Spliced

by Robin Leigh Miller

  Chapter Three

  Two months later

  Ridge Gates stood in the dark shadows of the tarmac at Dover Air Force Base waiting for the plane that was bringing home his best friend. His leg throbbed and the fresh deep purple scar on his right cheek ached from the pressure of his clenching teeth, but he didn’t care. The doctors had lectured and all but ordered him to remain in the hospital but he’d refused.

  He’d been unable to be here when Becker had returned home. He would be here for Cale, come hell or high water. Several families huddled together inside the waiting area, comforted by the chaplain. Ridge couldn’t join them. His raw emotions teetered on the explosive and the last thing he wanted to do was lose his control and cause any more undue anguish for families who were suffering the greatest loss of their lives.

  So, he stood outside alone and watched as the men and women of the military waited to bring the fallen home with respect and dignity. Cale wasn’t the only one returning home tonight. He had the honor of flying with seven other soldiers who had fought the ultimate fight and sacrificed their lives. An honor Ridge knew without a doubt Cale would be proud of.

  Cale had passed only two nights ago after a two-week fight but the damage done to his brain had been too severe. The doctor told him Avery had made the decision to remove life support only after Cale had been given every chance to live. Ridge couldn’t imagine the courage it took to make that decision but in the end, she’d known her brother’s wishes and respected them.

  He would forever hold Avery in high regard for allowing her once vivacious, courageous and honorable brother to die as a soldier instead of withering away to nothing. Part of him wished he could have been there to hold her as she cried and grieved over the decision, but a larger part knew he would have been of little comfort. Ghosts of that fateful day swirled around him like a heavy mist, haunting him and constantly reminding him of his failure to protect his men.

  Sometimes, late at night, he’d awake in the midst of a full-blown panic attack. His lungs would seize, unable to draw breath. His heart would race so frantically he thought for sure it would beat right out of his chest and his body would tighten to the point Ridge believed he’d break bones or crush organs.

  When he’d reach the point of praying the attack would end his life, a calming, warmth would burst into his brain, spread throughout his body and the attack would quickly ease. During the long minutes after, he swore he experienced a gentle stroking of his consciousness as if trying to repair the damage.

  Ridge snickered to himself. He was losing his mind, that’s all it was. His sanity had broken and the minute amount of clarity left was struggling to pull the pieces together. He wasn’t sure he wanted it put back together.

  Out in the distance the plane carrying home the fallen landed, its red lights blinking a sad arrival. The door opened to the family waiting area and Ridge slipped farther back into the shadows. The click of heels on the tarmac echoed through the still silence as a figure stepped out under the soft glow of the lights.

  Avery. The sight of her was a punch to the gut. There she stood, her spine board straight, her chin held high as she watched the plane taxi toward the hangar. She wore a simple black, straight skirt and blouse. Nothing fancy but a reminder that she was in mourning. She’d pulled her beautiful, glossy hair back into a tight bun. Her hands clenched and released at her sides, a habit she and Cale shared.

  He should have called her, told her he’d be here to see Cale home so she wouldn’t have to make the trip but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The guilt of surviving when Cale had died was nearly debilitating. Facing her simply wasn’t an option, but the urge to go to her at this very moment, hold her in his arms and share the grief, had him taking a step forward.

  The door opened again and several other figures emerged under the light. Ridge retreated, ducking back into the recesses of the shadows. As other families huddled together and clung to each other for support, Avery stood alone. Damn his cowardice. He should be there next to her, letting her lean on him in her darkest time.

  “Stand tall and proud, if not for you, for Cale.” The words whispered through his head like a faint mist and struck at his blackened heart. This wasn’t about him—this was about his best friend. Cale deserved honor, not a withering coward.

  As the plane pulled up and the door lowered to the ground, Ridge stepped into the light and brought his body to attention. Those assigned to removing the fallen from the plane boarded. The chaplain and major general took their posts and the color guard assembled.

  Ridge had often heard the phrase “the silence was deafening” but had never truly understood it until now. It seemed the Earth herself had taken pause to show respect. When the first flag-draped transfer container appeared at the mouth of the plane his heart clenched. Gasps and faint sobs sifted through the night air from families.

  Ridge shot a glance at Avery and cursed himself once again for being such a piece of shit. His pride in her, however, grew by the second. While others lowered their heads and sagged in their grief, she stood so tall and dignified. A beautiful, elegant statue any man would be pleased to have honor him.

  In perfect, concise steps the honor guard carried the returning soldiers to the tarmac and placed the containers on a red carpet. A three-second salute was given for each anonymous warrior. Identification would come later in the mortuary as they were prepared to be released to their families. Names didn’t really matter at this point. They were all someone’s brother, father or son and so they belonged to everyone.

  As the last soldier was removed from the plane, Ridge looked toward Avery once again. She’d turned slightly, the movement allowing the light to sparkle off the tears spilling down her cheeks. Ridge’s eyes burned from his unshed tears. He swallowed hard, forcing his throat to work. The last request Cale had made was for him to watch out for Avery and here he stood, wallowing in his grief instead of being the rock she so badly needed at this moment. Only forty-eight hours after his death and Ridge was already letting Cale down.

  Yeah, Avery Easton deserved better than what he had to offer. At least Cale would be able to see that now.

  The Chaplin stepped up to the row of temporary caskets, spoke a brief but meaningful prayer and then returned to the side of the major general.

  “Attention!” the major barked.

  Every military officer within hearing range came to attention, including Ridge. The salute was held for another three seconds and then the major and chaplin dismissed to join the families. Ridge stood perfectly still, taking in the sight before him—seven bodies, one of them his friend, his brother. Too many lives ended too soon.

  The families were ushered back inside and then the containers were loaded into vans, headed for the mortuary. Avery remained, holding her perfect posture and refusing to leave until the vans finally drove away. Even then, she stood in the night, never moving, staring into the darkness.

  Did she know he was there? Was she waiting for him to approach? This would be the time to make his appearance and apologize for being such a lousy friend. The moments it took to work up his courage were futile.

  The door opened and the Chaplin approached her. Ridge listened carefully as the still night air allowed him to hear the conversation.

  “Miss Easton, is there anything I can do for you?” the Chaplin asked gently.

  “No, sir. I’m fine, thank you.” Avery’s voice was steady and clear as she continued looking out into the distance.

  “If I may, I rarely see a family member that is not military, stand so proud and strong during such a difficult time.”

  Avery turned her head slightly and met the Chaplin’s eyes. Ridge thought he saw a hint of anger in them but couldn’t be sure.

  “My brother was immensely honored to serve his country. He wanted nothing more and would have settled for nothing less than to wear the uniform of such a great country. He did not take his job lightly and I will not shame his devotion by hanging my head.”


  Her words sent chills racing down Ridge’s spine, making him stand just a little bit straighter. She was right and her message hit home harder than he would have liked. God, he was so fucking proud of her and knew deep in his heart Cale’s ego would be swelling like a balloon wherever he was.

  Avery leaned in to the Chaplin, whispered something, and shook his hand before turning and entering the building. The Chaplin waited, looked in his direction and walked with purpose toward him. Ridge fought the urge to back away and retreat.

  “Lieutenant Gates,” the Chaplin spoke carefully.

  “Yes, sir.” How did the man know his name?

  “I’ve been asked to give you this.” The Chaplin handed him a small business card.

  Ridge looked down at it and frowned. A room number along with a name and address of a local hotel was neatly written on the back. Avery must have slipped it in the man’s hand, which meant she knew he’d been here all along. Shame rolled through his system.

  “Sometimes those we think are the weakest end up being the rock we so desperately need to hold us up,” the Chaplin told him in a strong, stern voice, as if the man understood the turmoil swirling inside him.

  Ridge met his gaze.

  “I don’t know your relationship with that remarkable woman,” the Chaplin said. “But you both came here for the same reason. No matter how strong she is, she doesn’t deserve to grieve alone.”

  “No, sir,” Ridge answered, his throat tight with emotion. He was right.

  “May I give you a lift somewhere, Lieutenant?”

  “No, sir. I have my own ride, thanks.” He wasn’t sure he could go to Avery right now. He had to pull himself together, shore up his defenses and be ready to deal with her pain. Going to her like this, it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

  The Chaplin nodded. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Lieutenant.”

  “I wish it had been me, Father.” The words burst from his mouth before he could stop them.

  “We don’t always understand why some are given a second chance while others are sent home to their Lord. Those are questions we may never know the answers to. Don’t throw away what you’ve been given, Lieutenant,” the man said, pointing to the card in his hand. “Second chances, they are a gift not to be taken lightly.”

  The Chaplin turned and strolled away into the night. Ridge stood there, staring at the card and Avery’s elegant handwriting. He’d made a promise. It was time to keep it. Maybe he should change out of his uniform before he went knocking on her door?

  No, he really didn’t have anything decent to wear, just some faded jeans and ratty shirts. He hadn’t planned on making social calls. At least in his uniform he looked respectable and Avery deserved respectable.

  Ridge tucked the card into his pocket, took one last look around and limped off into the darkness. He’d lied when he said he had his own ride. He’d flown in, checked into a small hotel and called a cab to bring him to the base. Stopping at a pay phone, he called the cab company. By the time he reached the entrance of the base the cab was pulling up.

  “Where to?” the cab driver asked.

  Ridge removed the card from his pocket stared at it for a moment and read off the address. His first reaction was to go to the nearest bar but he didn’t want to show up at Avery’s room with liquor on his breath. After, he’d drown his demons because he’d have a new batch beating at him after this.

  The cab eased up in front of the hotel. Ridge paid the driver and crawled out. He stood there looking at the front door as if it was the gateway to hell itself. Now that he was here he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. His palms were sweating, his stomach quivered and his damn leg wanted to crumble under him.

  How the hell was he supposed to look Avery in the eye? The survivor’s guilt ripped and tore at him with sharp claws until he was bloody and raw inside. He could only imagine the disdain Avery had toward him for living when her brother had died.

  Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and his heart thundered inside his chest. Fisting his hands at his sides he braced for the panic attack that beat at him. His pulse roared in his ears and he looked around to see if anyone else could hear it. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t be here.

  Just as that thought passed through his brain, gentle warmth filled his mind like it did every time he woke with a panic attack. As if a pair of arms encircled him, comforting and loving. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to get lost in the peacefulness. What he wouldn’t give to have real arms hold him right now, someone to be there when he woke in the night reliving a fight that could never end differently.

  The sound of laughter echoed off the building, drawing him back to the cold reality of his life. Jesus, he was a fucking mess. Standing here in the dark wishing for something he didn’t deserve. As soon as Avery opened her door he’d be reminded of that.

  Taking a bracing breath, Ridge forced himself to walk to the doors of the hotel, over to the elevators and push the button. He should walk away now, before the doors opened. He should spare Avery the pain of seeing him, the reminder that he couldn’t protect her brother.

  The doors slid open with a whispered whoosh. Ridge stepped in, pushed the button to the third floor and laid his head back against the wall as the doors closed. It was better to get this over with now, right?

  The elevator stopped, Ridge stepped out, read the sign directing him toward her room and began his walk of shame. She was at the end of the hall but with each step the narrow walkway got longer and longer, the walls pulsing and the floor undulating beneath his feet.

  Halfway there he had to stop, brace himself against the wall and tried to pull together what little self-respect he had left. Fainting wouldn’t cut it. He was a soldier, for God’s sake. He’d faced a hell of a lot worse than this.

  With a shaky breath he stood straight and continued. When he reached her door Ridge closed his eyes, reached out with a trembling hand and knocked. What he wouldn’t give for the earth to open up and swallow him right this very second.

  The door opened slowly. Ridge held his breath and wobbled on his injured leg. Avery still wore the black skirt and blouse but had let her hair down. Her shimmering mane hung in thick waves to her shoulders. The tip of her pert little nose was pink and her beautiful eyes were bloodshot and glistening with tears.

  Avery Easton was so damned gorgeous it made his heart hurt. The sorrow and pain reflecting in her eyes made his gut cramp. He wanted to reach out and drag her against him so he put his hands behind his back, but he couldn’t look away from her eyes. She wouldn’t want him touching her. He didn’t have a right to touch her.

  A hint of irritation swept across her eyes before disappearing. That was what he’d expected but it still hurt. Damn, this woman could make or break him in the next few seconds.

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Please, come in.”

  Avery stepped aside but he hesitated.

  “Please, Ridge,” she said gently.

  He didn’t think he could move. His knees were locked and the muscles in his legs were quivering. Sheer will made them move and when he heard the door shut behind him, he closed his eyes again and braced for the rage he was sure would come.

  Avery crossed the small room to the dresser, picked up a bottle of whiskey and poured two fingers into a glass. “Would you like some? It’s your favorite.”

  Ridge glanced at the bottle in her slender hand. If he were going to be ripped to shreds a little bracer wouldn’t hurt. He couldn’t speak just yet so he nodded. Avery poured another two fingers into a glass, handed it to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Have a seat, Ridge,” she said, pointing to the only chair in the room.

  With the glass clutched firmly in his hand he walked to the chair and lowered himself, ignoring the sharp pull of pain in his leg. He let his gaze travel from her bare feet to the hem of her skirt. She had the sexiest pair of legs he’d ever seen on a woman and her slim, tiny feet made
his hands itch to caress them.

  Jerking his head away, he silently cursed himself for allowing his mind to go there. He really needed to see a doctor because a man couldn’t be more screwed up than he was. They’d witnessed her brother’s body arriving to be prepared for burial and he was ogling her legs. Ridge tossed back the whiskey and stifled a hiss as it burned down his throat.

  “Why didn’t you contact me when you got out of the hospital?” Avery asked casually.

  He couldn’t answer. His throat was too tight to speak.

  “I kept in constant contact with your doctors,” she informed him.

  Ridge straightened his spine and looked at her. She’d checked on him while Cale lay dying? Why?

  “It took some doing but I got put on the list to be your emergency contact before you shipped over to Afghanistan. So when they rushed you into surgery they called me. I spoke with your doctors every day. You aren’t supposed to be out of the hospital yet.”

  So that was how she’d known he would be there tonight. The doctors had called her. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or pissed.

  “I’m fine,” he managed with a husky, tight voice.

  Avery closed her eyes and shivered slightly before recovering her casual appearance. She sipped her whiskey and then licked her plump lips. Ridge’s body tightened in response to the little movement. Damn it, now wasn’t the time to get a fucking hard-on for the woman.

  Pushing to his feet, he went to the dresser and filled his glass, making sure he was facing away from her. Yep, messed up, that’s what he was. Angry at himself for so many reasons, he drank down half the glass.

  “I’m sorry, Avery. I’m so fucking sorry.” The burn of the whiskey stole his breath, making his words come out raspy and gruff. He couldn’t even apologize to her right.