by Dez Burke
I can’t believe it.
After years of doing fluff pieces, I’m finally getting an opportunity to do a news segment reporting on something worthwhile.
“Yes, this is your best work by far,” he reassures me. “If you keep this up, I can see big things in store for you here at the station.”
“I’m in my car now, so I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I tell him. “Thank you for approving the piece. It’s an important issue and something I feel very strongly about.”
“And it shows,” he says. “Sometimes all a news story needs is heart, and this one has it. I always knew you had a great reporter somewhere inside you.”
A few minutes later and I’m at the news station to do the promos. After checking my hair and makeup, I head to the taping room.
“How are you feeling today, Bill?” I ask my cameraman, who is setting up the video shots for me.
This is his first week back to work after the shooting. His recovery has been long and slow. We’ve talked almost every day because he didn’t want to be left out of the work loop and I missed having him around.
“A little weak still,” he says. “I’m making progress. My wife is tired of me hanging around the house, so she said I had to come into the station, if only for a few hours a day.”
I smile fondly at him. “I don’t believe that for a second. She adores you. I’ve missed you and I’m glad you’re back. Take it easy though and don’t push yourself too hard. The work will always be here.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” he says. “It’s certainly not worth dying for, I’ve discovered.” He positions the video camera for the perfect angle. “Are you ready?” He stands back from the camera and closes his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask in concern.
“I’m having a déjà vu moment,” he says. “The last time we did this, it didn’t end well.”
“Take your time,” I say. “When you’re ready.”
He counts down from three and points to me when he reaches one.
I gaze directly into the camera and begin doing the voice over for the promo spot. The station will add footage of men fighting in the Middle East behind me before it airs.
“The military taught them how to shoot,” I say. “Afghanistan taught them how to kill. Nobody taught them how to come home again. Tune in at six tonight for our latest segment on PTSD and the ways our military and their families are learning to cope with this all-too-common issue.”
Bill nods at me when I finish.
“Is this segment about the biker guy?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve spent the last week interviewing anyone and everyone that was willing to talk to me at the VA Hospital. Most of them wouldn’t speak to me at all. Luckily, there were a few who were eager to share their stories. To hear them talk is heartbreaking and at the same time inspiring.”
Bill nods. “I can tell you feel very strongly about the subject. I have an uncle who came back from Vietnam. It was hard on him for a long time.”
“These men and women are strong and have been through so much,” I say. “They wanted to let others know that it’s okay to talk about PTSD. That it’s not something to be ashamed of or to hide. I’m hoping the news segments will help someone who might be going through the same thing. Even if it’s just one man or woman.”
“I hope so too,” Bill says. “What happened to the big interview you were doing on the bikers? Weren’t you hanging around them for a while? I was expecting you to deliver a juicy, investigative exposé or something. I know you can be relentless when you’re prying for information. I find it hard to believe they’re the white knights the media has made them out to be.”
No, the Steel Infidels are definitely not white knights.
Not in a legal sense anyway.
“The interview with them fell through,” I reply with a casual shrug, as if I’ve already forgotten about it.
It didn’t take me long to figure out the Steel Infidels were involved in a variety of illegal activities. Toby never told me exactly what they did in their spare time, and frankly I didn’t want to know.
The longer I was with the Steel Infidels, the more I realized doing an exclusive feature interview on the MC would open them up to all kinds of other sticky questions.
Before I returned to Atlanta, I pulled Flint aside and expressed my concerns. Without either one of us mentioning any specifics, we agreed that going forward with the interview wasn’t in the best interest of the Steel Infidels.
Or for Toby.
The man who I would protect with everything I have in me.
We killed the interview on the spot. Luckily, I hadn’t built it up too much to my station manager, so it wasn’t a big deal when I told him the exclusive interview fell through.
After the car bombing at the clubhouse, the press wasn’t eager to hang around there anymore, so eventually the attention on the Steel Infidels died a natural death.
Their ten seconds of fame slowly faded away as it always does.
Which was the best thing that could’ve happened to everyone involved.
I wonder if Toby will watch my news segment and what he’ll think about it if he does. I hope I’ve handled the topic respectfully and that he’ll be a tiny bit proud of me.
I might never know.
47
Toby
“Come on, Sadie,” I say. “Let’s go fishing.”
I lean over the bed of the truck to pull out my fishing pole and the metal tackle box with all my gear. When Sadie sees the fishing pole, she takes off running ahead of me. She knows where we’re going.
This is the first time I’ve been back to my favorite fishing spot since bringing Maggie here. I was full of hope that day and almost ready to believe there was a chance at a normal life for me. The feeling didn’t last long before cold reality set in. I haven’t had the heart to return.
What was once my favorite place in the world is now nothing but a reminder of what could have been.
Maggie never leaves my thoughts for long. When I’m around the other Steel Infidels, I’m the same happy-go-lucky, tough guy, while inside my guts are twisted up in a tangled mess.
No one knows the pain I felt the night I walked away from Maggie. It was for her own protection. Not for me. If I’d only been thinking about myself and being selfish, I would’ve kept her close for as long as she would have me.
Sometimes at night when I’m all alone, sitting out on the deck and gazing up at the stars, I let my mind wander. It’s a forbidden treat and I’ve found myself doing it more frequently. It’s the one thing that can’t be taken away from me. As long as Maggie is in my memories, I’ll always have her.
I think about what it could’ve been like to have Maggie in my arms forever. To wake up in the morning to find a beautiful, sleepy-eyed woman with tousled hair in my bed or to make her coffee and have her smile up at me when I hand her a cup.
If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine the touch of her fingertips tracing the tattoo on my back. Or the sweet smell of her hair when she steps out of the shower.
All the normal little things other couples take for granted.
Love is a bitch.
The chance of falling in love with another person and to have them feel the same is one in a million. Then to have it happen and still not be able to be together forever is a cruel fucking joke.
When I reach the end of the dock, I bait my hook and throw my fishing line into the water. Sadie sits down beside me to watch. Usually she runs around crazily, always full of energy, begging me to throw a tennis ball into the water for her to fetch. Today, it’s almost as if she knows I need her by my side as quiet company. She’s subdued, picking up on my mood.
I pat her head and she leans against my legs for an ear scratch.
“It’s just you and me, girl. At least for now. But don’t you worry because your Daddy has a plan. Things won’t be this way forever. I promise you that.”
48
Maggie
I’m nervous.
The closer I drive to the lake, the more I’m questioning if this is a bad idea. Rejection has never been something I’ve handled well, and to hear it twice from the same man will be devastating.
The only thing that gives me hope is that deep down in my heart, I know Toby cares for me. When we were together, I could feel it in his every touch and the way his eyes lit up when I walked into the room. As he told me once, he’s a show-not-tell kind of guy and while he never came right out and said me he loved me, I’m sure I felt his love. Because he showed me in his own special way.
No more so than the night he told me goodbye.
I understood at the time that he did it for me.
And why.
He was afraid of hurting me again, emotionally or physically. His emotions were too raw and close to the surface. The shooting brought up everything he had tried so hard to keep clamped down under a lid. He was a pressure cooker, slowly and surely building up steam that had to be released before it blew up and destroyed him.
Toby needed space and time to work through his issues, both of which I was willing to give him. As much as he needed.
Up until a certain point.
I can’t put my life on hold forever waiting for him to reach out to me. He won’t do it until he thinks he’s good enough, and that might not ever happen. It kills me to know that he feels this way.
Toby is more of a man than I could ever hope to be with. My greatest wish for him would be if he could see himself through my loving eyes. Just one time.
I know things might not be easy. There will be problems and issues that we’ll need to overcome. Lots of them. Nothing that we can’t handle together if we both want to try.
All I need to do is convince him that we’re worth fighting for.
Up ahead at the end of the dirt road, I see Toby’s truck parked under a tree near the lake. I’m relieved. I’d gone by the clubhouse first in hopes of catching Toby there. When Flint saw how disappointed I was to miss him, he took pity on me and suggested I try here instead.
I had my doubts at the time if Flint was really trying to help or to get rid of me. I never knew where I stood with the Steel Infidels. They were always polite, but guarded, never really bringing me completely into their group.
They had good reason to be leery of me. I’m a member of the press and a city girl. Trust from the MC is something that must be earned over time, not freely given. I understood and respected their attitude.
When we were in the Smoky Mountains, I was envious of the closeness within the MC. In my life, I’ve never truly felt as if I was a part of something. Even in my own family, I was an outsider, an oddball weirdo that the others simply didn’t get.
The few days I spent with the Steel Infidels and their families, I felt a real sense of belonging. I realized I wanted that in my life. An extended family to care about, and who will care about me and the ones I love.
I want Toby and everything that goes along with him.
I hope he wants me too.
Now that I’m here, I’m scared. I pull my car up behind his truck and cut the ignition.
Oh well. Too late to back out now.
I grab the picnic basket from the back seat. Inside are a few of Toby’s favorites: tomato sandwiches made with fresh garden tomatoes, homemade red velvet cake with cream cheese icing, and ice-cold Stella Artois beer. Not a fancy menu by any stretch of the imagination. Hopefully he’ll be pleased with my choices.
I take a deep breath for courage and start walking along the edge of the lake. The water is still and calm, similar to the first time he brought me here. It’s a beautiful spring day, warmer than before. The leaves are budding out on the trees now and the lake is more alive with the sounds of songbirds singing to attract a mate.
When I walk around the curve of the lake, I spot him immediately. He’s standing at the end of the dock, deeply tanned and shirtless, wearing nothing but ripped, faded jeans with a wide leather belt and old boots. On his head is a baseball cap turned backwards.
Typical Toby.
One hundred percent all-American male.
Everything I love about him wrapped up in one big package.
I stop walking and stand there quietly for a minute to watch him fish. He casts the line out and slowly reels it in. I could stand here all day watching him and never get tired of the sight.
Quietly, I pull out my cell phone and snap a few quick photos of him. If things go bad today, I want to have this memory of him preserved forever.
Sadie spots me and her ears perk up, yet she doesn’t give me away by barking or coming my way. I step up onto the dock and start walking toward them. Toby still doesn’t hear me. He’s completely focused on the fishing line. The moment he turns around and sees me, I’ll know everything I need to know. His face will give him away.
I’m almost halfway there when Toby feels the vibration of my footsteps on the wooden planks and whirls around. I put the picnic basket down and wait for his reaction.
“Maggie,” he says in surprise, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Then he smiles and his whole face lights up like Christmas morning.
And I know.
He drops his favorite fishing pole and rushes to me. When he reaches my side, he picks me up in his arms, holding me tight against his chest and swinging me around.
“Be careful,” I say, laughing and grabbing him tight around the neck. “We’re going to fall into the lake.”
“I won’t let you fall,” he says. “You came back for me.”
He says it as a statement. His eyes tell me he means it as a question too.
“Yes, I came back for you. Didn’t you realize I was never really gone?”
He buries his face in my hair and inhales deeply. “I’ve missed you,” he says. “Every moment of every day. I never stopped thinking about you. I recorded your TV special and watched it many times just so I could hear your voice.”
I pull back and look up into his gorgeous eyes that I’ve missed so much.
“Why didn’t you call? I waited and waited, hoping you would.” The hurt is evident in my voice, though I try to keep it out.
“I started to a million times. I didn’t know what to say or how to ask for one more chance. It didn’t seem right after you had already put up with so much from me.”
“You were going to let me go forever?” I ask, disappointed. “To drift away, never to be heard from again?”
“No way,” he says, tugging me close against his chest. “Letting you go forever was never my plan. I was coming for you, darling, with everything I had in me. And when I did, I wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. You just beat me to it.”
“When?” I ask with an incredulous look. “When we were eighty and grey-haired?”
He places his hands on both sides of my face. “When I became the man you thought I was,” he says softly. “And not a day before. No matter how long it took. I needed to work through things before we could be together. I want you to be proud of me, not ashamed. The night of the dinner, it slaughtered me to see the embarrassment in your eyes when I fucked up.”
“I was never ashamed of you,” I say. “In my eyes, you’ve always been my hero. My feelings about that never wavered.”
“You have no idea how much I want to believe that.” He tilts my chin up so his captivating eyes can stare intently into mine. “The fact that you believed in me gave me hope. It made me think that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance I’m worth saving. I needed a reason to feel worthy again. Before you came along, I was drowning in darkness and didn’t realize it until I was going under.”
“I thought you had given up on us,” I say shakily, holding back tears. “You told me so the night of the dinner.”
“I had to tell you that so you would stay away,” he explains. “For your own good. This whole time I’ve been fighting so fucking hard to get better, to be better, so that I could find my long way back to you.”
; “Why didn’t you let me help?” I reach up to rub the tiny spot of beard under his lips with my thumb. “I should’ve been here with you. Surely there was something I could’ve done?”
“This is one journey I had to go on alone,” he says. “The good news is, I’m slowly but surely getting better. I realized it was time for me to wake the hell up and start living again. The choice was in my hands and mine alone. Nobody else was going to do it for me. I’ve been talking to a counselor again.”
I draw back to look up at him in surprise. “You have?” I couldn’t be more shocked or pleased.
“I found one who actually knows what it’s like to have been there in the Middle East. He’s helping me work it out of my system. He’s convinced me that I can’t keep it bottled up anymore, so I’ve been talking, and then talking some more. About things that I thought I would never be able to speak of. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. And I found a support group of screwed-up men like me. We meet once a week to hang out.”
“I can’t imagine how painful this must’ve been for you.” I lay my head against his chest and close my eyes. It breaks my heart to hear the anguish in his voice and to know what he’s been going through alone. I love him and should’ve been here. Why didn’t I come back sooner? I knew he needed me, and I kept waiting for him to make the first move.
“It’s been hard, no doubt, but some good has come of it too,” he says, a smile creeping into his voice. “Would you believe I’m actually able to help some of the other men? I never would’ve thought a fucked-up guy like me could help anyone.”
“Why would you think that? I can see how you would be a tremendous inspiration to other people. You’ve been through terrible things and yet here you are, stronger than ever. How are you helping them?”
“A few of the younger guys are in the same bad place where I was before. I’ve become a mentor to them, so they’ll know they’re not alone. When they’re feeling desperate, I tell them to call me. Sometimes we go out to a shooting range and work out the anger or just talk about sports. Along the way, I discovered that I enjoy helping people. It’s an amazing feeling. To know that I can make a difference in someone’s life. Sometimes it doesn’t take much. Just a kind word or sharing my own personal experiences.”
