FRACTURED HONOR

by Kaylea Cross

  His dad waved a hand impatiently. “Shut up and drive, boy.”

  Yes, sir. At the top of the hill the ocean came into view in the distance, an endless expanse of blue that stretched along the entire horizon where it met the sand.

  Grinning, Beckett paused for a moment, met his father’s enthusiastic gaze, then gunned it. His dad let out a whoop of pure elation as they raced down the far side of a dune and hurtled up the next one.

  He stopped at the crest to check on Walter. To his surprise the dog’s mouth was open, his tongue lolling in his near-toothless mouth. It almost looked like he was smiling. “What do you think, Walter?”

  Walter wagged his tail.

  “Yeah, thatta boy,” Beckett praised, and hit the gas. They plunged down the dune, tires spraying sand, then rocketed up the next slope.

  “Your driving’s sure come a long way,” his dad yelled over the wind and noise of the engine. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, but he was a tough old bugger. Beckett would keep a close eye on him.

  “Had some experience with driving in sand over the years,” he yelled back. He aimed for a steep drop and shot toward it, chuckling when his dad grabbed hold of the roll bar. Oh, yeah. This was so much damn fun.

  The buggy hurtled down the incline, engine racing as they picked up speed.

  A howl sounded from behind him.

  Startled, Beckett slowed a little and glanced behind him. Walter was perched on the seat in his harness still wearing his doggles, ears and tongue flying in the wind, his head thrown back and his mouth open as he let out a loud baying sound. And his tail was thumping like mad against the seat.

  Beckett laughed and curved up a smaller dune. “Might have created a monster.”

  “Walter, you animal,” his dad joked to the dog.

  Walter howled again in doggy delight, and they both laughed.

  Beckett couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun—with the exception of what he’d done to Sierra earlier. Years at least. And when he stopped at the crest of another dune to swap places with his dad, the smile on his old man’s gaunt face squeezed Beckett’s heart so hard it was as though someone had clamped a vise around it.

  “She’s all yours,” Beckett said, then rounded the front to take the passenger seat and buckle in. “Be gentle with me.”

  “Not a chance.” His dad gunned it and it was Beckett’s turn to holler as they raced down the sand.

  Rather than go up and down the dunes some more, his father turned them sharply toward the beach. In minutes they were racing along the wet strip of sand just beyond the reach of the rolling waves, the wind whistling through their helmets.

  Beckett took out his phone and snapped some pictures of his dad, whose smile was clear even through the helmet visor, then took some of Walter. It looked like the dog was having the time of his life, and maybe he was. Who knew the old timer was an adrenaline junkie at heart?

  Wet sand and seawater sprayed up from beneath the back tires as his dad raced them down the beach. Miles and miles of damp sand lay before them, not another soul in sight. God he’d missed this, just hanging with his dad. They’d lost so much time together while Beckett was away on one deployment after the other.

  Finally his dad decided he’d had enough fun for the day and turned them back toward the garage. Beckett texted a few more pictures to Sierra, including a selfie of sorts of him and his dad, and Walter unknowingly photobombing in the background, his face visible between the gap in the front seats. They weren’t anywhere near the quality that she shot even with her phone, but she’d still like them. A few minutes later she responded.

  Omg, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Are you guys having fun?

  Having a blast, he typed back, smiling to himself. He couldn’t wait to see her tonight. To pull her thighs apart and slide his tongue between them, have her hands and mouth all over him. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, and have her do to him in return.

  He just hoped the real him didn’t make her change her mind about them eventually, because if it did, his whole world would implode.

  “Who you texting?” his dad asked as he steered them up the winding path through the smaller dunes tufted with plumes of sea grass.

  “Sierra. Thought she’d get a kick out of Walter.”

  His father eyed him speculatively but didn’t comment. Back at the garage Beckett removed Walter’s doggles and unstrapped him before setting him on the ground. His dad was slow getting out of the buggy.

  “How’s your pain level?” Beckett asked.

  “It’s all right,” he replied, slightly stooped over as he headed for the truck.

  Beckett glanced at his dad as he drove out of the parking lot a minute later. He looked exhausted now, lines forming around the sides of his mouth. “Guess we overdid it, huh?”

  “Nah. Worth it. Haven’t had that much fun in I can’t remember since when.” He reached over and gripped Beckett’s shoulder in a firm grip. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you. It was fun.” He was quiet for a while, Walter’s rattling snores coming from the back seat. Normally he wasn’t one to talk about his personal life, even to his dad, but this was important. His dad knew her, and with time running out, he didn’t want to hide anything.

  He exhaled. “Sierra and I are seeing each other, Dad.” That sounded casual enough, even though he was anything but casual about her.

  Those dark, sunken eyes focused on him, and a grin spread across his thin face. “Called that one years ago, my boy. Good for you. What took you so damn long?”

  Beckett was so surprised he didn’t know how to answer. “Whaddya mean, years?”

  “Years. As in a series of three-hundred-and-sixty-five days.”

  He smothered a chuckle. “You never said anything.”

  “Neither did you.”

  Yeah, because he’d felt guilty as hell about it. How in hell had his old man noticed, when he’d barely let himself see it? “It’s a big adjustment for both of us. Things are still brand new. Haven’t even told Noah yet.”

  “Better not wait too long. But you and her, it feels good?”

  He smiled. “Yeah.” Amazing. Beckett refused to let his inner demons destroy his chance at happiness. He’d seen it happen to too many of the guys he’d served with. And he’d watched it happen to Carter all too recently.

  “She’s a sweetheart, I’ve always loved her. You better treat her right.”

  “You know I will.” As long as she felt he was worthy of her.

  “I do.” His dad gave Beckett’s shoulder an affectionate shove. “Tell her I said hi and that I’m happy for you both.”

  “I will.” Beckett had a feeling Sierra would be touched by it.

  The drive back to the hospital went by far too quickly, but his heart was lighter than it had been in years. Because now he had hope again, and the chance of a future with Sierra to fight for.

  He left Walter sleeping in the truck with the windows half open and took his dad inside. A few feet inside the main entrance, his dad stopped, and from the drawn, pinched look on his face, Beckett realized how much the afternoon had exhausted him.

  “Here,” he said, grabbing an empty wheelchair. Beckett hated to see him in pain. His father eyed it with loathing but lowered into it. “You hungry?”

  “No. Just tired.”

  Up in his dad’s room the nurses were there to help him back into bed and restart his IV, along with another dose of pain meds. Beckett hovered nearby, his heart sinking at the sight of his dad lying there so frail and tired, willing the medication to kick in.

  When they were alone again his dad motioned to the chair beside the bed. Beckett sat in it, took the hand his father held out to him. “I needed that so damn much,” he said to Beckett with a little smile.

  “Me too. You feeling any better now?”

  His father was quiet a moment, still holding Beckett’s hand. “I’m tired.” His gaze strayed to the framed picture of Beckett’s mom over o
n the side table. “I miss her so damn much.”

  An aching lump settled in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard. “I know. I do too.”

  That deep-set gaze swung back to Beckett, full of weariness and pain. “You’re not too old for me to give you a piece of fatherly advice, are you?”

  “No.”

  His dark eyes were fierce with love and urgency. “Good. Because if Sierra makes you feel the way I felt about your mother, then you damn well hold onto her tight and don’t let another day go by without telling her what she means to you. Life’s so damn short, son. You’ll regret it if you wait.”

  Beckett looked down at their joined hands. His dad was right, as usual. He squeezed that too-fragile hand gently. “Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you too.”

  Beckett sat there quietly until his father was fast asleep. Then, gently withdrawing his hand, he stood and left, the urgent need to see Sierra burning inside him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Mac, how the hell are you, man?” Beckett asked, grinning as he tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder and reached for the truck door handle.

  While he’d been out with his dad he’d missed four phone calls, including one from a newcomer to the area from South Dakota—Miss Poppy Larsen, who he’d just met with. He wasn’t sure how much work he could do for her on her limited budget, but Noah had referred him so he would set up a meeting, crunch some numbers and see what he could do for her.

  “I’m doin’ awright,” Aidan answered in his distinctive Scottish burr. “You?”

  “Can’t complain. You still in Florida?”

  “Aye, and the humidity’s already killing me. Not sure I can stand another summer here. Will never ken how the locals can bear it. Now what’s all this about a job offer? Did you finally decide to start your own contracting business?”

  “Why, you interested?”

  Aidan huffed out a laugh. “Depends on what you say next.”

  “Not the kind of contracting you’re used to.” Beckett figured that was a good thing. “I need a project manager for my home renovation business. We’re slammed, have more work than we can handle right now, and it’s only getting busier. You’d be responsible for helping with inspections and quotes, and managing the jobs and crew. And you’d get full benefits after three months.”

  “I thought Boyd was doing all that for you.”

  A heavy weight settled in Beckett’s chest. “He was, until the other day.” He cleared his throat. “I had to let him go.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Aidan said after a moment’s pause. “How is he?”

  “Not good. I’ve had to sever ties with him, it’s gone that far.”

  “Ah, damn. What about Weaver?”

  Based on what had happened yesterday, Beckett was pretty sure Jase was done as well. “I think he’s reached that point too. To help me out he’s temporarily taken on both CFO and project manager roles until I can find someone else.”

  “And that’s where I come in, I suppose?”

  “I want guys I can trust with me.”

  “Well that means a lot coming from you, Yank.”

  “It should,” Beckett teased.

  “What’s it like there in Oregon?”

  “Helluva lot cooler than Florida. A lot like Scotland, actually, except better.”

  Aidan grunted. “Eh, now yer bum’s out the windae.”

  Beckett chuckled at the Scottish translation of you’re full of shit. “I’ve missed your sayings, MacIntyre. So will you think about it? It’s a full-time salary position, benefits, the works. With the added bonus that you’d get to work alongside me all week long.”

  “You trying to entice me, or make me run away screaming?”

  “Hey, you seemed to like working under me well enough overseas.”

  “It was okay. And don’t say under like that, it’s weird.” He paused. “Will there be regular range practice and access to high explosives with this job?”

  “I can add that into your weekly schedule if it will help turn the tide in my favor.”

  “Ah, you know just how to sweet talk a man.” He pronounced it like “mon”.

  God, he’d missed the Scottish bastard’s dry sense of humor. “So? What do you think?”

  “You know what? I will think about it. I need to look up this hometown of yours first, though. What was it again? Red Tide?” He rolled the R.

  “No, that’s a toxic algae bloom.”

  “Aye, perfect.” He sounded smug.

  Beckett shook his head, one side of his mouth turning upward. “It’s Crimson Point. And yeah, it’s way better than Scotland. Go ahead and look it up. You’ll see.”

  Aidan scoffed. “We’ll see about that. All right, I’ll let you know by the end of the week if I’m interested or not. Friday?”

  It was more than Beckett had actually expected, so he was hopeful because he would love to bring the Scotsman on board. “Sounds good. Take care, laddie,” he finished, using his best accent.

  “Don’t call me that. Only a Scot can call another man that.”

  “Well now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings.”

  “Wait. You have feelings? As in plural? I was sure you used your only one up last year when we were in Syria.”

  “You mean during the mission when you told me you considered me an honorary Scot?”

  Aidan grunted. “Must have been the heat.”

  Or because we cheated death when I got us all out of there alive by calling in a pinpoint danger close airstrike? Beckett didn’t say it, because it was too close to bragging and Aidan remembered that day as well as him. “Don’t forget I’ve got Scottish blood in me from both sides of my tree. How much more Scottish can I get?”

  “You could wear a kilt. I would take you much more seriously if you could pull off a kilt without making me laugh.”

  Beckett huffed a laugh. “Whatever, I’m not wearing a fucking skirt, even for you.”

  A gasp. “Skirt? How dare you. I’ll have you know that—”

  “Got another call coming in,” he lied, enjoying both the banter and Aidan’s sputtered outrage. “I’ll talk to you Friday.”

  He hung up, had no sooner set his phone down in the console tray when it rang. Not MacIntyre calling back to argue the prowess and vital historical significance of the kilt.

  Sierra.

  A smile spread across his face. “Hi, beautiful.”

  “Wow, hi. I could definitely get used to that greeting.”

  “It’s the truth. You almost finished for the day?” It was nearly four.

  “Almost. I just got your flowers. They were waiting for me when I got back from the bank. They’re beautiful, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He wasn’t the romantic type, but since that talk with his father just before leaving he’d felt the need to make a gesture to show her he was thinking of her. If he wanted to hold on to a woman as rare as Sierra, he needed to step up his game. He couldn’t just phone that shit in. So he was trying.

  “I loved the note even more,” she said quietly.

  Life is short. Let’s not waste any more of it. “I’m glad.” His dad’s words to him earlier had had a profound effect on him. They had obliterated any remaining hesitation on his part, and pushed him into action. No matter how this played out between him and Sierra, he was going to take the risk and let her in. Or at least try to.

  “Looks like you and your dad had an amazing time.”

  “We did. Think we overdid it, though. He was in pain when I got him back to the hospital, and exhausted. As soon as they gave him another dose of meds he was out.”

  She made a sympathetic sound. “I’m sure spending the afternoon having fun with you made it more than worth it. Are you headed home now?”

  “Just gonna check one of the projects first.”

  “You up for a dinner date at my place, rather than going out tonight?”

  All parts of him were up for that. “Maybe. What are you making?” />
  “Does it matter, as long as it’s edible?”

  “I’d rather eat you instead.”

  She gave a husky laugh. “I’m going to swing by the hospital and visit with Molly for a bit, then grab the groceries on my way home.”

  “Want me to bring anything?”

  “Just have your gorgeous butt there at seven.”

  “How do you know it’s gorgeous when you haven’t seen it yet?”

  “Hmm, but I plan to tonight.”

  Hell yes. “If you play your cards right.”

  “Seven o’clock, sharp.”

  He loved her sassiness. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  He drove to the jobsite with a smile on his face, full of anticipation about what tonight would bring. Things were moving fast between them, maybe too fast, but now that they’d crossed the line it was so damn hard to hold himself back with her.

  It was a beautiful late spring afternoon. As close to perfect as it could get here on the coast.

  Given what a great day he’d had up until now, he should have known things were too good to last.

  After checking in with Jase via phone and talking to the crew on site, Beckett was about to leave when someone came up the stairs. He tensed as Carter came into view. “What are you doing here?”

  Carter glanced around, looking even more exhausted than he had the other day. “We alone?”

  “Yeah.” He folded his arms. “What do you want? I thought I made my position clear the other day.” He waited.

  There was no anger from Carter this time, however. No cutting or snide-ass remarks. Just a soul-deep sadness in those almost black eyes as he faced Beckett. “I wanted to apologize for what I said.”

  “You should be apologizing to Weaver, not me.”

  “I stopped by the office but he wasn’t there, or at home. And he isn’t taking my calls.”

  “You surprised?”

  “No.” Carter broke eye contact and lowered his head a moment before continuing. “Look, I know I haven’t been the easiest to deal with lately. I’m…trying to get my life back together.”

  “What about Molly?”

  He shook his head. “She won’t talk to me. She’s going ahead with the legal separation. We have to both be legal residents in Oregon for six months before she can file for divorce.”