by Soraya Lane
Instead, he’d done the exact opposite.
His entire career had been about no emotion and absolute control. He thought he’d been doing it so long that it was a natural part of his life. But the tears falling down his cheeks proved he was wrong.
He kept his eyes squeezed shut for another few seconds, then opened them again, though he could barely keep them open. The pressure to try and fit in with the family he’d left, impress his kid, reconnect with his wife, had been making sleep almost impossible.
Luke forced himself to snap out of it. Exhaustion was traveling on foot for days on end with only one bottle of water and no food. Tired was when you had nowhere to sleep, no spot to lay your head. When you were constantly trying to stay one step in front of an enemy.
He sat up straighter and tapped in his log-in details. Eight new emails. Not bad, considering he hadn’t checked for a few days. Luke scanned the one from Fort Bragg and felt a weight lift from his shoulders as the words lit up on the screen in front of him. Wow.
It was everything he’d ever wanted, the opportunity to make a difference, to be the soldier he’d trained all his life to be. But there was more to think about than just what he wanted right now, wasn’t there?
He read the email again.
Mr. Brown, in recognition of your successful missions within your Special Forces Unit, we would like to discuss with you a new leadership opportunity. This would involve imminent redeployment, which we note that you have shown interest in volunteering for.
Luke skipped to the last line, read it slowly this time. Needed the words to sink in.
You have been offered this promotion due to your many deployments overseas, and the overall contribution you have made as part of your exemplary service to the United States Marine Corps. If you could phone to arrange a telephone conference or meeting at your earliest convenience, it would be much appreciated.
Could he do it? An image of Charlie playing with him in the park, smiling up at him, flashed through his mind. Charlie crawling into bed with him, warm body pressed to his, calling him Daddy.
But Charlie had to compete with Luke’s equally vivid recollections of war, of his time in the Special Ops. Of the men he would be leaving behind, of the friends, brothers, he might never see again if he didn’t take this opportunity.
He’d come home to be a dad, to reclaim the only family he had, but now the reality was tearing him apart. The division between right and wrong blurred beyond the point of recognition. He’d never intended to leave the army for good, but since he’d been home it was all he’d been able to think about.
He loved his wife. He’d thought she’d become like a fantasy in his mind, that the reality of her when he returned would be far different. But he’d been wrong.
But even if he didn’t have a chance with her anymore, and God knew he didn’t deserve one, he was still a father. And it meant he couldn’t just say yes, no matter how much he wanted to. If he went back to Delta, well, he might spend another couple of years away. Perhaps less, but it would still break that bond he was so slowly starting to develop with his son. Yet if he didn’t take this promotion, what would he do? What would it mean if he gave up everything he’d worked so hard for?
Luke looked around at his surroundings—the yellowed walls, stained carpet and plaid bedspread. What the hell was he even doing here?
He grabbed his beat-up, old leather jacket and slipped it on, then left the room. He hadn’t had a clear head for over three years, and now was the time to try to get one.
And if he stayed there any longer, he knew it might prove impossible to not pick up the phone and accept the position.
* * *
The streets seemed empty, but Luke wondered if he just wasn’t taking everything in. His feet walked on autopilot, propelling him forward, without his mind telling them where they were heading. It was odd, walking aimlessly. On duty, he’d never walked anywhere without a plan, never made a move, a decision, without thinking through the logistics first. He pressed his thumb to his temple, trying to erase the memories that were held so tightly in check. Sometimes it was easy to push them back, to focus on something else and force them away, but not today.
He kept seeing his buddy lying there, blood sputtering out of him as he took his last breaths. They’d been together for such a long time, but in the end, when they were so close to achieving the goal, succeeding in their mission, his friend had been killed and Luke had been the one to come home.
The thought sent cool ripples of anger firing up and down his body. It was so unfair. But if it hadn’t happened—if he hadn’t held his comrade in his arms as he took his last breath, listened to him cry that he would never see his child again—would Luke have been so quick to come home?
He wondered what Olivia would think if she ever saw his scars. Saw the jagged lines of wounds on his legs, or the scars crisscrossing his stomach. Could he tell her that he’d almost died? That fulfilling his duty as a soldier wasn’t enough for him, that he wanted to succeed in her eyes, and for Charlie, too?
“Lieutenant Colonel Brown!”
Luke’s head snapped up. He hadn’t been called that since the day he’d touched down on U.S. soil.
“Lieutenant Colonel!”
He saw him then. A young man on crutches, hobbling out of a café on the corner he’d just passed. The face was familiar, but the name just didn’t come to him.
Luke moved toward the man, conscious that he had both his legs working and the other man didn’t.
“Lieutenant Colonel Brown,” he said, dropping a crutch and holding out his hand. “Private Sam Roberts. I served under you my first tour in Iraq.”
The penny dropped. Of course, his first deployment after Charlie was born, before he’d come home and then left for the Delta tour. Luke took his hand and shook it.
“Roberts. Of course I remember you.” Luke smiled at the boy before him, pleased to see he’d made it home alive. “You back for good?”
“Yes, sir. My leg’s busted up pretty bad.”
Luke looked down, but then diverted his gaze. At least the boy had his legs. He’d seen far worse.
“And you, sir? You back now for a while?”
Luke swallowed what seemed like a rock. He’d thought so, but was “home for good” ever going to be something that could describe him?
“I’ve been offered a position at base, but I’m still deciding.”
“You would volunteer to go back there?”
Sam seemed unbelieving, and Luke didn’t blame him. He was referring to Iraq, of course. He’d done his time, come home injured, but Luke? Well, he had something to prove, always had. Standing down wasn’t something that was easy for him, even when the stakes were high.
“Let’s just say I don’t like leaving my boys over there without me.”
He didn’t tell him that Sam had been Delta Force these past two years. That if he’d run into him during that time he wouldn’t have recognized him, would have walked right past him.
“Sir, I’d love you to meet my family. My fiancée and baby girl, they’re just back there.”
He pointed and Luke looked in that direction. The last thing he wanted was to make small talk when he needed to clear his head, but the boy was pretty enthusiastic.
“What do you say we take a rain check on that?” suggested Luke, smiling as he said it so as not to disappoint him. “I’ve really got to be somewhere.”
He watched Sam’s face fall.
“Give me your phone number and I’ll come see you when I’ve got my boy with me. How old is your little girl?”
The young man’s face lit up again. “She’s two, almost two,” he said. “Sir, I didn’t know you had a family!”
Luke nodded. He’d always been reluctant to talk about his home life, so clammed up when conversation came to him
personally. Yet here was this boy, so proud of his only child that it made Luke feel like an idiot. Or even more of an idiot than he had before.
“Charlie’s four,” Luke told him. “Great kid.”
Sam beamed. “Yeah, makes coming home worth it, huh?”
Luke needed to go. Right now. It was as if just talking to this young man, barely twenty-one, had made him realize what a fool he’d been. That walking out on Olivia and leaving his boy wondering where he was had been stupid. Ludicrous. Luke couldn’t blame this on his lack of upbringing; his behavior had been inexcusable. And he couldn’t even think about taking the promotion without carefully thinking through the consequences, no matter how badly he wanted it.
“Hey, I gotta go. I’ll find you through the database.”
“But...”
He ignored him and started jogging, his feet thumping rhythmically on the pavement. Luke threw a hand in the air and waved, taking a quick look over his shoulder. “I’ll phone you,” he called out. “I promise.”
He settled into a comfortable pace and focused on getting back to Ollie’s place. Their place. It was at least a half hour run from where he was, but that was nothing. He was trained to jog for hours, on no food or water, in the desert. This was like a slow warm-up round.
His leg and side twinged a little, but he ignored it. It might have been enough of an injury to allow him to come home, but it wasn’t enough to stop him fighting for his family.
Charlie was his son, and Olivia was the woman he wanted, and nothing was going to stand in his way. Nothing.
Twenty-five minutes later Luke stuffed his hands into his pockets and slowed to a walk. He hadn’t found the run that bad, but didn’t want to turn up puffing and sweaty, so decided to walk the last few blocks.
Part of him felt like an idiot—like an overreacting moron—but another part felt justified. That he’d had every right to fly off the handle and walk out. Although that part of him was dwindling. Fast. The more he thought about it, the more conflicted he was. The bravado of earlier had left him, to be replaced with a dull thud of worry that perhaps he might not be good enough. That he’d left it too long to say he was sorry.
The house stood before him. It was just a plain, modest bungalow, but it looked loved. Charlie’s bike was out on the front lawn, dropped as if he’d been riding it, then found something better to do. A much-loved toy sat on the doorstep, from the looks of it a rabbit with long, floppy ears. It was like a snapshot of domesticity, and Luke felt a longing to be a part of it. A desire that had been dormant within him for so many years that he’d become afraid of claiming it.
He stood at the bottom of the steps and caught his breath. He was no longer panting from the run, but from the thought of what he had to say. How he would confront Olivia. He took one final lungful of air and moved to the door.
The house was quiet. No sounds emerged from within, though it seemed a little early for Charlie to be in bed, even if he was exhausted from the party. Luke tried the front door, but it was locked. He knocked, waited a few minutes, then knocked again. Perhaps they were out in back and couldn’t hear him? It seemed unlikely.
He moved around the side of the house, navigating the trash can and an assortment of Charlie’s outdoor toys, and peered in the window. Nobody there. He hoped they weren’t out with Ricardo. Had Luke been so unreasonable that he’d pushed her away and into the arms of another man already? He clenched his teeth, swallowing his anger, the only evidence of it left in his hands, clenched into fists at his sides.
Maybe he’d come back in the morning. He had his wallet and the clothes on his back, and he could always wait until tomorrow to beg Olivia’s forgiveness.
But his feet kept walking. Something niggled at him. A touch of worry played through his body, and he had a feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
The back door came into view and he walked toward it. Through the pane of glass he saw Olivia. She was there. As if knowing he was near she looked up, and his stomach turned in a flip. The whites of her eyes and pained expression on her face told him something was wrong. That something was very wrong.
“Luke!” She screamed his name as if she was fighting for her life.
And that’s when he saw Charlie.
She wasn’t fighting for her own life, but for their son’s.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FEAR GRIPPED HIS THROAT and threatened to strangle him. Luke seemed to move in slow motion, his shoes filled with lead, his legs working hard to keep up with his mind.
Charlie.
His limp, lifeless frame hung from Ollie’s arms like a figurine. His little head lolled back, blond hair sticking damply to his forehead.
Luke fought to get through the door, his hands fumbling for the knob. He had to get control of himself. This was his son. This was Charlie. Luke stopped for a beat, no more than a second, and pushed his mind into work mode.
His job was to deal with critical situations, to save men and get them back home. Safe. Alive. This was exactly the same. He needed to focus, take charge and save a life. It was nonnegotiable.
But if he’d accepted that job offer, not come home when he did...
“Ollie,” he called. The door was locked, and he only had one other option to get in.
Her eyes were wide, wild, unbelieving.
“Olivia!”
When she didn’t do anything he yanked off his sweatshirt, wound it around his fist and smashed the window glass. He was beside her before she even seemed to register how he’d gotten in, and he moved fast to take Charlie into his own arms.
“Olivia!” he commanded. “Focus. Talk me through what happened.”
He carried Charlie into the living room and placed him carefully on the sofa, his hands tracing a pattern over his son. Touching his face, chest, pulse, all the critical steps. He tried to ignore the pained expression on his boy’s face, or the unnatural glaze in his eyes. He was alive, and that meant Luke had time to do something.
“Charlie, Charlie, stay with me, buddy.”
Olivia fluttered beside him, her hands limp at her sides, as if she had no idea what to do.
“His inhaler did nothing. I called the ambulance but...”
Wait. Inhaler? “He has asthma?”
She nodded. “Yes, he...”
“Olivia, listen to me,” Luke ordered. This he could handle. Asthma was something he could work with. “Get me the spacer.”
She looked at him, her eyes empty, her skin pale.
“The nebulizer?” Please, God, let her have something for him to use.
“We don’t have either. This hasn’t happened before. It’s never been bad like this.” She started to cry. “I should have been more persistent with the doctor, but they said I didn’t need to have anything other than an inhaler at home.”
Luke let his mind work through the steps, thinking fast and logically. He could make one himself.
“Get me a paper cup and a knife.”
She looked at him but didn’t move.
“Now, Olivia. I need you focused.”
She jumped into action.
“How long till the ambulance gets here?” he called.
“It should be here by now,” she yelled back.
He knew they didn’t have long. That asthma attacks of this kind were serious and required immediate care. He cradled Charlie’s head and started rubbing his chest in wide, circular motions. His son seemed so small, so fragile, so weak. Luke didn’t know what time the attack had started, but guessed Olivia had called the ambulance straight away. Every second, every minute counted. He knew that firsthand.
“What’s happening? Can I help?” Olivia’s voice lacked its usual strength. He wished he could comfort her, but he had to stay focused on what he was doing. She passed him the paper cup and inhaler.
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“He’s suffering from acute hyperventilation, it’s a serious attack. He’s not getting even fifty percent of the oxygen he needs to breathe.”
Luke heard Olivia sobbing as she touched their son, but he kept his attention on Charlie. He took the paper cup and cut a hole in the bottom, then placed the inhaler through the hole.
“The more panicked he gets, the worse it will become, so I need you to stay calm, to talk to him.” Luke paused, moving slightly so she could kneel beside him. “How many times did you try his inhaler?”
“Uh, he took maybe four puffs, but he struggled, and I don’t know much he got. He usually only needs two when it’s bad.”
Luke nodded. “Charlie, I need you to listen to me. I’m going to make you feel better, buddy. You can trust me.”
Charlie was wheezing and heaving, his body crying out for air.
“I need you to feel my hands on your chest. They’re going to help you breathe. Think about how much fun we had at the park the other day and breathe slowly, in and out. In and out. Just keep thinking in and out as you try to breathe.”
Luke started to coach him, tried to get him thinking about his breathing, and listening. But Charlie couldn’t hear him, it was obvious. His little chest was struggling with the pain of each labored breath—short, choppy gasps that weren’t putting enough air into his lungs.
“I need you to take a big breath when I puff this, ready?”
Luke placed the paper cup over Charlie’s mouth and puffed the inhaler. He kept doing it, counting out four puffs and then giving him a rest.
“We need to do this every five minutes until the ambulance gets here.”
Olivia had calmed down. She was cooing to Charlie in her most soothing tone.
Luke knew Charlie’s pain. It was the worst kind of distress a human could experience, the feeling that you could no longer breathe. Knowing that there was nothing you could do but struggle to fill your lungs with the air they craved.
