Valor Read online

  VALOR

  Copyright © 2020 by Nicole Blanchard

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

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  Bolero Books LLC

  11956 Bernardo Plaza Dr. #510

  San Diego, CA 92128

  www.buybolerobooks.com

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  All rights reserved.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Editing / Proofreading: Barren Acres Editing

  Cover Design: IndieSage

  About Valor

  Former MARSOC operator, Benjamin Hart, thought he knew everything there was to know about love. Losing it, winning it back. Now, he’ll have to learn what it will take to keep it.

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  Four years after the conclusion of their story, Ben and Olivia are happily married with two children and living the American Dream. The only problem is stealing moments from their busy lives for themselves.

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  Determined to get his wife alone, Ben whisks Livvie away to a romantic night—just the two of them.

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  Heartfelt and emotional, Valor is a sweet and hot slice-of-life holiday novella featuring the main characters from Warrior.

  Dedication

  To love, to life.

  To celebrating all its twists and turns.

  Contents

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Sneak Peek

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Nicole Blanchard

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  Chapter One

  Olivia

  The living room walls tell the story of our lives.

  There’s the thin stripes of color near the dining room where I’ve been testing out paint colors, but haven’t made a decision yet. Ben tells me I should just choose one because they’re all the same shade of beige, but each time I make up my mind, I have second thoughts. Is beige too boring? Too Suzy Homemaker? Is the green-tinted beige too risky or will I get bored with it in two years? Sometimes I drive myself mad thinking about these things.

  In the corner, by the TV, there’s a little framed section where Cole and Phoebe had gone chuck wild with the crayons one day and drew a dinosaur and a butterfly, respectively. Or at least, that’s what they said they were. Instead of painting over it, Ben had decided to frame them and wouldn’t listen to my pleadings otherwise. Looking back, I’m glad he didn’t listen to me. Now that the kids are six and four, and have mostly outgrown those kind of antics, the memory is a sweet one to look back on.

  In the entryway by the front door, there’s a tumble of boots, my flats and sandals, and the kids’ shoes that have left scuff marks near the baseboards. I keep meaning to scrub them down, but there never seems to be any time for those things. Besides, with my kids it would only end up scuffed again the second I turned my head.

  There are a cluster of portraits I had done when Phoebe was a newborn. It was probably the happiest time of my life. The terror of Cole’s kidnapping was far enough in the past that I was able to keep it tightly under lock, and the joy of sharing my life with Ben and our children was enough to blot out any shadow of darkness. Cole’s heart transplant had taken spectacularly and he’d been out of the woods for a couple months by the time Phoebe was born.

  The pictures hang over our fireplace mantle in a grouping of three, two smaller ones on each side and a larger one in the middle. Cole is on the left in a sweet little button-up shirt the color of cornflowers. He’s smiling so big you can see a mouthful of teeth still a little oversized for his boyish face and one only halfway grown in. He looks so much like his dad, seeing the picture makes my heart squeeze. On the right is Phoebe with a capful of strawberry blonde hair, her almond-shaped eyes relaxed in sleep, and her plump pink lips pursed with attitude. Her hair and her creamy pale complexion are about all she gets from me. She’s her father’s daughter through-and-through, with boundless sass and stubbornness in equal measure, even as an infant.

  The center portrait is of the four of us. I take a step closer with my morning coffee—decaf because it makes me jittery otherwise—clasped in both hands as I wait for it to cool. Wrangling two kids to sit still for the photographer hadn’t been easy, especially for Cole, who always had to be careful because of his heart condition, but it had been worth it.

  Ben stands next to me with an arm around my shoulders. He has Phoebe propped up on his chest, still fast asleep. Cole stands in front of me, allowing me to rest my hands on his shoulders. We’re all wearing shades of blue and green and on the backdrop of a gorgeous Florida spring afternoon, we look stunning.

  The perfect apple pie family.

  My dream come true.

  I hear a thud above my head and smile to myself. Cole is awake. Due to wreak terror on anyone in the vicinity. I wait for a second, studying the lights twinkling on the mantel over the fireplace. Then, turn back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee as a second thud sounds. Phoebe, never one to be left out, follows close behind as they both stomp down the stairs to begin their day.

  “Mo-om,” Cole shouts as he reaches the bottom. “Do I have to go to a stupid wedding? I hate weddings.” He says it like he’d rather eat a plate full of Brussels sprouts. “They’re all about love. Gross.”

  Phoebe hefts herself up to the breakfast bar next to her brother and rolls her eyes at him. “They are not. It’s a grown-up party with food and dancing.”

  “Thank you,” I say to Phoebe, as I butter toast and plate up eggs for their breakfast. “Besides, this is Scott’s wedding. You love Scott.”

  “I like playing video games with Scott,” Cole says around a mouthful of toast. “That doesn’t mean I want to go to his wedding. All people do is kiss and be all gross.”

  Sighing, I instruct, “Don’t talk when you have your mouth full.”

  “Plus, there’s going to be cake!” Ph
oebe adds brightly. “A big, huge cake.”

  I give her a stern look. “One piece.”

  Her happy expression falls. “But Mo-om.”

  Pointing my spatula, I say, “Don’t ‘but Mom’ me. One piece. I need you two sugared up like I need a hole in my head. Cole, did you take your medicine?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I took my medicine. It’s not like I haven’t been doing the same thing for the past forever.”

  Making a face, I exchange the spatula for orange juice. “You two can play for a few minutes while I finish getting ready, then you’ll have to put on your fancy clothes. There will be no dirtying them up once they’re on, do you hear me?” They’re too busy stuffing their faces to answer, so I repeat myself, “Do you hear me? Yes, ma’am?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they both intone.

  “That’s better. Now, finish your breakfasts, then stay inside the fence while you play. No killing each other, but if you do draw blood, then go find your father because he’s the one with the first aid training.”

  I kiss their heads, pausing for a second to inhale the scent of children’s shampoo, then take my mug of coffee and head upstairs. With my free hand, I snag a NERF gun and a Barbie doll, then toss them in their respective rooms. Somehow, the toys never seem to find their way back to their designated space, but today, I have other things on my mind.

  The sparkling lavender dress I’d bought special hangs on a hook on the back of my closet door. I’m not quite the size four I used to be, but the shape was flattering and accentuates my breasts, and the pale purple compliments my light skin and red hair. I’ll admit, I half had Ben’s reaction in mind when I bought it, hoping he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off me.

  The thought lingers as I strip off my robe and step into the shower, adjusting the spray until it’s near-scalding. I let the warmth soak through me and allow the tension to seep from my muscles. Today is a happy day. Faith and Scott deserve all the love and joy in the world.

  I hear the bathroom door open and close and spin around with a head full of suds, hoping the kids won’t be interrupting. “Kids?” I call out, my eyes closed against the soap. I swear I can’t go five minutes without one of them interrupting me once I shut the bathroom door. It’s like they have some sort of internal alarm.

  The shower door opens and I sense someone stepping in. “It’s me,” comes Ben’s deep voice. I shiver, despite the hot water pounding down on me. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been married, being close to him still does something to my body. His hands close around my breasts from behind and I nearly choke. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” he asks.

  Soap glides down my chest, making my skin extra sensitive, especially when his fingers tweak my nipples. I clear my throat. “Of course not.” Knees weak, I lean against his hard body, feeling the light scrape of hair against my back.

  “Turn around,” he says gruffly.

  Eyes still closed, I let his hands guide me around, then I lean into him as he washes the rest of the soap out of my hair, then works in conditioner. The brush and sway of my body against his works me up until I’m practically panting. With two full-time jobs and two very active kids, the only times we have to be together are stolen moments like these, so having him this close to me makes me forget I should be getting ready for the wedding. Instead, all I can think about is having him inside me.

  It’s that simple. I can’t remember a time in recent memory when I look at him and don’t want him. It’s a blessing and a curse.

  “Ben,” I plead.

  “Shh, I’ve got to get you all cleaned up. But first I’m going to get you a little dirty.”

  Turning him down doesn’t even cross my mind. “You’ve got to hurry, the kids—”

  Ben kisses me until I’m quiet and forget what I was saying.

  He grows hard against my belly and I lift up on my tiptoes to feel him, but he’s too tall and too focused on driving me crazy to satiate the growing ache between my legs.

  “Ben, please.”

  He takes my mouth then, either to shut me up or because he’s also incredibly turned on. I’m not sure I care about the motivation. His taste is a familiar comfort, one I seek greedily.

  We spin around until I’m pressed against the wall of the shower and he lifts me up into his arms. All I can think is Oh God, Oh God, because even after all these years, no one knows my body like he does. He’s not even inside me and I’m already close to tipping over the edge.

  Carefully, he brushes the water out of my eyes until I can open them and see his face for the first time. He’s got lines around his eyes that weren’t there a couple years ago and laugh lines fanning out from his lips. It’s a kind face, but it’s his gaze that tells the stories of the horrors he’s seen. Sometimes I can still see the shadows of the memories that haunt him, but right now, all I can see is the hunger for me.

  Then a bang comes at the bathroom door. One that doesn’t sound like it comes from a six-year-old boy, but it’s his voice that follows. “Mom? Dad? Phoebe threw dirt in my eyes and it stings. Mom! Dad!”

  We both groan in unison and I rest my head against his shoulders while he sets my feet back down. So close. We both smile a little in regret as we quickly finish our washing off.

  “Go to your bathroom and start rinsing your face. Be very careful, I’m coming out and I’ll help you,” I shout back.

  Ben halts me with a grip on my arm. “We’ll finish this later,” he says with a wicked grin.

  I’m smiling as I dab myself dry with a towel, then dress in a robe.

  “I’ll be looking forward to it,” I say.

  Chapter Two

  Ben

  Crisis averted by Livvie’s expert care, I wrangle Phoebe the firecracker, while Livvie stuffs Cole into his suit.

  “Dad, what were you and Mom doing in the shower together?” Phoebe asks with wide-eyed childish innocence.

  Livvie and I share a look over the tops of our children’s heads. “I was helping her wash her hair,” seemed like the best answer. Livvie chuckles under her breath.

  This is my favorite part of the day. When both of the kids are home and Liv and I don’t have to work. When the only thing on my to-do list is to enjoy them. Life is never better than when I’m home with my family—something I never thought I’d say—considering how much I enjoyed the thrill of war.

  Six years ago, my sole focus was the next mission.

  There was a time when I didn’t know who I was without the military, that brotherhood. Losing my job, part of my hearing, and what I considered to be my life had almost killed me.

  Then I learned I had a son, that he almost died coming into this world, and nothing else seemed to matter.

  It was his existence that brought me back to Livvie. Something I’ll never be able to repay. Loving her gave me my life back. I can’t imagine it without her.

  Seeming to take the answer at face value, Phoebe submits, barely, to letting me dress her in the pretty dress with some sort of scratchy overlay that Liv says matches her eyes. I love both of my children equally, but Phoebe, my baby girl, has a special place in my heart. Could be because I got to feel her as she grew inside her mother’s belly, or because I was there when she was born, kicking and screaming into the world, but I know it’s because she’s her mother made over. The same thick hair, except hers is a light blonde like mine, that darkens a little more each year, the same lanky build and Irish-cream skin. Even when she was born, I could see Liv in her.

  But her personality, bless her soul, is all me.

  Cole is a little more cautious. He’s had it rough in his short life because of the congenital birth defect he was born with, along with having major surgery at a young age, and all the precautions, scares, and medicine he’s been subjected to since then.

  We’ve never let it hinder him and have always encouraged him to safely take risks, but being in a bit of a bubble has left its mark nonetheless. It’s been some time since his surgery and he’ll al
ways have to live with it, but he’s a fighter, just like his name, and I’ve never loved or been more proud of anyone in my life. He’s stronger than most of the grown-ass Marines I’ve known. Sometimes, I think he’s even stronger than me.

  Phoebe, however, hasn’t had those restrictions and tests every boundary known to man. God help us when she starts driving or dating.

  “Can I have two pieces of cake at the wedding?” she whispers in my ear.

  Knowing better than to be caught in that trap, I answer, “What did your mother say?”

  Phoebe frowns and I palm her rain-straight hair. “She said I could only have one but, Da-ad. It’s a special occasion.”

  “Not special enough to risk your mother’s wrath, let me tell you. Besides, they’re serving steak, your favorite, and you’ll probably be too full for two pieces of cake.” Tweaking her nose, I straighten. “Why don’t you and your brother track down your shoes and get them on while we get ready, okay, Firecracker?”

  She considers for a moment, then smiles, both dimples winking. “Okay, Daddy.”

  “You know we have about five minutes before they start trying to kill each other, right?” Livvie says as we head back to our room. The monkey suit she’s forcing me to wear is hanging on the door of my walk-in closet.