Not Quite Enough (Not Quite series)

by Catherine Bybee

  “Yeah, but how?”

  Jack ran a hand over his chin and glanced around the table. Not even Gaylord was offering any help.

  Then Jack sat a little taller and said, “A special hug.”

  Danny pushed out his lips and looked at his mom. “Oh.” And then he went back to the food on his plate.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jessie sat with Katie on the split rail fence surrounding the corral that held Danny and his horse. Jack had insisted Danny learn to ride shortly after they moved to Texas. He received no complaint from Danny, who loved all animals big and small. The kid was going to either be a veterinarian or a rancher.

  “Maybe it’s the hormones, but the thought of everyone leaving is making me weepy.”

  “It’s gotta be the hormones cuz we’re all a pain in the ass.” Katie nudged Jessie’s shoulder, knowing full well that none of them were difficult.

  “And I’m worried about her.”

  The doctors had put Monica’s leg in a walking cast after four weeks. Not that she was ready to go back to work, but she felt the need to get back to California to fight for her job.

  Jessie didn’t need to elaborate who she spoke of. She and Katie had a few quiet conversations about Monica’s disposition since she had returned from Jamaica.

  “Oh, don’t do that,” Katie scolded.

  “Do what?”

  “Make me worry any more than I’m already doing. She’s a mess, isn’t she? I mean, you’d know better than I would.”

  “She’s not joking, smiling… finding any reason to get out of the house.”

  “Maybe getting back to California and fighting back will help.”

  “I think whatever is bugging her has something to do with what happened in Jamaica and less about her job.”

  Katie placed a hand over Jessie’s shoulders. “She did nearly die.”

  Jessie winced. “I can’t even think about it. You think it’s some kind of post trauma crap?”

  “Maybe. What else could it be?”

  Jessie thought about the question for a minute. “Has she said anything to you about the guy she was in the cave with? Trent?”

  “Only that he bolted as soon as he was discharged and didn’t say good-bye.”

  Jessie waved at Danny who managed to stay on the back of his horse despite the trot and uneven gait of the animal. “Don’t you find that odd? I mean, even if they didn’t hit it off, wouldn’t someone you’d damn near met your maker with deserve some kind of see ya later? Have a nice life. Something?”

  Katie seemed to consider the question for a while.

  “And it’s not like Monica to not call a guy on their bullshit. I’m taken aback by the fact she hasn’t tried to call him out.”

  “Call him out on what? Not being into her? Can’t blame anyone for not feeling the same way. Look at that John guy. He keeps sending flowers and she’s not led him on at all. Maybe she’s worried about that conversation when she gets home. Or maybe she’s worried she won’t get her job back. I’ve tried to tell her that we’d help her out if she needed money.”

  “Monica won’t accept it.”

  “I know,” Katie said. “I’ve tried. I had to go behind her back when I lived with her last year to pay the landlord directly.”

  Jessie pulled her cowboy hat farther down her face to keep the Texan sun from burning her nose. “Monica hates depending on anyone. And if that anyone has a penis, forget it. That’s the by-product of growing up without a dad and having your mother keep a revolving door of wannabe replacements nearby.”

  “Funny, I always thought it would be better if my dad dated after my mother left him. Now I’m thinking I was wrong.”

  “We had all, you had nothing. There’s got to be something in the middle. Divorce happens. That doesn’t mean the end of your life.”

  Katie nudged her again. “Not that you’ll ever have to worry about that.”

  “Said the pot to the kettle.” Jessie sighed. “God I love your brother.”

  Katie giggled. “Married life is the best. Now if we can just help Monica find the right guy.”

  Jessie rubbed a hand on her still flat belly and smiled. “Yeah.”

  The beer in Trent’s fist had become a constant companion. At least when his mind traveled to the island… to her.

  Which was daily.

  The door to Glen’s home slammed, telling Trent his brother was home.

  “Jesus Christ, Trent.” Glen’s profanity barely made Trent lift his eyes to his brother. “What the fuck are you doing in the dark?”

  “It’s not dark.” Well, actually, the curtains were drawn and there wasn’t a light on in the masculine den. The only company came from the radio that knocked out heavy rock. But there was still a glow from the outside to drive away the dark.

  Glen crossed to the stereo, jabbed a finger down on the knob, and turned off the sound.

  Ginger, who had been curled up by the couch, snapped her head up and barked.

  His brother tossed his jacket over a chair and glared at him. “Enough! I’m not going to watch you do this to yourself.”

  “Do what?” Trent dropped his feet from the table and reached to set his empty beer aside.

  “Do nothing. Drink all the fucking time. Sit in the dark. Is this what you did in Jamaica?”

  No. Well, in the beginning there had been a lot of drinking. Eventually he found his rhythm again. Maybe that’s why he escaped to the island, to mourn in peace. His brothers wouldn’t have allowed him to find the bottom of a bottle for long.

  “I could have died in Jamaica.”

  “But you didn’t!” Glen yelled. “Do you think that little blonde number is soaking up her liver like you are? She sure as shit had it worse than you.”

  That may have been, but Monica had someone to share the night with.

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, fuck you.” Glen turned around and slammed his fist against the light switch. “And turn on a fucking light.”

  Glen stormed out of the room. Trent had half a mind to follow his brother and lay a fist into him. His other urge was to grab another beer. He squelched both desires and found his way to the room he called his since he returned. In his bathroom, he turned on a light and looked in the mirror.

  “Oh, damn.” When was the last time he shaved? His eyes were bloodshot, and a quick sniff told him he needed a shower.

  He turned on the tap, watched the water as it ran down the sink. He wondered if Monica was as happy about healthy tap water as he was.

  How was she doing? Was she back in California or still in Florida? Maybe she stayed with her sister in Texas for a while? Or maybe she moved in with her fiancé?

  Trent grabbed his razor and removed several days of stubble. When he turned off the water he could hear his brother through the wall talking on the phone.

  “I’m about to pull the family intervention shit, Jase. It’s fucking crazy.”

  So Jason and Glen were talking about him.

  “If I didn’t care, I’d kick his ass… hell maybe I will kick his ass. Something needs to wake him up.”

  Trent moved out of earshot and leaned against the wall. Since when did he become the family bum? The first week home, he told himself he deserved a little R and R. Some downtime from life. He’d shared several beers with his brothers. They talked of old times, about their parents. For the first time since their death, Trent felt he could remember the good times and not choke on regret and blame. He didn’t tell his brothers about Monica outside the obvious. They didn’t bat an eye when he left Florida. Both told him to take all the time he needed to acclimate.

  So he took the time.

  Winter was losing its grip on the east and the spring sun was starting to stay up later. Trent moved to the window and realized the glare of sun was still out there.

  Ginger sat on her haunches looking at him with that dopey dog expression. The one that said, Well… are we going out or what?

  Trent ran a hand through his h
air, hair that needed a good cut, and pulled on his shoes.

  He grabbed Ginger’s leash, which resulted in a rapid series of barks.

  Trent stepped out of his brother’s home and let the late afternoon chill wake him. The lingering scent of cold rain felt heavy in the air. Ginger pulled and tugged, excited to be out and peeing on every bush.

  He walked the block, then the next. A few kids were playing outside their homes and somewhere the sound of a lawn mower hummed. It was the time for cut grass and flowers.

  The thought of flying over fields of wildflowers reminded him of how much he’d been missing since he attempted to remove the memory of Monica with beer.

  By the time he made it back to his brother’s, the sun had set in the far west. His thought lingered on whether Monica was watching it over the ocean tonight.

  The smell of a grill made his insides churn. When he let Ginger loose in the backyard, he smelled the sizzling scent of steaks on the barbecue.

  Glen turned a couple of steaks and closed the lid before focusing his attention on him. Without words, Trent grabbed a Coke from the outside fridge and tossed his brother a beer. Glen’s eyes opened wider.

  “I can’t work in the office,” Trent said, placing his ass in a lounge chair. “You know how much I hate that shit.”

  Glen leaned against the side of the house and opened his beer. “It’s been a while since you’ve been around. A lot of our pilots don’t even know you.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “We have a couple of locations where more hours have been logged into flight time than were expected. We could use some investigating.”

  “Find out if someone’s using the birds for their personal use?”

  Glen smiled. “It’s not in the office.”

  Yeah, and it wouldn’t be boring and leave him with hours to think.

  “Where are the problems?”

  “Biggest one is in Seattle.”

  Seattle. Cold, wet… and miles from anyone. “You’ll watch my dog?”

  The walking cast might have aided in walking, but in driving… not so much.

  Monica’s first stop once she finally shook Katie loose was at the fire station where the majority of guys who’d come to her aid worked. It was about four in the afternoon, and the station was quiet. Quiet was not a word she’d say out loud for fear of jinxing the vibe of the day.

  She stepped into the familiar garage that housed the big red trucks and knocked on the wall. “Hello?” she called out for someone to notice her.

  Out from the weight room walked Stan. A veteran of the department for nearly twenty years, his hair was peppered with gray but he was still stacked with muscles he should have lost in his forties.

  “Queenie? Holy cow. Guys?” he yelled in the back. “We have a visitor.”

  Stan walked over and pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back and meant it.

  “So damn good to see you.” Stan stood back and took her in.

  Her bootleg pants didn’t hide her cast, but they did hug her ass. She wore a simple button-up shirt and whimsy scarf. The guys were used to seeing her in nothing but scrubs. She knew she looked different to them in plain clothes.

  “Monica?” The next hug came from Radar. Not his real name but a nickname these jokers gave him because of the glasses he often wore. That’s what they told her anyway. Rumor had it he actually had a stuffed animal his kid gave him by his cot.

  After Radar was Clive, no nickname there. Then came Spock, his name because of the word games he was so fond of playing in their downtime. Even their captain had his hug turn. Charlie might have been about four years away from retirement but he wasn’t anything but hot. In fact, all the guys surrounding her could easily be placed on one of those hot fireman calendars. Even dirty, these guys would sell thousands of copies.

  She remembered the first time she’d done a ride along. They did their best to make her feel like she belonged. They kicked back when the radio was silent and hauled ass to the next emergency when needed. It was a learning experience to help her call appropriate shots over the radio from the ER.

  She trusted these guys.

  Even she knew that trust was rare.

  “Come in, come in.” Charlie opened the door to their man-cave and gave her one of the prime seats so she could put her foot up.

  “How you doing?” Radar asked.

  “Remarkably well. I was told that some of you volunteered for the search.”

  “Yeah, well… you might not wear blue, but you’re part of our family here.”

  Oh, damn… there were actual tears welling behind her eyes. “Uhm, I’m not even sure who was there. I don’t remember anything.”

  Radar and Spock raised their hands. “Mitch on B shift was with us, and Miller from 73.”

  “Wow. That’s just… wow.” She blinked several times trying like hell not to let tears fall. “I know the rest of you had to shuffle shifts.” She turned to Charlie. “And your boss had to let you go.” She grabbed Charlie’s hand because he was close. “Thanks isn’t the right word.”

  They were smiling at her and taking her appreciation with a shrug. “It’s how we work, right? You’d have come for us.”

  Yeah, she would.

  Another knock grabbed their attention. “Delivery.”

  The smell of barbecue sauce followed the delivery guy as he stepped inside the fire station.

  “Who ordered? I thought we were going out?” Stan asked.

  Monica waved the deliveryman over once he placed the bags on the table. “On me,” she said as she signed for their dinner. She’d scheduled dinner for the guys for the next few days to make sure everyone managed at least one meal on her.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “That’s not gonna happen.”

  More than one of them pulled a wallet from his back pocket.

  “C’mon guys. I have to do something.” She shooed the deliveryman off before someone could grab the ticket and circumvent her gesture.

  They didn’t like a woman paying for their food, but that didn’t stop them from digging in.

  She ate with them and they talked about some of the things they’d seen while in Jamaica. A couple of them talked about joining a team of emergency aide for future disasters.

  “I’ve seen my share of crazy shit, but that was huge,” Spock said between bites.

  “Did you see the clinic?”

  Radar nodded. “After we got you on the plane, nice digs your sister has by the way, we took some of the locals back home.”

  “I didn’t know you were related to the Morrisons.”

  “I’m not. Well, my sister married Jack. But—”

  Clive waved a rib at her. “That’s related in my book. Morrison offered a huge incentive for us to look for you.”

  Monica stopped eating mid chew. “He did?”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “Like we needed it or something.”

  Knowing these guys didn’t come because of money made her smile linger.

  “Word from the ER is that you lost your job.”

  They all watched her now, with eyes over their food and serious concern on their brows.

  “Pat’s been out to sack me forever. Not sure why.”

  “She’s jealous,” Radar said as if it were common knowledge.

  “Jealous of what?”

  “You’re single, gorgeous, all the guys fawn over you, and you could take her job in a heartbeat if you wanted it,” Clive said.

  That had Monica squirming in her chair.

  “Way to make her uncomfortable, Clive.”

  “What?” Clive had this cleft in his chin that dug in with his smile.

  “Aren’t you married?” Monica scorned.

  “Happily. But I’m sure as hell not blind,” he said with a wink.

  That made her laugh. “Remind me to kick your ass when I get this thing off.” She lifted her leg as she spoke.

  “She can’t really fire you for helping in Jamaica, can she?”

 
Monica blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I have a meeting with human resources tomorrow to find out what exactly is happening.”

  “Well, we have your back if you need anything from us.”

  The guys nodded right as the blaring alarm forced them from their hot dinner and had them running for the door. She knew the drill, wasn’t offended in the least.

  “Would have been too much to ask for ten more minutes,” Stan said. He patted Monica on the shoulder as he made it out the door.

  “Thanks, Queenie.”

  “Thanks, Monica.”

  “Come by again soon.”

  One by one they left her alone in the station with boxes of barbecue and a crazy lump in her throat.

  They were a damn good group of guys.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Monica walked… well limped, out of the human resources building with a pink slip and an attitude. She was half tempted to walk into the ER and ask Pat what the hell her problem was. Now that Monica was back in the States, a formal investigation would take place. Of course that took time to happen and it wouldn’t transpire until all parties involved could be reached.

  All parties involved. Who the hell could they be talking about? On the surface the case had very little ground. Monica had covered her shifts. Except one of her colleagues had gotten sick and the shifts then defaulted back to Monica. It became her responsibility to have them covered. She wasn’t exactly around to fix the schedule, being knee-deep in shit on the island. The scheduling problem had taken place the first hours on Jamaica and there wasn’t a damn thing Monica could do to fix it.

  It wasn’t proven yet, but it appeared that Pat had kept at least one nurse from coming in to help solidify the case against Monica. The whole thing was stupid.

  Monica sat in with Mrs. Levine, the HR representative, who began with the facts, and then started to embellish them.

  “It doesn’t help your case that you were on the island enjoying the sights.”

  “Enjoying the sights,” Monica practically yelled. “What are you talking about? I worked my ass off the whole time I was there.”

  Mrs. Levine, with a polished expression of disbelief, peered at Monica over her cheaters. “According to one nurse at the clinic, you left on more than one occasion with a local for a… an affair.”