“She was better before we went to Disney,” he hiccups. “I saw it. Grandma said it too. All you had to do was come home and see she was better!” He pushes at my neck, trying to escape as I hug him tightly to me.
“I’m not leaving you, Son, I promise. I swear to God, I’m not leaving you.” Noah furiously shakes his head at my chest before he pulls away. I can’t hide my tears as her eyes stare into mine.
“Her too, Dad. Mommy too.”
He’s choking on his cries with a look I never wanted to see on his face, a look I swore I would never be the one to put there— disappointment.
“Her too,” he begs, gripping me so tight I’m fighting for air. And now I know I’ve failed them both.
“I’ll try, Noah,” I choke out. “I promise you, I’ll try so hard,” I cough out as he crashes into me, and I catch his fall.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Briggs
“Read ’em and weep, motherfuckers,” I taunt as I pull in my newly earned stash.
“Fuck you, Briggs,” Ortez barks, shoving away from the table. “I’m exhausted.”
Henley gives him a death stare. “Dude, you just want to call the Mrs. and play with your dick before we get to the cots. Do me a favor and use your own fucking sock this round.”
“Fuck yourself,” Ortez mutters. “You’re just mad because you’re ugly, and there isn’t a piece of ass on any continent willing to put up with your shit for longer than the fifteen seconds you last.”
“No,” Henley retorts, “my dick is scary, there’s a difference. Most can’t handle it…Ask your mother.” He puckers his lips. “Now come kiss Daddy goodnight.”
Ortez shakes his head, flipping him the bird as I shuffle the deck. It’s only after Henley stares a hole through me that I acknowledge him.
“I’m prettier, I agree,” I offer, breaking his trance. “But I’m not into the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’ so don’t get fixed on me.”
“We’re all wondering why you came back.” I was wondering how long it’d take for the questioning to start. Time to rip this fucking Band-Aid off so I can get back to trying to forget.
“You shouldn’t have wasted your time wondering,” I say, shuffling, “and just come out and asked.”
“What happened down there in that bunker?”
I light a cigarette and toss back some whiskey from my haul. Two rangers pull up seats at the table, telling me they were only hanging around for the same prodding conversation.
“It’s exactly what you’d expect,” I shuffle. “Pure torture. You starve a lot and lose every shred of your dignity, only to be pulled from a hole and realize you were being bullied by the dumbest fucking humans to grace the race.”
“What about Scott?” one of the rangers asks as he pulls at the cards I give him. “How’d she fare?”
“Better than half the hard-ons in my unit would have.” I toss another shot back. “Better than that. When push came to shove, she pulled rank on me and practically spit the creed in their faces.”
The rangers lean back, fanning their cards.
“No shit,” Henley says. “Then what?”
I fell in love with her.
Maybe it happened before or maybe after, but I know for certain that I’m a goner.
A table full of expectant eyes prod me, and I shrug. “You know I can’t jaw the details, but it’s what always happens,” I say, swallowing the last shot out of the bottle, anger bubbling to the surface. “They fucking failed,” I add with finality as I start tossing cards, trying my best to get past the burn in my throat that has nothing to do with whiskey. “If I win this hand, you ladies have to tell me what color panties you’re wearing.”
We’re four deep in a Humvee on the same road that altered the course of the lives of eight people, mine included. Henley looks over to me in the back seat and reads my posture.
“They’ve been calling for sweeps practically every day.”
“I’m good,” I say, making sure my M4 is strapped tight. Instead of letting Henley see my hesitation, I speak up among the rattle in the cabin. “I probably should have said this before, but I’m not in the fucking mood to babysit today. Keep close, watch your corners, and do not make me question you twice.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Roger that.”
We’re first in to clear the perimeter for the rest of the convoy, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Bombings are becoming more frequent, and the radicals are getting bolder with their attacks, resulting in massive amounts of civilian casualties. As team leader, I need to keep them sharp, tight, loaded, focused, and alive.
Something Scottie said at the ranch flashes in my mind. “I’m going to need you to help me, help you. I—”
The three of them burst out laughing, and I’m instantly pissed.
“You think this is funny, Specialist?” I glare at Griffin in his rearview as a chuckle dies on his lips. “No, sir. Sorry, Sarge.”
“Then shut the fuck up and keep your eyes forward. When we land, watch my signal. Communication is key to keeping you vertical.”
“Yes, sir,” they all say in unison.
Casting my glare out the window, I study the rocky wasteland.
Please! Please don’t walk away from me! Not like this, please. These can’t be the last words we say.
The gnaw won’t let up. No matter how hard I try to distract myself, I still feel the ache, the longing, and I want to take it all back. Hurting her the way I did, with the things I said and the things I didn’t, is my biggest regret. Jealousy and anger won that day because I was trying to protect us both from making promises we couldn’t keep. I have to believe she knows I’ll keep fighting for her, that she’s my reason.
I’ll get them all for you, Scottie. I’ll make them fucking pay.
The pain is a reminder, and instead of willing it away, I decide to keep it close. I’ll use it over the anger because it keeps her memory fresh, it keeps me focused, and that’s enough.
Of all the things loving her has taught me, I know this much to be the truth: even when love is convoluted, it’s real.
Once the Humvee rolls to a stop, my boots are the first on the ground.
“Let’s do this.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
Katy
“Mom, I’m so tired of this song.” Noah sighs dramatically. “You listen to it every stinkin’ day!”
“Sorry, buddy.” I turn down The Rolling Stones and look back at him as he fastens his seat belt. “What do you want to listen to?”
“Anything but ‘Talking Woman.’”
“That’s ‘Honky Tonk Women.’”
He looks over at me in the driver’s seat, his father’s stern expression in place. “Why do you play it every day?”
I think long and hard before I give my answer, and it’s a two-part truth. The first is because it reminds me of the freedom I felt at the ranch, of Chris, but I voice the second. “Because it reminds me one day I’ll dance again.” I’ll smile again without ever having to force it. I’ll let myself go without thinking it’s wrong, and allow some freedom to exist, just for a few minutes, without worrying about the weight of living.
“You can play it,” Noah sighs. He looks adorable in his uniform, and I can’t help but to reach behind me and tug down his ball cap. I’ve been working with my shrink all week to get to the point of attending one of his games. It annoys me to no end that I’m nervous about something so trivial, but I was assured it’s just another barrier I have to cross, and that my fears are warranted. I don’t want to be coddled, and Dr. Schmidt has been nothing but blunt, so I’ve been more open. Every day I tell myself it’s working or will work, because I’m still a work in progress, and maybe I always will be.
And then there are the signs that prove I’m heading in the right direction. I’m sleeping longer. I’m working a hell of a lot harder. I’m isolating a little less. One bad day, or a bad couple of seconds, can make me feel like I’m spiraling back, but instead of wallowing in a self-deprecating bleak cloud, I swallow those days and seconds with a grain of salt and keep going. And it’s because I keep going that I notice the subtle signs.