by C. J. Pinard
She came over with a smile. “Dos Equis, right?”
Hunter nodded. “Yes, sugar.”
I twisted my face up. “How do you drink that shit?”
He jutted his bruised chin at my Budweiser. “Domestic, really?”
“Fuck off, Jenkins.”
He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement under his too-long blonde hair that flopped on the top of his head. The sides were short, and he had perfectly white teeth. I wanted to fold them back with my fist when he smirked at me like that.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked.
“Not hungry,” I said murmured.
He shook his head and shoved another French fry into his mouth.
I licked my lips and looked around. A group of super-hot girls had just walked into the bar. They were giggling and I shook my head. They couldn’t have been older than 20 or 21. I was only 27, but sometimes I felt a lot older. The Army and war tended to do that to a person.
“So how many home invasion cases do they have in Orlando that you’re gonna have to sort through?” Hunter asked.
“Not sure. I called a detective there and he said he’d send me the files. After I spoke with him, I got the feeling about half a dozen or so. And they’re not home invasions; they’re business invasions. Some shithead is breaking into businesses and stealing crap like computers and other electronics. The scary part is all the personal info that’s on those machines.”
Hunter nodded. “I hear ya.”
“Well, I’m gonna bail. I gotta go in early tomorrow and get some reports done,” I said, finishing off my bottle and setting it on the table.
“See you later. I’m gonna finish watching the game before I have to go back to the old lady.” He jutted his chin toward the TV in the corner.
I snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“She’s pregnant, give her a break.”
I shook my head. “No, you give her a break, asshole.”
He laughed. “You try going months without getting any.”
I threw a twenty dollar bill on the table and narrowed my eyes him. “I did two tours in Iraq – a year each – without ‘any’ – try again.”
He paused a beat, then looked away. “Point taken.”
I strolled out of the bar with a grin on my face. I didn’t normally play the military card, but Hunter was an ass and sometimes needed to be reminded that the world didn’t revolve around him and his dick.
I got home to my apartment and threw my keys onto the table. I seriously needed to straighten up this place. But with 12-hour days, and then my gym time, that didn’t leave much time for cleaning. I should probably hire someone, but I had trust issues and won’t allow some perfect stranger into my house while I wasn’t here.
My phone chirped from my pocket and I pulled it out, looking at the screen. I had an email from Orlando PD. They had sent the robbery reports over to me. I would look at them in the morning, as exhaustion was suddenly overwhelming me.
As I went into my room and stripped off my leather jacket and jeans, I started the shower. When it was as hot as I could stand it, I stood under it and almost groaned at how good it felt. Hunter had gotten a few good punches in on a couple of already sore spots and I let the scalding, pulsing water therapeutically rain down on me. I knew in a couple days I’d start feeling better.
I placed both hands against the tiles of the shower and closed my eyes as the water dripped down from the back of my head and fell to the shower floor below. I thought about her, but then pushed her from my mind. It would do me no good to dwell on the past. I had tried to convince her to stay, to realize we’d had something special. She was weak and couldn’t handle my lifestyle, so I was done with her, I was over it.
Or so, I told myself.
I dried off and then padded to my room. I found some athletic shorts and a T-shirt and slipped them on, heading out to the kitchen to get something to eat.
Chapter 3
Harper
He was beautiful. Beautiful, and broken, and sad, and lost. I sat at my desk, my fingers steepled in front of me. The veteran sitting across from me had blondish-brown hair in a regulation haircut and deep green eyes the color of moss. He had a strong jaw covered in blonde stubble and tattooed biceps I’d love to rub my fingers across. His T-shirt fit him snugly and his dark jeans hugged his right leg perfectly. His left leg? Not so much, considering it now was nothing but a titanium rod with a plastic “foot” at the end of it from the knee down.
The tears that were threatening to fall from his sad, lime-green eyes made me choke down a sob.
He lifted his gaze to mine and drawled, “I’m just not sure where to go from here.”
I plastered on a smile. “We’re gonna help you with that, Kyle.”
He nodded, looking back down at his legs. “Who’s gonna want to hire me? I mean, I can’t run very fast, I can barely walk without a limp, let alone bend and lift things. I have a little boy to support. What’s Lucas gonna think of me if I can’t even work, support him…” he trailed off.
I got up and walked around my desk. I took the empty burgundy chair next to him. Placing a hand on his arm, I said, “Kyle, take a deep breath and look at me.”
He nodded again, but kept his eyes on the ground.
“Look at me, Adams.”
He reluctantly lifted his gaze to mine. Sadness and defeat reflected back at me, and I swallowed down a sadness of my own. “Kyle, you are a great father. There are lots and lots of jobs you can do that don’t require running and bending and lifting. We’re here to help you. We’re gonna get you back on your A-game. You hear what I’m saying?” I hoped the confidence I was trying to exude wasn’t failing.
He nodded, looking at me with expectancy and hope in his eyes.
I smiled in satisfaction. I still had ahold of his hand. “Trust me. You will be okay.”
He smiled at that, a genuine, happy smile and that made my heart soar in more ways than I could ever describe. This poor, broken man just wanted to fit in, be normal; provide for his family and be the loving husband and father he was before he had gone overseas and sacrificed a leg to a long, drawn-out war.
I went back to my desk, and from my computer, I pulled up a list of sites that were actively hiring veterans for jobs. I started with the first; the federal government’s site for federal jobs which gave disabled veterans preference of choice in jobs. I turned the screen around and showed him the massive list of federal jobs.
He pointed to something for the Justice Department. “I have always wanted to work in law enforcement…”
I frowned. I knew there was no way he could do that. I quickly plastered on another smile. “Kyle, let’s look at something less stressful. Are you good with computers?”
He shrugged a muscled shoulder and looked at me. “I think I do okay. I mean, I have gotten pretty good at navigating around one since the accident.”
I smiled again. “Excellent. There are programs to re-train vets for new jobs once they’re out.”
He frowned and looked down again. My fingers paused at my keyboard as I caught his mood. “You okay?”
He sighed. “Yes, ma’am. Just wish I didn’t have to get out. I liked being in the Marines.”
I sighed heavily because I really just wanted to swear. To let out a string of curse words that would make a sailor proud. I wanted to use every ugly word in the book at the unfairness of life. This guy just wanted to serve his country and now the Marines had let him go after he’d sacrificed a leg for them – and God knows what else. Instead, I pulled what little professionalism I had out of my ass and forced a smile, yet again.
“Kyle, you’re going to be fine. I promise, okay? Mathis Associates will be here for you through it all. You’ll go on to do great things, and your little boy will continue to worship the ground you walk on.”
That made him smile again. I fired off more questions about his skills and we finished on a positive note. Of course, the interview didn’t prevent the
memories of Keith from creeping into my brain. I flicked the memory of his beautiful smile and light brown eyes from my head and continued to input information into my computer. The Marine Corps had more than a few good men, but it had also lost a lot of them.
Too many.
I pulled the keys out of my purse and clicked the key fob to let me into my car once again. I groaned as I saw the gym bag in my backseat and decided I was too emotionally exhausted to go to the gym. Adria would just have to twist off on me tomorrow, because tonight, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and I had a date with some reality TV. A naughty grin twisted up on my lips as I put the Honda in gear and headed toward my townhouse.
I parked in my single-car garage and clicked the button to close the door. I picked up the mail that had been deposited through my mail slot and flicked through it without interest. Tossing it on my kitchen counter, I eyed my cell phone sitting there and bit my lip in contemplation. Knowing better but not being able to resist, I picked it up and hit the voicemail icon and hit 3 to play the saved messages. I only had one, but I just had to listen to it again for the millionth time.
“Hi, babe. Just got here and wanted to check in. I will try to call you later. I love you and miss you already, baby. Talk to you soon.”
My eyes welled up and I clicked 9 to save the message, knowing I shouldn’t but not being able to help myself. I set the phone down and headed upstairs to change into something more comfortable.
Once back downstairs, I opened the fridge and didn’t see anything that appealed to me for dinner. My stomach turned over almost in disgust and I closed it again. I wondered when the sick grief that controlled my appetite would ease up and I’d be able to enjoy a full meal again. Ice cream seemed to be the only thing that agreed with me, so I plucked a small carton from the freezer and snatched a spoon from the drawer.
I sat cross-legged on the sofa and flicked the TV on with the remote. I almost begged the characters on the TV to take me away from my thoughts of the day and the interaction with Kyle Adams and his brokenness. Hurt and fear oozed off him in waves, and it seems that somehow, it had stuck to me a little and followed me home.
But, I reasoned, at least he had made it home.
A commercial for the Wounded Warrior Project caused my eyes, which had been staring at my spoon, to flick back to the television. Testimonials of soldiers and servicemen and women who had survived war and come back, albeit with pieces of themselves missing, both physically and emotionally, blared back at me from the screen. I looked down as a wet splash hit my leg.
I wiped away another stray tear with the back of my hand and tried to push the memories of Keith and all the gut-wrenching pain, guilt, and disappointment of broken dreams from my mind. Sometimes I wished I could push his beautiful face from my mind, and in the next minute, I would panic that I might forget it. I was a mess. A big, awful, broken, damaged mess, and I hated myself for it.
I had never been like this. I had led a somewhat normal life, one with a good, solid family and upbringing. I excelled in school and always prided myself on my organization and the responsibility instilled in me by my parents. I had always tried to maintain a kempt appearance and normally I ate right and worked out. Lately, though, all of those things seemed to be on a backburner – and I couldn’t care less, really.
I had met Keith while in college and fell for him immediately. His short, shaved blonde hair and happy light brown eyes had called to me as he approached me at the boardwalk the summer of my sophomore year.
I thought back to the way he and his friend had followed Adria and me around. I suppose wearing nothing but a bikini didn’t help ward off the attentions of young men in the middle of summer, but I was young and was having the time of my life in college.
Our first date had been fun, but nothing too dramatic, just dinner and a movie, and Keith had been a little aggressive, but gentle. And when he had kissed me at the end of the night, I remember my toes curling in my high-heeled sandals. It didn’t take long for me to fall ridiculously in love with him. The beach wedding soon followed, and I never looked back or had any regrets. Even when he’d told me he was dropping out of college to enlist in the U.S. Marines.
But that night… the night I found out he was gone and wasn’t coming back, that had shattered me to my very core. It was horrific and intense, and those feelings of brokenness and devastation were still embedded deep within me, and I hated them. I hated him. I hated him and loved him and missed him and didn’t feel like I could come back from the torrent of emotions that consumed me on a daily basis.
“Get your ass up and open this door. I know you’re in there.”
A voice broke me out of my sulking and I swiped at the raccoon eyes I knew I must have now. I got up and slowly walked to the door.
Without enthusiasm, I opened it and narrowed swollen eyes at Adria. “What?”
She pushed her way past me and looked at my small living room. Then she leveled scolding eyes at me. “Wallowing, are we?”
I nodded and plopped my butt back on the couch. “Yeah, so?”
She sat next to me and folded her hands in her lap. I eyed her spandex workout shorts and the zipped hoodie she had over the hot pink sports bra peeking out under it.
She sighed. “Look. I drag you out to the gym and other places for a reason. You think I like a less-than-enthusiastic workout partner? No, I don’t. You’re a total drag, Harper. I do it because, well, because of this…” She gestured around the room, and an accusing finger landed on a pile of crumpled tissues on my coffee table. The carton of ice cream sat guiltily next to it.
I looked away from reproachful brown eyes. “What do you want me to say?”
She placed a warm hand on mine and sighed. “Honey, you just can’t keep doing this. He’s gone… I hate it. I loved him, too, but he’s not coming back. I need you. Your family needs you.”
I sniffed and nodded. “I know. But I need to do this my way.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t have a way. You are going at this blindly. You need people like me to get you through this. I think you need to get out more, meet people.”
“I don’t want to,” I murmured.
She nodded. “That’s perfectly understandable. But I don’t think staying holed up in here with nothing but Rocky Road keeping you company is healthy, hun.”
I smiled bitterly. “It’s chocolate chip cookie dough. What kind of friend are you? I hate Rocky Road. Nuts, yuck.”
Adria bit back a smile. “Nuts? Yes, you are. But so am I. I’m gonna give you a night to wallow. But tomorrow is Friday, and you’re not staying in here on a Friday night. You are going to come have margaritas with Gage and me.”
I forced a smile. “Okay, I will.”
“After the gym, of course. I can’t justify chips, guac, and tequila if I don’t get a workout in first.”
“Alright,” I groaned.
She stood up, gestured at me to do the same, and then her short frame wrapped me in a hug. I walked her to the door, and as I closed it, I put my back to it and tried to smile. I loved Adria, she was my best friend in the world. She loved me enough to come here and make sure I was okay; to make sure I wasn’t broken beyond repair. Sure, I totally was, but she made sure I wasn’t doing anything dangerous. I hoped one day I could repay her kindness. I had a lot of friends, and I knew it was easy for them to come around when things were easy… when it was time for parties and celebrations. But Adria, she was still here when everyone else had left. Things had gotten dark and ugly, and when all the other friends had disappeared, she persevered by my side. She was a true friend, and had proved it.
I was happy for her. She was engaged and happy and in shape and had her whole life ahead of her. I knew how she felt. I remember feeling like that at one time. Life was great; everything was perfect and I didn’t have a care in the world. I had a career ahead of me and a man who loved me, and we were going to have the perfect life. I knew exactly what was in her heart and in her head be
cause I had been her. I had been that girl with the big hopes and dreams and the bright future… the big house in the suburbs and the 2.5 kids. I was glad she had her blind optimism, her delusions of grandeur. I hoped that her delusions didn’t turn into nightmares like mine had. And in all honesty, I didn’t think they would.
After all, she wasn’t marrying a veteran, a Marine, a gun-wielding adrenaline junkie. Her honey was safe, a physician’s assistant in a nice, clean, sterile hospital. I had married into a life of deployments, danger, and uncertainty.
And still, I never regretted a moment of it.
That didn’t mean I was in a hurry to rush back into it, though.
The next morning was like any other day, except when I arrived at the office. As soon as the elevator doors opened to the 17th floor, I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. I gasped in horror when I saw the front window shattered and my employees standing around in shock. Thankfully, only about three people were here already, as it wasn’t quite 8 a.m. yet.
I asked the first person I saw, “What happened here?”
Spencer, my lead accountant, shrugged and said, “Don’t know. I just called the police, though. Petty cash is missing, along with most of our laptops.” He gestured around the office for effect.
“Oh, my God,” I said shakily as I almost dropped my coffee. I quickly went into my office where nothing had been touched, thankfully.
I pulled out my cell phone and called Adria. I didn’t know what else to do as I sat there numb with shock. Who would do this?
As if I hadn’t been through enough lately, now this. I bit my lip to stay the tears that wanted to fall. I didn’t have time for a pity party. I wanted to stay strong for my employees.
“What’s up?” Adria answered.
“Aid, my, my business has been broken into, it’s a mess.”
She gasped. “Oh, my God! Did you call the police?”
“They’re on their way.”
