Page 45 of Beast

She looked up at me. “Can I spend the night with you? I really want to try to make this work.”

Of course I wanted her to stay with me, to fuck her sweet pussy every night, though I wasn’t sure if that emotional performance she just gave was nothing more than a combination of an apology for her ex partner insulting me and pity witnessing my flashback. At this point I didn’t care what her motivations were—I just wanted her near me.

“Sure. I’m glad you begged me to let your dad write my book. I honestly would’ve never done it. And I’m actually looking forward to saving up some money. The VA sucks and who knows if I’ll be able to hold down a job. And I’ll get to tell my side of the story in the book.”

She rolled on top of me, staring into my eye. “The book will be amazing. Get some!”

I kissed her forehead, appreciative of her Marine Corps “get some” reference, as if she was trying to relate to me.

In my post-coital haze, I decided to put myself out there even more. It had gone well so far. No more games. From here on out, I wanted her to know she’s mine.

“For the ball, I don’t want you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

I lifted up her hand and kissed it. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” Once the words left my mouth, I knew I had made the right decision asking her. Since I’d left the hospital, I’d stopped making plans for the future. I wanted to look forward to my life—with Isa in it.

A big smile spread across her face, and her eyes sparkled.

“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, a shot of adrenaline reinvigorating me.

She pursed her lips like she was thinking. “Grady, since this is a ball, do you know how to dance?”

“Nope. Never learned.”

“Well, can I teach you? Just two dances. Maybe a foxtrot and a rumba? I really had a great time dancing tonight.”

Hell no. “Nope, not going to happen. Most Marines just end up screwing around, you might see them dancing to ‘YMCA’ or the electric slide, but no one really dances.”

“I get that. But I mean the President will be there. You’re the guest of honor. And once the press finds out you’re going with me, they’re going to expect something. Especially since we’re dating.”

I tensed up my shoulders. Writing a book was one thing—I wasn’t going to learn how to dance. “No. It would be like a gateway drug. Next thing you know I’d be on Dancing under the Stars.”

“Ha!” She laughed. “It’s fine. Just thought it would be fun.”

She cuddled onto my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her. She fit perfectly. For the first time since I’d met her, I felt like there was a possibility that she could truly need me.

“Fine, two dances, that’s it. I’m not wearing those weird shoes with heels. And don’t get any crazy ideas about waxing my chest and stuffing me in a rhinestone onesie.”

She giggled. “You’re hilarious Grady. Okay—it’s a deal.”

28

Grady

The next morning we left the campsite and headed back to the cabin. We had a few more days here before we would return to the real world.

In the daylight, I was filled with embarrassment that she’d seen me have a flashback again. She’d been understanding and comforting, but I was worried that the novelty would wear off and she wouldn’t be able to deal with my issues long term.

We arrived back home and we milled around the cabin in silence. I needed to know why she snapped at me earlier in the week when I asked about her mother’s death.

I went to the kitchen and poured her a mug of coffee. After a few minutes, she sat at the table with me.

“So what happened to your mom?”

She looked away from me, her face turning red. “She died. End of story.”

I didn’t have a clue how to read women. Men were direct. If a dude had a problem with someone, he’d kick his ass, share a beer later when it was resolved. I hated playing the guessing game with this girl. “Cut the bullshit. You say you want to get to know me, but you’re being secretive. I absolutely can’t stand liars. You lied to me about where I’d seen you before, and you snapped at me when I asked about your mom. Just please be honest with me.”