“Wow, you went all out. Thanks,” MJ told him as he poured her a glass.
He poured himself one too. He liked beer better, but he wanted to make this meal special, even if he didn’t know why.
While he did that, MJ served herself and started without him. Her moan nearly did him in.
“Oh, Rob. This is fabulous! I never make this kind of meal. I’m usually too exhausted after work to cook. Plus, cooking for one doesn’t lend itself to roasts, unless I want to eat leftovers every day for a week.”
“Glad you like it. It’s one of the best in my bag of cooking tricks. So easy, too.” He slid into a chair kitty-corner from her.
Silence fell between them as they both focused on their meal.
“Oh, I wanted to tell you,” MJ said. “I found some articles on PTSD in animals. It wasn’t exactly Maverick’s situation, but I made copies. I’ll show them to you after supper.”
“Did they talk about how to treat it?”
“Not really. They talked about animals that went through forest fires or natural disasters. You know, I’m really surprised there hasn’t been more written about PTSD in dogs that have been in war.”
“My guess is that people don’t want to think about the wars or what soldiers go through, let alone what the animals they depend on experience.”
She looked deep in thought for several minutes. “I think you’re right. Around here, people only pay attention to military news when someone they love is serving. Everybody else seems oblivious.” Tears gathered in her eyes.
He reached over and touched her shoulder. “Hey, MJ. It’s okay. We serve our country because it’s the right thing to do. Uncle Sam needs us to do this work. It isn’t something just anybody can do.”
“Still, it isn’t fair. Everybody should know what y’all are giving up.” She scowled.
“Maybe it’s even harder on those we leave behind.” He figured they were both thinking about Trevor.
Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “I want to move on, Rob, but I don’t know how.” Her eyes searched his, as if he knew the answer.
“I don’t know how either. Just put one foot in front of the other, I guess.” He hated to see the pain in her eyes. Grieving was a bitch. It ambushed you when you least expected it. You’d think you were through it, and then it would broadside you. Would either of them get through it, let alone heal enough to move on?
“C’mon,” he said, getting to his feet and clearing the table. “Let’s go watch a movie. Both of us can use a break. I’ll do the dishes later.”
MJ nodded. “Okay,” she said in a sad little voice.
He couldn’t help himself. He put his arm around her, and together they walked into the living room, and dropped into the navy blue couch. Before he could scoot away, she turned into him, putting her head on his chest. A hard pain hit him, and he folded his arms around her. “Shh,” he whispered as he heard a sob. “I’m here for you.” He stroked her hair, and then her soft face with a thumb. “We’ll get through this, honey.” He felt her arms come around him, as she snuggled in, and immediately, he felt better. Maybe they could heal together.
How long they sat that way, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. His pain felt eased by her presence, and he hoped he did the same for her. Neither one of them spoke. He wouldn’t break the spell by turning on the television. All that mattered was having her in his arms and comforting her. They’d both lost their best friend, but they’d found each other.
He touched MJ’s chin, guiding her face upward to look at him. Her eyes locked on his mouth, and he took it as an invitation. Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers, gently, tentatively. She pulled him tighter and returned the kiss. They clung to each other, and when he touched his tongue to the seam of her lips, she opened readily.
She tasted like pot roast and some other, sweeter taste that must be her very own. Her tongue dueled with his, as she gave him back more than he’d expected. They finally broke apart, and he gazed into her eyes, trying to judge how she felt about their kiss.
She must have seen the question in his eyes. “I’m not sorry,” she said, forthright as always.
He groaned. “Neither am I, honey. I’ve wanted to kiss you for quite a while.”
“Really?” She looked like she wasn’t sure if she believed him.
“Yes. You’re a special woman, MJ. It may not be right to take advantage of your vulnerability, but I feel a special connection. It feels like I’ve known you for years, maybe because Trevor used to read your letters to us. We share the same grief of losing him. Whatever it is, I feel pulled toward you, like a magnetic field is drawing me closer and closer. Is it okay?” He studied her, watching for signs she was uncomfortable, expecting her to pull away at his mention of their shared grief. She didn’t. Instead, she burrowed into his chest, holding him even tighter, but hiding her face.
Again, he lifted her chin to see if he’d gone too far, said too much. She gazed at him with soft eyes, full of emotion. It wasn’t sadness, at least not completely. There was also excitement, caring, and maybe even a touch of lust in the look she sent him.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. If you want to stop, I’ll stop. If you want to see where this
