“How long do you have before you have to go back?” my mother asked as I went to the front door to leave. “Don’t they need you back on base?”
“I’m not going to go back, Ma. I want to stay here and be with you.”
Her eyes widened. “But what will you do for work? You love flying. You love your job and the boys on base. You don’t have to give all that up for me. I have friends here. I’ll be all right.”
I took her by the shoulders and gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s not just for you,” I said—only a small white lie. “I should have been around more. I missed out on a lot of time with Dad, and I regret that. This is where I want to be. I’ve applied for a Humanitarian Assignment here in Houston. I’m moving into my own place not far from here this weekend.”
My mother smiled, and for the first time since I’d been home, she looked genuinely happy. She reached up and patted my cheek. “You’re such a good son, Zachary. Wait here. I have some leftover chili in the fridge to send you home with. I’ll have to get used to cooking smaller recipes now.”
“No need. I’ll always be around to take extra food off your hands.”
She patted my cheek and shuffled back into the kitchen. She returned moments later with a container full of the chili I grew up on. She pressed it into my hands. “Now you heat that up on the stove, not the microwave. You hear? Microwaves ruin it.”
“Yes, Ma. Got it.”
“Good. I’ll see you in a few days. Say hi to Ryan for me.”
I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Love you, Ma. Call me if you need anything.”
Ryan and I were meeting at his father’s bar, Hart’s Pub. When I pulled into the parking lot on my motorcycle, I realized how long I’d been away for. The place had been completely renovated. What used to be a small dingy pub was now a modern building two or three times its original size, with new wood siding and a porch out front littered with tables filled with customers sipping beers and margaritas in the shade.
I turned my bike off and swung my leg over the seat. I hung my helmet on the handle and tucked my gloves inside before heading up the steps and in through the saloon-style front doors.
I was greeted with the smell of grease and beer. That was the one thing that smelled the same.
The place was pretty busy for a Wednesday evening. Almost all the tables were full, and a young blonde hostess greeted me with a smile at the door. “Good evening, table for one?”
“Uh no, I’m meeting a buddy here. Ryan, the owner’s son.”
She smiled knowingly, then turned from her podium and pointed at the bar along the south wall. “He’s just there, sitting in the middle. Enjoy.”
“Thanks,” I said, and then I slipped by her and went to the bar, where I grabbed Ryan by the shoulders and squeezed.
He let out a laugh that reminded me of when we were kids, turned on his barstool, and slid to his feet. “Zach!” he said joyfully as he pulled me in for a one-armed hug and patted my chest. “You made it. It’s good to see you.”
I laughed and got onto the stool beside him. “You too, man. This place is hopping!”
Ryan grinned and looked around, pride twinkling in his eyes. “Yeah. Dad finally took my advice and gave her a facelift a few years ago. Now we can serve triple the clientele, and the exterior matches the good service.”
“You still helping out behind the bar from time to time?”
“Every now and then.” Ryan shrugged. “But not as often now. Work has really picked up over the last year, and my schedule is pretty tight.”
Ryan was a counselor at his own office here in Houston. He worked specifically with soldiers who were suffering from trauma. I’d referred more than a couple of friends to him over the last eight or so years.
“How’s your mom doing?” Ryan asked as he sipped his half-empty bottle of beer.
“She’s all right. Better than when I first got home, at least. It’s just a big adjustment for her.”
“And you?” Ryan asked, looking at me knowingly.
I hated when he did that—when he used his counselor mojo on me. He’d been like that since we were kids. He always had an uncanny knack for sensing when something was wrong, and he wasn’t the kind of guy to let it lie. If I had a problem, he would get it out of me and help me through it. It was just who he was.
“I’m all right,” I said.
He patted me on the back. “Then let’s get you a beer. Yo, barkeep!”
I chuckled as he waved his other hand in the air to get the bartender to come down to meet us. I reached for the menu pinched between the salt and pepper shakers between me and flipped it open. Then I heard a familiar female voice giving Ryan shit.
“I told you not to call me ‘barkeep,’ Ryan. And you can just walk around the bar and get your own drinks, you know? I’m not your—”
I looked up. Josephine Hart was staring back at me, her mouth hanging open as she stopped talking mid-sentence.
Ryan patted me on the back again. “Look who’s back in town, sis! You remember Zach, right? If I recall, you used to have a huge crush on him when you were just a little squirt.”
“Shut up, Ryan,” Jo snapped, shooting him a dark look before returning her stare to me. “What are you doing back here?”
A little perturbed by her attitude and apparent irritation by my presence at her bar, I simply said, “My dad died.”
She blinked, and her hard stare softened. “Oh. I’m sorry, Zach. Is your mom okay?”
I nodded. “She’s coping.”
Jo poured me a beer from the tap and slid it to me on a coaster. “On the house.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She gave me a weak smile that was rather lackluster compared to the brilliant grin I remembered from our wild night five years ago. I’d thought back on that night almost every day since. I hated to admit it and would never say it aloud, but I had feelings for the girl that I just couldn’t extinguish. It drove me mad.
I’d tried to negate them by believing she was off somewhere doing bigger and better things than me. Maybe she was starting a family. Or maybe she was still out on the open seas working for the Coast Guard. I had believed that Jo was destined for a brighter future than me, but here we were, in the same spot, wearing the same disappointed smile.
“I’ll be right back,” Jo said. “I have to top up some drinks for my customers. Whatever you want is on me, okay? Go crazy.”
Jo hurried away, and I couldn’t help but check her out. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a button-up black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her frame was different, but I couldn’t quite put a finger on it. She was a bit softer and still sexy as hell.
Ryan cleared his throat beside me. “All right. What the hell was that about?”
“Uh,” I stammered, suddenly nervous about saying the wrong thing about his baby sister. “Jo and I ran into each other on base a while back.”
“Oh?”
I nodded.
Ryan narrowed his eyes.
“Relax, man. It’s all good. We just had a fun night together, and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Did you sleep with my sister, Zach?”
I couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. Ryan had a way of arranging his features into a completely neutral expression. He was a calm guy, the kind of guy who managed to keep his temper in any and all situations. Surely, this one would be no different. I decided that the truth was the best course of action. He was my best friend, after all. But I was too much of a coward to speak the words aloud, so I simply nodded and then drained the rest of my beer.
Ryan shook his head and chuckled. “I should have known the two of you would have ended up hooking up at one point.”
“You’re not pissed?”
“Why would I be pissed?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. My mind went to Grady, and I knew how he would feel about this kind of situation. “Bro code?”
Ryan laughed loudly and clapped his hand on the count
er. “Dude, what am I? Fifteen? Fuck bro code. My sister is a grown woman, and she can do what she wants. I mean, I wouldn’t do you, but hey. Everyone has their type, right?”
Relief washed through me, and I deflated like a balloon. Ryan laughed at my very obvious release of tension and yelled for Jo to bring us more beers. She held up her hand and gave him the middle finger from the other end of the bar, which earned her roars of laughter from the other patrons sitting in the stools on either side of us.
It was clear that she’d been here for some time already.
8
Josephine
Big Al, one of my dad’s best friends, thanked me for pouring him another beer. I asked him if he needed anything else, and he said he was fine, which meant I had no excuses left to avoid going back to where Zach and Ryan were sitting at my bar.
Why had Ryan not told me about Zach’s dad? There were so many thoughts racing through my head that I felt dizzy. If Ryan said anything about my son, Sam, shit would hit the figurative fan. It wouldn’t take long for Zach to find out how old Sam was, and from there, he would do the very simple math which would point to one very, very simple answer: Zach was the father.
Just act normal. Ryan won’t say anything. Just. Act. Normal.
I returned to the middle of the bar and wiped my workspace down with a damp rag while avoiding looking up at Zach, who I knew was watching me. I couldn’t meet those beautiful hazel eyes of his without being overrun with panic and nerves.
I was not the same girl he remembered from all those years ago. Too much had changed in five years for me to be. I was a mother now. I wasn’t a wild girl with a thirst for adventure and a toned body from hard work. I was a little squishy, a little tender, and a whole lot of intimidated by how hot Zach still looked.
Somehow, he seemed more attractive than he did that night in the hotel room.
“So how long have you been working here?” Zach asked, forcing me to stop wiping down the same spot behind the bar.
I put the cloth down and willed myself to meet his gaze. It took me a second to find my voice, and I could feel my brother analyzing everything I did. “About four years, give or take.”
Zach’s eyebrows lifted, and his eyes widened a little bit in surprise. “That long, hey?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I needed a change of pace. Dad told me there would always be a position here for me if I wanted it, and now, I’m priming to take over ownership of the place. I like it well enough. Good people, fast paced, close to home.”
“Fair,” Zach said, although his lips were turned down in a slight frown that suggested he didn’t believe me when I said I liked it here. “No wonder I never ran into you again.”
“Yeah.”
Ryan looked back and forth between us and opened his mouth to speak, but he slapped it closed again when my best friend and one of the waitresses in the pub slid in behind the bar and nudged me with her hip.
“Hey there,” Rosie said cheerfully. “One of my tables needs four Tom Collins. Can you whip those up for me?”
“Sure thing,” I said, happy for something to do that wasn’t talking to Zach.
Rosie crossed her arms under her chest and turned to my brother. “Hi, Ryan,” she said, her voice changing in pitch to a sweeter note. “How have you been?”
“Good, Rosie. How about you?” Ryan leaned forward to rest on his elbow but missed the bar. He recovered by raking his fingers through his hair and grinned sheepishly at Rosie, who was very obviously suppressing a giggle.
Ryan and my best friend had been at this whole flirting thing for months now. It was becoming more than a little tiresome.
Rosie Westmore was the first person in Houston to reach out and make me feel welcome after I moved back. By the time I started working, my pregnancy was impossible to hide, and Rosie took to me like a firefly to darkness. She was the kind of girl who was easy to open up to, too, so she knew all my secrets about Zach. She was charming in nature and in appearance.
She was short, just over five feet, with black curly hair cut in a bob level with her chin. I’d never seen her in jeans as she opted for floral printed dresses or skirts on a daily basis and wore leggings in the colder months with baggy sweaters and bulky scarves. Her skin was bronzed from spending time in the sun, and she glowed even in the dim light of Hart’s Pub.
Rosie batted her long dark lashes at my brother and smiled. “I’m wonderful. The sun is shining. I’m with my friends. What more could a girl ask for?”
Rosie was also an eternal optimist. She saw the bright side of everything.
Ryan smiled and nodded toward Zach. “This is my old friend, Zach, from high school. He’s just moved back to town. Zach, this is Rosie.”
Zach tipped his head politely in her direction. “Nice to meet you.”
Rosie’s big brown eyes swept over to Zach, who was scratching absently at the stubble forming on his strong jaw. “Zach, aren’t you—”
“Rosie,” I cut her off, worried she might say something that would embarrass me or reveal my secret about my son. I quickly splashed a couple of drops of grenadine on ice and topped it up with Coca-Cola. “Here.” I handed her the drink. “You can keep it under the bar for your shift.”
“You’re always taking care of me.” Rosie beamed, sealing her bright pink lips over her straw to suck the concoction back. It was her drink of choice, and I often poured her one to keep behind the bar. It gave her an excuse to linger a little longer, and we could chat. Tonight, it helped keep her mouth shut.
I finished making the Tom Collins and loaded the four drinks onto a tray, which Rosie carried with ease to the ordering table, leaving the three of us alone once more.
I leaned on my elbows, and Zach smiled devilishly at me. Holy Hell. I’d forgotten what a masterpiece he was. I cleared my head and smiled back. “So how long are you staying?”
“Permanently, actually,” he said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t feel right to just leave my mom on her own now, you know? She married my dad when she was nineteen. They were married for fifty-two years. She needs me to be here.” He picked at the corner of the foam coaster beneath his beer glass and then added quickly, “And I want to be here for her.”
My heart skipped. Zachary Flynn was going to be staying in Houston for good?
Don’t be a fool, I thought, suddenly angry with myself for feeling hopeful. My chance to be with Zach was long gone—if it could ever have even been considered a “chance.” First off, I was with someone else. Someone who had been in Sam’s life for a few years already, and my son saw him as a father figure. Secondly, I’d lied to Zach. Well, not exactly lied, but I’d withheld the truth for five years that he had a son. I couldn’t be forgiven for that. I’d sabotaged any chance of there being something between us a long, long time ago.
But it would be nice to have him around again, if only just to dream about.
Zach slid off his stool as the music livened up and other couples started taking to the raised platform at the back of the room. I’d convinced my father to put a dance floor in, and when he did the renovations, he took my advice to heart. It was up a flight of three wooden stairs and contained behind a railing to keep drunk fools from falling off and breaking their necks. A single disco ball spun above, casting lazy flickers of colorful light down on the hardwood.
Zach nodded toward the dance floor. “For old time’s sake?”
“Oh.” I shook my head. “No, I’m working.”
Ryan got off his stool and hurried around the bar. “Go on, sis. I’ll cover for you for a few songs. No harm in a dance or two, right?”
“Um.” I looked from him to Zach, who was now holding his hand out expectantly. I bit my bottom lip and looked to the dance floor, where three other couples were twirling around in colorful dresses. Was there any harm in just one dance? Probably not. “Okay.” I moved around the bar to take Zach’s hand.
He pulled me through the throng of tables and hurried up the steps to t
he dance floor. By the time we reached the top and he turned back to me, he was wearing a smile as big as the one he had worn the night we had sex. His eyes were bright, and his laugh was light as he spun me into him and rested his hand lightly on my hip.
“It’s good to see you, Jo. Really.”
I smiled with my lips pursed. “You too. Sorry if I was a bit rude at first. You just caught me by surprise is all. I am happy to see you.”
“No harm done,” he said. “I can handle it. Besides, it was harder on my ego when I woke up in that shitty hotel and you were gone.”
I looked at our feet as he pulled me closer to him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We were just being stupid kids. It was fun while it lasted, right?”
“Right.” I nodded. Fun while it lasted. Then I had our child, and my whole life changed.
Suddenly, his fingers were under my chin, and he was lifting my face to force me to look at him. “You’re doing good, right, Jo? You’re happy?”
Why did he have to look at me like that? Why did he have to ask me a question I knew I couldn’t give him a straight answer to? I slapped on the same smile I’d been convincing everyone with over the past five years and nodded. “I’m happy.”
“Good,” Zach said before twirling me away from him. He shimmied back to me, and I couldn’t help myself as laughter bubbled out of me. It felt so good to laugh with him.
He took my hand and my waist and guided me through the rest of the dance, dipping and spinning me just like he had on that one night.
I could let myself go for one more song. One more song, three more minutes, and then I would go back behind the bar and carry on with my life. I’d pour beers, wipe the bar, stock the shelves, and smile when men hit on me. I’d work and earn my tips so that I could go home to my son and kiss him goodnight.
And I’d go home to Brett, my boyfriend.
I tried to convince myself that I was looking forward to seeing him when I got home. But all I was filled with was a hollow feeling that I hadn’t felt in years—since I left Zach behind in that hotel room.
Air Force Hero Page 5
