He and Crystal have been together for a year and a half now. They met at the State Fair back home. In Cheyenne, Wyoming, the fair is no joke. What the two of them share isn’t either. I’ve never seen him fall for a girl the way he’s fallen for her. He’s so pussy whipped—but she makes him happy and that’s all I really care about. The cool part is, she’s actually pretty fun to be around. We get along great, so living with her these last few months has been good. It hasn’t been easy, not being able to have Rett around as much, and it helps that we have each other.
We wanted to be as close as possible while he went through boot camp and then infantry training. We knew it would be hard for him to get away, but we figured if we were close enough, we’d get more weekends with him than if we were back in Wyoming. It wasn’t much—it wasn’t enough—but none of us thought he’d get deployed as soon as he graduated. Now, looking back, I know that moving down here was the best decision I’ve ever made in my life. We won’t be staying long, though. Now that he’s leaving, I know I need to get back to Grams. Crystal feels it too. We’ll all need each other as we wait for our solider to come back.
Thinking about Grams makes me regret that she’s not here. Part of me knows that it’s probably for the best. I’m sure she’d be a mess and Rett doesn’t need that right now—he’s got enough on his plate dealing with Crystal and me. Just the same, he hasn’t been back home since his leave after boot camp. I know he spent most of last night talking to her, though. And he’ll be back.
He’ll be back.
I peek over at Rett and Crystal from where I stand. I’ve been trying to hang back, knowing that they need their space right now. She’s cried herself to sleep every night since we got the news. I can always hear her through the walls, which are paper thin. We don’t talk about it—her tears. Admitting that I hear her would be the same as her admitting she can hear me whenever I have a girl over; or that I can hear her whenever she’s with my brother.
Last night they went at it as if their lives depended on it.
Yeah—we don’t discuss her tears. Every morning, as I brew a pot of coffee, she tries to hide her puffy eyes from me. As soon as I enter the room, her cereal becomes the most fascinating thing in the world. We both know I’m no fool, but I never ask her if she’s okay. She doesn’t ask me either. After I doctor my cup of brew, I kiss the top of her head and make my way back to my room. One kiss every day. The innocent act assures her that I understand, like no one else can, and I’m here for her.
We left the apartment pretty early this morning, so she’s dressed for the cool January temperature in her skinny jeans and a marine corps hoodie that belongs to Rett. It swallows her tiny frame. Crystal’s small in comparison to me—I stand just barely at five-eleven—so next to my beast of a brother, who is six-four and built like a machine—she looks like a doll. Her glossy black hair is pulled up into a ponytail that hangs halfway down her back, leaving her tear-streaked face completely exposed. Even from here, I can see the dark lashes that frame her big brown eyes are soaked. She’s not wearing any makeup, but she doesn’t need any. Her rich, caramel colored skin is beautiful on its own—and the way my brother is looking at her right now, I know he doesn’t give a shit what she’s got on. She’s his heart.
I watch as he tries to dry her cheeks. The act is futile, as more tears are quick to replace the ones he wipes away. He does it anyway. He leans down and rests his forehead against hers, speaking something only she can hear before he presses his lips to hers. She clings to him and I look away. I love Crystal, because my brother does and because she’s a good person and a great friend—but dammit, she’s making this harder.
I look up when I hear a sniffle and I see her making her way toward me. She takes a deep breath, as if she’s bracing herself, and then looks up at me and forces a smile. “You’re turn,” she manages. I nod and then direct my gaze over to my brother. Suddenly, I’m weak at the knees and I’m not sure I can move. When Crystal gently grasps hold of my elbow and gives my arm a tug, I look down at her and surrender to her pull. She kisses my temple and a smirk pulls at my lips. I know right away what she’s trying to say. “Go on,” she insists, giving me a little push.
I force one foot in front of the other.
When I was little and learning to speak, I had a hard time learning Rett’s name. I couldn’t get the G in Garrett to come out. Over and over again, Grams would try and help me—Gar-rett. GAR-rett. Rett was all I could manage. He didn’t mind. He actually liked it and it stuck. He did that for me. He’s been looking out for me and taking care of me since before I could talk. Now I have to say goodbye. He’ll be gone until August. This time, there will be no more weekend visits; I can’t just call him—he’ll be a world away.
“Hey,” he mumbles when I stop in front of him.
“Hey.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. It seems like there’s so much that needs to be said and yet, there’s nothing to say; nothing that will make this parting any easier.
“Watch out for my girl, alright?”
I look into his blue-green eyes, a reflection of my own, and nod. “You know that I will.”
“And Grams. Don’t let them worry too much.” I tug my eyebrows together in response, knowing I can’t promise that. He doesn’t take offense. I know he’s just talking for the sake of talking. “Take care of you, too.” He grips my shoulder and gives me a small shake. “Do what you have to do, you hear? Keep drawing, keep working hard. I believe in you, bro—and I’m so proud of you. When I get back, I expect a sleeve design to be drawn up and ready to go for me. A dragon or some tough shit like that.”
I can’t breathe. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, willing my tears to stay hidden behind my eyes. My lungs beg for me to open up my mouth and gulp down a breath, but I can’t. When I see a single tear spill from the corner of Rett’s eye, I know I’m going to lose it.
“I love you, Trev. So much.”
“I—I love—you—” I can’t even get the words out before my tears rob me of my voice entirely. When Rett pulls me into his arms, I return his embrace and let myself cry. My face is smashed against his shoulder and it’s as if my body knows my heart—it knows that this is the one place I can let it all go without any shame.
I told myself I wouldn’t do this. I know that if we all fall to pieces, it’ll make it that much harder for him to leave. I need to be strong. I need to be brave. I need to be proud—but I’m scared. It’s not even just about the dangers of war; it’s about being left here without him. I don’t know how to do life without him.
“You’re going to be alright,” he says, as if he can read my thoughts. His words make me feel like a selfish little shit. I should be the one telling him that he’ll be alright. He’s the one leaving with a gun strapped across his back. “Write me letters. Send me sketches. No excuses. It’s only for a few months.”
“Be careful,” I demand, squeezing him tighter.
“I will.” For a moment, we let our tears do the talking. “Happy birthday, by the way.” I choke out a laugh, not because I'm amused, but because I know he means it. Of all the things I’m sure he’s got on his mind right now, he hasn’t neglected to think of the significance of this date—the other significance. I thought he might forget and there’s no way in hell I was going to remind him. “We’ll celebrate properly when I get back.”
“Rockwell—time to go!” someone shouts from behind us.
Rett holds me for a second longer before he pats my back and pulls away from me. I’m quick to reach up and scrub my hand down my face, wiping away my tears. He claps his hand around the back of my neck. “I’ll see you later, kid,” he says with a smirk, his face still wet from his own tears.
“Yeah. See you later.” I want to say more, but I can’t. We’ve run out of time and I’ve run out of words.
As he begins to walk away, Crystal comes to stand beside me. She wraps her hand around mine and holds on for dear life. Rett looks back at us from over his shoul
der and smiles before calling out, “I love you.”
Neither Crystal nor I miss a beat before we simultaneously reply, “We love you, too.”
First, I want to thank all of my family and friends who boldly, enthusiastically, and confidently refer to me as a writer and an author. Seriously, it might seem like such a little thing to you, but it is such a great encouragement to me. Your support makes me brave.
To that special handful of people who let me talk incessantly about my ideas, my characters, my books, and this whole incredible process of getting myself published—thank you! I would go crazy if I didn’t have you to lend your ear. You are my forever friends. Larisa, Kailin, Debbie, you’re the best.
LaShanta, thank you so much for helping me edit my baby. You were there for me in my hour of need and I won’t forget it!
Cassy at Pink Ink Designs, you rock my socks off. Seriously, you’re amazing! Thank you for all of your hard work on my cover—I love it!
Also, there is no way that I could let you close this book without offering YOU a big, fat, thank you! To all of my readers, thank you for giving me a chance and for allowing my characters to live in your imaginations for a while. YOU are a HUGE part of this dream come true. If I could hug every single last one of you, I would…In fact, if we ever get a chance to meet and you'd like one, there’s a hug with your name on it. I promise.
R.C. Martin finds it a bit awkward referring to herself in the third person, so she's only going to do it for this one sentence. (We all know who's writing this bio anyway!)
I'm a born and bred Coloradan. I will always claim that square state as my home! While I now reside in Virginia, the land of the Rocky Mountains is where I've left a piece of my heart and where my characters come to life. I'm a woman in love with love and filled to the brim with compassion for women like me, on a journey to find themselves in today's society. I aspire to inspire my readers to do more than settle. I hope that my writing will remind everyone that she (or he!) is valuable and worthy of the best kind of love--the kind that is gentle, patient, faithful, passionate, all consuming, never ending, and leaves you breathless.
When I'm not writing I'm reading; when I'm not reading I'm writing...you know how it goes! I also enjoy cooking, baking, crocheting, and jigsaw puzzles. Basically, I'm an old soul with a young heart, nonchalantly waiting for my prince to come.
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January 2006
The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) Page 55
