My soldier, p.1
My Soldier, page 1
© Copyright 2019 by Van Cole All rights reserved.
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My Soldier
MM Best Friend Romance
By: Van Cole
Table of Contents
Come Stalk Me!
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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Dan is a professional hockey player at the top of his game – but when his wife up and leaves him out of nowhere, it feels like game, set and match. How is he supposed to get through his upcoming games with an apartment empty of furniture and his wife off sleeping with some baseball player she's supposedly been seeing for a while now?
Turns out, however, that Dan's life isn't finished loading things onto him yet. When Dan's college flame Jeremy walks back onto the scene, after years of Dan convincing himself that he's not gay and that his father was right about everything? Well, it completely screws his head up.
Now, Dan has no idea whether he's coming or going. Is he supposed to try and make it work with his wife? Is it possible for him to develop a friendship with Jeremy, whose heart he broke all those years ago... and is a friendship all he wants? The ghost of something special and more intimate is definitely hanging around him, but he thought his days of wanting men were long behind him.
No question about it, Dan's life is a mess – but maybe if he follows his instincts, they'll take him where he needs to go.
After all, they've never failed him in a hockey game. They should know what to do. Right?
Foreword
I returned from the war with scars that run deeper than my flesh. Tormented by memories of the past I wonder if I’ll ever be able to become the man I used to be, or if I’m always destined to be this shell that returned from the foreign country, broken and battered and defeated.
There seems to be little hope for improvement until I receive a surprising call from my old best friend, Clint. We lost touch a while ago as life took its hold on us, but as we reconnect, I start to remember why he was such a good friend. He’s the only one who can get me to talk about my emotions, and as I open up to him, I start to feel something else. Something unfamiliar...something a little scary, but very exciting.
Maybe, just maybe, we can save each other.
My Soldier
Chapter 1
The air was dry and hot. Sweat prickled on my skin. My gear weighed heavily on me, like solid weights. I looked up, but the glare of the sun blinded me. Bullets cracked through the air. I yelped and whimpered like a little lost puppy. Fear gripped my heart. Sand filled my mouth, and I coughed. I was in a foreign desert, a backwater place far from home, defending my country. An explosion bloomed in the distance, a plume of smoke rising through the air, followed by an orange supernova. I turned and rolled over. I heard the cries of all my friends, my allies, the people who had come to mean so much to me. I heard them cry out in pain. I saw them fall to the floor, clutching their guts and their wounds. I watched blood spill out over the golden sand as all the armor and gear we wore did nothing. We were nothing compared to the little shards of metal slicing through our flesh.
I clung to the ground as if it offered life itself. I buried my head in the sand, literally, just waiting for it all to be over. I was a soldier. I was a brave man, defending his country from the enemy, protecting the people back home, except they had no idea what I was doing. Nobody did, except the men and women who were dying around me.
I heard them all fall to the ground, and I just stayed there, shaking. I tried so hard to will myself to pick up the gun, but my hands wouldn’t move. I was paralyzed. I clamped my eyes shut and tasted the salty tears that trickled down my face, leaving tracks through the dry sand. I was sure that one of the bullets would have my name on it, that one of them would end me just like all my friends.
But then the bullets stopped. The thunder in the air settled. I heard a car drive away, the triumphant whoops and hollers of the natives fading into the distance. The glare of the sun beat down upon me as I tentatively lifted my head and looked around at the carnage. Dead bodies lay all around me, wounded people groaned and moaned, writhing in agony, and I was laying there, unharmed, my gun unused. I was a disgrace to my uniform, to my country, to my friends. I had been sent there to defend and protect, but all I could do was cower in the dirt and the sand, praying for it all to be over.
It wasn’t over for another few months. Somehow I managed to make it to the end of my tour without anyone looking at me like I was a coward. They all told me I was brave for making it through, that I had done my country proud, but I knew different. I knew I was just a lucky son of a bitch who should have been killed with a thousand other men. I was a disgrace, and something inside me broke that day, something in my mind snapped, and I wasn’t sure I was ever going to be the man I used to be.
Even now I wake up in cold sweats at night, and it’s been a couple of years since I returned home. Somehow it has to end, hasn’t it? God, I hope so. I pray every day for salvation, even though I don’t really think I deserve it. Maybe this is my penance for surviving when so many other, worthier people didn’t. Maybe this is just what I deserve.
I drank the water beside my bed and looked out at the dawn sun rising through the window. It had been another night where my dreams were plagued by the sounds of bullets and explosions, the cries of victory as I looked around at my wounded friends. The worst part was that the war was still going on. Somehow despite all the sacrifice and all the death, we hadn’t achieved anything. I had sold my soul to the army, and all I’d been given in return was a plague.
I pulled myself out of bed and staggered downstairs, ignoring the glittering decorations around the house.
“Morning, Bobby,” Mom said. She wore a cheery smile. I felt worse for her more than anything. She’d lost so much already. I was all she had left, and I was just a shell of the boy I used to be. Sometimes at night, when she thought I was asleep, I’d hear her on the phone to her friends talking about how I wasn’t the same as I used to be and how she hated the government for taking her little boy away from her. I wished I could be the same, I wished I could go back to being the way I was, but I was different. I just couldn’t come to terms with the man I had turned into. It felt as though I had been corrupted, and my innocence had been stolen away. Once gone, it could never return.
I grunted at her in reply. She didn’t deserve it, but somehow, I couldn’t stop myself.
“What are you going to do today, dear?” she placed a plate of pancakes in front of me. I chewed on them. Even they didn’t taste the same as they used to. Nothing did. All I tasted when I ate was the dry sand of the desert.
“Probably go for a run and then go to the gym.”
“Why don’t you go to the library instead? You always used to like reading. It would be good for you to get another hobby, it must get so boring doing the same thing at the gym all the time.”
“It helps me relax.”
“I did hear there’s a group that meets there as well today. I can go with you if you like,” she suggested, her voice faltering.
“I don’t need a group, Mom. I don’t need to talk about anything.” I looked down at the bowl of cereal, trying to block out the world, trying to block out her. Every time I spoke to her, I was filled with guilt because I just couldn’t seem to stop snapping at her with everything I said, even though I knew she didn’t deserve it. I just wished that everyone could leave me alone, wished that the world would go away so people wouldn’t try to make me feel better. Didn’t they realize that I just couldn’t feel better?
I finished up breakfast. Mom stayed in the kitchen, filling the void with an emotional silence that was tense and uncomfortable. Sometimes I felt like a ghost, walking through life while other people were trying to talk to me, and all I wanted was to be left alone. I hated the burden of trying to find a job, trying to contribute to society when I’d already given everything I had, but nobody seemed to care. Mom pitied me, but I could tell that she was frustrated as well, wanting to get me out of the house. I was a grown man. I shouldn’t still be living with my her, but I had nowhere else to go, and that only added to the guilt, knowing that I couldn’t repay her, knowing that I couldn’t ever thank her properly for all she had done for me. I felt worse with each day that passed. Every time I looked at her I knew, that she wasn’t looking back at the son she wanted. She wanted someone healthy, someone who had friends, a relationship, someone who she could be proud of. Instead, she ended up with me.
“I’ll see you when I get home,” I said before I left. She called out a goodbye, but I didn’t bother to look at her. I grabbed my gym bag and threw it in the truck, then pulled away from the house. I turned on the radio, trying to find some station that would play some good old fashioned music, but everything now was a load of crap, and
As I drove along, I let my mind wander and thought about the modern horrors of the world when suddenly I hit a pothole. The truck dipped and lurched, and instinctively I twisted the wheel to avoid it, but in my mind, it wasn’t a pothole, it was a mine. I swerved dramatically. The wheels screeched as I hit the brakes and the truck spun and hit the curb, my body jerked, and I gazed back, feeling stupid because all I saw was an empty road with a dumb pothole, but in that instant in my mind it had been as real as the mines that exploded back when I was in the army. I could almost smell the rising heat in the air and taste the dust in the back of my throat. My heart raced, and I gripped the wheel so tightly that my knuckles were white.
A couple of cars passed along and honked at me as they swerved out of their lanes to dodge the rear of my truck. I composed myself and reversed out, then continued on my way to the gym, feeling stupid that my mind was so weak. I knew that I wasn’t in the army anymore, that I wasn’t in that stupid desert, yet somehow I still thought I was. I hated how my mind betrayed me, and continued to betray me even though I had been home for a while.
Was I ever going to be able to escape this damned mental hell?
Chapter 2
I managed to make it to the gym without any further incident. I wore a scowl as I strode into the gym and prepared for my workout. It was the middle of the day, so the gym was pretty empty; most people were at work, living worthwhile lives where they contributed to society. People like me were stuck here, each of us glowering, hating our lives, wishing that we could do better. I saw signs for the meeting that Mom had mentioned and turned my gaze away. What good did talking ever do anyone?
I went to the treadmill first for a little cardio and stomped my feet on the moving conveyor belt, upping the speed to push my body to its limits. Sweat prickled my brow and made my clothes cling to my skin. I didn’t bother watching television or listening to music. I just focused my gaze ahead and tried not to think of anything. Running was good for that. It let me switch off my mind and lose my thoughts. It was basically the only time when I was able to let go of the terrors tormenting my mind. Even when I was asleep, I didn’t have a chance to relax. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, as though I was trying to outrun the demons that were chasing me. I could feel the treadmill shake under the weight of my feet, could hear the grunts that emerged from my mouth. In my peripheral vision I caught the images of talk show hosts chattering on about meaningless things, I saw other people wandering about the gym, I blinked the sweat out of my eyes and I wished that I could just run forever.
Then it hit me, I was running as hard and as fast as I could, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. I slowed and hopped off the treadmill, hanging my head. It was like a metaphor for my life. I was trying my hardest, letting sweat drip off my head as I pushed my body to the limit, but I still wasn’t making any progress. I wiped my face with a towel and felt the vigor and strength coursing through my body. I needed more, needed to do more to get rid of all this anger and energy inside me. I walked over to the weights and started to pump some iron, watching my muscles glisten as I tortured myself by heaving heavy weights up in the air. I was punishing myself, just like I had been punished in the army with all of its rigorous training.
I carried on until my muscles were burning, and my mind was crying out for relief. I gulped down some water and looked down at my body, disgusted by what I saw. I was a weapon that had been made by the United States Army. I had been forged in heat and gunfire, and now I was a weapon without a use. What good was it being in prime physical condition if I had no reason to be? I needed a purpose, I needed some meaning to my life, but I had no idea where to find it. What was the use of being a soldier if there was no war to fight? I looked around, trying to see if there was anyone who needed protecting, but there wasn’t. Everyone was safe. Everyone except me, it seemed.
I went back to the locker room and had a shower, washing away the sweat and grime that made my body slick. The warm water sloshed down my toned physique and helped calm the ache in my muscles. I stayed in there for a long time, letting the steam and the sizzle of the water drown out my thoughts, not wanting to leave. Where was I supposed to go? What was I supposed to do? I could drive around for a bit because I didn’t want to go home. I couldn’t take facing Mom again. I was a worthless piece of shit who had nothing to his life. I couldn’t get a job. It was as though the world had passed me by, had moved on while I had been away and didn’t care at all that I was back.
Before I knew it, I was sobbing. I hung my head and felt the tears trickle down my cheeks. Thankfully they got lost in the water, so I didn’t have to be ashamed. I was alone in the shower, as well. It wasn’t the first time I had cried since I’d been home, and I doubted it would be the last. It was stupid, really. I never used to cry, not because I thought it wasn’t manly or anything, I just never had the need to. I used to feel sad and lonely, but crying? It seemed like an extreme reaction. But this was different. The emotions were overwhelming, and apparently my body didn’t know any other way to handle them. My body shuddered and shook as I wept until I heard the locker room door open. I sniffed back my tears and wiped my eyes and decided that it was time to leave.
I nodded to the men, wondering if they noticed how raw and red my eyes were. I dried myself and put on some clean clothes, wishing that I felt better. Even the natural endorphins that were released through exercise weren’t enough to soothe the aching sadness that throbbed within me. It was like I didn’t know how to feel anything but depressed.
I grabbed my bag and walked out of the gym, trying to decide where to go next. I didn’t have much money, so there was no point in going to the mall just to torture myself by looking at all the things I couldn’t afford. This was galling in and of itself because I knew a lot of people working menial jobs who treated themselves to all the latest luxury items. I had literally put my life on the line, and the most luxury I could afford was to buy the occasional Subway sandwich.
As I walked out of the locker room, I looked down the hallway to see an open door, and I heard voices. It was the meeting of the veterans. I gulped, pausing, wondering if I should go and pay them a visit. I walked towards the door, but stopped outside, leaning against the wall, listening to the man speaking.
“When I came back, I was welcomed with open arms by my family and my girl, and that first night I thought everything was going to be alright. I was home, and we had a good meal and watched some TV, and then I got into bed, and I went to make love to my girl and I just...I just couldn’t. I didn’t know why. I was supposed to be a man, you know? She’d waited for me, and I’d waited for her, and my body wanted it but my mind...my mind just wanted something else entirely. I didn’t know what was wrong. She told me it was okay; that I was just tired from all the traveling, but I knew something was different. I was different. Everything changed, and I couldn’t enjoy the things that I’d been fighting to defend. Even the food tasted different. Eventually, my girl left me and I just...it felt like I’d lost everything.”
The man sobbed, and I was struck by how much I identified with what he was saying. I stepped into the doorway, feeling like maybe Mom had a point. I figured it couldn’t do any harm to listen. They were sitting in a circle, about a dozen of them, men and women of different ages. Some were like me, eyes cast to the floor, arms folded across their chests, but as my eyes passed across them, I was shocked to see someone I recognized leading the meeting, my old friend Clint.
