After caring for sweet old lady Beatrice Trenton for over a year and hearing all about her brave paratrooper, grandson, Penelope is pleased to finally meet him. Sparks fly and before she knows it, she's calling him her boyfriend, and he is confident...
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MAX
I wake at the distressed noises coming from Penelope on the other side of the bed. I roll towards her and take hold of her shoulder, shaking as her face screws up into a tight ball.
"Penelope," I whisper, touching her face when her tears overflow. "It's just a dream. Baby, it's okay."
Once her eyes open, she jolts up, fighting to get away from me. Her eyes wide open. "Max."
I keep my distance, knowing how real those few minutes of consciousness feel. "It was a dream. Are you all right?"
She shakes her head. "No."
My fingers itch to touch her. "Can I hold you?"
"Yes, please," she whispers, grabbing for every part of me she can as she huddles closer. "Did that just happen?"
My lips touch her damp hair. "No. It was just a dream."
"I'm confused." She shakes her head. "We had sex?"
I frown. "If you're confused if we had sex or not, then I didn't do it right."
A small chuckle escapes her. "Don't take it personally. You just punched the crap out of your dad in my head. It's a bit blurry."
I stroke her hair back. "What happened?"
She swallows hard. "Before I start. We did have sex, right?"
I nod. "Yes."
"Okay, so that's totally messed up because the dream felt just as real. I'm so confused," she says, going with me when I pull her to lay on me.
Are my issues affecting her now? They say that military partners often take on their loved ones stress as their own, but I have tried my hardest to shield her from it.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.
She looks up at me. "Can you just message your gran to make sure she's okay?"
"Sure," I say, grabbing my phone. "You're starting to concern me."
She waits for me to send the text message before answering. "Your gran called crying because of your dad, we went over to her house where she let you know he was threatening her over her will. You asked me to stay with her while you called him. I found bruises on her face. You flipped out. Your dad turned up. And you beat him so hard he almost passed out."
Good Lord.
I can't deny it. The thought of the feel of my knuckles hitting his flesh gives way too much joy to be considered sane. Pay back for all the years he beat on me. Arnold. Piece of shit.
"That's rough. I'm sorry," I say, squeezing her, silently watching my phone for gran to text back.
She presses a sweet kiss under my chin. "I'm just so grateful it wasn't real. What time is it?"
