Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

Savannah bit the corner of her lower lip. Insecurity wasn’t the response he wanted to see. But she bowed her head and said, “I’m ready, Sir.”

  He had his work cut out for him tonight. Taking her hand, he led her to where Karla and Angelina chatted. They zeroed in on her toenails, and Savannah explained Marisol had painted them at Damián’s request. The splash of color would be perfect for what he had planned later.

  Leaving them to chat, he went to the bar just as Marc guided Megan and Ryder toward the theme rooms on their first tour of the club before any scenes got underway back there.

  “Two waters, please.”

  Grant smiled and handed him the chilled bottles. “All set for tonight, Damo?”

  He nodded, but didn’t know if she meant the Alive Day talk or the scenes he’d planned for him and Savannah. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  She sobered. “How are you holding up today?”

  He thought about it for a moment and made an interesting discovery. “That day seems like forever ago now. I’ve lost the bitterness and anger.”

  “Finding Savannah again was a big part of getting you to that place, too, I think.”

  Grant grinned and stared wistfully at Savannah, who was laughing at something Angelina said. “Savannah fits right in with the girls.” Did Grant regret always hanging out with the guys rather than the girls? He’d never noticed.

  Savannah’s being a part of the extended family was something that made Damián even more proud of her, so he’d hold off dragging her away from them a little while longer.

  Ten minutes later, Ryder, Megan, and Marc rejoined the group socializing at the bar. “No doubt Megan and I will find something to occupy our time here tonight. Nice club, by the way.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed as he seemed to contemplate Ryder’s words. Apparently, Ryder and Megan were at least opened-minded about BDSM. Who knew? Maybe they’d become the newest members of the club, although the two-hour drive might keep them away more than big-brother Adam would.

  Dad gestured toward the tables Grant and Damián had pushed together earlier. “Enough shooting the shit. We aren’t here for the scuttlebutt. Let’s get to the real gouge.”

  Damián appreciated Dad’s cutting to the chase. He hoped talking about Fallujah would reduce his increasing tension about tonight’s scene with Savannah.

  He shifted his focus now to this time to reflect on the importance of this day, remember Sergeant Miller and his family’s sacrifice, and maybe make more sense out of what had happened on that rooftop.

  Grant had made sure everyone had something in hand to drink, so they each took a seat. When Savannah moved to take the seat next to him, he pulled her onto his lap. He wanted to feel her close to him for this.

  “Hard to believe it’s been eight years since we were in that shithole sandbox,” Dad began, his hand idly stroking Karla’s hand, which was joined with his on the tabletop. She looked at him, concern written on her face. What had he told her about Fallujah? For that matter, what did Angelina and Megan know? Savannah had heard some of it, what little Damián remembered anyway, but he’d been out of it mostly.

  “I remember that day as if it were yesterday,” Dad continued. “Sending Marc up to that rooftop after hearing the call for a corpsman. Not knowing for the longest time what had happened to my Marines was torture.”

  “Yeah,” Marc chimed in. “When I got up there and saw the carnage, I didn’t know at first how many Marines had been hit. Didn’t take long to see I couldn’t help Sergeant, though.”

  Damián waited for the images to bombard his mind again, but they didn’t. Maybe he’d come to terms with that part finally.

  “I was afraid I’d lose you, too, Damián,” Marc said.

  “I have to say, Doc, you hid your concern well. Hearing you tell me I was going to be okay gave me the assurance I would be. I have to admit, though, when I saw my foot dangling by skin and tendons, I had my doubts.”

  Savannah stiffened, and he had second thoughts about her hearing this. Hoping to put the focus back on Sergeant, he continued. “It all happened so fast. Sergeant and I were gabbing about stuff.” He looked up at Savannah. “I was telling him about you, actually.” Her eyes opened wide, since they’d only spent one day and night together by that point. “Then the grenade landed in front of us, and I just stared at it, frozen.”

  “We’ve gone over this before, son. You know that grenade exploded in a matter of seconds. There wasn’t much anyone could have done to escape its blast.”

  Damián nodded. “Yeah, I know. Weird how your mind plays games with you.”

  Ryder, who had been quiet up to this point, cleared his throat. “Grant and I weren’t close enough to do anything but watch and try to take care of you and Sergeant after the explosion. The guilt of losing a man who had a wife and kids back home ripped my guts out for a long time. Still does sometimes.” Megan stroked his arm, ignoring the tears streaming down her face. “For a long time, all I could think was that it should have been me.”

  “Survivor guilt won’t bring any of them back,” Dad said. “Believe me, I know.” A shadow passed over his face. Damián remembered the tattoo Dad had on his back naming the three men who had died on his watch, including Marc’s brother. Dad would never forget any of them.

  Hoping to lift the mood a little, Damián asked, “Any word from Mrs. Miller lately?” He fingered the wristband and almost thought he could smell Sergeant’s cigarette in the room.

  “Spoke with her this morning, as a matter of fact,” Dad said. Of course, he would. He’d been faithful about keeping up with Mrs. Miller and her kids ever since Fallujah. “Said she started dating someone from her church a few months ago.”

  Some of the weight on Damián’s shoulders lifted hearing that. “Glad to hear she’s able to move on finally.” He’d worried a lot about the Millers over the years but hadn’t known what to do. He and Tracy Miller, Sergeant’s oldest, had exchanged cards and notes ever since she’d given him that leather wristband she’d made.

  “That’s definitely a good sign that she’s healing,” Savannah added. “I can’t imagine what she and those kids have been through.” She stroked Damián’s arm as if to remind herself he was here among the living.

  “Karla and I plan to stop in again next time we head up to see our folks and Marge in Chicago.”

  “Are you going up for Thanksgiving?” Damián asked. Prior to last year, Dad usually stopped in to visit the Millers when driving to or from Minnesota where Marge, his first mother-in-law, used to live before moving in with Mrs. Gallagher in Chicago. The two women who had mothered Adam had really hit it off at Dad and Karla’s wedding. And, even though East St. Louis was out of the way, he and Karla had visited on their way back from the Black Hills last December, too. Dad would never forsake the families of his three fallen Marines, but the Millers were special. The other two lost Marines had no kids.

  “No, actually, with the babies being so small, we’ve decided to celebrate at home this year. You’re all invited to our place, while we’re talking about it. We have enough room to have a sit-down meal for a platoon in that place, so invite anyone you want. You guys can pitch in on the sides and desserts, but Karla wants to do the ham and stuff the bird this year.”

  “Angelina’s given me some private lessons,” Karla said. “I say, bring it, bird.”

  Everyone laughed, the tension in the room easing somewhat. Then Damián decided it was time to share his thoughts. He swallowed hard. So much for thinking he’d put it all behind him.

  Chapter Nine

  Savannah inhaled slowly, trying to hide her nervousness from Damián. Was she ready to hear more about that horrific day that had almost taken him from this world?

  Damián’s body tensed, and his arms pulled her closer seconds before he spoke. Savannah held her breath, her heart pounding as she waited to learn more about the man she loved.

  “Breathe, bebé,” he commanded before beginning his story. She let the air out in a whoosh and
filled her lungs again. “In the first five or six years after Fallujah, I had mixed feelings about celebrating what I thought at the time was the worst day of my life.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he picked up the bottle of water on the floor beside him to drink half of it before setting it down. “Those were some dark-ass days, especially the first five months. When the doctors at Balboa told me I was ready to go back out in the world, it scared the shit out of me.” His arm tightened around her as if afraid she’d bolt. “I’m ashamed to say it now, but I planned my suicide for the day after I was released. Had my sidearm at Rosa’s, although I never would have done it where she or the kids would have found my body. I’d planned on going down to Barrio Logan, a rough neighborhood in San Diego, where I’d have just become another of the twenty-two that day.”

  Savannah’s heart beat so fast she almost couldn’t catch a breath. He referred to the twenty-two veterans who took their lives daily in the States. While he’d told her there’d been a point where he hadn’t wanted to go on, she hadn’t heard him speak about the details and how close he’d come to putting his plan into motion before. Suicide using a firearm rarely failed.

  Savannah shuddered at the image of his bloody young body dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. She didn’t want to intrude on his story, but needing even more physical contact, she leaned her forehead against his ear and whispered, “I’m so glad you didn’t.”

  He drew her closer. “Me, too, bebé.”

  She stroked the nape of his neck, much as she would comfort Mari when her daughter was upset.

  Damián drew a ragged breath, patting her thigh as if to reassure her. “Then Doc and Top marched into my hospital room at Balboa and busted my balls but good.” He grinned, expelling his breath and some of the tension ebbed from his shoulders. Savannah had never heard him express these feelings before. “I owe you guys for my still being here.”

  “No man left behind,” Adam said. “That responsibility doesn’t end on the battlefield for a Marine.”

  “Glad you had Adam and Doc there when you needed them, Damo” Ryder said quietly. Savannah glanced his way and saw the haunted look in his eyes. Had he, too, almost become a statistic? Two veterans who’d nearly become casualties after the fact from one incident. No wonder the number of suicides among veterans was so out of control.

  Damián nodded. “I’ll have to be honest with you guys, though. I don’t remember much about my actual Alive Day. One minute, I’m talking shit with Sergeant on that roof. Next thing I remember, I’m waking up in a hospital in Germany. Nothing in between, except for what I’ve seen in nightmares and flashbacks.”

  “Would it help you if the others who were there shared what they remember?” Adam asked him.

  “I was okay with doing this today, given that I don’t remember a lot about the explosions and their aftermath. But you guys weren’t unconscious for most of it, so no pressure on anyone to share. I know it had to be a shitstorm for you guys.”

  That he was concerned about them made her love him a little more, if that was even possible.

  The other three men and Grant looked at one another. When no one spoke, Ryder cleared his throat. “Thanks, man, but I need to get this out.” He grew silent again as Megan stroked his thigh, which seemed to give him the courage he needed. “I’d never watched anyone die in front of my eyes before.” He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Grant and I were like you and Sergeant, Damo, just shooting the breeze. When you screamed grenade, we barely had time to look up before both your bodies flew into the air and landed on each other.”

  “Damo, you saved our lives or at the very least kept us from being severely injured,” Grant added, her leg beginning to shake uncontrollably with barely contained emotion. “Grateful doesn’t begin to express how I feel. I don’t know what demons you had to fight to choose life over death, but I’m damned glad you’re here with us tonight. You’ll always be a hero in my book.”

  “Sergeant’s the hero,” Damián countered.

  She smiled at him, shaking her head because it was probably the response she expected. “When we pulled Sergeant off of you so Doc could assess your condition, I’ll admit I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

  “That makes two of us,” Ryder said.

  Grant glanced down at her shaking knee, her face becoming ashen as the images of that day likely bombarded her. Savannah wished she had someone here tonight to give her a hug, but knew the tough Marine wouldn’t have accepted comfort from anyone.

  She seemingly willed the trembling to stop and whispered, “It was clear right away that we’d lost Sergeant.” Once again, she met Damián’s gaze. “But you were conscious. I don’t think you were aware of the severity of your injuries yet.”

  “I’ve had flashbacks where I can see my bloody boot lying cockeyed and the pool of what I thought at first was Sergeant’s blood until I saw it pouring from where my foot used to be attached to my leg.”

  Dear God. And Savannah thought her flashbacks were bad. How did he deal with such horrific ones? Had he experienced any while with her? She knew she shouldn’t interrupt, but the need to know took precedence. “How often do you still have flashbacks, Sir?”

  He grabbed and pulled her hair until she was forced to meet his gaze and then gave her an enigmatic smile. She held her breath as she waited for his response. “Not very often. I’m only triggered by a noise or the smell of blood. Or when I’m emotionally spent and not sleeping well. But I haven’t had one in a long time. Actually, you were there for the last one.”

  “The night Mari and I moved in with Adam and Karla?”

  He nodded.

  Yes, she remembered that night so well. Her inability to wake him from his nightmare flashback had scared her to death, and she’d left for fear he might hurt Mari or her or both. “Promise me you’ll let me know if they return?”

  He stared at her a long moment. “Will you promise me the same, savita?”

  Her heart thumped. Was he aware that she hadn’t been sharing her own flashbacks with him? She’d told herself she was protecting him from the ugliness, but if he were going through a similar time, she’d want to know so she could help him. She needed to come clean with him, but the club and this gathering weren’t the place to remedy what she should have done over a month ago.

  “Yes, Sir. I will.” Just as soon as we get home. She’d kept him out of the loop too long. Having his own experience with PTSD, he might be able to help with hers.

  “Deal then, querida, and we’ll talk more about this later.” His focus returned to their circle of friends. “Sorry. That was too important to put off.”

  Yes, he totally knows. So why hadn’t he called her on it? Maybe he wanted to give her every opportunity to come forward on her own. Or perhaps he’d planned something for tonight that would have pushed the issue to the forefront.

  Did he intend to punish her for her dishonesty? She blinked away the sting in her eyes. She’d never wanted to disappoint him, but she’d totally messed this up.

  Marc turned toward Damián. “I’ll tell you the truth, when I first saw you lying there, I expected you to bleed out before I could apply a tourniquet. I couldn’t really do anything to help Sergeant by the time I made it to the rooftop, but I refused to let you be the first Marine I’d lost despite my best efforts. You were in pretty rough shape.”

  Ryder added, “Doc kept telling you that you were going to be fine, but I figured he was just trained to say that to help the dying stay calm. Grant and I had to fight to keep your head and shoulders down so you couldn’t see the extent of your injury.”

  “Yeah,” Marc said. “I tried to keep you from going into shock. Of course, with all that blood loss, you did anyway.”

  Adam, who hadn’t said much other than to guide the conversation, spoke up next. “Doc, if not for you, he probably would have died.” Then he turned to Damián. “I’ll never forget them bringing you down on a stretcher. You were knocking at death’s door for sure. T
hen when Doc didn’t come down behind you…” His focus returned to Marc. “Thought maybe you were upset about losing Miller and was afraid you wouldn’t be thinking about protecting yourself from further attacks up there. Had no clue you’d been injured, too, until Grant and I cleared the stairs and saw you lying there, unconscious.”

  “Neither did I.” He shrugged and glanced away. “My injury wasn’t nearly as bad as Damián’s. I never really commemorated my own Alive Day, until tonight.”

  “I’d have lost you both if not for the medical treatment you administered to Damián on that roof, Doc, and the treatment received from the doctors and nurses in the field hospital and later at Landstuhl.”

  Angelina placed a kiss on his cheek. She, too, wasn’t trying to hide her tears.

  “The thing that stands out most in my mind about that time,” Marc continued, “was you figuring out I was Gino’s brother when you came to see me in the field hospital. Learning more about how my brother died—a hero’s death—and seeing what being a hero meant, with Damián and Sergeant and all the others in the unit, helped me begin to put the past to rest. Then having my parents show up in Germany, well, that was a shock.”

  “You know how much they love you,” Angelina said.

  “I do now. I was kind of a jerk back then.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “No comment.”

  The room fell silent as perhaps those who had lived through that fateful day reminisced in private. Damián hadn’t finished sharing, though.

  “I didn’t want what happened that day to determine the rest of my life. I wanted to get control back in my hands. This…”—he pointed at his prosthesis—“wasn’t going to determine my destiny.” He paused and looked around the room, not just at the people but the club itself. “When you asked me to be a part of this crazy idea to start a sex club, which is what I thought of it as at first, I had nothing to lose. Why not join in? It would be a good distraction.” He sobered. “But this place and this lifestyle played a big part in helping me regain a sense of control.”