Hers to Heal

by Vonnie Davis

  “Thought you’d be spending the night with Gina.”

  “No.” He made a beeline for the laundry room and back door.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  Reece took a gulp from the bottle. “My love wasn’t good enough.” He stormed outside.

  What the hell? ZQ watched from the window. Reece’s dark form headed for the stables.

  “Son of a bitch,” he bit off. Unease and worry fired up the acid pit in his stomach again. He opened the cabinet in the kitchen where his mom kept aspirins and stuff. He snatched a bottle of antacids from the shelf and upended the open bottle over his mouth. Once he’d chewed and swallowed some, he slipped his cell from his pocket and thumbed a button.

  “Hello.”

  “Gina, what the hell happened tonight? I’ve got a newly engaged man—heartbroken—who barely speaks, hiding out in the stables with his horse and a bottle of whiskey.”

  Feminine crying began and his balls drew up tight. Hell, he’d sooner have his parachute malfunction on a jump than deal with a bawling female. He opened the fridge and poured another glass of milk, trying to make sense of the garbled explanation between the sobs and nose blowing. The best he could figure was he was a no-good bastard for offering Reece a spot on the team. Her daddy had always put service to his country first and damned if she’d marry a man who’d do the same thing. When she ordered ZQ to take back his job offer, his hackles shot through the stratosphere.

  “Now look here, young lady, you know I respect the hell out of you. I love you like a sister. You get that, right? But dammit, Gina, you need to consider this man’s feelings. Steelhead’s been through hell and back. He’s a trained warrior…and a damned fierce one. I know. I’ve watched him fight. The man is fearless.”

  He gulped more milk. “I’ve also seen how smart he is behind the scenes. No one’s better at putting pieces of an evidence enigma together than Steelhead. Put him in front of a computer and he can go all Jurassic Park on another country’s computer system. He can sneak into a building, wire cameras, drill tiny holes if he has to, plant listening devices, drop GPS tracking devices into the pocket of a person or under a vehicle. He’s my eyes and ears everywhere.

  “After he lost his arm, he thought he was worth nothing. I just showed him he was valuable again until you slapped him with an ultimatum. Now you want him to choose between you and that little girl he adores or the job that makes him feel like a whole man again? You did one helluva pitchfork job on his psyche, my friend.”

  His thumb swiped the screen and he shoved the cellphone into his pocket. Damn women all to hell. He’d ended things with Wanda tonight. The woman had clung to him at the dance like a leech after swimming underwater in a filthy river in some third-world country. He’d never been one for public displays of affection. He drained his glass and set it in the dishwasher.

  Wanda had dropped the “M” bomb three times tonight. What had gotten into her? She knew damn well he wasn’t the marrying kind. He’d always made that profoundly clear.

  Hell, look at what happened to Reece after his grand public proposal to Gina. It had been damn cute with him and little Piper dancing together the way they did. His gaze drifted to the window in the back door. So what did he do now? Go to the stables and talk to Steelhead or give him space?

  He plucked his straw cowboy hat off the rack by the door and stepped outside. The two of them needed to get their heads together. Surely they could convince Gina this new job was a good thing. He changed directions. Just to be sure Reece didn’t drive off in a drunken rage, he’d better disable his truck.

  The closer ZQ got to the stables the clearer the faint strains of Reece singing “Give in to Me” became. ZQ’s back molars ground together. Reece’s words slurred. ZQ shook his head; if this wasn’t an emotional clusterfuck. He shoved the spark plug he’d removed from the kid’s truck into the front pocket of his jeans, opened the stable door, and strode down the middle until he reached Cochise’s stall. Reece had his arms wrapped around the stallion’s neck, pouring his heart out in a song.

  Cochise was either a good horse or stone deaf. He slowly nodded his head while Reece sang. ZQ scuffled his feet on the concrete floor and Cochise whinnied as if to say, “Now’s not the time.” The palomino even had the nerve to shift a few steps so he stood between ZQ and his owner. ZQ’s estimation of him rose a few degrees.

  “Go away. Not in the fucking mood.” Reece tipped the bottle he had a death grip on and chugged.

  “How come the horse got invited to the pity party for one and I didn’t?” ZQ opened the door to the straw-floored area and leaned against the side of the stall, bracing for the fist that was sure to connect before this conversation was over.

  “Fuck you.”

  “I called Gina.” ZQ held his breath. If that revelation didn’t get a reaction out of pity boy, nothing would.

  Steelhead’s face slowly spun in his direction, his prosthesis still wrapped around his palomino’s neck. He narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell would you do that? None of this is your business.”

  “Now see, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re in my employ. I need all the men on my team to have their emotional shit together. Otherwise that person is going to put us all at risk.”

  The bottom of the whiskey bottle came into view again. “You ever know me to put someone else at rucking fisk?” Reece’s eyebrows rose and he stumbled back against the horse.

  “No. But that was before you folded up your balls and tucked them in Gina’s fucking purse for safekeeping.”

  Steelhead’s roar echoed off the stable walls before his fist connected with ZQ’s eye. Damn, the asshat could hit. Fireworks exploded. His eye watered and stung. Reece punched him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. Okay, time to rein in this drunken puissance.

  ZQ’s foot swept Reece and took him down to the straw. His forearm braced across Reece’s neck, not enough to choke him, but with enough pressure to keep him in one place. “Are we going to talk about this or fight like high school kids? Is Gina making you choose between Black Eagle Ops and her? If she is, then you need to decide which one means the most to you.”

  Reece punched him in the jaw, which ZQ shook off. Hell, how hard could a drunk-ass hit?

  “Or you can get your balls back and tell her this is how things are going to be. Be the fucking man in this marriage or I can double-damn guarantee you she will ride roughshod over you the entire time the marriage lasts.” He released a bark of laughter. “Hell, brother, the only two words you’ll ever need to speak the rest of your life will be ‘yes, dear’ or ‘no, dear’ and most assuredly ‘sorry, dear,’ you candy-assed bastard.”

  Reece flipped him over and belted him in the mouth. “Don’t talk about her that way. Hell, you’re not good enough to mention her name!”

  “Sounds to me like you love her more than she loves you. Is that the kind of relationship you want? Is that all you think you deserve?”

  His SEAL brother stood and forked his fingers through his hair. “You don’t understand, ZQ. You’ve never loved a woman. Christ, I can’t walk away from her.” More sober now after their scuffle, Reece walked to the outside wall of the stable and leaned his forehead against it. “Her name is engraved on my heart, man. Don’t you get that?” He exhaled a soul-deep bark of laughter. “Shit, man, a few months ago, I wouldn’t have gotten it either.”

  ZQ stood, trying to take in the scope of his friend’s pain. Reece was right; he’d never loved a woman and probably never would. Maybe that’s why he had so little patience for this lovelorn shit. Still, he knew how much his father had loved his mom. He’d seen it, grown up amid the warmth and security of it.

  “Get some sleep, Reece. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. Together we’ll come up with a plan to bring Gina around to our way of thinking. I’ll help you as best I can.”

  Reece nodded, swiped his whiskey bottle from the floor, and silently walked out of the stables.

  —

  Reece roll
ed over and pried open one eye to look at his bedside clock—12:16. His eyelid flopped shut in protest to the sunlight streaming in the windows. His bladder, however, was begging for mercy. He stumbled to the bathroom and then decided to step under the shower as punishment for the hangover he’d brought on himself. While the water spray warmed, he brushed the elephant-shit taste from his mouth and drank two glasses of water to begin the hydration process to lessen the hangover. He washed down four aspirins before shucking his sleep pants and stepping under the hot pulsating stream of the shower.

  Kee-ryst, he felt like hell. Hot water woke him and his mind, which was a bad thing. He’d rather his mind and heart stayed asleep. In one evening, he’d won and lost the woman and child he loved.

  He rubbed soap over his body. A crack formed on the wall of the shower stall and black, hairy spiders damn near the size of his palm skittered out. This was a new PTSD vision he wasn’t prepared for. Like a chickenshit, he jumped out of the shower and slammed the door.

  His pulse hammered his eardrums.

  He gasped for each breath.

  His insides trembled.

  He shook all over.

  Holy hell!

  Shit, he hadn’t even taken the time to turn off the water. Or rinse. Think, dammit! He forced his breathing to slow down. Those spiders weren’t fucking real. They were part of his sick mind just like those freaking snakes that slithered out of the wall. Hell, he thought he was getting better. He hadn’t had visions for weeks. Now this. Face them! You can’t go through life being a spineless chickenshit bastard.

  He opened the door, took a deep breath, and forced himself to step into the shower, its floor covered with spiders. A SEAL does not back down. They’re imaginary, man. He poured shampoo on his hand and washed his hair. The anxieties of fear nearly erased his resolve to battle through the vision. As the spiders ran up and down his legs, he swallowed his screams of terror. Be a man! Be a man, dammit! He rinsed his hair and his body, turned off the water, and practically leapt from the stall.

  The more he toweled off, the fewer fantasy spiders there were crawling over him. Even so, his heart still machine-gunned in his chest. A deep sadness coiled around his soul. He’d never be normal. Not normal enough to have a family. He had to keep Gina and Piper safe from a crazy man who saw terrible visions. He thought he was making progress, but he was as fucked up as when he’d gotten here. Broken clear through his soul—and after last night, through his heart, too.

  He strode into the kitchen praying there was still coffee in the pot. Junebug was busy mixing something and humming. She wore sunglasses and so did he. When she glanced up, a chocolate smile spread. “Looks like ol’ Jack kept us both company last night.”

  “Yes,” was all he could force out. The shakes still had him.

  “Come here and give me a hug.” She outstretched her arms. “Thank you so much for the box of candy. You are so thoughtful. They’re my favorites, you know.” She pointed to her refrigerator. “And I loved the card and what you wrote in it.” She smacked a kiss to his cheek. “Coffee?”

  He nodded.

  “Sit. I made a big pan of pecan sticky buns. There’s a few left for you.” She set a mug in front of him. “Now that I’ve thanked you for the candy and card, we need to talk.”

  “Don’t know if I can, ma’am.”

  A gnarled finger shook in front of his face. “Don’t you shut down on me, son. I’m not having it. Fudge and buttermilk, all I want to know, for now, is did you have anything to do with Zane’s battered face. I’m a mite pissed over it, so I am.”

  He couldn’t lie to her. She’d been too good to him. “Yes, ma’am. I did. Well, Jack and I did. As soon as I get some coffee in me, I plan to find him and apologize.”

  She nodded once. “All right, then. Friends argue. I get that, especially you hotheaded SEALs. It’s good to clear the air and make up. You’ll find him in the den. On Sundays, he usually emails men who served under him in the past or calls to check in.” She pivoted and shuffled toward the coffeepot and plate of sticky buns. “Have you seen Ashley and JJ yet?”

  “No.” What was so special…oh right, they’d gotten their hairstyles changed.

  “You won’t recognize JJ. He’s practically bald. There’s a neatly trimmed mustache and no more long bearded mess.” Junebug pressed her hand to her heart. “He looks like that handsome actor Shemar Moore I loved so on Criminal Minds.” The old woman patted her heart. “Ashley has blond hair now and even though her cut is still short, it looks feminine somehow. Softer. Maybe it’s the change in color. It’s more natural to her pale skin tone.” Junebug filled Reece’s cup and set the pot in the middle of the table on a folded dish towel.

  Reece snatched the mug like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. He inhaled the rich brew and gulped, relishing the caffeine charge to his system. “Elixir of the gods.”

  Junebug sat before sipping from her cup. “Truer words were never spoken.” She removed her sunglasses and laid them on the table. “For a man who proposed to the love of his life last night, you look like someone shot your best horse.” She gulped more coffee. “Won’t you talk to me?”

  The crazy thing was he could talk to Junebug. She pulled the truth from him as naturally and lovingly as his mom had.

  Once he finished sharing with her, she settled her chin on her fist, her elbow propped on the table. “I never knew there was bad blood between Gina and her father. Come to think of it, I never knew he was retired from the Marines or that she’d lost a brother in war. She never mentions family.”

  “I probably shouldn’t have told you. She keeps that part of her life very, very private.”

  “Because it’s painful to her, I’m thinking.” Junebug pulled a chunk off one of his untouched buns and popped it into her mouth. “Have you called her yet today?”

  “No.” He drained his cup and reached for the pot she’d set on the table between them. Before he’d gone to bed last night, he’d turned off his cellphone. He’d checked his missed calls after his god-awful shower. There had been nine missed calls from her and one text to please call her right away. He’d need more coffee before he could stand hearing her voice.

  He downed part of his second cup and bit into one of Junebug’s pecan buns. First he’d call Gina, see what she had to say. Then he’d hunt down ZQ and apologize for being such an ass last night. Never in a million years would Reece have imagined attacking the Old Man. He respected the hell out of the commander, followed his lead into hell, bled under his command. Last night had been some fucked-up shit.

  Thanks to his PTSD, he was a fucked-up shit.

  His uncontrollable thoughts made him potentially dangerous for Gina and Piper.

  And not dangerous enough to keep the sharp edge required for the special ops team.

  The fact he faced today was he wasn’t much use to anyone or anything. Not anymore.

  What he needed was to saddle Cochise and ride. Ride and think his way through this feel-sorry-for-me funk he was in. He’d had enough of pitying himself. This was not how a SEAL reacted to what life threw at him. ZQ was right; he needed to get his balls back.

  He drained the last of his coffee. “Thanks for breakfast and the soft shoulder, Junebug. I’m off to call Gina. See what mood she’s in today.”

  Her cool hand covered his. “Gina’s an independent woman. She’s had to be. But don’t let her boss you around. If she does, she’ll eventually lose respect for you. My Austin was a man’s man.” A wistful smile warmed her features. “Oh, we argued, don’t think we didn’t. People in love do. He expected me to obey.” She expelled a bark of laughter and reared her shoulders back. “He soon found out I could only be pushed so far. He never hit me or called me names. That’s not how a good man behaves. A real man leads, protects, and loves. Loves deeply, in fact. I always knew there was safety in my husband’s arms and that I came first in his life. He’d have destroyed anyone who insulted or touched me.”

  “Gina’s got it in her head if I take
ZQ’s job offer, I’ll be putting the team before her.”

  Junebug crossed her arms. “I’ve been thinking on that.” She winked. “Gina treats a lot of men as a physical therapist. What if you told her you didn’t like her touching them? That it made you feel she put her male patients before you.”

  He stared at her. “That’s ridiculous!”

  She grinned. “I know. And it’s crazy enough it just might get her to thinking how ridiculous her demands are.”

  “Junebug, you’re gonna get my ass in trouble.” He stood and carried his dishes to the dishwasher. “Thanks for the pecan buns. They were fantastic.”

  He sprawled on one of the wooden chairs around the fire pit and called Gina.

  “It’s about time you called.”

  Yes, dear.

  “Just got up an hour or so ago. What’s up?”

  “What’s up is I checked out your Pinterest page. You’ve got pictures of my daughter on there. I don’t want photos of her on the Internet for perverts to see.”

  Sorry, dear.

  “Hell, I hadn’t thought of that. Other people put pics of their kids up. I just figured it was the thing to do.”

  “Not with my child, you won’t. There were also two of her and me together. What if one of the men from that awful night sees them, recognizes me, and realizes he has a child. And…and tries to find us. You have your city and state listed on your page, Reece. We won’t be safe! Whoever he is will come for her. I don’t want her to know.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. The woman must have had a double serving of overreaction Benedict this morning for breakfast. “Look, I’ll take the pictures off the page and close my account as soon as I hang up.”