Anything For You: A Coming Home Short Story Read Free Page B

neck as he came.
    Later, when she was curled beside him in their bed, her body wrapped in his warm embrace, she closed her eyes and felt cherished.
     
    *   *   *
     
    The coffee pot gurgled in the early morning quiet. It was the little things, the normalcy of being home, that struck him hard sometimes. Simple things like having Jen there, in the house. Jen to wake up to in the morning.
    He’d fallen asleep last night with her nestled in the curve of his body. He’d waited months to hold her properly. Now that he could, he did. Every night, unless she had to work. Then, it felt strange, falling asleep without her. There was a silence in the house that just felt wrong when she had to work the night shift.
    Then again, Shane was still working on getting used to silence, anyway. Life in the States didn’t have all the background noise of generators and soldiers constantly crunching through the gravel outside his trailer when he was trying to sleep. He’d never adjusted to the silence of the hospital, but the silence at Jen’s—at home—was different. Different and good.
    He opened the fridge and set the eggs on the counter. Jen had gone outside for something in her car. He cradled the nascent feeling of contentment that settled around his heart.
    And then, that moment ended.
    “What is this?”
    Shane froze where he’d been lining up bacon on the microwave tray. He took a deep breath. Did not turn around. Apparently, Jen had found the paperwork Shane wasn’t ready to talk about yet.
    “What is what?” he asked carefully.
    “Vasectomy, Shane?” Her voice broke over the fury in her words.
    He said nothing, struggling to find the words he needed to make her hear him out. He covered the bacon and set it in the microwave, then set the timer.
    It was another moment before he turned to face her. “So, yeah, about that.”
    He was not prepared to see tears shining in her eyes. His heart tightened in his chest. Fuck, he’d hurt her. All because he’d been a coward and hadn’t found the words to bring it up. “Jen—”
    “Were you even going to talk to me about this?” Her eyes glittered brightly, but there was no vitriol in her words. Just hurt. “What is this, Shane?”
    “It’s an appointment.”
    Her bottom lip quivered. She bit it. Hard. After a moment, she spoke. “So, were you just going to let me show up from work one night and see you sitting on the couch with a bag of peas?”
    He swallowed and took a step toward her. In the entire time he’d known her, he’d never seen her this upset. Not angry. Hurt. “Can we just talk about this?”
    “What are we going to talk about? About the fact that you don’t want to have children? Or is it about my cancer, Shane? Is that what this is about?”
    He wanted to hold her, to soothe the ragged pain in her face. He hated seeing her hurting. It was worse, knowing he was the cause of that hurt. He rounded the island in the small kitchen and tried to pull her to him, but she stepped away. Shane’s temper broke. “Of course this is about your cancer,” he snapped.
    Her face fell, and he instantly regretted his words. “Not like you’re thinking.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t lay awake at night worrying about your scars or the fact that you were sick. I worry that you might get sick again.”
    “Shane, I’m not dead. I’m not dying. I had cancer once. I might never get it again.”
    “And you might get it again next week,” he shouted. “I can’t control if you get sick again. But I can control if we get you pregnant and that makes you sick again. I’m not willing to risk that just so we can have a kid.”
    Jen froze, shock and horror moving across her face. She took a step backward, then turned away, but not before he saw a single tear slide down her cheek.
    He took a step toward her, but she stiffened.
    “Jen—”
    “You should probably go,” she whispered, speaking words he’d feared: asking him to leave. The sound of