Wish for You

By: Marquita Valentine

Though it kills me, I punch her back, lighter than she did me, and tug my hat over her eyes. She giggles and flips it up so she can see again.

“Oh,” she breathes, her eyes filling with wonder. “There’s the Wyatt I know.”

“I’m trying, sweetheart,” I manage to say as she takes my hand in hers. Our fingers come together, naturally and easily.

“It’s not easy coming home from war,” she says, as if that explains away all my asinine behavior.

I cock my head to one side. “How do you know?”

“I read about the effects of war on soldiers before you came home, so I could be prepared,” she says solemnly, and I want to hug her. But I don’t trust myself to be content with just a hug. And I, for damn sure, won’t be content with her rejection.

“Good thing I’m a Marine, then,” I tease, wishing like hell she’d let my hand go. This is torture, worse than the bullet that sliced my skin open.

“Better thing that you’re finally home.” She glances down. “It’s past midnight!”

“Happy New Year, Lacey Evans,” I murmur, holding at attention.

She rises up on her tiptoes, kissing my cheek softly, and I curl my free hand into the tightest fist I’ve ever made. “Happy New Year, Wyatt Tanaka.” Then she lets go of my hand. “I’m going inside now.”

Shaken to my core, I let her walk away. It’s not until she’s inside that I finally do leave. When I get to Beau’s house, the party’s bigger and much louder than it was at The Double Deuce. I grab my favorite poison and lean against the wall, scanning the room.

A hot brunette sashays up to me, in a barely there skirt and top. “I heard you just got back.”

I’d been back since September, but I really didn’t want to argue with her, much less talk to her. “Yeah.” I take a drink.

“Is it true that the government trains you guys to be killers, like with your bare hands?”

Is she fucking serious? I glance at her. Her blue eyes are completely serious. I hold out my hand. “This is classified as a lethal weapon.”

“So if I took you upstairs, would you put those lethal weapons on me?” She runs a hand up my chest. “Love the tats by the way. Got anymore?”

I have two full sleeves, more on my back, and one on my hip. “Yes, to both questions.”

As she leads me upstairs, I tell myself all the reasons why I should be okay with this. Lacey isn’t into me. I’m not using this chick. Yeah, I can only think of two.

“What’s your name?” I ask as she begins to unbutton my jeans.

“Doesn’t matter.”

It kinda does. “I’m Wy—”

“Really don’t care.”

“Then how did you—?”

“Your friend, Parker, sent me to you.”

When she lets her skirt fall to the floor, I see she’s not wearing any panties. Everything is completely bare, so bare that I can see her piercing.

“That’s unexpected.”

She smiles, and then falls to her knees. “I’m going to take very good care of you, Soldier.”

I’m not a soldier. But then her mouth is on my dick, and I don’t give a damn anymore. So much for knowing what I wouldn’t do tonight.

Chapter Four


I crack open a lid at the sunlight shining directly on my face. Nothing like waking up to what feels like sand and glass in your eyes. Blinking and rubbing my eyes, I scratch my chest, encountering not one, but two hands.

“Shit,” I breathe, glancing at the two women in bed with me. I don’t remember inviting the second girl. A new fear takes hold. I’ve never slept with anyone without remembering exactly what we’ve done before.

But Holly, I think that’s what she ended up telling me her name was, had some blow, and she’d shared every last bit of it with me. It wasn’t the first time I’d done lines, but I vow to myself to never do it again, because it’s the last thing I remember about last night.

“Motherfucker.” I maneuver out of the females’ holds to start searching the room and trashcans for condom wrappers.

When I find a few, I almost drop to my knees in thanks. “No better than a fucking POG.” Yeah, comparing myself to some clueless dude in war seems about right. I yank on my clothes and head downstairs, leaving the two sleeping women behind. Beau’s cleaning crew must have already been at work, because there’s no evidence that a party ever took place last night.

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