She folds over, her shoulders shaking as she cries into her arms, which are crossed on the table. These tears are somehow different. Relieved, I think. “Thank you, Briggs.” Her head lifts, and her glistening eyes meet mine. “You have no idea how much this means to me—You coming here, talking to me like this.”
“I’m sorry I waited.”
“I don’t care about that; I’m just glad you showed up. You have your own wounds to heal.” Her fingers swipe beneath her eyes, leaving behind a red splotchy face and a genuine smile, so much better than the one she gave me upon answering the door.
“What about Kathryn, the woman who was with you? Is she doing okay?”
I would move heaven and earth to know.
“She’s home with her husband and son. I’m sure she’s fine.”
Her jaw goes a little slack. “You haven’t talked to her?”
“She’s getting back into her routine. I’ll check on her soon, maybe when I get back to base.” It’s a lie, but necessary. Hearing her name is hard enough.
“Back to base?” Her eyes narrow. “Briggs, you aren’t serious.”
More guilt covers me at her reaction, it’s no less than what I expect. I do my best for my defense. “I’ll be honest—at this point, I’d probably drown in grief if I didn’t go back. I need something else to focus on. Despite all that’s happened, I love my job; I’m still a soldier…this is all I’ve got.”
“Someday that’ll change.” She nods to herself. “You’ll meet a girl, and she’ll sweep you off your feet, and I hope you put her first. Before the job. Before the rush you boys love to chase.”
Too late, I think to myself, picturing Scottie’s face.
“Uncle Chris!” Jones’s mini-me jumps out of his racecar bed, his orange-red hair sticking up in all directions. He darts across the room, latching onto my leg. He’s small for a four-year-old, but considering the size of his parents, that’s no surprise.
I lift him up, holding him close. “How are ya, buddy? I’ve been wanting to come see you.”
“I sawed you on the news,” he announces, cupping my face in his palms. “Mommy said it wasn’t you, but I know her was lyin’.”
Mandy rolls her eyes and shrugs. “It was a breaking announcement. I changed the channel as fast as I could. Can’t get anything past this one.”
“Daddy died,” he tells me in a voice that’s so simple, it cuts me deep. He looks up to me for confirmation. Gulping past the lump in my throat, I hold him a little tighter.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“They gave Mommy a flag.”
My eyes shut briefly from the debilitating flash of pain.
You missed your best friend’s funeral.
“He was a good soldier.”
“Momma says I get to keep his helmet, but she won’t let me play with it.”
“Oh, yeah?” I’m flailing, trying my best not to break in front of him. I hear Mandy sniff a little behind me, and I have no fucking idea how she does it, seeing little reminders of him every day.
“Wanna see my fort? Daddy and me builded it before y’all ’ployed.”
I grin down at him. “You mean de-ployed.”
“Yeah,” he nods.
Mandy huffs in frustration, obviously not a fan of this plan. Then she turns and walks back out into the hall, leaving the two of us alone.
“I’d love to see your fort.”
After setting him to his feet, D.J. scrambles to pull a sheet of plywood from beneath his bed. “Wow.” I’m truly impressed. They must’ve spent weeks building this thing. The entire floor is covered in sand that’s been glued down. I’m sure Mandy is grateful for that. Little sandbags surround a shockingly realistic base. There are tan-colored tents and Humvees. The little army men are all in their desert ACUs.
“This one’s Daddy.”
I damn near choke when he hands me a little guy with his head painted red and brown dots all over his face. Jones thought of everything, down to the last detail.
I sit on the floor playing war with my best friend’s kid for over an hour. I probably shouldn’t encourage him. Not after losing his father. Not after the way I’ve suffered. But it brings me back to my own childhood, to the dreams I had. It reminds me of why I do what I do, and somehow, I know that Jones would be okay with it. He might have died more a family man than soldier, but he was a soldier first.
“Okay, boys,” Mandy announces, as the sound of her footsteps echo down the hall. “Time to put the toys away. It’s getting late, and we have Christmas with Grandpa in the morning,” she proclaims as she steps into the room.
“Awwww, Mom,” he groans, throwing his tank down on the board. “We was havin’ so much fun!”
“It’s okay,” I say, rising to my knees. “I’ll come back to play with you another day, okay?”
“Promise.” His little brown eyes lock with mine. He holds out his hand and waits.
“I promise,” I say, grasping it in my much-larger hand and giving it a good, firm shake.
“Daddy says, you need to look me in the eye when we shake,” he squeaks, “but you can try again.” Stunned I’m being schooled on a proper handshake, I make sure to do better the second time.
He nods, giving me the okay, and I kiss the top of his head before walking out to the living room, where I anxiously start shoving toys into toy boxes while Mandy tucks her little boy into bed. It’s obvious she could use a little help around here. Once I’ve got the toys tucked away, I start gathering the discarded wrapping paper. Mandy speaks up behind me.
“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Briggs. I’m not trying to sound like a bitch, but he really thinks you’ll be back.”
Her bluntness catches me off guard, and I set the trash bag down. “I meant every word.”
She crosses her arms on her chest. It’s actually quite comical to see this five-foot-nothing waif of a girl bucking up to me as I tower above her. “You’re gonna pencil in playdates with your dead friend’s child, in between doing whatever it is you single soldiers do?”
“That was the most fun I’ve had in months. Yes, Mandy. I’ll be back. You guys are like family to me. That hasn’t changed and won’t. That’s a promise.”
She gives a terse nod, fighting back tears I’m sure she’s tired of shedding. “Thank you. You’re a good friend, Briggs. We’re lucky to have you. I’ll be taking you up on that promise. But do me a favor?”
“Sure,” I say, slipping on my leather jacket.
“Try not to get your ass shot off. I need something to kick if you break my little boy’s heart.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gavin
Reaching for her across the sheets, I come up empty. It’s no surprise at this point. The dark circles under her eyes have started to stain her face. She doesn’t sleep, and she barely eats the dinners she cooks. It takes days of insomnia for her to finally be able to crash to the point she can sleep, and even then, she wakes up thrashing around in a panic. She’s having night terrors, dreams that paralyze her body until her mind can wake it up. Instead of sleeping, she stalks the house at night, constantly alert, checking the windows and feeding her paranoia. She’s had the locks changed, twice, despite my attempts to put her at ease.
She doesn’t feel safe with you.
Every day I reach out, and every day she takes another step away. Intimacy seems like a thing of the past. I pride myself on being a patient man but seeing her so close and not being able to touch her, after I’ve had free rein for so long, is agony. This morning, she caught me fucking my fist in the shower. I was close to coming when she stepped into the bathroom, surprising me after taking Noah to school. Once she caught sight of me, rock hard, teeth gnashing, I swear I saw a hint of hunger in her eyes before they flit away. Her apology left me standing there feeling like a sick fuck.
Katy is the most highly sexual woman I’ve ever known. Once she gave me access to her heart and body, I free fell into my addiction to her. She’s finally home, and I’m still living in the headspace we were in when she left. Not only are we not on the same page anymore, we’re reading completely different books. That I knew she would come home this way doesn’t make it any less hard. I am fucking madly in love with my wife, always have been, and my need to close the distance is growing every day. She’s here, but it feels like an apparition; like I could reach out, and instead of touching flesh and bone, she’d slip through my fingers.