We’re both silent for a moment, and then she pushes me back until I fall against the bed. Straddling me, she goes for my tie, trying to loosen it, and as much as I want her wild in bed, I have to muster up every single bit of strength to lift up and move her off me. I don’t miss the cute pout that spreads across her face.
“Come on, babe. We’ve got to leave. You’ll look perfect in anything you wear, I promise you,” I tell her, placing a kiss on her forehead and leaving the room, hoping to cool my jets and calm my dick. Trust me, I’d rather spend the day wrapped up in bed with her instead of going back to my roots. I feel a little like I’m going against the firing squad. I barely made it out of there in one piece the first time, and I can admit that I’m nervous about seeing my parents again. And Branson. I have no idea if we’ll ever be brothers again, but I guess it’s time I find out.
When Charlie finally emerges from the bedroom, she looks gorgeous as hell. She still looks like my girl, and I’m so grateful for it. I already feel like an imposter in this tie, but the way she looked at me when she saw it made wearing it worth it. She’s wearing a dark green sundress, kind of like the brown one she wore on our first non-date. There’s a sash around her waist, the light green color matching my tie. Her breasts look full and firm, and I almost want to tell her to go cover up. I don’t bother because I know she’d just fight me on it. The dress falls to mid-thigh, and I can see the ripple of her quads as she walks towards me. She’s wearing a pair of brown heels, and when she reaches me, she’s only a couple of inches shorter. I love it.
“Gorgeous,” I tell her, leaning in for a kiss.
She laughs and pushes me away. “It’s not too Britney Justin à la their denim days, is it?”
Shaking my head, I grab her hand and lock up the house before we make our way to Evelyn. “I have no idea what that even means.”
Turning to me, she gapes. “Are you serious?! It was only one of the highlights from our youth. You don’t remember when Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears showed up at an awards show in matching denim outfits? It was atrocious!”
“Yeah, I must’ve missed that. Are you saying we look like matching pop stars?”
A small blush comes across her cheeks. “No, not at all. I just…want to make sure you don’t care that we have similar colors.”
Crossing to her, I wrap her up in my arms. “Sweetheart, you… no, we look perfect.”
WHEN WE pull up to the gate of my parent’s estate, my heart begins racing. I know my leg’s shaking uncontrollably, and Charlie places her hand on it, as if her touch will calm me down. It does, a little bit, and I’m more than grateful that she’s here. I don’t think I could do this without her. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure I would’ve torn the invitation up if I’d gotten it before we met. Something about her strength fuels my own, and I know I’m ready for this. Rolling down the window, I ready myself to speak to security.
“Name?”
“Knox Nathaniel Wellington the Third,” I answer, feeling weird about saying my full name now that I’m back on my home turf. Charlie squeezes my thigh and gives me a reassuring smile.
The audio crackles before the voice responds. “I’m sorry; did you say Knox Nathaniel?”
Clearing my throat, I can’t help but be a dick. “Did I fucking stutter?’
Without another word, the gate opens, and I wind Evelyn up the driveway, shaking my head as I spy the limos, Ferraris, and other expensive-as-shit cars these people only drive to events like this. Parking the car, I’m wondering what the fuck I’m doing here, but Charlie grabs my hand, squeezing it.
“We can do this, Knox,” she tells me, and the thought that we’re a ‘we’ makes this whole thing bearable.
She gets out of the car before I can come open her door, but I stick my elbow out so she can entwine her arm in mine. Laughing at me, she pushes my arm down, grabbing my hand in hers, linking our fingers.
“We’re not that formal, Knox. Just because we’re here, let’s not forget who we are. Who you are, okay?”
I feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me when I enter my parents’ house. Part of me wants to turn around and get back in my car, fleeing back to Clarksville. But then Charlie squeezes my hand, letting me know that she’s right here with me.
Walking down the hallway, I look at the pictures on the wall. There are pictures of us all growing up, and when I get to the end, I stop abruptly and can’t help but be shocked as hell. All of our graduation pictures hang on the wall, and there’s a wedding picture of Branson and Megan, which I pass over quickly. But the last section of wall is all me. My Boot Camp graduation picture is there, and I can’t suppress the smile that comes to my face, knowing that I look like a fucking kid swimming in a uniform. There are framed newspaper clippings from awards and decorations ceremonies. And holy fuck, there’s even a framed timeline of all my promotions. How in the hell did they get all this? And why? I wonder how long they’ve been following my career. I honestly thought they’d just written me off, and I didn’t know any different because I never let Cohen talk about them.
The last picture is my undoing, and I have to swallow hard as I collect my bearings. It’s a photograph of me lying on a stretcher in Afghanistan, taken by Public Affairs when they flew me out of there. Moving in, I read the caption: “Local hero Knox Wellington being medevaced after the detonation of a roadside bomb. His current condition is unknown.”
I don’t even realize that Charlie’s beside me until I hear her gasp. Looking towards her, I see that she has tears in her eyes and her hand is covering her mouth.
“That’s you,” she says softly.
Pulling her into me, I press a kiss against her head. “That was me, babe. And I got through it. I’m here. With you, okay?” I ask, looking into her eyes to make sure she really is fine. We’ve never talked in depth about the incident, so this is the first time she’s really coming face to face with my job. I’m guessing it’s a shock to her.
Nodding, she presses her head against my chest, embracing me. I’m not sure who’s comforting whom right now, but it doesn’t really matter. Seeing that my family didn’t completely forget me is both painful and encouraging. Painful because I allowed myself to think the worst all these years, but encouraging because it makes me think that everything’s going to be fine.
I don’t know how long we stand there, and I’m about to pull away when a voice interrupts us.
“Knox? Is that really you?’ I still at hearing the voice of my mother, the one woman I thought would never betray me but ended up doing so anyway.
Turning around, I find myself face to face with her for the first time in eleven years and I don’t know what to feel. I’m wondering how I look to her. When I left home, I was a boy. Young, naïve, stupid. I’ve put on over forty pounds of muscle since joining the Army, and now that I’ve come home, I’m a man. It’s probably weird, but I stand up just a little bit taller, hoping to put the changes in me on display, letting her know I’m not some kid who can be pushed around anymore.