I Really Can't Stay

Minus the fact that I was a freezing cold swamp monster, of course.

Bruce had already hung my dress, coat, and slip on a drying rack near the fire. I should have been a bit more embarrassed that my underthings were about to be on display in front of him, but considering he had removed some of them from me, it seemed silly to worry. As I used the light from the flashlight to finish hanging my clothes, he busied himself at the fireplace, sparks shooting up as he rustled the wood with the iron poker.

There was a glorious warmth emanating from that fire, and once I was done he ushered me onto the couch where he had even more blankets waiting. I buried myself beneath three of them, tucking my knees to my chest and drawing the fabric up to my chin. Once I was settled, Bruce sat beside me on the couch, stiffly lowering himself onto the cushions. We sat quietly, and the warmth from the fire began to return some life into my frigid bones.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I hate to intrude, doll, but you wanna explain to me what in the hell just happened?"

I snorted a bit, biting my lip.

"Well, I don't have a boyfriend anymore." A giggle burst from my throat, then another, and then I was cackling madly as I hugged the blankets around me.

Bruce was looking at me like I was from another planet. Slowly, I regained my composure.

"My boyfriend, Tommy, he... we were on a date."

"Seems like a pretty lame date," he said.

I snorted. "He was supposed to take me to the movies."

"And he, what, took you to the middle of a field and left you there?"

I shook my head. "He took me to the... um, the hill. Near Bushweed Park."

Bruce looked amused. "The hill, huh? Didn't they used to call that, uh..."

"Neck'n The Woods?" I muttered. "Yeah."

I thought he might laugh, but his face was solemn.

"I have a feeling you didn't want to be there," he said gently.

"He was... he said he was going to break up with me. Unless I... well. I hope he's happy with stupid Stacked Sue."

"Sue LaPret?" he asked. "Doubt it. That nickname was only ever a mean thing people said about her. Far as I know, she never even kissed a boy."

"How would you know?" I asked. "Things change."

It wasn't meant to be a dig, but it came out that way. He smiled tightly.

"Suppose I wouldn't," he said after a moment.

I bit my lip, mentally kicking myself for being rude.

"Well," I said softly. "That's what happened. I didn't want him to drive me home."

"So you got out of the car and walked across town in a snowstorm?" he asked flatly.

"I didn't say it was a good idea."

"It was a terrible idea," he said bluntly. "You could've died."

The frankness might have just been how Bruce was now, or it might have been a dig back after my unintentional one. Either way, it hurt, and either way, I wasn't about to tell him that.

"I need to call my mother," I said, standing up.

"Hate to break it to you, but the lines are down."

I turned to him, my mouth half-open.

"But how will I get home?" I asked dumbly.

He raised his eyebrows. "I dunno, Nance. I think you're stuck here."

"My mother is going to worry. My father will be furious. I have to get home."

He shook his head. "Not a chance. Maybe you can sort something out in the morning, but I can't drive and there's no cabs running right now, nothing. Even if there was, how would you reach 'em? Phones are out."

I sat slowly back down, pulling the blankets over me as I stared into the fire. All they knew was that I had gone out with Tommy and that we were planning to go to the movies. What would they think when I didn't come home? For that matter, what would Tommy do? For all he knew, I was trapped in Bushweed Park. Would he go tell my parents that I had stormed off and was missing? Would he just go home? Would he go see stupid Sue and...

And what about when word got out that I'd spent the night at the Bensons' with only Bruce home? Donna would be scandalized, never mind the circumstances. Even Martha might be suspicious. The neighbors would talk. The whole town would talk. It would go from Tommy breaking up with me so he could go feel up Stacked Sue to me ditching Tommy so I could sneak to Bruce's to spend the night.

I simply had to get home.

My house wasn't especially close to the Benson's, but it wasn't far, either. Maybe a fifteen-minute walk, in normal weather. And Martha's slippers were only slightly tight on me: perhaps she had a pair of boots I could borrow. Then, if Bruce would lend me a coat... well, and a pair of pants... and a hat...

I voiced my plan to Bruce, who shook his head.

"Not a chance. You'll catch pneumonia. Worse, you might fall. You wouldn't survive a night out there with a broken leg."

"You could walk me home. Stay the night at ours, and my dad can bring you back in the morning."

A sharp bark of laughter told me I was asking far too much, which I certainly was. I sighed, staring back into the fire, worry etched in every line on my face.

"Let me make sure I have this right." Bruce's voice was soft but serious. "Your boyfriend said he was taking you to a movie, but drove you up to Neck'n The Woods and said he'd break up with you unless you went all the way with him, otherwise he was going with Sue LaPret. You jumped out of the car, lost him at the park, then got stuck in a snowstorm and ended up here."

"That's the gist of it."

"And you're worried your parents will be mad you spent the night here, where it's safe, so you'd rather risk going back out into that blizzard than stay in Martha's room for the night."

"Well, yes."

"Why?"

"Why am I worried?"

Bruce nodded.

Surely he understood the implication. I studied him, watching the firelight flick along the angles of his face. The light made his skin look warm, tanned, and golden and red all at the same time, a fascinating blend of color that danced along his cheeks and jaw. I wanted to touch the spots that danced, the shadows playing along his scars. Not with my hands, of course. I wanted to touch those spots with my lips.

That was why I was worried. Silently, I stared until he turned his head and those serious, guarded eyes met mine.

"Well, it's not proper," I said shakily. "If I spend the night here, with you and no one else home, people will think—"

He scoffed. "They won't think anything."

"They certainly will," I snapped. "It might not mean anything to you, Bruce, but it's my reputation on the line, not yours."

"And is your reputation suffering because you're alone with a man, or alone with me?"

My mouth dropped open. "It wouldn't—"

"You think I'd do something like that? Just force you to fuck me because no one else is home and you're stuck here?"

Bruce was looking straight at me, his face stoic. A tremble ran through my body, one that had nothing to do with being cold, and everything to do with the strangeness in his eyes.

"I don't think you'd do that to me," I said quietly. "I meant people would think I wanted to, um... you know. Sleep with you."

"And that's even worse, is it?"

My heart sank. Worse? How could that be worse? Even without him knowing how much I wanted to... well.

"It has nothing to do with you, Bruce," I said. "I don't want to be known as easy."

That barking laugh came again and Bruce shook his head.

"Forget it, Nancy. Trust me, no one will think you did anything to sully your perfect reputation with me." He struggled to get up from the sofa. Once he was standing, he limped towards the kitchen, the door swinging closed behind him.

I was frozen in place on the couch, staring at the door to the kitchen. For a while, the only sound I heard was that of the fire crackling and my own heart pounding.

Certainly, I hadn't meant that risking my life in a blizzard would be better than spending the night with him. But the language he used had jarred me, as did the fact that he thought my concerns were solely about him. Never mind that Bruce had been back in town for months, and no one had seen him aside from his family. And at that, why hadn't Bruce gone with his mother and sister to see his grandma?

His face hadn't betrayed much, but as I thought back, I realized his voice had. He hadn't said anything about seducing me. In fact, he seemed to believe the only way I'd sleep with him is if he took what he wanted. That most certainly wasn't the case, though I tried to tell myself it wasn't right to think those kinds of thoughts in the present situation. In any case, Bruce may have changed since I'd last seen him, but I knew in my heart that he wasn't capable of hurting anyone like that.

And something about his last line, the scornful and almost bitter way he had added "with me" to the end of his statement, made me sad. Bruce was a hero, a man who had risked his very life to protect everything our country stood for.

It dawned on me slowly that his outburst had nothing to do with me. It had something to do with whatever was keeping Bruce hidden in that house, whatever had stopped Martha from throwing him a return party. My heart ached at the thought. I wanted nothing more than to tell Bruce that I'd loved him since before he'd left to join the Army. But what would he think? I was just his high school girlfriend's younger sister. I was partly astonished that he even remembered me.

I was so lost in my thoughts that it took the scent of frying bacon to jar me out of them. With a start, I heard the sounds of Bruce cooking and realized he must have gotten the gas range lit. My stomach rumbled. I had eaten a light dinner before going out with Tommy, thinking we'd have popcorn at the movie. Getting caught in that snowstorm had made me even hungrier.

Bruce may have been upset, but I hoped perhaps he would take pity on a hungry girl who made dumb decisions every now and then.

Withdrawing myself from the blankets, I crossed to the kitchen door and opened it quietly. Bruce was standing at the stove, hovering over a sizzling pan. On the counter beside him, a carton of eggs waited patiently for their turn.

"Bruce, can I—"

He started so suddenly that he jumped back from the pan. As he stepped, his leg slipped from under him and he fell to the kitchen floor, landing on his behind with a thunk. The spatula he'd been holding skittered across the linoleum.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I gasped.

Given his previous outburst, I thought Bruce would be upset, but I was wrong. He closed his eyes, then a small smile began to spread across his face. Suddenly he was laughing, and he lay on his back on the floor.

"Bruce?" I stepped into the kitchen tentatively.

He continued chuckling. Perplexed by his strange behavior, I approached him cautiously, then knelt beside him.

"Are you hurt?"

"Am I hurt?" he wheezed, laughing even harder. "Sweetheart, you don't know the half of it."

The kitchen was lit only by the beam from his flashlight. It wasn't until I was kneeling next to him that I realized his cheeks were covered in tears streaming from his closed eyes as he laughed.

"You're scaring me," I said softly.

He took a deep breath, bringing his hands to his face and covering it. The laughter subsided gradually, until the only sound was the sizzle of bacon and Bruce's breathing.

"I'm sorry I startled you."

He sat up slowly, grimacing as he did.

"The bacon's about to burn, you mind?"

I rescued the bacon as he requested, turning off the stove and moving it out of the pan, then returned my attention to him.

"Can you stand? Do you need help?"

A dry chuckle was all he responded with. Frustrated, I knelt next to him again.

"Bruce. Talk to me, please."

"Are you hungry? I figured you might be hungry so I thought I'd cook something up quick. Can't even do that right anymore."

"You most certainly can." I touched his shoulder carefully. "I startled you. That has nothing to do with being able to cook."

"I fell on my ass because of this goddamn leg."

"What happened to your leg?"

He didn't say anything. He looked at me, his eyes hard, and his mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. Before I knew what was happening, he took my hand and guided it to his thigh. Just above his knee, I felt a contraption with straps and buckles. Below that, instead of flesh, my fingers met a cold, hard surface through the fabric of his trousers.

"Not sure, exactly, but chunks of it are probably floating around Korea somewhere."

The laughter was gone. Lit only by the dim beam of the flashlight on the counter, Bruce's face had become stoic again, and he stared at my hand resting on what should have been his leg.

I didn't know what to say. What could I possibly say? I would never know what it was like to lose the majority of a limb while thousands of miles from home, fighting against men who were trying to kill me. I couldn't possibly begin to understand what had happened—really, truly understand it—or what Bruce was feeling. And how could I possibly tell him that he was as desirable to me as when he had both legs?

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered, knowing it was nowhere near enough.

"See?" he replied. "Your reputation is safe. I'd never do anything like that, not that I could even manage it, and no one would believe you'd do it willingly."

"Yes, I would."

My answer was so soft that I wasn't sure I had even spoken. If it weren't for the look of shock on Bruce's face, I may have even denied saying anything. But he looked up at me, eyebrows pinched in a confused expression.

"What was that?"

I met his eyes, staring steadily into them as I spoke.

"Yes, I would. I used to be so jealous of Donna, did you know that? I used to moon after you, wishing you would notice me instead of her. You were so..." I smiled in spite of myself. "You were the coolest guy I'd ever seen, and you were always so nice to me even though I was just a dumb kid. You used to be the nicest guy in town."

"Used to be," he repeated.

"You still are, Bruce. Being short a leg doesn't change any of that."

He chuckled. I was relieved as a smile spread across his face.

"Come on, let's get up. It's cold away from the fire."

He gripped my arm as he stood up, though I think it was more out of politeness than necessity. Once he was standing again, I grabbed the plate of bacon and we went back to the living room. As he settled back on the couch, I stoked the fire, then returned to my nest of blankets with the plate balanced between us.

Things seemed less strange now that I knew. Bruce was still tense, but he started to talk, and I got the sense that he hadn't had anyone to talk to for ages.

"The first day I was back, my mom and Martha sniffled and cried the entire time," he said as we ate. "'Poor Brucie, losing his leg and now he's an invalid.' They went to see my grandma and I couldn't even... you know, she cried when I went to visit her after I got back. Like it was the worst possible thing in the world, to have a son or grandson or brother missing part of his leg. It was humiliating. But they weren't wrong, you know? Everyone acted like that. Can't do jack shit, just because I got a damn leg blown off. I didn't want to see anyone. They didn't want anyone to see me."

"I don't think that's true." I licked a drop of bacon grease off my finger before picking up another piece. "Martha was so excited when she heard you were coming home. Really, she was."

He scoffed. "When I went, I thought the outcome was simple. Live or die. Come home whole, or don't come home. I guess I should be grateful I came home at all. There were..."

He stopped. My heart ached at the expression on his face, something dark and lonely, something I couldn't possibly begin to understand.

"A lot of good men died. A lot of good men got hurt. I don't know if they feel as useless as I do now, but I never thought part of me would come home and part of me wouldn't. And I don't know how to handle that."

"I don't know either."

"Everything changed. I knew it would be different but not like this."

The fire crackled and a particularly strong gust of wind shook the house as I contemplated what he had said. I didn't want to be that person who treated Bruce differently, nor did the fact that he lost his leg mean I found him any less... well, any less anything, really.

I wanted him to know that. It wasn't that I "used to" have a crush on him. I still did, and his leg didn't change any of that for me. I wanted to tell him that, but it was improper. It wasn't right for me to be alone with him and to admit that I thought he was a total dreamboat.

As I sat there, slowly chewing the last piece of bacon, I wondered why.

I was so concerned with what other people might think, I'd started overlooking what I wanted. I had always wanted Bruce. I still wanted him. And what did it matter if we were alone and he was a man and I was a woman? I wanted to be with Bruce, damn what everyone else might think. So what if it was only for one night? Why was it okay for Tommy to hop from chick to chick and not for me? I wanted Bruce more than I had ever wanted Tommy.

The plate of bacon was empty. I moved it from the sofa to the side table.

"Bruce, I'm still cold."

"I can get the burners going again if you want some tea."

I untangled my nest of blankets and pushed all but one to the floor. "I was thinking maybe we could sit closer together. Conserve some heat."

He regarded me carefully as I shifted on the sofa, sidling up beside him and throwing the blanket over both of us. "What will people think?"

"Fuck what people think."

Both of us seemed astonished at my sudden cursing. I covered my mouth with my hand. Bruce laughed and drew his hand out of the blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders.

"Fuck what people think, huh? That's sure a change of tune."

"Well, I could have said it more politely, but yes."

Bruce's hand gripped my shoulder lightly as I nestled in closer to him. "I like the way you said it. Something about a pretty girl being as vulgar as a soldier is... well..."

He trailed off, shaking his head, and the crackle of the fireplace kept the room from falling completely silent.

"You know, I didn't thank you for letting me in tonight and rescuing me from that storm," I said. "So, thank you."

"Anytime, doll."

More silence. More tension. And his arm felt so nice around me.

"Bruce, remember how I said that I used to have a crush on you?"

"Not sure that's how you phrased it, but yes."

"Well, I still do."

He swallowed hard. "You sure about that, Nancy?"

"Yep."

"Even with..."

"Yep."

He was quiet, seemingly struggling with whether or not to trust me. I pressed my lips together, waiting for him to say something, but the fire popped and snapped and he remained silent.

"Bruce," I said, turning to face him.

"Yeah?"

"My lips are cold."

The muscles in his neck flexed and his eyes flicked down to my mouth. Heart racing, I waited as he processed the words, watching the options turn over again and again in his mind. After a moment, he made his decision, and the next thing I knew Bruce's lips were pressed to mine.

It was a gentle kiss, tentative and soft. I don't think either of us was certain that it was real for a moment. But neither of us pulled back, and the uncertainty disappeared as he pulled me closer to him.

I brought my hand to his face, tracing my fingers along his jawline and feeling the slight stubble there. Here and there, the stubble was marred by the smoothness of his scars, and I caressed each of those spots with the tips of my fingers. His kiss grew stronger, and he sucked lightly on my lip before tracing it with his tongue. I parted my lips, letting his tongue meet mine, and little shocks of warmth began to trickle through my body.

We sat that way for some time, just kissing, just exploring each other's lips. His arm stayed around my shoulder, holding me close as we cuddled beneath the blanket.