Wingman Warriors - Joint Forces Part 26

Exchanging her work clothes for stretch pants and an over-long T-s.h.i.+rt, Rena turned her back on her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Facing herself and her mistakes wasn't easily done, and she would have plenty of that soon enough.

Time and excuses had run out. She and J.T. would have to come to a firm decision on their future. It wasn't fair to Chris to string things out.

The trip to and from the base had been quiet, as if J.T. understood any talk would require full attention- and likely be too long to accomplish during the short ride.

She tugged her hair free from inside the overlong T-s.h.i.+rt and searched through a basket by the sink for a matching hair scrunchie. Purple? Black? No. Gray, like her mood. Maybe she could just entice J.T. into having a quickie before they opened Pandora's box. Rena gathered up her hair and- Huh? She focused all her attention inward- There it was again. The tickle inside her. Gasping, she dropped the hair scrunchie and savored those b.u.t.terfly whispers of life within her she'd never expected to feel again.

She pressed a hand to her stomach and didn't even breathe for fear of missing repeats. Her baby became

all the more real-hers and J.T.'s-this new person who deserved so much more than a couple of parents who pitched plates and stormed out of rooms.

"Are you all right?" J.T. asked from the open door connecting the bathroom to their bedroom.

She hadn't even heard him walk up.

Rena nodded, her hand still cradling the sensation inside her. Her lip trembled. "The baby moved. I'd forgotten what it felt... How incredible... I just..." Her chin trembling, she shrugged. "Our baby moved."

His throat convulsed on a long swallow. His hands clenched and she knew he wanted to touch her, even

if he wouldn't be able to feel the flutters yet.

She hated that he had to be hesitant, but if he touched her right now, she would weaken. She would forget all about her resolve and give in when she needed to make a stand more than ever for the baby.

For them.

Still, this was his child, too.

She angled past into their bedroom and slid the ultrasound photo from her dressing table. "I never got the chance to show you this last night."

He took the slick black-and-white image and stared at it for so long she grew dizzy holding her breath.

A smile dug dimple brackets around his mouth. "You're right. This is incredible. Even more than I

remembered. Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for."

Slowly, he set down the photo, his gray eyes somber. "There are many things to thank you for."

Oh G.o.d, he could be so sweet sometimes. She walked into his arms, where she'd wanted to be all day

anyway. Tension left his bunched muscles, his eyes softening but losing none of their impact.

She guided his hand to her stomach, placed and held it against their child. Cars drove past outside. Trees rustled in the breeze. But they both stood still and quiet for-she had no idea how long. His hand slid away and up to sketch knuckles along her cheekbone. "I've loved you since the first time I saw you. No matter what happens, no matter what else we might say to each other, I want to make sure you know that."

She melted. Like a bowl of peach ice cream abandoned on the table, she melted into a puddle of emotions. Arching up, she met him as he angled down to kiss her.

With her defensiveness was.h.i.+ng away, the hope shone clearer. Tempting her. Maybe things really would be okay this time without pus.h.i.+ng him.

But then she remembered his words to Chris in the kitchen about fear and bravery. In the face of J.T.'s strength and courage, how could she be anything less? This was her defining moment. If she wanted to be a woman worthy of this so very special man, she needed to be brave enough to make the tougher choices.

Resolve stronger than her shaky knees and quivering belly, she eased down from her toes, broke the kiss. She caressed J.T.'s bristly jaw up into the silver flecking his temples. "I'd like us to attend marital counseling."

Predictably, he turned stone still in her arms. "Why? Things are back on track now. Didn't you hear what I just said?"

Hear? Of course she'd heard. And it scared the spit out of her because she wanted to chicken out and just take what she could. But she knew now that would only delay the inevitable. "On track? J.T., we had great s.e.x."

He quirked an eyebrow, not smiling. Already she could feel the restrained irritation resurrecting within him.

"Fine. Incredible s.e.x." Better than anything she could remember, s.e.x that touched places of her soul she didn't know existed. "That hasn't helped us before."

Still, he kept his temper reined, cupped her shoulders, his hands on her always a distraction. He almost certainly knew that and was using it, d.a.m.n him.

"I get your point, babe, but we're talking like you always wanted. h.e.l.l, I've talked more in the past two weeks than I did the whole time I was growing up."

He had a point, and she wanted to be swayed as much as she wanted to dig in her bare feet and stand her ground. Problem was, when this man finally decided to speak, he could talk her out of her good sense as fast as he could her clothes and heart. "We need an impartial third party to help us sort through some tough issues."

"I figure we've pa.s.sed a few landmarks," he continued as if she hadn't even spoken. "Sure we've had arguments, but I haven't walked out of the room and you haven't thrown a dish. That's progress."

"Not funny."

"Yes, it is."

Her lips twitched. "Maybe a little."

"So what's the problem? We've got a good thing going. Let's roll with it."

"Yes, things are improving. We both still have feelings for each other." She kept her eyes on the neck of his flight suit rather than risk falling into his smoky eyes. "But we're deluding ourselves if we think everything's magically going to get better. This-" she waved her hand in the general direction of their bed-a bed that was waiting too conveniently close for her peace of mind "-is wonderful, but it's a Band-Aid fix. What's changed to keep us from landing back in the same hurtful place?"

"We're older. Smarter."

She snorted. "We're older, anyway." Grabbing hold of her resolve while sticking strong to her decision

not to grab hold of him, she stared straight into his eyes. "Jesus, J.T., can't you see that even with progress, we're also still making some of the same mistakes?"

He exhaled long, slow, p.i.s.sed. "So use the counselor degree and tell me what I should do."

She forced her own arms to stay at her sides as much as she wanted to cross them, close herself off. "It's

not you. It's us. And you know I can't do that, anyway. It's like telling a doctor to diagnose and treat herself. There's no way to obtain impartial distance."

"You're great just the way you are." "Quit BSing me, J.T." She resisted the urge to stomp her foot, which would only hurt and not accomplish squat except to give away her frustration level when it came to this infuriating, s.e.xy, heartbreakingly wonderful man. "I may not he able to heal my own family, but I know enough to realize it takes two to make or break a marriage."

"We can't afford it," he said, thumbing the ultrasound photo off the dresser, "especially not with a new kid on the way."

"We can't afford not to, especially with a new baby on the way."

He replaced the photo, sliding a crystal ring dish to the side and out of her tossing reach, a smile playing with his dimples.

d.a.m.n it, she would not be charmed by his quiet humor. Not now. His dimple deepened.

Maybe she was a little charmed.

She closed the distance between them and flattened a hand to his chest. "It's free at the base clinic,

covered as part of your benefits. Family Advocacy is there for a reason."

How could dimples turn to a scowl so quickly? "I'm not putting my problems on record there."

"Confidentiality applies."

"Yeah, right. Until someone sees me walking out of there. Fliers can't afford a hint of personal problems."

"And a broken marriage isn't a hint?"

"No."

Deep breaths. She toyed with straightening his collar while she regulated her breathing and organized her

thoughts. "All right, you have a real problem with counseling. I'm trying not to be insulted that you think

so little of my career field."

"Don't look for a fight." He lifted her hand from his chest and pressed a kiss against her wrist, playing havoc with her heartbeat. "Let's both take time off from work, spend it with the kids and each other like you wanted before. I'd already decided during my flight tonight to take leave."

His concession surprised her, big-time, since it would involve dipping into her paycheck to finance the trip, a definite step forward for them. Enough to relent? Hoping that she could soften him up later on the counseling issue?

If only he weren't nipping at the sensitive inside of her wrist in an obvious, calculated effort to distract her. "And we would go somewhere. We would use our money to pay for it."

"Yeah, sure." He dropped her hand and made a big freaking production out of brus.h.i.+ng away a few dead leaves from around the base of a begonia plant in the window. "Let's rent that cabin like you wanted to for Christmas. We can have that family time together once Nikki and Chris finish up exams."

He'd agreed, even if the prospect left him looking itchier than one of her kids after a roll in poison ivy. Why couldn't she stop reading something into the fact that his restless movements straightening things in the room took him closer and closer to the hall?

The vent by the door captured his attention and he stretched up to adjust the open/shut lever. "Or if the cabin thing doesn't appeal for summer, make whatever arrangements you want. Anything's fine by me."

His left foot landed in the hall.

"Since you're walking out the door, does that mean I get to throw something?"

That stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder. Turned. "Real funny, Rena. I'm trying to be accommodating."

"Accommodating? Sounds to me like you're trying to placate me so you can get the h.e.l.l out of the room." Deeper breaths. "This is exactly what I'm talking about when I mention marriage counseling. We could probably use some family counseling, too, with Chris's situation."

"Well, h.e.l.l," he snapped. "Didn't we get anything right?" Old habits slid into place too easily and she refused to let them take over. "I'll ignore that comment since I'm trying here. But it's obvious you're only agreeing to the vacation to placate me."

"You won." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Be happy."

Bad-body-language alert. And her temper was sparking, ripe and ready for anything to fuel it to life. Two weeks of holding her tongue, walking on eggsh.e.l.ls, terrified to hope and terrified not to, all sliced at her paper-thin control. "I won? Good G.o.d, do you hear yourself? It's not about winning. It's about both of us being happy."

"I'm happy if you're not pitching plates."

"You deserve more than that and so do I. I want us to go to marriage counseling."

His arms unfolded and he gripped the top of the door frame, the hall sealed from sight. "Oh, I see how it is. I agree to what you ask by talking-like how I'm finally agreeing to the vacation you wanted so d.a.m.n bad last year. So you up the request until I say no. Then it's my fault things fell apart."

Was there truth in that? Maybe. But if so, then it only solidified her surety that they needed help. "How could you think I would wish for this h.e.l.l? Don't you realize how much our split hurt me? More so the second time, even, coming so close on the heels of what happened overseas. Do you have any clue what it was like thinking you'd died? Imagining what was happening to you if you hadn't?"

His hands fisted against the frame.

"We were both a mess when you came home. And as much as I want to hope nothing bad ever happens to us again, that's unrealistic." The fear of a repeat swamped her until she used the excuse of her sore ankle to sit on the edge of their bed. "We need to be rock solid to face the future. We need to be open with each other, not just winning and losing. Do you realize you still haven't even told me what happened over there yet?"

"We already covered that in the truck."

"Do you actually believe that const.i.tutes a real conversation on the subject?"

"You already said imagining it hurt you. Why would I want to make that worse?"

She flattened her hands to the giving softness of the quilt as if pressing the wedding ring patch pattern could somehow imprint the premise and promise into her. Talk about a Freudian slip in buying the thing in the first place. "Because being married means sharing burdens. And if you won't share yours with me, then I can't share mine with you. I need someone to lean on, too."