Wylde Ride

Chapter 9: Spartan

So, when halfway through the day a week or so later a large man with a deep permanent tan walked through the door and Scott suddenly reverted, I felt my heart plummet. The easy, relaxed, smiling, laughing boy was replaced by the one with the stick in his ass and the timing couldn't have been worse.

I'd decided to go for a run and was changing in the main room. Scott had stopped trying to get me to change in the bathroom long ago, especially when he saw I was quite capable of changing without showing off my girly bits. I wasn't concerned about that this time though as I was just changing my shirt and had a sports bra on. I'd pulled off my shirt and was digging around in my duffel on my bed for a different one when I felt fingers stroke my side. From the immediate tingling between my thighs I knew it had to be Scott. I swiveled my head and smiled at my boy. His eyes were firmly fixed on the side his fingers were stroking over though.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo," he whispered the words. It was more like he was talking to himself really. Had he not seen the tattoo before now? Perhaps not, what with changing in ways to ensure no private bits showed and all, it was possible he hadn't noticed it until now, until I was parading around in just a sports bra. I straightened and turned toward him. He stepped closer, mere inches separating us and his fingers traced the hearts formed by chain of the dog tags. I shivered at the sensation.

"Hidden hearts," He murmured softly. "Does it...Is it...special?" He finished, fumbling adorably as he tried to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. His fingers traced over the dog tags tattooed on my side, over the letters and numbers. I closed the distance between us, unable to help myself. I laid a hand on his chest, needing the contact.

"It's...my dad," I swallowed to try to clear the lump out of my throat. I didn't need to see the tattoo to know what was inked there, "Stephen Anthony Wylde, KIA ..." I couldn't say the date that was burned into my memory, into my heart. Scott's head jerked up to meet my eyes.

"KIA? Isn't that...killed in action?" he asked. His fingers, those strong, gentle fingers never stopped stroking my side, never stopped tracing the lines of my tattoo and I leaned into the touch, taking comfort in it. HIs other hand came up to rest on my hip.

I nodded. "His convoy was ambushed two years ago." The pain was still fresh and I looked up at him through watery eyes. The hand at my hip moved and a thumb stroked under one eye, wiping a stray tear away.
"I wish I could bring him back to you," his soft words made me melt. We just stood there for minute in silence, his fingers still stroking across my ribs, the other cupping the back of my head, tangling in the short strands of hair. His stroking fingers brushed the side of my breast and I sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes heated as I fisted a trembling hand in his shirt. His eyes moved to my lips and I was sure that he going to kiss me. For the first time, he was going to initiate a kiss.

"Lesia, I..." I pressed a finger to his lips. I didn't want him to think. I wanted him to just go with his gut. The boy needed to think less. He smiled, pressed a kiss to my finger, then gripped my wrist lightly, tangling our hands as he moved my finger. He leaned down, his lips just touched mine when the cabin to the door opened.

Scott jumped back, shoulders straightening, spine going rigid, hands clasped behind his back. The boy who'd been around for the last week was suddenly hidden behind that damn mask. When we'd first met I'd thought that mask was who he was. I'd been determined to change it, to teach him to relax, that life was too short. Now I knew it for what it was, the mask he hid behind. The question was why was he hiding? I was going to find out. I grabbed a shirt out of my duffel at random and threw it on.

The instructor who'd come in was one I didn't recognize and apparently a man of few words. He walked over to the map on the fridge, extended one beefy finger and laid it on a spot I knew well. The Spartan course.