Nothing to Lose

The table was set with two chairs and two places and an open bottle of wine and two glasses. Aromas were coming from the stove. Two appetizers were standing on the counter. Lobster meat, avocado, pink grapefruit segments, on a bed of lettuce.
    She said, “The main course isn’t ready. I screwed up the timing. It’s something I haven’t made for a while.”
    “Three years,” Reacher said.
    “Longer,” she said.
    “You look great,” he said.
    “Do I?”
    “The prettiest view in Colorado.”
    “Better than Pikes Peak?”
    “Considerably. You should be on the front of the guide book.”
    “You’re flattering me.”
    “Not really.”
    She said, “You look good, too.”
    “That’s flattery for sure.”
    “No, you clean up well.”
    “I try my best.”
    She asked, “Should we be doing this?”
    He said, “I think so.”
    “Is it fair to David?”
    “David never came back. He never lived here. He doesn’t know.”
    “I want to see your scar again.”
    “Because you’re wishing David had come back with one. Instead of what he got.”
    “I guess.”
    Reacher said, “We were both lucky. I know soldiers. I’ve been around them all my life. They fear grotesque wounds. That’s all. Amputations, mutilations, burns. I’m lucky because I didn’t get one, and David is lucky because he doesn’t know he did.”
    Vaughan said nothing.
    Reacher said, “And we’re both lucky because we both met you.”
    Vaughan said, “Show me the scar.”
    Reacher unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. Vaughan hesitated a second and then touched the ridged skin, very gently. Her fingertips were cool and smooth. They burned him, like electricity.
    “What was it?” she asked.
    “A truck bomb in Beirut.”
    “Shrapnel?”
    “Part of a man who was standing closer.”
    “That’s awful.”
    “For him. Not for me. Metal might have killed me.”
    “Was it worth it?”
    Reacher said, “No. Of course not. It hasn’t been worth it for a long time.”
    “How long a time?”
    “Since 1945.”
    “Did David know that?”
    “Yes,” Reacher said. “He knew. I know soldiers. There’s nothing more realistic than a soldier. You can try, but you can’t bullshit them. Not even for a minute.”
    “But they keep on showing up.”
    “Yes, they do. They keep on showing up.”
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know. Never have.”
    “How long were you in the hospital?”
    “A few weeks, that’s all.”
    “As bad a place as David is in?”
    “Much worse.”
    “Why are the hospitals so bad?”
    “Because deep down to the army a wounded soldier that can’t fight anymore is garbage. So we depend on civilians, and civilians don’t care either.”
    Vaughan put her hand flat against his scar and then slid it around his back. She did the same with her other hand, on the other side. She hugged his waist and held the flat of her cheek against his chest. Then she raised her head and craned her neck and he bent down and kissed her. She tasted of warmth and wine and toothpaste. She smelled like soap and clean skin and delicate fragrance. Her hair was soft. Her eyes were closed. He ran his tongue along the row of unfamiliar teeth and found her tongue. He cradled her head with one hand and put the other low on her back.
    A long, long kiss.
    She came up for air.
    “We should do this,” she said.
    “We are doing it,” he said.
    “I mean, it’s OK to do this.”
    “I think so,” he said again. He could feel the end of her zipper with the little finger of his right hand. The little finger of his left hand was down on the swell of her ass.
    “Because you’re moving on,” she said.
    “Two days,” he said. “Three, max.”
    “No complications,” she said. “Not like it might be permanent.”
    “I can’t do permanent,” he said.
    He bent and kissed her again. Moved his hand and caught the tag of her zipper and pulled it down. She was naked under the dress. Warm, and soft, and smooth, and lithe, and fragrant. He stooped and scooped her up, one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. He carried her down the hallway, to where he imagined the bedrooms must be, kissing her all the way. Two doors. Two rooms. One smelled unused, one smelled like her. Her carried her in and put her down and her dress slipped from her shoulders and fell. They kissed some more and her hands tore at the button on his pants. A minute later they were in her bed.

    Afterward, they ate, first the appetizer, then pork cooked with apples