“It is. I know I’m supposed to believe in the system, have faith in the fact that it works the way it’s supposed to, but sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it feels like the system fails the people it’s supposed to protect and I’m just a part of it.” I leaned back, stretching my legs out, wishing I hadn’t forgone yoga. I spent so much time hunched at my desk that by the end of the day I was always sore, my muscles full of kinks. “I shouldn’t complain. I’m sorry. It was just”—I kept settling on that word—“frustrating,” I finished. “I guess I thought more justice would be served, that being an attorney meant I could help people. Sometimes I feel so impotent.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Believe me, I get it.” He looked up at the sky and away from me. “You don’t know how many times I ask myself what I’m doing, why I’m doing it. It feels like we never really accomplish anything, and even when we do, someone just goes and undoes the work. It puts the losses in perspective, I guess.
“My friend’s name was Joker. He was a great guy. A really great guy. He was our squadron commander, our boss, but he was the kind of guy who you could have a beer with, who cared if you were having a bad day, if there was shit going on in your life. He was like a brother, and I looked up to him a lot.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“He had a wife. Dani. She was amazing. Kind of an unofficial ‘mom’ to all of us. His death destroyed her. Seeing her like that . . .” His voice trailed off. “It was hard. Really hard to come back when he didn’t.
“With Joker . . .” Again his voice faded, but then seemed to grow stronger. “I just wonder if his death was worth it. That doesn’t sound right. It’s just . . . we go into combat ready to die. No question. We all want to come home, no one wants to lose their life, but we assume that risk because there’s a purpose to our missions, the assumption that we’re giving our lives for something bigger than ourselves. But he didn’t die in combat; he died on a training mission. What did he give his life for?
“When he died, there was this big push in the media, like we were heroes or something, but the thing is, I don’t feel like a hero. And I don’t necessarily want to, either, but I do want to feel like the sacrifice is worth it, and right now, I just feel, I don’t know . . . like I’m coming up short or something. Like I spent my professional career trying to make my life mean something important, trying to make a difference, and at the end of the day, what have I really accomplished?
“There was an upgrade to the jet a couple months ago. One that had been in the pipeline for a while, but just trickled down to all of the squadrons. It would have saved his life if he’d had it. Two months made the difference. Where’s the purpose in that? Two fucking months.”
I recognized the anger, the grief, the confusion. Understood exactly how he felt. But if he’d come here looking for some kind of explanation or understanding, I wasn’t sure I had any to give. When I’d lost my parents, I hadn’t known how to deal. I’d gone to counseling, had tried to move past it, but it hadn’t been some enlightening experience; I didn’t learn the meaning of life or anything like that. All I could say was that I’d come through it to the other end. Somehow. Sort of.
“I wish I had a good answer. Wish I could say something that would make you feel better. I asked myself that question so many times when my parents died. I tried to understand how it could have happened, was obsessed with the idea that if they’d just left a few seconds later, if the guy had one less beer, stayed at the bar two minutes longer, they’d still be alive.” I stared at those stones again, at the date etched there. “You go crazy thinking like that, and still, the answers never come.”
He reached between us, taking my hand and linking our fingers, squeezing, giving me something to hold on to, even for a moment. It was blurring the lines, but I couldn’t resist.
“I’m figuring that out. I just haven’t gotten to the letting go part.”
“That’s the hardest part. The part that takes time. You always carry a part of it with you, but it becomes just infinitesimally smaller somehow. You still have days when it hits you, days when it’s harder to deal with than others. But you get through it.”
“You were so young when you lost your parents.”
“Yeah, I was.”
“I don’t know how you did it.”
I shrugged. “I had to. There were times when I didn’t think I could. Times when all I wanted was to be with them. That goes, too, though. As does the guilt. You find other things to live for, to get you up in the morning, other ways to honor them.”
“Like you’re doing now.”
“I hope so. On good days, I feel like my life has some purpose. Like I’m helping people. On the not-so-good days, I feel like I’m drowning a bit.”
He didn’t say anything, but then again, he didn’t need to. We’d always understood each other, always had this kind of connection.
I didn’t know if it was the being raised by grandmothers thing, or the fact that we were both working on ourselves, both searching for something beyond us, both wanting more than what we had that brought us together, but there had been something there that had formed an instant connection, one that had yet to taper off, even as I wished it didn’t exist at all. He understood me in a way I wasn’t sure anyone else did.
He swallowed, his voice strained. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. I heard she passed away a few years ago. I should have called.”
“I didn’t expect you to.”
“I still should have. I wanted to. I just didn’t think you would want to hear from me and I didn’t want to make things worse for you, to hurt you more than I already had.”
I wondered if his grandmother had kept him in the loop about all the changes in my life, how many times he’d thought of me. I wasn’t sure which I preferred—for him to have thought of me often or for me to have been little more than a footnote in his mind.
Liar.
“I should get going.” We were drifting dangerously into territory where I just didn’t have it in me to go.
I rose from the bench, not looking at him.
“I’ll see you around.”
He didn’t answer me, didn’t try to stop me. He just stayed there on that bench while I walked away, leaving the people I’d loved and lost behind me.
THOR
I stayed on the bench long after she’d left, my gaze trained to the direction in which she’d walked away, as if that somehow could bring her back, my mind racing. I felt like the carelessness of my actions kept springing up again and again, the reminders that I’d caused her pain everywhere I turned.
I hadn’t come back to Bradbury because I couldn’t stand the image of myself that I saw here, the way the town and all of the memories it contained reflected back the worst version I could be, the way she reflected an image of myself that filled me with shame.
I knew the reasons behind why I’d left, remembered feeling like the walls were closing in on a future that I wanted but wasn’t ready for, a future that had seemed like a good idea in abstract but, the closer and closer it came, began to feel like a noose around my neck.
The only thing I’d been sure about was her. And for a long time, I’d thought that was enough. That for all the moments when I stumbled, when I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted out of my life, she would be there, steady and strong for me to lean on.
But it wasn’t enough.
I didn’t want her carrying me. Didn’t want to end up like my parents—my mother working her ass off supporting us, working two jobs while my father drank himself into a stupor every day until one day he just said fuck it, and left everything behind him.
I wanted to be a man she could be proud of, a man who would be a better kind of father, the kind of father who was there for my kids, who taught them not to make some of the mistakes I’d made, the stupid acts of rebellion that had sent me to juvie and had me repeating a g
rade in high school. I’d wanted to be someone I had no clue how to be, and the second I spoke to the military recruiter, when he arranged for me to talk to one of the F-16 pilots stationed at Shaw, it was like something clicked. Something I’d only ever felt with Becca. Suddenly, I’d known exactly what I wanted to do with my life, known the kind of man I wanted to be.
Before I joined the military, we’d been the odd couple. Becca had graduated as the valedictorian of our high school class, had gotten into the University of South Carolina on a full ride. In the back of my mind, I’d always known she could have gone to a more prestigious school, but she’d said she wanted to stay close to home—close to me. I’d have been lying if I didn’t admit that it had bothered me the way people looked at us like they were just waiting for me to drag her down to my level, like she could have done so much better than me. No guy wanted to feel like the girl he was with had settled to be with him, even though I knew Becca had never felt that way.
But still. It was enough to light a fire under my ass. To make me determined to be someone worthy of her. And then, of course, I’d lost it all anyway, and the irony of it was that I didn’t like the guy staring back at me in the mirror much anymore, either.
BECCA
I hit “Accept” on Eric’s friend request when I got home that night, feeling like I was sliding deeper into something I wouldn’t be able to pull my way out of. Because, of course, it didn’t just stop at me accepting his friend request. No, I couldn’t resist the urge to go through the pictures, flipping through a slideshow of the last decade of his life.
Mistake. Big fucking mistake.
There were women. Lots and lots of women. Pictures of Eric all over the world with guys from his squadron, looking like he was having the time of his life.
I hadn’t exactly been in a convent the last decade, and I definitely hadn’t expected that he’d been celibate or anything, but damn, it was one thing to acknowledge it in the back of your mind and another entirely to see it. Over and over again.
I shut down my computer, feeling like an idiot for how easily I’d let him back in, or how I’d let myself hope that we could somehow be in each other’s lives again. Whatever he said, I struggled to believe he’d spent the last decade missing me. So why was he back now? Because he knew I would always be there for him when he needed it, despite the past? Was I just a stop for him along the way back to something bigger and better? Was I an idiot for trusting him?
I’d wanted to believe he’d changed, that he’d realized that he’d made a mistake all of those years ago. But I just didn’t know anymore, and despite how easy it was for me to imagine falling for him all over again, I couldn’t make myself let my guard down with him.
Love was easy; trust was the hard part.
EIGHT
BECCA
It was no small feat to avoid someone in a town as tiny as Bradbury, but somehow I managed it throughout the week, impressing even myself with the level of subterfuge I employed. I caught glimpses of Eric—a flash of red hair, the view from behind while he ran down the street—but I always managed to escape before he could notice me.
I needed time. And tequila. And a night out with my girlfriends. And dancing. Definitely dancing.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a girls’ night?” Lizzie asked as we walked into Liberty on Friday night.
It hadn’t taken a ton of arm-twisting to get her to come out for the night, and because Adam was a truly awesome guy, he’d volunteered to watch the baby so Lizzie could have a night off and be my wing woman. They’d been married long enough for him to fully appreciate the implication of Eric blowing through my life again.
I scanned the crowded bar looking for Rachel and Julie. The four of us had made the plan to hang out, going back and forth over the best spot for it.
Nightlife in Columbia was pretty much divided into two relatively close sections of town—the Vista and Five Points. The bars in Five Points always had a more college feel to them, and while the Vista was close to the Carolina campus, it tended to attract an older and more professional crowd.
I spotted Rachel and Julie waving at us from a booth and Lizzie and I wound our way through the crowd.
Rachel stood and hugged me. “Whoa. You look hot tonight.”
I grinned and said hi to Julie. “Thanks. You guys do, too.”
I’d sort of broken the whole don’t-wear-white-after-Labor-Day rule in favor of an amazing dress I’d found a few months ago and never had a chance to wear. It was strapless and fitted at the waist, and then it belled out into a flirty, short skirt. It wasn’t overly sexy or anything, but it was pretty and fun, and one of those outfits that immediately made you feel better the second you put it on.
Given the week I’d had, I needed something to make me feel better.
We exchanged greetings, Lizzie and I sliding into the booth with them.
Rachel’s phone went off and she looked down at the screen, typing something before glancing my way, a nervous expression on her face.
“So that guy from last weekend, Easy? He’s back in town for a friend’s wedding or something. I guess it’s the same guy whose bachelor party he flew out for last weekend. He’s with Bandit and Merlin, and they were talking about maybe meeting up with us, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, so if it’s too weird, I can tell them we’re just having a girls’ night.”
I’d filled her in on my past with Eric when I called and apologized for bailing on our night out.
I hesitated, not sure I wanted another night ruined by fighter pilots. But the look on Rachel’s face was one I hadn’t seen on her before, and I hated to get in the way of her chance to see Easy if she did really like him.
“Is Eric—I mean, Thor—with them?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t mention him. Do you want me to ask?”
Fuck being nonchalant. I definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with Eric. It had been another hellacious week at work and I desperately needed things to be fun—and pardon the pun, easy—tonight.
“Yeah, go ahead and ask him.”
Rachel’s fingers flew over the keyboard. Her phone pinged again.
“Easy says he’s not with them.”
That was good enough for me.
“Yeah, tell them to come then. I’m in.”
* * *
Okay, fine, maybe fighter pilots weren’t that bad. It wasn’t fair to give them all a bum rap just because Eric had broken my heart.
“How did you climb down from the water tower?” I asked, laughing as I took a sip of my margarita.
Bandit, Merlin, and Easy had been regaling us with stories all night, and even I had to admit, they were pretty fucking hilarious. It sounded like being a fighter pilot was basically like joining a fraternity on steroids, with a whole lot of danger and responsibility added in. I figured it made sense that they needed to blow off steam once in a while, considering how crazy their lives were.
Bandit flashed me a wolfish grin. “Very carefully. I was fucking terrified that I’d fall, and even more terrified that the wing commander would catch me. Some commanders are cool about that stuff, other guys not so much.”
He draped his arm around the back of the booth, leaning in to me.
“Do you want to go get another drink at the bar?”
I stared down at my margarita glass, surprised to see I’d already finished it. I’d pretty much matched the guys drink for drink tonight, and considering they definitely partied harder than I did on a regular basis, I was struggling to keep up.
He held out his hand, a whiff of cologne filling my nostrils, and I waged a little inner war with myself. He seemed like a nice guy and he was cute, and while there weren’t sparks or anything, the last thing I wanted was to experience that plummeting-to-my-death, butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling I got around Eric. Nothing would happen here; I wasn’t going
to go home with him, didn’t even see myself kissing him given his connection to Eric, but I figured there was no harm in being nice or flirting a bit.
I grinned. “Sounds like a plan.” I took his hand and followed him to the bar, not oblivious to the envious glances thrown my way. Between Easy and Bandit, we’d definitely cornered the market on fine at our table.
I stayed close to Bandit while he ordered our drinks at the bar, my hand still in his. He turned back when he’d finished, his free hand reaching out to capture a strand of my hair, twirling it around his fingers, mischief in his eyes.
I shook my head in amusement. “You do realize that I’m not going to sleep with you, right?”
“You say that now. Give me an hour or two.”
I laughed. “Are all of you guys this arrogant?”
“We prefer confident.”
“I bet you do.”
“Are you not sleeping with me because of Thor?”
Way to be direct.
“Not entirely. Okay, maybe a bit. Let’s just say that I don’t have the greatest track record with fighter pilots. Plus it’s weird. You guys are friends. We were together. Ergo, weird.”
He grinned. “Ergo?”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You’re cute and fun, but I just don’t need complicated right now. I wanted to let loose a bit tonight; if you want to go hang out with another girl, I totally understand. I don’t want to crash your plans for the evening.”
He tugged on the strand of hair, pulling me closer so that our bodies brushed against each other.
“One, Thor and I aren’t friends. Our paths have crossed because the F-16 community is small and we have friends in common, but we’ve never hung out or anything like that. Two, you’re cute. So if you don’t mind, I have big plans to flirt with you tonight. Even if that’s all there is.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than my gaze swept the room and I froze, locking on to Eric standing near the rest of our group, staring at me and Bandit, his mouth in a hard line, his eyes flinty.
Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance) Page 7
