Unrequited Love

By Will Decker

A young man spending a last night on the town before leaving for basic training meets and falls in love with a young woman. Upon returning from military duty, he begins a life-long search for the woman that he believes is his soulmate, never seeing the real love being offered to him. Follow his journey as his life unfolds before him, his one obsession never fading. The ending will surprise you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Decker
• Release date: Apr 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463387054

Will Decker

Hello,There have been some dramatic changes going on in my life and because of them I am finding that I now have more available time. Yeah, that's a laugh. Now it seems like my days are even more hectic than they were before. Hence, I have decided instead of using the narrow sighted approach to marketing my books, I am going to use a much simpler approach. No longer will my books be available through Amazon markets, but instead, my plan is to make them all available through the Smashwords site as well as their affiliated markets for FREE. However, this will take time so if you have read any of my books and are looking to read more of them, bear with me, I promise you they are coming. I hope this works for my dedicated (few) readers. On a different topic, as you can see, most of my writing efforts have been serials.With that said, you will never find a Cliff Hanger amongst my works. All of the stories have beginnings and endings and can stand on their own. Their common thread might be the characters and in some cases, the planet, but all are Stand-Alone novels! I really despise Cliff Hangers with a passion. Can you tell?Thanks for taking the time to get to know me a little better, WillHope you have a great day.Sincerely, Will Decker

Book preview

UNREQUITED LOVE

A Romance Novel by

WILL DECKER

Copyright 2016 by WILL DECKER

Smashwords Edition

WILL DECKER has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased, or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

UNREQUITED LOVE is a work of fiction. The resemblance of any characters to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, media, situations, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

This eBook may not be re-sold or given away except with written permission from the author or as otherwise permitted through special promotions.

A special thank you to everyone that has made this story possible. My beta reader, my proof reader, and to you the readers. I sincerely hope you enjoy this work of fiction.

Will

More Fantastic Stories by Will Decker:

DRIVEN

FIRE BABY

HYBRID KILLERS

The ‘HEÄLF’ Collection:

MORTALITY REVISITED

CLONE WARS

DAY OF NIGHT

REGENERATIONS

HORSPAW

The ‘Mac" Collection:

THE WITNESS

TOXIC RAIN

BETRAYAL

RECORD KEEPER

DEATH IN THE DUNES

WIT-SEC FAIL

SIMPLY PERFECT BINDING 2ND Ed.

If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to leave a review.

Table of Contents:

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

More by Will Decker

Chapter 1

Present Day

Even a dog doesn’t deserve to die like this. The roughhewn, dirty plank floor tastes like burnt motor oil and stale urine on my swollen tongue, a nice change from the coppery taste of my own blood. In the back of my mind I’m thinking how I need to clean the floor more often, especially if I’m going to wake up on it anytime again in the future.

The night before is a complete blank. In fact, the days and weeks and even years leading up to this moment are little more than a fuzzy blur. Somewhere along the line between being medically discharged from the force and ending up a rum soaked pile of bones and bruised flesh, the world went terribly wrong; a world where my life is nothing more than memories of drunken brawls, rage, disappointment in myself and others, and the longing for something that will never be, the love of a woman.

But not the love of just any woman. What I need more than even my next drink, is the love of the woman that didn’t quite make it into my life almost eighteen years ago. A woman that stole my heart forever after nothing more than a one night stand. In the time since, I’ve come to the conclusion that she must have been using a fake ID that night to get into the bar where we met, and being the fool that I am, I didn’t even have sense enough to learn her real name. The connection between us was instant and strong, the rest of the place, the sounds, the voices, the music, quickly fading into oblivion, as nothing existed but her. She was and still is the reason for my being where I am today, and she doesn’t even know it.

Sure, I’ve met others since then, but I’ve always found myself comparing them to her. Or at the least, the memory of her, and they’ve always fallen short, far short. From the moment our eyes met, I was lost, destined to be a restless soul searching for the one thing I can’t have, the woman that set the bar so high for every woman that came after her I can never be satisfied again. Not until I once again find her, a quest that has shaped my life over the years until I no longer have any direction.

But that was a long time ago, almost eighteen years now, and though I haven’t given up the search, I’ve given up the hope and resigned myself to what I’ve become.

Yet, for just a few hours in time, she was mine, and for that, I will always be grateful.

In the Past…Sue

The bar was a hangout for the preppy crowd of young attorneys, stock brokers, private consultants, and college kids with fake IDs impatient for the life just ahead of them. I was out of college, had done my ROTC training while there, and was getting ready to ship off to basic training in Fort Leonardwood, Missouri, before heading to Massachusetts for Advanced Individual Training in the Army Security Agency. To say I was anxious and looking forward to my future would be an understatement. To say I was looking for love would be a lie. I was looking for a one night stand to calm my nerves and leave the city of Minneapolis, Minnesota, my birth place, on a high note.

Sitting on a stool near the end of the bar that provides me a view of the front door as well as the dance floor off to my right, I’m working on my first tumbler of chilled rum, a drink the bartender doesn’t have to put much thought into aside from putting a bottle of rum in the freezer when he sees me come in.

Because I have nothing better to do for the rest of the day, I showed up early, before the evening crowd starts filing in after a day behind their desks poring over paperwork, working hard to make a living. The college crowd, which doesn’t particularly interest me, is already dribbling in, their weekend ahead of them.

Being tall, around six-feet, two-inches, with a short cropped, military cut of rusty blonde hair, clean shaven face and blue eyes, my rugged good looks have always appealed to the fairer sex, and all through college, I’ve never had a problem finding a willing participant to spend some raunchy time with. So when I feel something soft pressing into my back that feels familiarly to a woman’s breasts, I’m not immediately surprised. It isn’t uncommon for women to hit on me, even if this is a new approach.

Moving slowly, I rotate around on the stool and come face to face with the most beautiful face I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. We are mere inches apart as she looks back at me, her arm stretched out across the bar in an attempt to wave down the bartender. My eyes meet hers and a shy smile turns up one corner of her mouth.

Hi, softly slips out of my mouth, as I’m unable to tear my gaze away from her doe brown eyes with hints of green shot through with sparks of gold. They’re mesmerizing and I suddenly grow conscious of the time slowly dragging by as I stare into them.

Breaking the silence that is stretching out between us, she says equally softly, Hi. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.

My body is subconsciously missing the feel of her breasts pressing up against me as my eyes slowly move down to her smiling lips, and then on down to a pair of firm looking breasts before self-consciously turning back up to her face, a slight warmth rising up the sides of my throat as realization dawns that she is enjoying my perusal of her.

Do I meet your approval? she whispers, the smile stretching across her face with just a hint of shyness to suggest that this is not how she would normally behave.

No, not at all, I stutter, confused and chagrined by my nervous response. When her expression quickly changes to one of surprise, I realize what I’ve said and quickly attempt to correct myself. No, that’s not what I meant. Yes, Now I’m spouting like an idiot before quickly trying to explain myself. I meant no to your bothering me. Yes, yes indeed you meet my approval, I blurt, watching her smile return accompanied by a nervous laugh.

Taking a breath and getting control of my nerves, I try to act calm while expressing my apologies. I’m sorry. That didn’t really come out right either. No woman has ever had such an effect on me and with our faces so close, it takes all of my self-control not to reach out and twist my fingers in her auburn, shoulder length hair while pulling those sensuous looking lips to mine and taking a deep taste of her.

My reply only makes her laugh harder, which sets me off too, as I realize she was just teasing when she asked if I met her approval, and that she didn’t really expect an answer.

When she finally stops laughing, she moves back a step and extends her hand out to me. Let’s start over, she says, as I automatically reach for her hand, enveloping it carefully within my much larger, stronger hand. Only then do I realize just how petite she is. Her head is almost on the same level as mine, while she’s standing and I’m sitting.

Feeling like a cad for not standing and offering her my stool sooner, I drop my feet to the floor and rise to my full height, towering over her by at least a foot. Still not releasing her hand, I notice that she not only has mesmerizing eyes and a beautiful smile, but her petite body is proportioned perfectly, and I feel an instant desire growing in the lower extremities of my own body.

Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself, I’m torn between sitting back down before my lust for her becomes painstakingly obvious, or letting go of her hand, which has become a conduit for the charged current passing between us.

Clearing her throat, she looks down at our hands and the grasp that I have on hers, as if she is a life preserver and I a drowning man. Understanding suddenly crashes over me and I drop her hand while profusely apologizing, Sorry.

Yet, even while I’m stuttering out another apology, my second in less than as many minutes, I can’t help notice the disappointment flash briefly behind her eyes at the broken contact.

Taking a deep breath, she smiles warmly and says, Okay, that didn’t work so well. How about we give it another shot. My name’s Susan McDonald. Everyone just calls me Sue.

Reaching out for her hand again while smiling warmly at her, I quickly say, Vic, and it’s not short for anything, it’s just, Vic. Nice to meet you Sue.

Vic, that’s a nice name. A puzzled expression causes her brows to furrow as if in deep thought before she adds, I have a friend who has a brother named Vic. Before I can respond to her comment, she hurriedly shuts her eyes, reopens them and states with determination, But that’s another life and we’re not going there tonight.

Not caring to dredge up whatever bad mojo just caused her to react the way she had, I decide not to pursue it. Instead, wanting to change the subject and see the smile return to her face, I ask her what she’s drinking, as I begrudgingly release my hold on her hand before it grows awkward again, and turn to the bartender.

Whatever you’re having is fine with me, she states, her smile still not returning.

I make a mental note right then and there to do whatever it takes to bring that beautiful smile back and to make sure it never fades again. The world just seems a brighter place when she’s smiling. At least, my world is.

Are you sure, I ask, smiling down at her, and then without even realizing what I’m going to do, I put my hands on her waist and gently pick her up, placing her on my stool and sliding up to the bar beside her. Two more of the same, I tell the bartender, as he throws me a knowing wink before turning away to pour our drinks.

With a smile lighting up her whole face, she turns the stool to face me, placing a knee on either side of my legs as if it’s the most natural thing ever. You know how to sweep a woman off her feet, she says with a smirk turning up the corner of her mouth.

Giving her my thousand watt smile that usually makes women swoon, I hesitate for a moment while trying to come up with an appropriate response that doesn’t sound worn out. She deserves better than that. In fact, she deserves more than a one-night stand, and I suddenly feel guilty as I realize that’s all I have to offer, what with my orders in hand to report to Basic Training the next day.

When my smile fades and a dark cloud passes behind my blue eyes, she senses the change immediately. It’s almost as we’d been together forever and she’s able to read my thoughts.

What is it? You just had a sad thought.

The concern in her eyes rocks me to my core. No one has ever cared enough before to take notice of my inner thoughts, and here she is, showing concern for a man she doesn’t even know.

I’m sorry. It’s nothing really, I softly reply, cursing myself for causing that room lighting smile to fade.

There you go again, she chides me, laughing softly. Do we have to start over again?

No, I cry out, before softly adding, No, we don’t have to start over. I promise you, I won’t apologize again. With a physical effort, I force the thought of leaving tomorrow out of my mind, surprised that it had even entered my thoughts. After all, this beautiful woman with the rocking hot body sitting on my stool is supposed to be nothing more than a distraction for the night. Tomorrow, a new chapter of my life begins, one that I’ve been preparing for and looking forward to since before I can remember.

So why am I suddenly having second thoughts?

Good, because I like my men able to think for themselves, take action, and then own up to it.

No one ever called you bashful, did they? I laugh, sensing a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes.

Just then the bartender places a couple of coasters in front of us before setting our drinks down and collecting my empty tumbler.

In unison, we turn toward the bar. I nod my thanks to the bartender as Sue lifts her drink to her lips and gingerly takes a sip. I suddenly wonder if she’s as old as she looks or if she’s in the place on a fake ID, like most of the kids that hang out here. Though she appears too young to be here, at the same time, she appears to be all woman.

I’m about to ask her if she really is Susan McDonald, when she spins the stool back around and catches my legs in a scissors grip with her own while holding the tumbler of liquor precariously in the air between us. Catching her breath, a startled expression on her face, she asks, What the hell is in here?

Liking the feel of her legs wrapped around mine, while not missing the fact that her pencil skirt is riding up her thighs, I smile at her and simply state, Rum.

Taking another sip, only larger this time, she asks, Rum and what?

Nothing, I smile. Just rum. Barkeep here puts a bottle in the freezer when he sees me come in. Chilled and unadulterated, clean, just the way I like it.

Ooh, she purrs, giving me a smirk that sets off warning bells. A man that isn’t afraid to talk dirty, and we just met. Taking another swallow, she rocks back on the stool, her legs wrapped around mine the only thing keeping her from falling before I reach forward and pull her back upright by the upper arms.

I realize immediately that touching her is a mistake. The softness of her skin is more than I can handle, and as she comes toward me, I don’t stop until her face is within mere inches of mine. When she turns her eyes up to meet my gaze, I can see the need there, and my lips drop down to meet her upturned ones.

We kiss softly, tasting each other before pulling back. When she turns back toward the bar, I almost apologize again for being so forward. Setting her tumbler down, she turns back toward me, grabbing my shirt with both hands and pulling me down to her level. Just before our lips meet, she huskily whispers, You better not be thinking of apologizing again.

She brushes my lips with her own, then pulls back just enough for me to see the passion burning in her eyes as she studies my face before moving in closer again and searching out my lips with her own.

My first thought is to wonder how she knew what I was going to say. But then all thoughts are quickly replaced with the sweet taste of her lips mixed with that of the spiced rum. Her hair is fragrant with the scent of shampoo and I move my hands to cradle her head, my fingers taking in the silky feel of her hair. Rarely have my senses been so acute and tuned in to a woman.

Just as her hands run over the stubble of my military haircut and I’m acutely aware of the sensation of her petite breasts pressing against my chest through the cotton fabric of my shirt, there’s a loud rapping on the bar top. Hey, this is an upstanding establishment. Take it outside or get a room.

Knowing the bartender is half teasing and half serious, I move my hands from her arms up to her face, tenderly enveloping her cheeks before reluctantly breaking off the kiss. We are immediately bombarded with a chorus of raucous laughter, clapping, and cat calls. Glancing around, I notice that the bartender has already moved on to other customers and the crowd is already turning back to minding their own business.

Is it getting warm in here, or is it just me? she grins, reaching for her half empty tumbler.

Taking a sip from my own tumbler, I comment with a questioning look, No, I think it’s getting warm in here. Even the chill is off my drink. But then, it might just be all the heat coming off you.

Are you suggesting I’m hot? she asks, giving me a shy smile.

Baby, there is none hotter than you.

You sure know how to sweet talk a woman, mister.

I won’t apologize for telling the truth.

Whew, now it’s really getting hot in here, she says, fanning herself dramatically with her free hand while dropping her legs from around mine and setting her empty tumbler down on the bar with a little more force than she intended.

I’d love to offer you another, I begin, when she waves me off.

No, no. I think that’ll do me for tonight, she slurs, leaning precariously on the stool as the raw alcohol hits her petite system.

Though it breaks my heart to say it, I offer to call her a taxi to take her home, as she’s in no condition to be driving. And for me to take her home isn’t an option either, even though I would never take advantage of an inebriated woman, I’m not sure how far my self-control with her will last. No woman has ever stirred such desire in me as her. And even though I can’t shake the thought of flying off to Missouri in the morning, I also can’t shake the feeling that she could be so much more than just a one-night stand.

When I begin explaining to her that she needs to get home and sleep it off, she looks at me cross-ways and mumbles drunkenly, Do me. Do you get it?

You need to get home and go to bed. You’ll be fine in the morning and feel like a fool if you remember tonight at all, I tell her, suddenly concerned that she might need more than a cab to make it to that bed safely.

And just as I wonder why it’s any concern of mine what happens to her, she slips sideways on the stool and it spins around in a circle, her head swinging toward the edge of the solid wood bar top at a dangerous speed.

Before her head can strike the bar top, I sweep her off the stool and pull her in close to me before setting her gently on her feet between the stool and me. It dawns on me then that since I was the one that gave her the drink, I’m also the one responsible for her getting home safely.

With my right arm holding her securely against me, I awkwardly pull a few bills out of my right front pocket with my left hand and lay them on the bar. Catching the bartender’s eye, he sees the cash on the bar top and nods in acknowledgement.

Glancing down at Sue, she looks up into my gaze and smiles flirtatiously. Are we going home now?

Though I’ve taken many women home, some of them drunk at the time, I’ve never felt the way I do about this one. Unlike the others, my feelings for Sue are somewhere between lust, protection, and something more that I’d never experienced before. It feels foreign and more than just a bit scary.

Yes, I think it’s time we get you home, I reply, my voice steadier than I feel, because even though Sue only had the one tumbler of rum, I had two.

If we make love tonight, are we going to change your name from Vic to Victory?

If I had any thoughts about getting her into bed, they just went out the window.

No, Sue. It will always be Vic, I sigh heavily, steering her toward the door.

Darn, she suddenly pouts, her face looking even cuter than before.

Whether she is disappointed because I just told her in my own way that we aren’t going to be making love tonight, or that we aren’t going to play her name game, I’m not a hundred percent sure. But I strongly suspect it’s the prior and not the latter, even if it is just wishful thinking for the sake of my ego.

Coming out on the street, the warm muggy air of the early night hits us full in the face after the cool of the air conditioned air inside the bar. Instead of reviving her, she turns to butter in my arms and I feel her sliding downward. Without giving it a thought, I scoop her up and cradle her petite little body in my arms, acutely aware of each soft curve and fold against my chest and arms through the thin pieces of fabric keeping us apart.

With a snuffle, she smiles and rolls her face into my chest, completely at peace with the world. Looking down at her, I’m overcome with a need to hold her and protect her that rocks me to my core. It’s not sexual, though I still desire her tremendously, but something much deeper. Something I’ve never felt before and will probably never feel again with another woman.

I’m shipping out tomorrow. Embarking on a new life. The logical side of my brain is screaming that I don’t have time for this new, unidentifiable feeling that this woman is bringing out in me.

Standing out on the sidewalk, the night traffic light, a few people coming and going, no one really giving us much more than a casual glance as they stroll by, either heading home from a late night at the office or out and about, getting a start on their weekend.

Weekend! That’s right, this is Friday night, I think excitedly, glancing down at the most contented face I’d ever laid eyes on, a little drool slipping out of the corner of her mouth where it’s against my shirt. Maybe I can get my orders changed and not have to report until Monday. After all, what could be so important that I’d have to show up on a Saturday? That would give us two days to get to know each other better. And more importantly, for her to sober up and see if she still likes me or not.

My car, an old Plymouth Valiant, has already been put into storage with my few belongings locked in the trunk. Everything I need to catch my flight and report to basic training is in my pocket. Tonight was just supposed to be to cut loose and then head out. So why am I letting this girl mess with me the way she is? We don’t even know each other. It’s not like we have any history together or anything.

When she squirms a little to make herself more comfortable, her butt cheeks become real familiar with my left forearm, suddenly reminding me what I need to do.

Stepping toward the curb, I nod at a cabbie parked just a short distance up the street, waiting for departing customers from the bar. His lights immediately come on and he pulls forward. Leaning down, I pull the door open and carefully slide in, trying hard not to jostle the sensuous woman cradled in my arms. With her balanced securely on my lap, her butt pressing against my groin, it’s impossible to stop the flow of blood from my brain to my lower extremities. Acutely aware of the erection growing just beneath her curvy rear end, it startles me when the cabbie suddenly turns in his seat and says with an authoritarian voice, Before I move this cab, she needs to have a seatbelt on.

No problem, I huskily reply, struggling to slide her onto the seat beside me.

Where to?

Oh shit, goes through my mind. I have no idea where to take her, and without waking her, I can’t find out.

She has a little clutch strapped to her wrist, but there’s no way I can take the liberty of opening it in search for an ID with her address. And what’s more, she might only have a fake ID anyway, which could put us anywhere in the greater metropolitan area and nowhere near her real home.

Sue, can you hear me?

Putting my face near hers, I whisper softly, not wanting to startle her, Sue, we need to know where you live so we can get you home.

Her eyes flutter open and she looks at me for a second before recognition sinks in and a warm smile turns up her lips. You’re really cute.

Thanks, I say, smiling back as the cabbie fidgets impatiently. If we’re going to get you home, we need to know where you live.

Come on, man. If this is going to take any longer, I’m going to have to start the meter whether we’re moving or not.

Start the damned meter, I growl back at him, not wanting to push Sue any harder than I already have.

Giggling at me for growling at the cabbie in her defense, she shimmies on her seat to pull her skirt down before putting her face up near the back of the seat so the cabbie can hear her and says, 2120 NE Vermont please. You’ll have to forgive my friend, I think he’s had a little too much to drink tonight, she adds with a giggle.

Falling back into her seat, she struggles to adjust her seatbelt and then looks over at me watching her. What?

Smiling, I simply shake my head and find my own seatbelt as the cab pulls away from the curb.

We make the 5-minute drive in silence while I begin to wonder if I should simply walk her to her door and leave, or if she’s going to invite me in for coffee or something. It surprises me when I discover that I won’t be satisfied simply seeing her to her door. And not because the bulge in my slacks is still doing my thinking for me, but because I really want to enjoy more of her company and a chance to get to know her before I head off to Missouri.

As the cabbie pulls up to her curb, I pull some bills out of my pocket and hand them through the screen separating the front from the passengers. Not getting any sign from Sue one way or the other, I’m about to ask him to wait for me, when she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns toward me, Want to come in for a cup of coffee or something before you head home?

In a rush of relief that surprises even me, I throw off my seatbelt