by Julia London
Chaco had moved to Chicago from Pittsburgh. He was short, muscular, and dark brown, and he constantly complained about the cold of Chicago. “Dude,” Rafe said. “You’re from Pittsburgh. If anyone should be complaining right now, it’s me.”
“You’ll see what I mean when you move up here,” Chaco said. “With that air coming off the lake? You can’t get that kind of cold out of your bones.” He’d paused to adjust his tool belt. “When are you moving up here, anyway?”
“End of the year,” Rafe said. “I may be bunking with you until I can get my social work license.”
“Maybe you ought to hold off,” Jason said. “Me and Chaco, we’ve got jobs. But that permit might take another month or two.”
“Nah,” Rafe had said, and had picked up a table saw. “I need to get a job so I can get licensed as a social worker.”
What he really had to get was out of Three Rivers in the worst way. It was hard enough to be in Chicago and think of Hallie clear across the country. But it was ridiculously hard being a mile away from her and pretending like he wasn’t about to bust out of his own skin. It was absurdly hard to give nothing away, to let his family think that he saw the Princes and their wealth with the same cynical view his family shared. It was impossible to live with the daily ache of loving her from a distance. He was Cyrano without the muse or the nose, but just as hopeless.
But he was feeling a little unsteady about Chicago. This had seemed like such a great idea when they were sitting around Afghanistan, trying to kill time. The implementation wasn’t what he’d thought it would be. He thought it would be easier. And cheaper.
His brooding did not go unnoticed by his longtime buddies. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Jason asked as he finished dressing for dinner their last night.
Rafe was sitting on Jason’s bed, lost in his thoughts. “Me? Nothing.”
“Are you worried about the permit? Dude, don’t be—Dad says it’s no big thing,” Jason tried to assure him.
“Sure,” Rafe said. He hadn’t thought about it since Jason had explained it to them. He was thinking how he’d fly home in the morning, study for his final, and then . . . and then . . .
“It’s like, you have to pay these bribes. That’s just the way you do business here. Nothing I can do about it.”
“I’m not worried,” Rafe assured him.
“Good,” Jason said, and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not either.”
* * *
• • •
Chaco was waiting at a corner bar and pizzeria popular with ex-military. US flags, service flags, and large, blown-up military insignia covered the walls. The poolroom in back was always crowded when Rafe and the guys came here. Tonight, the place was packed because of a Chicago Bears game.
They were a couple of beers in, Chaco with a soda, discussing John Horowitz from their last deployment. “I talked to him today,” Chaco said. “Dude, he’s in San Antonio, at the hospital there.”
“No way,” Rafe said. “Brooke Army Medical?”
“Yep. They had to take the rest of his leg—it got infected.”
None of them spoke for a few moments. Any soldier who came back from a tour without physical injury felt relief. Felt lucky. Felt maybe a little survivor guilt mixed in there. John had taken a hit and lost half a leg and half an arm when the armored personnel carrier he was in had driven over an IED.
They had transitioned from talking about their last deployment to football when Rafe’s phone pinged. He picked it up, expecting his dad, but was surprised to see it was a FaceTime call from Hallie. He didn’t know quite what to do—she hadn’t texted him once since the big fiasco of their very hot kiss. “I should take this,” he said to Jason and Chaco, who were currently arguing about the Bears’ prospects for the playoffs, and ignoring him completely.
Rafe punched the answer button. The screen filled with what looked like moving shag carpet, and he thought it was a mistake, that she hadn’t meant to FaceTime him at all. But then the bottom of a large paw covered the screen. “What the hell?” he muttered.
The shag moved and Hallie’s face appeared. “Hey,” she said. “Remember me?”
His heart did a little leap and spin like an Irish dancer. “Couldn’t forget you if I tried.”
One of her brows rose up. “Have you tried?”
“Nope.”
“So I’m calling to tell you that you were right,” she announced, then squeezed her eyes shut as the dog began to lick her face.
“I was right about what, and whose dog is that?”
“It’s not a dog, it’s a puppy, and it’s from You Know Who, and that’s what you were right about.”
“Hey, who’s that?” Chaco grabbed Rafe’s shoulder and pulled him to one side, trying to see the screen. Hallie used the puppy’s paw to wave at Chaco.
“A friend.” Rafe did not miss the slight roll of Hallie’s eyes.
“The cute girl? Or the cute puppy?” Chaco asked.
“The cute girl!” Hallie confirmed. “He doesn’t know the puppy yet.”
“Hey, friend,” Chaco said, and winked at Hallie before fading away to continue his argument with Jason.
“So he brought me a puppy,” Hallie said.
Brought. He’d brought it to her? She saw him? Were they talking? Did Rafe have any right at all to ask after the things he’d said? “Brought you?”
“Brought. You were right, I never should have said what I did, because apparently, some people can’t read the sarcastic subtext after all.”
“Being right is a particular gift of mine,” Rafe said.
“Show-off.” She smiled.
The puppy suddenly lunged for Hallie, and with a laugh, she toppled backward, the phone went dark for a moment, and he could hear her fumbling around for it. But it wasn’t Hallie who filled his screen again. It was Rico.
“Hey, bro!”
His heart did another little leap, but this time, it felt uncomfortable. “Hi, Rico. What’s going on?”
“Just chilling at the big house,” Rico said. “Man, did you get a look at this canine? Blue heeler. He’s pretty stinkin’ cute.” Rico faded back. He and Hallie were sitting in the same chaise on the east lawn of the mansion, the puppy crawling over their laps.
So many questions and cusswords raced through Rafe’s head.
Hallie suddenly dipped to one side, out of view. “He’s chewing my sneaker!”
It felt to Rafe like this scene was playing out in slow motion. Hallie and Rico, just chilling. A lump the size of Chicago formed in his throat. He cleared it and asked, “So, ah . . . what are you two up to?”
He hoped he didn’t sound accusatory. Or pathetic.
“Not a damn thing,” Rico said cheerfully. “I’m trying to get her to go into town with me, but she won’t go. She helped me hang a porch swing today. Got some muscle on her,” he said, and reached for Hallie’s bicep and squeezed.
“Ouch,” Hallie said.
Miss Dolly’s porch swing. Great—that was Rafe’s project after his last final.
“She’s a beast, man,” Rico said, and smiled fondly at Hallie.
“No, I’m not!” She laughed, and she was beautiful.
She was beautiful.
She was everything.
Hallie held the puppy to her. Its tongue slid out of the side of its mouth, and its tail beat steadily against her arm. “What am I going to do with this puppy?”
“Name him?” Rico suggested.
“You are no help! I’m not naming him. I’m giving him back.”
She was going to see the doctor again? So many questions about where she’d been and what she’d been doing slid into Rafe’s thoughts at the same time that his disgust at his own hypocrisy went skipping through. You couldn’t tell a woman they were only friends and then have an opinion about her love life.
>
Unfortunately for him, he had a very strong opinion about her love life.
“Okay, Rafe, I just wanted to show you that you were right. Again.” She pushed the dog into Rico’s chest. “You’re always right about everything.”
He was? News to him. He didn’t think he was right about anything at all. “See you soon?” he asked hopefully.
“Who knows,” she said. “Say bye, Rico!” She held the phone up, over her head. Rico was on the grass now, holding the squirming puppy. “Bye, Rafe!” he said obediently.
The screen went dark.
So did Rafe’s mood.
It took him a moment to realize Jason and Chaco were looking at him. “Who’s the girl?” Chaco asked.
“I told you,” Rafe said. “Just a friend.” Just a lie.
“Sure,” Chaco said, and he and Jason laughed.
* * *
• • •
Rafe was up and out of the house at dawn. Mrs. Corona was the only one awake when he left. She kissed him on both cheeks and sent him off with what he thought was a Spanish blessing. The flight was uneventful, but when he arrived in San Antonio, he took a slight detour on his way home and swung by the Brooke Army Medical Center.
“Hey!” John said when Rafe walked into his room. He was surrounded by get-well balloons and pots of flowers. Someone had hung a US flag with the badge of the 75th Ranger Regiment superimposed over the stars on his wall. “Man, so good to see you,” John said, and reached out his hand for Rafe’s. “Chaco said you might stop by.”
Rafe leaned over John’s bed to greet him, and when he did, he noticed the mound of John under the covers, the unmistakably missing leg. “How are you?” The question seemed ridiculously stupid. How could a man be when he was missing half his limbs?
John grinned, unfazed. “Can’t complain. I’m going to get fitted for prostheses, and then, dude, there’s no stopping me. Hey, maybe you can retrain me in martial arts.”
Rafe laughed.
“I’m serious, man,” John said, still grinning. “If you can run on fake legs, surely you can fight on them, too. Remember that class you taught?” he asked, referring to a martial arts training course Rafe had delivered to his company over a long, hot summer in Afghanistan.
“You were the worst, Horowitz. You fight like you dance.”
John howled with laughter. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have passed that course. I always appreciated how you took the extra time, you know?”
Rafe had forgotten about grabbing John during downtime and working with him one-on-one. The training was something his superiors had asked him to do. It wasn’t mandatory, but in the army, everything was noticed. If John Horowitz wasn’t getting the martial arts, people noticed. People judged. It was just the way a bunch of guys full of testosterone viewed the world. “It was no big deal, Horowitz.”
“Not to you,” John said. “But it was to me. Think you could train me once I get my legs under me?”
Rafe laughed. “I could hardly train you with your legs. But I’ll sure as hell try if you’re up for it.”
“I’m definitely up for it,” John said.
They talked about the gym, with John lamenting he would love to do something like that. They talked about Chaco and Jason, gossiped about other guys in the company, most of whom were still in the service.
When Rafe finally left to get home so he could study, John waved to him with the stump of his arm. “Come back, Rafe. Promise you’ll come back.”
“I promise.” He walked down the long corridor toward the exit, swallowing down the swell of weird tears, not unlike those he’d experienced at that kids’ ballet. There was something about John’s spirit and his fierce determination that got to Rafe. It was like the girl’s determination—she wasn’t going to let a little Down syndrome get in the way of her dancing. John wasn’t going to let the lack of limbs get in the way of his training in martial arts.
His vision was so blurry when Rafe stepped onto the elevator that he thought he was going to have to turn and face the wall before tears started sliding down his cheeks. It was like he was walking around with marshmallows for guts.
Chapter Sixteen
Chris was thoroughly unapologetic when Hallie finally broke down and called him and demanded he take the puppy back. “If you want me to take him, you’ll have to bring him to me.”
“I don’t want to bring him, Chris!” she’d said angrily. “I don’t want to see you! That’s what I have been telling you!”
“Well, actually, you haven’t been telling me anything, because you won’t talk to me. I know you hate me right now, Hallie,” he’d said patiently, as if he were talking to a hysterical patient. “I don’t know how else to get through to you. Do you realize this is the first time I’ve spoken to you since everything happened?”
Since everything happened, as if there were a series of unfortunate events instead of one singularly unforgiveable one.
Hallie had hung up on Chris, and then she’d looked at Sulley—she’d named the blue heeler after the big blue monster in Monsters, Inc., because it was impossible to have a cute puppy and not name it—and she had to smile. Sulley was adorable. But he was a puppy. She could hardly take care of herself right now, much less a puppy. And besides, she felt completely manipulated by that dog and Chris, and was determined not to stand for it.
So here she was in Houston, standing outside of Chris’s condo with Sulley on a leash. He was trying to eat the flowers in the gardens instead of peeing like he was supposed to do.
She’d texted Chris, had told him she was bringing the dog back, and that she wanted no drama, but that she would like the sparkly Jimmy Choo clutch he’d given her for her thirtieth birthday. She needed the clutch for an art project.
Hallie was particularly proud of herself because she hadn’t even bothered to dress for Chris like she’d always done. No heels, no skirt with a modest length. No blazer, no neat tail of hair. She hated thinking of herself that way—it was like she was constantly auditioning to be the perfect society wife. Forget it. Today, she was wearing running tights and a hoodie. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a knot she hadn’t even bothered to look at. She had on her new running shoes that she had tested just this morning without any help from Rafe Fontana. He probably thought she couldn’t do it without him.
“Time to get this over with,” she said to Sulley. She adjusted the tote bag she carried on her shoulder that contained Sulley’s toys, and tugged on his leash to move him along. The puppy had no idea how to walk on a leash, and was a bundle of splayed legs and teeth nipping at everything within reach.
Hallie was a little nervous. She didn’t trust herself not to punch Chris in the mouth. She’d fantasized about it, because that was the one thing she wished she’d done before she’d walked out of his condo that night.
She was ready—but then Chris surprised her. When he opened the door, he was clearly the nervous one. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and kept rubbing them on his jeans. “Hello, Hallie.” His gaze flicked over her. “You look great.”
Liar. “Hello, Chris. Here’s your dog.” She scooped Sulley up and thrust him at Chris so that he had no choice but to take him.
Chris slowly put the puppy down. Hallie thought she ought to tell him that wasn’t a good idea because Sulley wasn’t house-trained, but then decided Chris could discover that on his own. Sulley trotted into the condo with his leash trailing behind. “I got him for you. You love dogs, Hal.”
“I don’t give a damn about the dog. Give him to Dani for all I care. I don’t appreciate you trying to manipulate me that way, Chris—it was a cheap move.”
“I’m not manipulating you, I swear it. I’m desperate. Hallie, please listen—”
“No, see, that’s what you don’t seem to get,” she said. “I don’t want to listen to you. There is nothing you can say that will eve
r erase the sight of your ass pumping into Dani’s va-jay-jay.”
Chris blanched. And then he did something that Hallie had predicted she would never, ever see. He fell to his knees and clasped his hands before him, begging her. She stared down at him in shock. He really was desperate. For the first time, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his jeans hung loosely on him. Christopher Davenport, surgeon, looked like shit.
Maybe she’d meant something to him after all.
“I know I fucked up, Hallie,” he said, almost tearfully. “I don’t know why I did it. It was just . . . living apart is hard, and I’m not saying that it happened because you weren’t here, I’m saying I’m a weak man, and I get that, and I don’t deserve you. But I will do anything to get you back. You can check my phone as often as you want. You can drive me back and forth to work. Whatever it takes,” he said, clasping his hands, imploring her. “Just give me the chance to make it up to you. Please.”
“By making me responsible for monitoring your behavior?” she asked incredulously. “That’s not how this works, pal.”
“However you want to do it. I just love you so much, Hallie. I love you more than anything, and I am lost without you. Please forgive me,” he said. “Please, Hallie. Tell me what I have to do to earn your trust.”
She stared at him, trying to work this out. This was the überconfident Christopher Davenport on his knees before her. She was the one who was always begging him to forgive her for something she’d done that he didn’t approve of. Hallie probably should have been more gleeful about his apology on bended knee, but she felt strangely sorry for him. She reached out, grabbed his hands, and pulled on them, forcing him to stand. “You know what? I forgive you, Chris,” she said, surprised by her admission. “But we are not getting back together. I would never be able to trust you.”
