Not A Hero: A Bad Boy Marine Romance

by Sarah Robinson

  Guilt washed through him at his father’s words. “We’re not going to work out, Dad.”

  Walter grunted and shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

  “She deserves a lot more than I am, Dad,” Miles admitted, his fingers tracing a cut on his cheek.

  “Obviously. Your mother deserved a lot more than me, too. Women deserve everything, but they pick who they want, and it’s up to us to be the best we can be for them,” Walter said as though it was so obvious, so easy to understand—too bad Miles definitely didn’t. “It’s also part of the reason why I made you an appointment.”

  Miles frowned. “An appointment for what?”

  “For a therapist, down at the Veteran’s Center in Pittsburgh,” Walter said. “Not far from your work actually, so you can go on your lunch break.”

  Miles mouth fell open. “You what?”

  His father wasn’t fazed one bit. He leaned forward and rested his arms on top of his cane. “You’re different since you came home, Kydd. We both know that. I’m not going to pry or force you to talk to me about what happened over there—I get it more than most. I’ve been there; I’ve been to war, but I’m also not going to leave this planet knowing I didn’t help you when I could. So this is me helping my son. I hope one day you’ll do this for you, but at least for now, do this for me. Please.”

  Miles searched his father’s eyes, noting an emotional undertone to his words. He didn’t want to go to therapy—that wasn’t him. Real men didn’t lie on couches and cry about their lives. Of course, he hadn’t been acting much like a real man lately anyway. Plus, this was for his father, who never asked him for anything, and might never have the chance to ask him for something again. So, yeah, of course he’d do it—for Walter, for now. “All right, Dad. If you think it will help, I’ll go.”

  Walter’s face lit up, his smile brightening his entire face. “Good.”

  “Good,” Miles replied, because maybe it would be just that.

  His father had finally gone inside after several more lectures. Miles took his licks—he deserved them. He’d acted irresponsibly and cruel, and he’d hurt literally everyone he cared about in one night. He fought with Tobin, he’d insulted Zoe, and he had disappointed his father.

  It was quite the record, actually.

  But he’d made Walter a promise things were going to change—he was going to get help. With the news of his father’s prognosis, he meant that now more than ever. The last few months since he’d arrived home, he’d been living on autopilot, trying to get through life one day at a time. No more.

  Hurting the people in his life had been a wake-up call—a realization that while he’d thought he could deal with his problems himself, he couldn’t. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the guilt—sure, they were getting a little easier to handle with time, and Zoe’s presence had certainly had a huge calming effect on him, but those were band-aids on a deeper wound he needed to solve or he’d continue to hurt those around him.

  Tobin and his father deserved more than that, and so did Zoe.

  He’d managed a quick shower and breakfast without too many symptoms lingering from his previous night’s intoxication. After everything that happened, he was sobered up and serious as hell. A general queasiness still sat in his stomach, but he wasn’t sure if that was the hangover, or stress.

  He had somehow completely avoided running into Zoe as well. The door to her room had remained closed all morning. Walter’s weekend nurse was attending to him today, but Zoe had never holed up in her room before.

  She’d become more a part of the family than just his father’s nurse, and it warmed Miles’s heart to no end when he’d spy her and his father together laughing and talking and acting like the oldest friends in the world.

  Knowing she could brighten his father’s days like that…it meant everything.

  The news of his father’s prognosis sat heavy in Miles’s chest, a throbbing against his rib cage. He probably should have guessed from the way his father looked this might be a possibility, but his father was only sixty years old—way too young for Miles to think this might be it. Feeling powerless was not something he was used to, and yet he couldn’t do anything for the man who had raised him, and who he loved with incomparable fierceness.

  Miles sighed. He needed a walk to clear his head, or maybe to take the rowboat out on the lake for a bit. Then he’d have to go find Tobin and apologize, or maybe Tobin owed him an apology? He still wasn’t sure what they’d even been fighting about.

  He stepped out onto the back porch and made his way down to the water. The moment he cleared the trees and reached the lakeshore, he spotted Zoe out on the end of the dock. His steps faltered, and he strongly considered backtracking before she saw him.

  But taking a deep breath, Miles nixed that idea. He’d acted cowardly long enough.

  Walking the plank—maybe even literally—he headed down the dock toward her. She was packing dishes, glasses, candles, and small plastic containers away into a picnic basket. Standing, she lifted the blanket stretched across the dock and began folding it.

  “Was that for us?” Miles asked, stopping a few feet from her.

  Zoe jumped, quickly spinning around, clutching the blanket to her chest. Seeing him, her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. She turned back to what she was doing. “Yeah, I made a picnic dinner. All spoiled now, of course.”

  In more ways than one.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, a little quieter now.

  Zoe let out an exasperated huff. “For what? For wasting hours of planning and cooking by not showing up? For acting like a complete jerk last night and coming home drunk?” She stared at him, as if she really wanted to drive her point home. “Or are you sorry for letting me think for weeks this thing between us was real, when in fact you only wanted to get laid?”

  Miles swallowed, the gut punch of her words hitting him hard. “For everything I’ve ever done that’s hurt you, Zo. I’m sorry for all of it.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Her snarky response made it clear she didn’t believe him, which he knew he deserved. “Sorry you hurt me, but not sorry you did it. What a cop out.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he started, because that was the furthest thing from the truth possible. “I’m so sorry for going silent on you all week. I was thinking through things, thinking about us, and I didn’t know how to handle it properly—which is no excuse. I knew you wanted to have dinner last night, and I just freaked out. I couldn’t face you and tell you the truth.”

  “What truth?” she spat out, placing the folded blanket on top of the picnic basket. She turned to him, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “That I…” He swallowed again, trying to summon the courage to do what he should have done last week. “That I wanted to end things between us.”

  She blinked a few times quickly for a moment, before regaining her composure. “You wanted to end things with me last week?” Her voice was quieter now, less filled with the venom from earlier.

  He nodded, trying his hardest not to break. It took everything in him not to rush to her and wrap his arms around her, take away every bit of pain he was causing her and cover her lips with his. He wanted her so badly he could barely breathe.

  But it didn’t make a difference.

  For once, he wanted to not be selfish, and he wanted to do the right thing. After Zoe’s confession to him last week about her past, there was no way she’d be able to love him if she knew what he’d done in his past. And there’s no way he could ever tell her—seeing the same look of disgust in her eyes he saw in his own every day in the mirror…it would break him.

  “Well, that’s fine,” she said simply. “I said we were over last night. Consider us still over now.”

  “I am really sorry, Zoe.” It didn’t sound like enough, but it was the most truth he’d ever spoken. He was so unbelievably sorry that he wasn’t sure he ever wanted her to forgive him. “I never wanted to hurt you. I know I did, and there’s no excused for t
hat. I was cruel.”

  Picking up the basket and blanket, she carried it past him and started moving back up the dock. She paused briefly, glancing at him over her shoulder. “What we had? It comes once, Miles. This was our once.”

  He frowned. “Zoe—”

  “Goodbye, Miles.”

  23

  “You’re an idiot.” Tobin glared at him, arms crossed over his chest. He was sporting two big, black eyes, a split lip, and a cut through one eyebrow when Miles showed up at his apartment.

  Miles frowned. “That seems to be the popular opinion today.”

  “Well,” Tobin started, sighing and dropping his arms. “I guess I am too.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, man.” Miles reached a hand out to his best friend as a peace offering.

  Tobin glanced down at his hand for a minute, as if deciding whether or not to forgive him. Finally, he smiled, grimacing slightly at the split in his lip, and took Miles’s hand. “Fuck you, Kydd.”

  “Fuck you, too, Leach.” Miles pulled him in and they embraced for a second before parting. “What the hell were we even fighting about anyway?”

  Tobin walked over to his couch, dropping on to it with a big sigh. “You were that wasted you can’t even remember?”

  “A lot of last night is a blur, and the rest? I wish I could forget.” Miles took a seat in the chair facing the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Your face looks like shit, Leach.”

  “You should see the other guy.” Tobin chuckled before turning serious. “Nah, Kydd, we were fighting about Bianca. I told you she and I were getting back together, and you weren’t exactly a fan.”

  Miles grimaced as the memory slowly jogged back to him. “Oh, right.”

  “I had some time to sit about it when I was sitting in the drunk tank—again—thanks a lot, Deputy Thompson.” Tobin blew out an exasperated sigh. “Anyways, I think you were right, man.”

  “I was?” Miles frowned. “About what?”

  “I’m not doing okay,” Tobin admitted. “Jumping into this thing with Bianca is like every other relationship I’ve jumped into in the past—a distraction from myself, from working on the real stuff I’ve been bottling up. I did it after Rosie died too—threw myself into someone who I thought would help me get over it.”

  Miles was quiet, a little surprised even at the level of self-awareness he was hearing from his friend. They’d rarely had such intimate discussions like this, and he felt honored Tobin was sharing this with him now.

  “So, when I got let out this morning, I drove straight to the Veteran’s Center. They actually have a therapist on staff for anyone who wants to walk in, which I thought was kinda cool.” Tobin shrugged. “So, I talked to her about Rosie and Afghanistan and you and the kid and my mom and everything, man. Just poured my goddamn heart out like a blubbering baby, and you know what? It felt fan-fucking-tastic. In fact, I’m going to start going regularly.”

  “Shit, Leach,” Miles said, impressed and a little proud even. “Good for you.”

  “Yeah, I think it will be.”

  Miles smiled at his friend, wondering why he was proud of him for getting help but felt ashamed to do it for himself. Hearing what a positive experience it had been for Tobin, did make him feel a little more at ease about his own upcoming appointment.

  “Hey, Kydd?” Tobin started.

  “Yeah?”

  “I never said thank you.” Tobin fidgeted with the fabric on the edge of the couch, but glanced back at him. “You saved my life, Miles. More than once, and with what you did for Rosie and all, but Afghanistan…I know it really fucked you up, but you saved my life, man. So…thank you.”

  Miles stared at his hands, his voice momentarily missing. Something in the deep recesses of his mind cleared, his heart feeling the tiniest bit lighter, as he realized for the first time, he had saved his best friend.

  He’d saved the life of another Marine, as he had been trained to do.

  He’d done his job, and it was a fucking hard job with a really shitty consequence, but he’d done it.

  Finally, he swallowed and looked at Tobin. “I’d do it again, man. You’re my brother.”

  “I know you would, Kydd. That’s why you were one of the best. Ooh rah.”

  “Ooh rah,” Miles repeated the United States Marines battle cry. “Ooh fucking rah.”

  The late summer weather was still fairly warm, so Zoe pulled open her window, allowing the breeze from the lake to waft through. She took a moment to breathe it in, then she flipped off her bedroom lights and crawled into bed.

  It’d been a late night tonight—Walter was getting sicker and sicker. Finally, he’d fallen asleep, and she’d eagerly gone to grab a couple of hours herself. She’d left her door cracked open in case he called her and made sure he had everything he needed before she’d gone.

  Now, staring at her bedroom ceiling, the hush of the night fell over her, and her body slowly relaxed, though her heart refused.

  Zoe had barely noticed being single the last two years since her divorce. It actually hadn’t bothered her one bit, and she hadn’t felt a huge desire to make an effort to date. Instead, she’d been focused on re-centering herself, finding a job, and moving on. Then Miles had entered the picture.

  Now being single again felt like the emptiest thing in the world.

  Maybe it was because for the first time, she’d actually felt fulfilled and knew what she was missing out on now. Or maybe it was because it’d barely even started before it ended. It might even be because he’d done things to her body she knew she’d never feel again with anyone else.

  Whatever the reason, Miles was Public Enemy Number One.

  And her patient’s son. And they lived in the same house, sharing the same wall. And her bed was empty and she was lonely and she missed him and she hated herself for missing him.

  It was great times for all, really.

  She’d briefly considered getting a new job, but she couldn’t do that to Walter. She also didn’t want to do it to Walter, or herself—she adored that man. He was like a father to her, even though her own father lived only a few minutes away.

  She visited her parents briefly a few times a month, but nothing very serious. It was awkward with them ever since she’d left Rusty. They hadn’t agreed with her decision to get divorced—hell, they were the ones who pushed her to get married when they found out she was pregnant. In their minds, she’d stolen the title of grandparents from them.

  She’d allowed the thought to poison her for a while back then, but with help, she’d come to realize the death of her baby was solely Rusty’s fault. The legal system agreed too, because he’d pleaded guilty to aggravated assault and had been given fifteen years behind bars for what he’d done to her and their child.

  Walter knew her history—everyone in town knew, actually—but he’d never judged her for it. He’d only ever been supportive and kind, and never pried. He spoke to her like a friend, or like a daughter, not his employee.

  With all of that behind her, she just wanted to move on.

  She didn’t want to be angry anymore.

  Zoe frowned as she closed her eyes and considered that fact. The last two weeks she’d spent so angry at Miles, she’d refused to speak to him unless it had something to do with her job. She’d basically pretended he didn’t exist—cold-shoulder snubbing him as some kind of punishment for him, and protection for herself.

  But it hadn’t made her feel better one bit. If anything, she felt worse.

  Her heart hurt all the time, and she’d spent many a night in the last two weeks with her best friends, crying over being dumped by her high school crush and month-long fling.

  The stairs at the end of the hall creaked, and Zoe guessed it was Miles heading to bed. The heavy footsteps moved down the hall, and she found herself hoping, even wishing, they’d pause in front of her door.

  Maybe he’d consider coming in and talking to her, and maybe she’d let him into her bed tonight. Or
maybe he’d pause on the other side of the wooden barrier and wish he was with her, and maybe she’d know he missed her, he wanted her, and that breaking up with her had been a huge mistake.

  The footsteps didn’t stop. They didn’t pause. They didn’t even hesitate. They continued down the hall to the next bedroom—Miles’s bedroom—and his door opened and closed without question. She heard faint movements from the other side of her bedroom wall, before silence returned to the house.

  He hadn’t even paused.

  And she hated how she’d wished he would.

  And it was all too much. Holding on to all of this anger, rejection, sadness, loneliness, hurt, longing…it was too much.

  She’d put her whole heart on the line for Miles, and he didn’t want it. But even then, she’d still wanted him.

  It would be okay—it had to be.

  She was only human, and it was all going to be okay…hopefully.

  Zoe took a deep breath as she curled tighter into the blankets. It was all going to be fine—eventually. She’d had a bump in the road and given her heart to the wrong man. She’d heal, and until then, she was going to let go of the anger and the pain. She wasn’t going to hate him or avoid him. And she wasn’t going to wish he’d come back to her.

  She was letting go of it all. She was letting go of him.

  At least, she was going to try.

  24

  “Zoe, can you make me those brownies you bake so well?” Walter asked after she’d helped him sit up and lean his back against the headboard of his bed. “I’ve got a real hankering for something sweet and delicious today.”

  Zoe smiled, happy to see him looking so chipper for the first time in a while. She readjusted his oxygen tubing and handed him a small container of medications. “For breakfast?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Walter said with a mischievous grin. “That sounds perfect.”

  “I’ll go make it as soon as I finish getting you ready for the day.”