by Kaylea Cross
“Going on two months now.”
Jesus, that was half of their friendship. Sierra shook her head. “Moll. I can’t believe you never said anything. You know I’m here for you no matter what, right?” It was important that she know that. Important that Molly trusted Sierra to have her back.
Looking flustered, Molly glanced away. “I know. But it’s not something we want people to know about. This is a small town. Word spreads fast.”
Sierra leaned in, cocked her head a bit. “You don’t even want me to know?”
Those gold-green eyes came back to hers, full of sadness and embarrassment. “Even you. Sorry. And not because I don’t trust you.”
“No, don’t apologize. I get it.” Sierra’s heart ached for her friend. Molly had noticeably changed over the past few weeks. Normally outgoing and fun-loving, now she rarely wanted to socialize, and her trademark smiles and infectious laughter that made her the life of any party were almost nonexistent.
“So what’s happening now?” she asked. The last Molly had told her, Carter had started to become forgetful and lose his temper more easily over little things.
“The worst are his erratic mood swings that just come out of nowhere. One minute he’s fine, the next he’s losing his shit over something. It’s started happening at work, too.”
“So then Beckett knows? And Jase?” Beckett was out of the military now and back home for good to run his father’s specialized renovation business. He’d brought Jase on as well. The three of them had served together for a long time in Special Forces until Carter had been medically discharged last year.
“They know he’s getting harder to deal with.”
She hadn’t heard anything around town, and since it wasn’t a big place, the incidents were either isolated, or Carter and Beckett had managed to keep them under wraps. “Anything else?”
“He’s forgetting things more and more, even people’s names sometimes. He’s not sleeping much. And now a lot of the time it seems like he’s itching for a fight everywhere he looks.”
Sierra shook her head. Carter was huge, even bigger than Beckett or Jase, and that was saying something. With his size and training he could do some serious damage with one blow from a fist. Molly was half his size. Unease crawled up her spine. “Has he threatened you or anything like that?” She hated to ask, but she needed to know.
“No, nothing like that. It’s just I’m on a never-ending roller coaster these days. I tiptoe around on eggshells most of the time, trying my damndest not to set him off. And so…” She lowered her gaze. “Lately that means I’ve been avoiding him as much as I can.”
Sierra hid a wince. That had to be awful, basically hiding from your own husband.
According to Molly, before the brain injury their marriage had been wonderful. “I’m sorry.”
Molly nodded, her springy, espresso-colored curls bouncing around her face. “Thanks.”
“So I’m guessing whatever meds he’s taking aren’t working anymore?”
“No. He’s already been misdiagnosed three times. They’ve ruled out schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. There are no visible lesions in his brain anymore, and his last CT looked completely normal. But he still gets terrible headaches, and the tinnitus hasn’t gone away. They know it’s all from the TBI, but not how to treat it, and they’ve got him on so many different things, trying to stabilize his moods.”
Molly exhaled and continued. “It’s such a mess. Almost all of them have side effects, then they want to put him on more meds for those. At least with my background I have the education to understand the interactions. We’ve been trying to wean him off as many pills as we can, but it’s a matter of finding out what works for him. And lately, what used to work isn’t working anymore, no matter what dosage we give him.” She shook her head, her frustration clear.
“Is he depressed?” Sierra would be.
“Depends on the day. Sometimes he’s up and down a few times within twelve hours. Some days he’s almost manic, on top of the world, and others he can barely drag himself out of bed.”
Sounded a lot like bipolar disorder to her, so what else could it be? “That’s awful.” She loved Carter and hated that he was suffering.
“Yes. He refuses to go to any more counseling sessions and he fired his VA psychiatrist last week when he was having a really bad day.”
Sierra frowned, her concern growing. “Moll, are you safe with him?” she asked quietly.
Molly tensed and looked away. A moment later her shoulders sagged and she ran a hand through her curls. “Honestly? Sometimes I’m not sure.”
Shit. That scared her. Sierra swallowed, forced herself not to say anything, give Molly a chance to talk, even though she wanted to urge her friend to get out now, protect herself.
Molly gave a rueful laugh. “I know what you’re thinking. Believe me, I’ve thought about leaving so many times, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. But the truth is, I’m not sure I can keep going on like this anymore. It’s not a marriage and hasn’t been for a long time.” Her gaze lifted to Sierra’s, full of secret pain. “What kind of person does that make me, Si? What kind of wife walks out on her husband when he’s going through something like this?”
“One who’s afraid for her safety.” Alarmed, she reached across the table for Molly’s hand, squeezed it. Carter was a big, burly and bearded teddy bear of a man. Him in a rage wasn’t something she could picture, but the thought was scary as hell, and she was worried for Molly. “Promise me you’ll listen to that little voice in the back of your mind. If you feel threatened or endangered at all, you get the hell out of there, just to play it safe. You can come stay with me. Or Noah, if you need protection. Beckett or Jase too.” Any of the guys would protect Molly if it came down to that.
Molly gripped her fingers tight, her light brown complexion paling as a desperate light entered her eyes. “You can’t tell them. Swear to me you won’t.” Her voice was tense, urgent.
Sierra wanted to argue, but if she did Molly wouldn’t tell her anything more. “Only if you swear to protect yourself and leave if you need to.”
“I promise.”
“All right.” She pulled her hand back, let out a breath. She hurt for both Molly and Carter. Things had to get better for them. She hated seeing her friend sad, and didn’t want Carter to wind up spiraling out of control. “I’m here for you, okay? Never forget that.”
Molly gave her a brave smile. “I won’t. Now can we talk about something else, please?”
Even though she wanted to ask more questions, she had to let this drop. “Sure.”
“And this is why I love you more than cake.”
Sierra grinned. “More than cake? That’s saying something, right there. And speaking of, I think I saw a couple slices of frosted chocolate cake in the pastry case over there when I came in. If anyone deserves them, it’s us. Am I right?”
“Girl, you know you are.”
“Okay. You stay put.” She rose and started for the counter, stopping when the exterior door to the cafeteria opened and Beckett strode through in his standard jeans and open plaid flannel shirt with a white T underneath it. She wished she had her camera to snap a picture of him, the image of rugged male perfection.
Her heart fluttered when that dark-chocolate gaze landed on her, his light-bronze face going blank with surprise at seeing her there. “Hey,” he said, his deep voice stirring a wave of warmth inside her.
His posture was stiff as he stood there, his stance almost impatient. As though he was irritated at bumping into her and having to spend a few moments being polite. Why did he always seem so aloof around her now? They’d been friends all of her life but something had shifted between them over the past few years, almost as though he’d put an invisible wall between them. It hurt.
She put on a smile anyway, trying to smooth it over. “Hi. How’s your dad doing today?” He’d declined more quickly than anyone had imagined, ending up in hospice care three weeks ago. Beckett cam
e in every day to see him. No matter how busy he was with work, he always made time to visit. She admired that a lot.
“Nurses said he’s having a pretty good day, so I picked him up some donuts.” He held up the paper bag in his fist, stalled for a second before continuing. “What are you doing here?”
She gestured over her shoulder. “I just popped by to have lunch with Molly.”
“Ah.” He looked past her, lifted a hand. “Hey, Moll. How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Molly said with her usual bright smile in place. “Say hi to your dad for me.”
He nodded and switched his attention back to Sierra, his expression closed, maybe even a little bit wary. What was up with that? “You not working today?”
She co-owned and operated the only vet clinic in town. “I’ve got three surgeries scheduled after lunch. All castrations.”
He grimaced. “Poor buggers.”
Sierra laughed softly. “Don’t worry, it’s all done as humanely as possible. They don’t even know what happened until they wake up.”
He nodded, glanced away again before meeting her eyes once more. Impatient to get going.
It made her feel nine years old again, back to being Noah’s annoying little sister, a nuisance they didn’t want tagging after them.
The thought was deflating as hell. She’d come a long way from being the awkward tomboy he’d known all those years ago. Not that he’d seemed to notice.
He cleared his throat gruffly. “Well. I’d better get up there and check on the old man.”
She squelched a surge of self-consciousness, berating herself for it. “Of course. Tell him I send a hug.”
“Will do. See you.”
“Bye.” She stood there for a moment as he walked away, taking the opportunity to admire the back of him since he couldn’t see her staring. Those powerful, broad shoulders, his confident stride, his jeans hugging his lean hips and ass. He was all rugged, sexy alpha male, and he’d been the source of most of her secret fantasies for years now.
And he found her annoying.
She allowed herself a deep sigh as he disappeared around the corner. This sucked. Why did he always seem so uncomfortable around her? As if he’d rather talk to anyone else but her? Growing up, he’d gone out of his way to tease and annoy her every chance he got, but he had never ignored her.
The divorce, she realized. Ever since he’d come home on leave a few years ago, after his divorce, he’d treated her differently.
With the exception of Thanksgiving, when he’d let his guard down a little by talking about his dad, and hugging her before he left Noah’s place. Beckett was an intensely private man and didn’t let many people in. Now he was about to lose his father. Then he would have no one.
That’s his choice.
Maybe. But she didn’t have to like it.
“You need to get over him,” she muttered under her breath, turning back toward the cafeteria. She could feel sorry about what he was going through all she wanted, but that didn’t change anything. He remained as unattainable as ever, and she already had two failed serious relationships with emotionally-closed off men. Beckett took that to next level.
When she arrived back at the table, Molly leaned back in her chair and raised a dark eyebrow, one side of her mouth lifting.
“What?” Sierra asked, reaching for her tea.
“Yeah, right, what.” Her expression was far too knowing. “You were so busy gawking at him, you forgot our cake.”
Cake. Damn. “Be back in a sec.”
Molly’s soft chuckle followed her to the counter but Sierra shrugged it off. It didn’t matter how conflicted her feelings about Beckett Hollister were.
They were never going to happen.
****
The entire way up to the palliative floor and down the hall to his father’s room, Beckett couldn’t get the image of Sierra out of his head. Seeing her here had thrown him, and now the vision of her in those hip-hugging jeans and formfitting pink sweater that showed off her figure was burned onto the backs of his eyelids.
Damn. Keeping his distance from her wasn’t working, and trying to ignore her when they did see each other was impossible—not to mention it made him feel like an asshole.
His dad was propped up in bed reading when Beckett walked in.
Their faces were different but no one would mistake them for being anything but father and son. Their partially-Chinook heritage had given them the same bronze tone to their skin, the same deep brown eyes and hair, though his dad’s was now almost solid gray. They were both broad-shouldered with solid builds, though Beckett was a few inches taller and his dad was a shrunken version of his former self due to the cancer ravaging his body.
His dad welcomed him with a big smile, his gaze dropping to the paper bag. “Ooh, what did you bring me?”
That bright smile of welcome sent a wave of relief through Beckett. It meant his dad was having in increasingly rare good day today. “Picked you up some donuts. Well, us. You up for some?” Some days he was too nauseated to eat anything, even his favorites.
“You think I’ll share?” his dad asked, taking the bag from him and opening it. He looked up, his expression like a kid’s who’d just been given a coveted toy. “Raspberry filled?”
“Course.” He took the chair beside the bed and waited for his father to hand him a donut. “You look good today,” he said, taking a bite. It wouldn’t last, no matter how much he wished it would.
Watching his lifelong idol waste away before his eyes without being able to stop it was by far the hardest thing Beckett had ever endured. Even worse than watching his mom succumb to the disease, because he’d been so young back then and hadn’t really understood what was happening, or what to expect. He wasn’t ready to lose his father too.
“Feel pretty good. I’m getting my second wind, I guess.” His dad paused after a couple of bites and lowered the donut, probably waiting to see how his stomach handled it. “Anything interesting going on at the office?”
“Yeah, as of right now we’re booked solid through the New Year.” He couldn’t believe how fast business had picked up once he’d implemented a few changes in marketing.
Crimson Point was a quaint tourist town nestled against the wild Pacific Ocean, and getting more popular every year because of its seaside charm, rugged coastline and beaches. Their company specialized in renovating old West Coast heritage homes and cottages, updating them to all the modern building codes and conveniences without killing the original charm. At the moment they had more work than he knew what to do with, and word was spreading up and down the coast.
“That’s what I like to hear. How’s the new crew working out?”
They had three full time crews working for them now, Beckett having added one a few weeks ago. “Good.” Actually, parts of the new crew weren’t doing so hot, but he wasn’t going to tell his dad that.
Transitioning back into civilian life had turned out to be harder than Beckett had thought it would be. After spending so many years in the military he was used to routine and a specific chain of command, to having his orders followed immediately and to the letter when he gave them.
Things didn’t work like that in the civilian world.
When he’d first come home and taken over the business, all of the guys working for his dad’s company were non-military. Beckett didn’t like how a lot of them operated. He’d already let a few of them go since taking over, including the project manager, due to what he considered plain-ass laziness.
His dad raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s all good,” he lied. He wasn’t going to add any more stress to his father’s plate by telling him about every little thing that went wrong at work. Beckett could handle all that himself. And the whole reason he’d taken over things was to keep things running smoothly and take as much stress off his dad as possible.
Taking on the job gave him something productive to do with his time, kept his dad’s business going, and gav
e him a much-needed mental and physical break from a life of rigorous training and combat. Right now he couldn’t see himself running the business and staying at a desk job forever. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do long term, but this got him up in the morning and gave him something to fill his days, so it was good enough for now.
His father eyed him skeptically. “That’s not what I heard yesterday.”
Beckett frowned. “Why, what did you hear?”
“That there’re a lot of hard feelings going on between the crew and a certain someone in management.”
Ah, shit. Still, he tried playing dumb. “Really? Who’d you hear that from?”
“Mrs. Olsen. She stopped by at suppertime yesterday to give me those.” He nodded at the stack of books lined up on the shelf beside the bed. “Her son-in-law Rick hired us to reno a cottage down on Honeysuckle Lane.”
Beckett suppressed a groan. Rick had probably gone by the place to check on the progress and happened to witness Carter and one of the guys getting into it. Fantastic. God, Beckett disliked dealing with people more and more. “Nah, it’s all good, don’t worry.”
“It’s Carter, isn’t it?”
Damn. “Dad. It’s fine. I’ll handle it.” To be honest, his former teammate was a giant pain in his ass these days.
As soon as he’d come home and let the former project manager go, Beckett had slid Carter over to fill the position, but lately that wasn’t working too well. His friend had changed drastically over the last few months, becoming short-tempered and unpredictable. At least hiring Jase as CFO had been a good idea; the guy was as rock solid in business as he had been on the battlefield and had an accounting degree under his belt.
Bringing guys on board who Beckett had served with not only gave him peace of mind, but also helped them out, giving them a permanent job with steady pay and benefits while they found their feet outside the military. He would hire more veterans as things progressed, try to pay it forward. God knew he needed to do something to ease the guilt piled up on his conscience.
Maybe with enough time he could balance the karmic scale that at present seemed to be heavily slanted toward bad.
