No Man Left Behind: A Veteran Inspired Charity Anthology by Elizabeth Knox (story books for 5 year olds .TXT) 📗

and enjoying how quickly her cheeks pinken, not like she has any idea how thoroughly I’d ruin her if she did stay over. “With Duckie.”

“That name’s growing on you, huh?” I ask, holding her gaze with my own.

“The Duck sounds way more dignified,” she answers in the worst British accent I’ve ever heard and I burst out laughing. “You have a nice smile.”

“You’re really going to leave Duckie with me overnight? Unsupervised?” I ask, ignoring her compliment—biting my tongue over what I want to say. Knowing I’d never see her again if I told her I wanted to fuck her until my rage was sated. Because that’s really all that’s left inside me anymore. Rage at how fucked up this world is.

“You have my number and aren’t afraid to use it, so, yes,” Lucy says after spending a moment studying my face.

“What? You don’t like memes?” I ask, trying to look offended but really, after the bottle of whiskey I downed the other night, I didn’t even remember our meme war until just now.

“This chili is really good,” she answers, but I notice her frowning for a second.

“Yes, I made it, you can check my trash,” I tell her.

“Sorry, random memory popped up,” she says, ducking her head down and wiping at her nose.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” Lucy says, standing up. “I’ve got to get going. I have a couple meetings in the morning and will swing by afterwards. If anything happens, I can be here in twenty minutes, Owen.”

“At least tonight I can send you pics of Duckie.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll reach out if there are any issues,” I promise her and she nods but doesn’t reply until she gets to the door.

“And maybe hold off on anymore dick pics.” Lucy drops that bomb as she’s closing the door behind her.

Well, shit . . .

I pop open my phone and sure enough, I sent her a before and during of my jack-off session. Thank Christ I was too wasted to make a video.

Well, maybe we’re making progress after all.

“Hey Duckie! Rule number one, no letting me text anyone after I’ve been drinking. We’ll figure out the other rules as we go,” I tell my new companion and he cocks his head to the side. “Come on, let’s go get some exercise.”

Out back, I spend some time tossing a ball with Duckie and shooting the shit with him, happy he won’t tell anyone the thoughts that are spilling out of me.

“Duckie, man, you gotta tell me, how did Lucy like those texts last night?”

“See you got the dog?” Keith’s voice nearly makes me shit myself.

“Not yet, she’s going to make me go through the whole process, no matter how much Duncan donated,” I answer, trying to control my breathing like I’ve learned to do.

“Sorry about that, thought you would have heard my car.”

It takes me a moment to register Duckie has pushed himself against my leg, or even that I shifted my hand down to the crown of his head. When I exhale and look down, his chocolate eyes calm me even more.

“Well, fuck me,” I whisper.

“Come on inside, we gotta talk about the future.”

Chapter Four

Lucy

“Do you have any update about his status?” I ask the legal aid lawyer who was recently assigned my case. I can’t help but get frustrated that I’m the one who has to keep checking in with them but the original lawyer has moved on and they don’t consider it a pressing case anymore.

“I can call and ask when I get in tomorrow, unless you just want to call the police officer that you dealt with,” the woman who sounds as young as I am replies, barely stifling a yawn.

“Well, in the interest of not being murdered on your watch, I guess I’ll call the Atlanta precinct and spend the day on hold to see if the man who swore he’d kill me is going to be released from jail in a few weeks. Have a spectacular evening.”

Grrr. It’s times like these I miss the satisfaction of slamming down a landline phone. It has been three days since I left a message for the local cop I had met, but now that I’ve been offered another option, I decide to jump online to see what I’d be in for if I accept the offer Owen made about having Keith look into it.

While I’m reasonably certain that Keith and the mysterious benefactor, Duncan, are on the up-and-up, I want to make sure I’m not asking a favor of the wrong sort of people.

Ten minutes into that exercise, all I’m really sure of is that Duncan is beyond loaded and Keith seems to, indeed, be in security.

Deciding to ask for help doesn’t come easy for me—and that thought saddens me. It’s what every veteran that comes through our doors is encouraged to do, over and over again; men and women who have served their country without being asked to do so, come home and suffer in silence. I do believe that one of the bravest things a person can do is ask for help, but it does require swallowing one’s pride a bit.

The next morning, I kill time after the only meeting I had, wishing I had the energy to do something more productive than fantasize about Owen. I know he was just drunk and lonely the other night, but if I thought I was remotely his type I would have considered doing more than masturbating to his dick pics. Besides, I have way too much of my own shit to pull together before I can consider getting together with anyone.

I nearly drop my phone when I receive a text from Owen.

O: I’m going to head down to the river with Duckie. Just let yourself in when you get here.

Me: Sounds good. See you soon.

After checking in with the team leader about the workload, I head out to see how Duckie is fairing in the river, after stopping at a