson asks, knowing something was bothering me but unsure what it is.

“It was just a very long and hard shift,” I say, trying not to let the day’s events destroy me. My eyes well up again.

“Come here.” He pulls me into him, tucking away all the bad stuff.

“I’m sorry work was hard,” he says.

“Do you have dreams like that often?” I mumble.

“Yes, but it’s nothing I can’t live with. Shhhh, go to sleep, we can talk about that in the morning,” he tells me, running his fingers through my hair.

Chapter Seven

Jackson

I don’t know how long I laid there last night, the way she felt on me, I could have stayed like that forever. The way she looked and acted she must have had a rough night at work.

I can feel her shift, telling me she is awake.

“Good morning,” I say, kissing her.

“Morning.” She wraps her legs over mine deepening the kiss.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” she asks, stretching.

“Yes, please, I need to get up and let Gracie out,” I say, sitting up on the bed.

“Here.” She reaches for my crutches.

“Thanks, babe,” I say, leaning down, placing a chaste kiss on her lips and she rewards me with a smile.

“May I ask you a question?” she jokes.

“Yes, you may,” I retort sarcastically.

“How often are you having dreams, and do you think when we go back to the VA next week, we should let them know?” she asks. Her tone tells me she thinks I’m going to be angry and the old me might have been.

“I have them every time I close my eyes, I see all of my men that never made it home. Mainly they are memories from my time over there and I can’t figure out a way for them to go away, period. And as far as speaking to someone, I guess I could give that a try,” I tell her openly and honestly. I just hope it helps with what she is going through.

“Now, your turn,” I say. “What happened at work last night?” I can tell by the way she is shifting from one foot to the other it isn’t easy for her to talk about.

“Sometimes my work is amazing! When you meet the kids, they worm their way into your heart even though it’s oncology. Most of the kids that come in are terrified, their parents have little to no knowledge on cancer, so you hold their hands and you still hope for the best. Last night I had to tell a mother of a six-year-old that he has stopped responding to treatment and there is nothing more we can do for him except to make him comfortable,” I rush out, my eyes welling with tears.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I tell her and wrap her in my arms. “I think what you do is so brave and wonderful, you help families in their darkest hour. You help give them hope,” I tell her.

“Thank you, I really needed to hear that,” she says, reaching up and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

“What do you want to do today?” I ask.

“I feel like getting out of the house,” I tell her, and she is shocked. “Thank you for being there for me,” I blurt