G.I. Stacy

Part 11 - Six months later!

Part 11 – Six months later!

**** Please note this chapter is from Eric’s point of view! ****

The worst part of travelling is how long it takes.  At least flying commercial is a hundred times more comfortable than being on a cargo plane strapped into web-seats.

The friendly flight-attendant walks past and hands me the beer I requested; another bonus of flying commercial. If I was in a better mood I would busy charming the skirt off her. 

But my mood is low.

Cracking the beer open I check the flight tracker and sigh, another ten hours before we touch down in North Carolina.  After that it’s a short flight back to base. Since I’ll be back a few days early, I can take a day to recover from the jet-lag.

If I drink enough I should be able to fit in at least eight hours of sleep on the plane.  The friendly attendant smiles at me from serving an orange juice two rows over.  I smile back; maybe a little flirting will lift my mood.

But then, like it has for the past thirty-six hours a certain red-head’s face appears in front of me and my throat tightens up.

Get it together Savage…

I put my hand in my pocket and pull out the sheet of paper I’ve been drawing on and half a pencil.

A little shading here and there and I’m satisfied.  It’s going to be my next tattoo.  A long-legged pin-up girl smiles shyly at me while touching her cap.  She’s wearing a tiny pair of shorts and equally tiny top, a thick military belt, knee high boots and a pair of dog-tags around her neck. 

The guys are gonna freak!

But what they won’t be able to tell from the grey pencil drawing is that the sexy minx has gorgeous dark red hair and a backside you would kill for.

I stare at the image for a long time before putting it back in my pocket.  It’s hard to believe that a mere forty-eight hours ago I held her in my arms. And in what may be the worst decision of my life, I kissed her and left.

But what else could I do?  She’ll probably be married before the end of the year.

I close my eyes and lean into the seat.  She deserves to be happy, even if it is with that pansy she risked her life to save.

****** Six Months Later *******

Just walk up to the door and knock.  What’s the worst that can happen?  Open with a corny line like ‘hey I was in the neighbourhood’. ‘Sure you haven’t heard from me in six months but you know how it goes!’  Dammit Savage, don’t be such a coward, just go and knock on the freaking door!

This is the internal pep-talk that’s going on in my thoughts; despite the abusive language I stay seated on my bike with the helmet on my lap.  I know they’re home because I saw Theo’s Jeep pull into the garage and heard two doors slam.

A light just went on in the kitchen and I pull myself together.  If I don’t do this right now, I never will.  My urge to see Stacy again is much stronger than my fear at her reaction.  Even if she slams the door in my face it will be worth it.

Helmet in hand I walk over to the front door and rap my knuckles over the wood.

Excitement overpowers all rational thought as I hear the lock turn.

The door swings open and I freeze.

There in the doorway stands a pretty blonde woman, but it’s not Stacy.