Page 5 of Absolute Valor

“If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”

—Mark Twain

“Hey, Baby, it’s me. Listen, I know you’re busy with your sister, but it would be nice to hear your voice. Give me a call as soon as you get this.” I tossed my phone to the end of my bed, frustration building in my chest. I’d sent countless text messages, left at least as many voicemails, all which have been unreturned. I’ve considered reasons why she is blatantly ignoring me. Yet, I would think she would have at least sent me a smoke signal if she was done with me. I couldn’t blame her really, after all the shit Austin had accused her of. It took every ounce of self-control I had, not to kick the shit out of him at dinner the other night. Good thing for my brother, that fucking douchebag Lucas Campbell pulled his shit on Audrey. I had Dylan run a check on him. The motherfucker is on probation for possession with intent to distribute. I had an inkling he may come back to bother her, so I switched from working in the shop at night to days, besides Dylan needed an extra hand meeting his current obligations

Clicking on the morning news, my attention was half on the red head who co-anchored and half on the dark haired girl who was creeping into my head lately. “If you’re gonna lie to someone, at least be honest with yourself.” Granddaddy’s words hit me from somewhere deep inside, a place he’d molded for himself, filled with honor and respect. He was right, I could lie to all those around me, my family, and my team, but I needed to be honest with myself.

A hot shower, the luxury I missed most while being in the desert, was now something I overindulged in. Rivets of hot water pummeled my body, waking my senses and apparently my libido, if my hard cock was any indication. I could flip the switch, dousing myself with cold water and sending my erection retreating back into my body, a level of discomfort I didn’t look forward to. Or, like every day since Audrey stumbled into my world, I could take the motherfucker in hand and think about how her hair smelled fresh as rain. Picturing her in my mind, the skin on her arms pebbles from my touch. Looking down, I find my hand already stroking the head of my cock. I imagined how good she would look with her hand and lips wrapped around me, instead of my tired hand.

Audrey Helms has never had a man pay her any positive attention. I bet if I asked her about her childhood, she would tell me her father never took her out or gave her examples of how a man should treat her. Her eyes told me more than she ever could, something deep and dark haunts her, lacing the speckles of fear between the cinnamon and caramel colors of her eyes.

My hand pumps faster as I recalled with perfect clarity the way her fingers played with the straw in her cup, the one she reuses over and over. Her face is always downturned, but when she answers you, her eyes look up in this incredibly sexy way, one she doesn’t control, but comes natural.

The silver of the shower lever catches my attention. I know I should reach over and kill this bullshit with cold water, but as the coil in my belly increases and the rhythm of my hand is set, I feel the telltale signs of the end coming. Just like every other time, I come hard, with one word grunted into the steam of the tiled room, “Audrey”.

Clearing the fog off the mirror, the squeaking sound echoing in the room. I needed a haircut, something I’ve grown used to. It’s easy to forget I no longer have to conform to regulations. I may let it go a little longer, until I can figure out if she likes it. Suddenly, I slam my palms on the countertop as Audrey pops into my head, unwelcomed and unrelenting. I have a fucking girlfriend, one who is doing something good for her family. How can I preach to Audrey about her friend treating her poorly when that’s exactly what I’m doing when I think of Audrey, instead of Harmony, as I jack off in the shower?

From the minute I stepped into boot camp, it became second nature to make my bed in the morning. Harmony has complained a few times when I would straighten my side and leave her sleeping. I couldn’t bring myself to wake her and she couldn’t be bothered to make her side of the bed. She thought many of my routines crazy; like getting up before the sun and running, picking up after myself and going to bed before midnight. She had whined and reminded me my time in the military was over, I should enjoy life, smoke a joint and not be so uptight about everything.

Maybe she was right, maybe I did need to let loose a little. Ignoring the rumpled sheets and the pulled back comforter, I shoved my wallet and phone into my pockets, and turned to head downstairs. Opening the refrigerator deciding a trip to the grocery store was long overdue. I could count on one hand how often I’ve eaten alone. Growing up in a large family and then joining the military, being by myself wasn’t something I had a lot of experience with.

Momma had sent a container of leftovers from dinner, but those didn’t make it past getting through my front door last night. I could always talk her into grocery shopping for me, but I knew she would have something to say about Harmony needing to take care of me. I love her to death, but I was tired of having to defend my girlfriend to the family. Closing the refrigerator door, I promised to stop by the store after work, I turned and walked toward the door. My insides quivered, as I thought of the unmade bed upstairs. What if Harmoney came back home and needed to lay down? Releasing the handle, I sprinted back up the steps. I could work on changing habits tomorrow.

“Can you hand me the three-sixteenths?” My request was met with silence. Looking up in Dylan’s direction, he was lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the wall behind me. He has been this way all morning. When I met up with him at the gym, he was almost half an hour late. When he did show, he forgot his gym clothes. “Hey, Dylan?” I tossed a rag into his face, causing his head to jerk back as his attention is returned.

“Sorry,” he picks up the rag from the floor, tossing it to the counter behind me. Dylan isn’t the type of guy you call out when he is acting this way. You have to give him time with his thoughts, let him get them in order, and then hold on when he has made up his mind.

When we were younger, our parents would take us on a working vacation. They felt it was important for us to learn something while having fun doing it. Granddaddy suggested we take a break from it and head down to the Florida Keys to do some fishing. Momma tried to remind us how fortunate we were to have the things we did. Granddaddy stood fast, reminding her of the time she and her girlfriend spent a week in Paris her freshman year of college. She changed the subject as she began planning our Florida vacation.

About a month prior to us leaving, Dylan came home with a cut on his lip and his shirt torn. He and a guy down the road had been riding dirt bikes when a dog darted into the road directly in their path. Dylan chose hitting the neighbor’s fence instead of the Collie, flipping his bike over and damaging it beyond repair. After a trip to the emergency room and a long talk with our neighbor, Dylan went up to his room to think about the choices he was given about the broken fence.

Our daddy felt even though it was an accident and he was willing to write Mr. Hupp a check for the damages, the fence was old and had more bad parts than good. He also knew his son and suspected he was going faster than he would admit. My brother spent many days holed up in his room, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. It wasn’t until the day we all climbed into the car to head to the airport when Dylan came out of his room and announced he would not be going to Florida. He spoke with Daddy and Granddaddy, who contacted the local fencing company. Dylan worked alongside the men for three days as they replaced the entire fence.

“Sorry, man. I’ve been thinking,” shaking his head, his left hand pushed across his forehead and into his hair. Pointing to the socket I need from the cart beside him, he hesitated before handing it to me. “I’m thinking of asking Claire to marry me.”

This time I’m silent. Of all the things I’d assumed would be running around in his head, this wasn’t even in the top ten.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. We’ve been together for a while,”

I’d always assumed my oldest brother would be single forever. With his callous attitude, crass personality and aversion to most relationships, he was the poster child for bachelorhood.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, it’s just…” Dropping the socket to the floor, the clatter is muffled by the slamming of the front door followed by the sound of shuffling feet across the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Audrey’s hurried voice carries across the open space. Her lavender sweater highlights the red hues in her hair, giving her skin a healthy glow. Even frazzled, she is classically beautiful, and ever gracious.

“I hit traffic by the college.” Her eyes find mine, and then quickly avert to Dylan. “I’ll plan better tomorrow.” Not waiting for a word from either of us, she spins around, takes her seat and begins her day. The faint sound of her mumbling under her breath reaches my ears, but I don’t dare try and assume what she’s saying, it sounds a lot like stupid and idiot.

Ever since Keena and the stunt she pulled went down, Audrey has been worried she was about to lose her job. Dylan and Austin both reassured her that her job is safe, but Momma still thinks there is something hiding in her eyes. I can’t say I disagree with her, there is something there, but I can’t quite put a finger on it either.

Glancing back at Dylan, I see he isn’t holding back his amusement of her abruptness. He’s shaking his head back and forth, as his shoulders bounce up and down with his laughter. “As I was about to say,” picking the socket up off the floor, tossing it to the lift holding the bike I’ve been working on. “I’m surprised by you wanting to get married, not by who you’ve chosen. Claire is awesome. I guess I figured you would live together and be one of those couples who never have the piece of paper between you.”

Dylan looks to where Audrey disappeared then back at me. “First off, I never want to have our Mother come to me and ask why I’m disrespecting Claire by not marrying her. Secondly, I love Claire too much not put a ring on her gorgeous finger, letting every other swinging dick know she’s mine.”

I raise my hands in surrender, “Hey, you don’t have to justify anything with me. I’ve wanted a wife and family my entire life.” Nearly every girl I’ve dated since I turned eighteen, and perhaps a few before, I’ve considered what it would be like to marry them. Some I was able to check off the list in minutes, while a few others took a little while longer to see the person behind the mask. My mother claimed I was a romantic at heart, covered in a tough exterior. She told me I would fall in love with a wish and a prayer, always with a ring and a church on standby. I guess I’m simple like that, convinced true love will always win out and conquer all, like the shit you read about in fairy tales. Maybe that’s what life really is to me, one long drawn out story of how the good ol’ boy from the south rides off into the sunset with his pretty country girl. Having a parade of girls visit my bed had never been something I set out to do, not like Dylan had. I wanted the closeness a relationship brought and the intimacy marriage can have.

“But there’s more…” I knew Dylan well, once he set his mind to something, he was all in. While I didn’t want to push him, I knew proposing wasn’t a decision he was wrestling with, something else was eating at him.

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