After the War

by Jessica Scott

  Gilliad nodded. “Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate your candor.”

  She left then, not sure what the outcome would be but glad to be passing off the case to someone more qualified to pass judgment on the actions men took during war.

  Twenty-Four

  Sean was more nervous tonight than he’d been in a long, long time. He wasn’t sure what it was. Whether it was the fact that he was terrified of stepping into the domain of a five-year-old girl or the fact that he was going home with Sarah. Maybe it was both. He was terrified. Fear pitched in his belly and he wasn’t sure he was actually going to be able to eat. So much was on the line tonight. This was her daughter. This was Jack’s daughter.

  He could not fuck this up.

  He took a deep breath then went to knock on the front door.

  He heard tiny feet slap toward the door. “I’ll get it, Mommy!”

  He held his breath as the door swung wide.

  A small face peered up at him. God, but she looked like Jack from the tip of her dark head to the light brown of her eyes. “Hi Sean!”

  Sean managed to catch her as she launched herself into his arms, nearly crushing the flowers he’d hidden behind his back. His shoulder protested the move, the old wound tight because he’d been ignoring it for far too long.

  “Mommy said we were having friends over for dinner tonight.” She frowned and looked so much like Sarah that Sean forced himself not to laugh. “She didn’t mention that she was the only one having friends over.”

  “I can be your friend, too,” he said cautiously.

  Anna folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not allowed to have boy friends until I’m at least twenty-three and out of college.”

  Sean choked. He covered his mouth with his hand and tried not to die of laughter. “How about we leave it at I’m your mommy’s friend, then?” He pulled the small bouquet of spring flowers from behind his back. “I brought these for you,” he said carefully, watching her expression.

  Her eyes lit up and her mouth dropped open. “For me?”

  “Can you put them in water?”

  Sarah came to the door, her hair loose from the bun she typically wore at work. “Come in. Don’t let the gatekeeper scare you away.”

  He looked down at Anna, who was still wide-eyed at the flowers. “Can I?”

  Anna nodded eagerly then remembered her manners. Or her job—Sean wasn’t quite sure which. “Yes. But take your shoes off at the door.”

  With those final instructions, Anna bolted from the room into the kitchen. He could see her little head buried beneath a cabinet, banging things around.

  Sean slid his arm around Sarah’s waist and kissed her quickly. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “What did the boss say?” he asked.

  “CID is taking over. It’s out of our hands now. The whole thing is a mess. If this happened under different rules of engagement, we wouldn’t even have had an investigation done on it, let alone be investigating it as a potential criminal act.” She nuzzled his neck. “Can we please talk about something else?” She glanced over her shoulder at a noise in the kitchen and saw Anna trying to arrange the flowers.

  “That was really sweet,” she said against his mouth.

  “I figured I probably need to do a little flagrant sucking up to the other woman in the house.” He smiled against her lips.

  “It worked.” Her fingers were warm against his cheek and he nuzzled her palm. She made a warm sound in her throat.

  “Ugh, Mommy!” Anna burst back into the room and stood near the door, her eyes curious and questioning. “Why are you kissing him? Is he a prince?”

  “Not quite, honey.” Sarah laughed at Sean’s confused expression. “She’s got a small princess obsession going on. I can’t beat it out of her with a stick. I caught her trying to kiss the neighbor’s cat.”

  Sean choked back a laugh. “That’s terrible.”

  “It’s true.” She threaded her fingers with his. “Anna, I’m kissing Sean because I like him. When two adults like one another a whole lot, that’s how they show affection.”

  Anna studied them quietly. “So does this mean you’re going to marry him? Can I wear a pretty dress?”

  Sean squeezed her fingers but said nothing.

  Sarah crouched in front of her daughter, her hand slipping free of his. “Sean is going to be around a little. Like for dinner and stuff.”

  Anna was listening carefully. “Does that mean he’ll play with me?”

  Sean’s brain took a sharp detour and he imagined saying no but I’ll play with Mommy. He managed to keep the remark from escaping. It wasn’t exactly a G-rated comment to begin with. “Let’s not scare him off on the first day,” Sarah said instead.

  “Okay. So he’s here for dinner?” Anna asked. “What are we having?”

  “Spaghetti.”

  “Yay!” Anna sprinted toward the kitchen, leaving Sean and Sarah in the living room.

  She stood just there, inside his space.

  “That went…well?” he said cautiously.

  “I think so. She’s little and she’s a pretty easygoing kid.” Sarah released a quiet breath. “This is terrifying,” she whispered.

  He cupped her cheek. “I know.” He brushed his lips against hers.

  She smiled and Sean felt it warm the dark center of his heart. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  But he didn’t move. He held her there, a warm contentment wrapping around his heart. For now, he was here and she was allowing him to find a place in the fabric of her world. She’d brought him here, near her daughter. She’d brought him to her table.

  He followed her into the living room, decorated in warm wood tones and jewel-colored throw pillows. There was a picture of her and Jack on their wedding day resting on a small table behind her sofa. He picked up the picture, absorbing the happiness and youth in both her and Jack’s faces. He finally looked up to find her watching him closely. “You looked happy.”

  “I was.”

  Sean set the picture down and took a step closer to her. Until he was close enough to slip his arms around her waist and tug her to him. “I’m so glad you were, Sarah,” he whispered into her neck.

  The truth. Simple. Honest.

  And for once, not laced with sadness and regret.

  * * *

  “Anna, honey, go get ready to get in the tub,” Sarah called from the kitchen.

  Sean snuck up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him, loving the feel of him pressed against her back. He was solid and strong and oh so real. She ached for more. Wanted so badly to ask him to stay.

  Needed so much more to take this slow. Not just for her sake. But for Anna’s.

  He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “Tease,” she whispered.

  “I’m trying to figure out how to thank you for dinner.” His voice was low and warm against her skin.

  “‘Thank you’ usually works.” But she was smiling and she did not pull away.

  He traced his tongue over the edge of her ear and she shivered, pressing closer against his chest. “Thank you.”

  She turned in his arms. “This was nice,” she said finally. She toyed with the buttons on his shirt, wishing they were alone so she could slide them open one by one.

  He cupped her cheek, his fingers warm and strong and firm against her skin. Nudged her face up until she met his dark eyes. “We can take it slow, Sarah.”

  She smiled then, her heart swelling a little more, shifting around and making room for him. “I don’t remember you being a patient man,” she said after a moment.

  “Maybe I’m working on it.” He brushed his lips against hers but she slipped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers in his hair and pulling him close, opening for him. Taking a little taste of pleasure before he left.

  His breath mingled with hers. Time stopped and all she
could do was feel. His mouth on hers. His body pressing hers against the cabinet. The want aching inside her for this man.

  It was forever and a day before he leaned back. Brushed his thumb against her lip. “I’ll see you at work,” he whispered.

  “Good night.”

  She walked with him to the door, wanting him to stay. Terrified to ask, to cross that line so soon after bringing him back into her life.

  “Sean!”

  Anna shot out of her bedroom, wrapped in her fluffy pink robe.

  Sean crouched down to her level. “Yeah, honey?”

  “I made you something.” She thrust it toward him then followed it, pushing herself into his arms. He froze, uncertainty written in the tension in his neck, the rigid set of his body. “Will you come back?” she asked after his arms came around her.

  “Yeah, baby, I’ll come back.”

  “Anna, Sean’s got to go,” Sarah said, deeply curious about what her daughter had made.

  Sean looked up at her and then down at the folded piece of paper. Sarah shifted so she could see.

  And her heart stopped in her chest.

  A drawing. Three stick figures.

  “That’s Mommy,” Anna said, pointing to the one with the anatomically correct boobs. “And that’s me.” She pointed to the square man with the oversized hands that were holding the stick figure Anna and stick figure Mommy’s hands. “And that’s you.”

  Sarah rested her hand on his shoulder. Felt him tense as he continued to study the drawing.

  “Do you like it?”

  His throat moved as he swallowed. “I love it. I’ll put it on my fridge.” His voice was thick, his expression closed off as he stood.

  He ruffled Anna’s hair. “Good night, kiddo.” But the words, the gesture—they were stiff now. Distant.

  “Night.” Anna skipped back to her bedroom, leaving them alone.

  “Sean?”

  He looked at her then and she couldn’t recognize the myriad of emotions swirling in his eyes. He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb over her skin. “I’ll see you at work,” he said softly.

  And then she was alone, unable to determine if things had just ended before they’d ever really begun.

  Twenty-Five

  Sean sat at his desk, looking at the drawing Anna had given him. Her artwork still covered his dry erase board.

  His throat was thick, his heart tight. Everything was raw and burning today.

  He headed out of his office, needing space and air and distance from the memories that were cascading inside him. He shoved his hands into his uniform pockets, ignoring the regulation that forbade the practice and walked through the warm sun and cool breeze. He wasn’t even sure where he was going but as he realized he’d crossed the First Cav’s parade field, his throat went dry and threatened to close off the already limited air.

  First Cav Operation Iraqi Freedom Memorial. Twice now the monument had been rededicated—each time adding new names to the gleaming granite monument. It would be dedicated again after the next deployment, more names added to it. He blinked rapidly, the same crushing sadness that had overcome him the first time he’d stood before the black granite nearly consuming him now.

  He circled the memorial until he found the panel that had those brothers he’d lost. He found Jack’s name on the wall easily and knelt as the sadness and the guilt warred for supremacy inside him, both attempting to crush the life from his lungs.

  He was a soldier. He was an officer. He’d made the best decisions he’d been able to at the moment they’d been required. It was only now, years after the facts, that guilt consumed him. That doubt made him question the very basis of his entire existence.

  Haverson had always talked about the guilt, about the intense wish that he could have done more. Something, anything other than stand there while the world burned.

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” he mumbled, his voice barely able to escape the thick blockage. “I don’t know if this is okay.” He dug his index finger and his thumb into his eyes, trying and failing to stop the burning behind his eyelids. Anna’s picture was so fragile in his hand. “She’s a great kid, man. Sarah’s done so damn good with her.” He looked at his friend’s name. “I don’t want to fuck this up.” His eyes burned and he blinked hard, swiping at the wetness on his cheeks. “I…I’ll do the best I can for her. For both of them.”

  “It doesn’t get any easier, does it?”

  Sean jerked roughly to his feet at the voice behind him. He dragged his forearm over his face and shoved his sunglasses on.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Claire said as she walked up, her expression immobile. She stopped when she was shoulder to shoulder with him. For a moment, they just stood silently, staring at the names of friends they’d lost. “You okay?” she asked finally.

  He took a long time before he answered. “Not sure.” It was as honest as he could get. He shook his head. “No. I guess maybe I’m not.”

  He handed Claire the picture Anna had drawn. She took it silently then handed it back a minute later. “I wouldn’t give up your day job. Your drawing sucks.”

  The laugh surprised him. It broke free, shattering the tight band around his heart. “You’re an asshole,” he said with a grin when he could speak. “Anna drew it for me.”

  “Kind of figured that out,” Claire said. “Why is it freaking you out?”

  He looked down at the picture again, then back to Jack’s name.

  Claire spoke when the silence hung on for too long. “You don’t feel like you deserve a second chance, do you?”

  The lump was back, blocking his throat. “No. Not really.”

  “With Sarah or with life?”

  “Both. Either.” He dragged his thumb over the image of Sarah. “He had a good life with her. A good one. Better than anything I could have given her. He didn’t make it home. His daughter never had a chance to know him.” He pinned Claire with a hard look. “How do I do this with Sarah and Anna, knowing I’m going back? Knowing I might leave them alone, too?”

  “I don’t have an answer for that.” Her voice was thick and tight. “I wish I did.”

  He looked at Claire, the warrior standing strong and steady next to him. “Is Evan okay with you going back?”

  Claire shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line. “I wouldn’t use the word okay.” She swallowed, though, and her voice thickened just a little more. “I just hope it’s not my time, you know?”

  “Sarah’s a soldier.” A truth that had come between them before. “I don’t know how—what I’d do if something happened to her.”

  “Ask her,” Claire said. “She’s already lived your worst fear. But that’s part of this. She’s a soldier, just like you. She’ll make the same sacrifice, do the same job.” Claire looked at Sean. “But this isn’t about Sarah. This is about you.”

  Sean closed his eyes, thinking back to the night of the ball, when Sarah had slept in his arms for a few hours. There had been no sense of her holding back, no reticence in her touch.

  But the thought of leaving her to go to war. The thought of losing her when he’d just found her again.

  The thought of her hurting all over again if something happened to him.

  He looked at Claire. “What do I do? How do I go into their lives knowing I might not make it back?”

  Claire gripped his shoulder hard. “I can’t answer that for you. But I know we only have a little bit of time in this world. And I would rather spend that time with the other half of my heart than alone, being afraid of when it might end.”

  She left him there, alone with Jack and the picture that Jack’s daughter had drawn for him.

  And then his phone rang, dragging him away from the past and back to work.

  * * *

  “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled when he saw Morgan standing in the foyer of a shitty apartment complex on Rancier. Kearney sat on the stoop next to him, his head down, a bottle of Jack nestled between his thighs. “This is why you called
me? Has he been arrested again?”

  Morgan shook his head. “Nope. Kearney’s got something to tell you.”

  “Smith and me, we did something really fucking stupid.” Kearney cleared his throat and stared at the hands he’d twisted into a tight ball on his lap. “We had this really great fucking idea to buy off the local militia. But things got all fucked up.” Kearney took a long pull off the bottle between his knees. Neither Morgan nor Sean stopped him. “Smith twisted everything in the report around. He’s the one who lost control. He’s the one who fired into the crowd and refused the orders to stop firing.” He looked up at Sean. “You know me better than that.”

  Sean stared for a long moment, feeling Morgan’s expectant gaze on him and knowing he should react. Because he did know better than that. Kearney was the reason Sean was standing there. The reason Sean wasn’t in jail right now.

  “You’re better off without her.” Words he never should have said. Not as a commander. Not as a friend.

  “I love her.”

  “Then why do you keep fucking around on her?”

  Kearney offered a limp shrug. “I’m trying. I’m still trying. But it’s the only time I feel alive. Fucking is the only thing that feels worth doing. Fucking and fighting.”

  “Smith said I told him to blame me. I didn’t. He just wants Kitty.”

  “I can’t protect you from this.” It was a bitter truth, a truth Sean hated. “Don’t you fucking get it? It’s your word against an officer’s word.”

  “Haverson knows,” Kearney said quietly.

  “Then why isn’t he saying anything?”

  “Because I asked him not to. Because I was trying to work things out with Kitty and if he spilled, Smith would have told the WTU commander that Haverson was using heroin.” Kearney closed his eyes and tipped his head back on the wall behind him. “Again.”

  Sean finally looked at Morgan as the fire inside him banked to a manageable blaze. “Is Haves still in town?” he asked, looking at Kearney, who was deflated and beaten down.