Warrior: A Salvation Society Novel

by A. M. Brooks

  “It hurts so much,” I sob, pulling my legs into my chest.

  “It will stop.” She kisses me. “It will get better, I promise.”

  “What if it doesn’t?” I huff, snuggling deeper into her.

  She laughs. “It will. Just keep going. Go to school. Meet new people and study hard. As time goes by, you will see, things will get better. It just takes time.”

  We sit like that until my body finally relaxes and my eyes close to sleep. Momma must have calmed my dad down because he doesn’t try and talk to me the rest of the night. Even Kyler and Posey stay clear of my room. Camryn texts me and we exchange a few boy bashing memes before my stomach hurts again. Clearly getting over Colt Street is going to take all of my strength.

  I grab a bowl of fruit from the fridge and lay back on my bed plotting. I make the choice then and there to harden my heart. I’ll go to Alabama for a semester, and if I hate it, I can transfer to my choice of schools or maybe I’ll join Camryn or Jamie Lynn. My options are endless and open. I plan to join a club or two. I may never make it to the football stadium, though, and I just need to be okay with that. I pray that eventually this pain will go away. Someday I will wake up and not miss Colt Street. Until then, I’m taking that plane ticket out of this town and finding my own life, no matter how scary and terrifying that sounds. Never again will I beg a boyfriend to stay with me.

  Eight years later…

  Chapter Nine

  Colt

  Present…

  I’ve heard taps being played at a funeral more than I care to. I’ve lost people I loved, people I worked beside, fought alongside, and each time, I shoulder guilt that they’re gone and I’m still standing. This funeral hits harder today than the rest. I haven’t been to Tennessee in over six years. Not because I didn’t want to, but the memories are just too much. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of cool blue eyes and tears.

  Staring at another box holding the body of one of my best friends is a burn in my chest that leaves a wake of ashes in my throat. I can’t do this.

  “I can’t believe we’re here,” Zane echoes my thoughts when he slides up next to me. His hand touching the coffin gently.

  “This isn’t right.” I nod in agreement. A year after I was in, I spent time overseas training and working when I met Tric, only to find out he grew up in a city not far from my hometown and was a year younger than me in school. We hung out, and when we were all able to get together, we hung out with Zane. It had been nice knowing that wherever I ended up, I had buddies stationed all over in the same boat as me.

  For Christmas one year, Tric had us make t-shirts that read ‘I Hate Sand’ on them to commemorate the nine months we spent in Iraq. He was the jokester and the one who kept us all chill, even when we were carrying heavy arsenal into enemy territory. I will never hear “Hells Bells” again and not think about him. He’s been as close to me as Zane for the past seven years.

  I would have shed blood for any of my brothers in combat, and Tric sacrificed his life for me. It was a mission we shouldn’t have been involved in. His death was ruled a casualty, only there was nothing casual about it. It was a mistake that could have been avoided if the right people had been watching. I spent the past few nights going through everything in my head and nothing makes sense.

  Zane clears his throat, his head nodding toward the parking lot. “There’s a suit waiting for us. Wanted to talk about Tric.”

  “To me?” I ask, confused as hell.

  “That’s what he said.” Zane nods and looks around, stalling.

  My chest feels tight and I take one more look at the blown-up picture of Tric off to the side. My feet step back and I offer one more salute to one of the greatest men I ever knew. Being back in my home state continues to feel like a death sentence.

  Zane and I walk away and head toward the man waiting for us. Behind my Oakleys, I notice he’s clearly military or law enforcement. His black hair is cut short, his gaze never wavering from where we are standing. His suit is pressed and clean, but not overly expensive. When we get closer, I notice he pulls a business card from inside his jacket. I’m about ready to explode, suspecting him of selling life insurance or some bullshit when he opens his mouth.

  “Gentlemen, I’m Brody Barker. I work for Cole Security.”

  “How can we help you?” I ask, my brow raised. I’ve heard of Cole Security in passing over the years and the work that they do.

  “We were contacted by a third party with information regarding your friend, Tric Wilder. I’ve also spoken with your superior officers who said you had knowledge of the mission Wilder was on when they were fired upon,” Brody explains to us, pausing to run his eyes over us. “I’ve been given clearance to approach you both. Cole Security has been doing intel on the group that was responsible. I’m hoping you’ll consider joining us in Virginia to discuss a potential opportunity to work with us.”

  “We’re still enlisted and active,” I reply, even while my pulse thrums in my temples. I have so many questions. I’m also not sure this is legit yet.

  “As I said,” Brody hands over his card, “I’ve spoken to your superiors. Give me call after you talk with them and we can discuss moving forward.”

  Zane’s hands reach out and he pinches the card between his fingers, studying it. “We’ll let you know.”

  Brody nods once before turning on his heel and marching back to a dark vehicle parked nearby, the windows completely tinted.

  “What the hell?” Zane blows out his breath.

  My gaze follows the vehicle until it reaches the main road before I’m able to reply. “Are you going to reach out?”

  His shoulders shrug. “Yeah. I’ve heard a lot about Cole Security. I was actually considering applying if they were hiring once I’m done with this last enlistment.”

  “I thought you wanted to make a career?” I laugh lightly.

  “It’s Cole Security, Colt. I’d be stupid not to consider working for them. They’re a bunch of badass Navy Seals.” Zane’s eyes flare with excitement. I laugh a little louder at his enthusiasm. It’s not that I’m not excited or intrigued by avenging Tric’s death. Years of being in battle and always watching my back has made me wary and cautious. I lost the carefree, jump on any chance without asking questions attitude when I was eighteen.

  “Are you heading home tonight?” I ask instead, changing the subject.

  His hand grips the back of his neck. “Yeah. Ma made lasagna. I think one of my sisters and her family are coming too. Are you?”

  His eyes flick to mine. “Yeah, I probably should. My dad’s been asking since we learned about Tric.”

  “How’s that going to go?” He turns to me, concern written all over his face.

  “Haven’t seen him in eight years.” I shrug. “He writes me all the time and says things are different. I’m trying to let it be water under the bridge.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t been back since we left. I thought for sure you stopped in at least once.” Zane’s head hangs down. I know who he’s thinking about.

  A name we haven’t spoken in years. A person who sits at the front of my mind and I use alcohol to numb the guilt. Knowing she hates me makes things easier. When I look back on it now, I know it was the cowardly way out to let her think I had slept with someone else. That I pushed her away that hard instead of being honest.

  Over the years, I’ve never sought her out, and she’s never reached out to me either. For all I know, she could be married with a handful of the kids she always wanted. Even though those thoughts make my heart twinge, I know I brought it upon myself.

  “Some things are better left in the past,” I lie through my teeth. With the exception of my dad, if I had the chance to see Lyric again…I’d give up my life for it.

  “Call you later,” he says, before jumping in his rental car and driving away.

  My body is slower to get into my own. Dad said he’d have dinner ready at six and it’s only quarter past five. I would get there wit
h plenty of time. I just don’t care to spend time chitchatting. I fly out tomorrow and I’m already itching to get out of this town.

  I decide to take the backroads to get there, hoping that will eat up some of the time. I pass our old hangout places, pass the backend of town by the Pizzeria where I took Lyric on our first date, pass the school and the football field where I shed blood and tears, back when I thought I had the world all figured out and let my dreams grow beyond their capacity. Back when I was young and naive enough to think that being a professional athlete was within my grasp only because I played well in a small town. The mistakes I made with the people who always cared about me the most is never far from my conscience. I refuse to think back on it, though.

  By the time I pull into my old neighborhood, I feel as if the whole town knows I’ve rolled into town. I get a few stares and a few people stop to wave. I can’t stop my gaze from wandering over to Lyric’s old house. The place looks closed-up and I wonder if her parents even live there anymore. Dad’s house is lit up and another car I don’t recognize is parked in the driveway.

  I get out and walk up the front path like I have hundreds of times before. The old flower bushes have been taken out and replaced with rock and flower pots. It’s familiar and different at the same time. My hand hesitates at the door, unsure if I should knock or just go right in. Considering the old man swore at me and told me to never come back again, I choose to knock instead.

  When the door swings open, it feels like someone took a boulder and threw it at my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs and piercing my internal organs. Brown eyes stare back at me.

  His brown eyes.

  My eyes.

  My mind is thrown back to a time where the other person with those eyes smiled and threw me one more pass, taking the rap for us being late to the dinner table.

  “Hey, Uncle Colt.” AJ stands before me, tall, almost as tall as me, looking just like his dad, except for Caitlyn’s black hair.

  I can’t speak or move. He’s the image of the one person I’d wished I had around throughout the years to go to for advice. My brother that I prayed to every time I wasn’t sure if I would make it back home. Every time I ran into danger, rather than away, I felt his protection, his presence shouting for me to keep moving. It was my dream of him that stopped me from volunteering for the mission Tric was on.

  “Well, don’t just stand there,” Dad’s gruff voice says from over by the kitchen area.

  I blink. “Sorry,” I mumble and move to step around the kid, who clearly isn’t a kid anymore, and into the home I ran from. The home that held more painful memories than good. My eyes must be masochist because right away they seek out the fireplace mantel where Alex and my mom’s shrine should be. A shield slides up to protect my heart only to falter instead.

  Alex’s folded flag is still there along with mom’s picture. It’s my picture from basic that’s next to it that has me pausing. Next to that is AJ dressed in a college baseball uniform.

  “You play baseball?” slips out of my mouth before I can stop it.

  “Plays for Vanderbilt,” Dad answers.

  My gaze swings to AJ who looks uncomfortable with the praise. His shoulders lift in a shrug. “My ma says the first thing I learned once I could stand was to throw a ball. Guess I got it from my dad.”

  “You look like him too,” I reply, wondering where the hell my filter went. Thoughts just becoming words and passing my lips without my permission.

  “That’s what I keep hearing,” he says, eyes looking down like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

  “Dinner is ready if you want to have a seat,” Dad interjects, saving us all from these agonizing moments of awkwardness.

  I walk to the table, and my eyes widen. “You cooked?”

  Dad’s eyes roll and he huffs, “I’ve been taking a class or two the past couple of years. Wanted to have more than barbeque or pizza available if you boys ever showed up.”

  “You took a cooking class?” I scoff. The man never took care of himself and we lived off frozen meals when mom died.

  Dad stays quiet and so does AJ, while he passes the dishes around. I’m handed something that looks like eggplant in parmesan, a platter of chicken with mushroom sauce next and a salad bowl last. Each helping onto my plate makes my blood boil. I keep my mouth clamped shut this time though, while AJ fills my dad in on the classes he’s taking.

  “You two do this often?” I grit out, my fork clamped between my fingers. This isn’t about me being upset about their relationship. It has to do with the fact that Dad made all these changes and never shared with me that he’s been close to AJ.

  After Alex passed, we saw AJ only a handful of times before Mom passed away. After that, Caitlyn refused to bring him around when my dad became a drunk with a shit-poor personality. I purposefully stayed away from him, so we didn’t ruin his life.

  “I got sober about a year after you left. I worked hard, Colt, to make peace with the shitty father I was and knew I wanted to change. I reached out to Caitlyn a few years after that and she slowly started bringing AJ around for small visits. I wrote you about it,” Dad explains, his hands folded in front of him on the table. AJ’s eyes bounce back and forth between us.

  “I didn’t read them,” I answer, swallowing my own shame. I purposefully pushed him further away, resentful of how things were left between us and damn angry about how I grew up.

  “I can’t say I blame you there,” Dad rubs his hands together, clearing his throat, “I never heard back from you, but I learned from Zane’s parents that you were in Iraq a few times, South Korea, then stationed out in Colorado again. Moving around so much must make it hard to get mail too.”

  “Pops filled me in on your career,” AJ interjects, “I feel like I know you without actually remembering much. I also know about your football days. I think the football coach was bummed when I decided to play baseball instead.”

  I can’t fight the grin that tips my lips at that one. My eyes rake over my nephew. A young man I never had the chance to see grow up. “I’m glad you’re here, kid.”

  He smiles and looks to my dad. “I told you a meal would help.”

  I shake my head at both of them and we finish up the meal. I laugh harder than I have in a long time. AJ’s stories of college and antics his mom is up to in order to spend more time with him keep us rolling. He and my dad have an easiness to their relationship and I realize I’m actually grateful the old man has had someone around him while I’ve been gone.

  When he walks me to the door at the end of the night, guilt is rooting around in my chest, burrowing into the muscle and flesh, threatening to flay me alive.

  “I don’t blame you for hating me, Colt,” Dad finally says, his head lowering. “I fell apart when Alex died and then your mother. I know the mistakes I made, but my biggest regret is the way I let you leave that night. I never should have raised my hand to you. That’s not how a parent should treat his child.”

  “It’s in the past, Dad.” I shake my head, fearing the burning in my eyes.

  “Be that as it may, you and I both know I have a lot to make up for. I don’t expect to just become a part of your life again, but I do hope you might want to stop by more often. This was the best night I’ve had in years. Both my boys,” he tells me, his eyes burning brightly into my own.

  “I can’t believe how grown up he is.” I nod back to the house.

  “I can’t believe how grown up both of you are,” he chuckles, “I’m proud of you, Colt. You scared the living shit out of me with your decision to enlist, but I respect it. It took me a long time to realize my own fears were normal. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you, too.”

  “You have AJ.” I shrug, trying to push the emotions that his words are stirring away. I am nothing to be proud of. My enlistment came on the heels of my biggest disappointment and then I hurt the one person who loved me above all else.

  “AJ is AJ. You are you. I love you both
,” he replies, voice gruff, and I swear he may cry too.

  “Let me know when you make that chicken masala again. I’ll make the time.” My hand clasps his shoulder and he nods. A small tear falling down the stubble of his cheek before he wipes it away.

  “You staying in town tonight?”

  “Probably crash at Zane’s after we go out,” I tell him. I see him grimace. “What?”

  “Ah, it’s probably nothing,” his hand rubs the back of his neck, “just stay out of the park, maybe.”

  “Okay,” I laugh it off and get in my truck. One look in my rearview and I can see him still standing outside watching the vehicle drive away. I don’t know how it makes me feel. Everything that happened tonight conflicts with what I’ve believed for the past eight years.

  I pull my phone out to call Zane and let him know I’m on the way.

  “How did things end?” Zane asks, laughing with me about how bizarre this night turned out.

  “He told me to avoid the park,” I laugh again. After a beat, I realize Zane isn’t laughing with me. “Z, what’s up?”

  “Ahhh,” he sighs into the phone, “look something happened after we left. I only know about it because my mom wrote me. It’s about Lyric.”

  Now he has my full attention. I sit up further in my seat, “What about her?”

  “You know your tree? The one you carved your initials in?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him, “I remember.”

  “She hacked the thing apart. Broad daylight, just took an axe to the whole trunk. City fire department had to come in and use a chainsaw to take it out before it became a hazard.”

  I hear his words even as the buzzing in my ears grows louder. I can’t picture my Lyric doing it. That was our spot. The place I asked her to be mine, the one I first told her I loved her. Lyric was always sentimental; I just can’t picture it, her doing that to our tree.