Coming Home: Book 2 The Wakefield Romance Series

by Hewitt, Theresa Marguerite

  "God damn it," he says, his eyes shooting daggers as he looks between us. "No I don't want anything else," he spits out, returning his attention to his cell.

  "Is Jarrod gonna be joinin' ya?" I ask, half turning back to the bar.

  Duke's face raises up to me, and I pause, remembering why I had been involved with him at all. For the longest time I've just blamed it on being lonely, but Duke really is a handsome man. He has strong features accented by his awesome, almost at times turquoise eyes, and his sun streaked blonde hair. He smiles at me and those little dimples appear, making him look even more irresistible. I sigh quietly to myself, thinking that if only he could have been a kinder man; maybe things would've been different.

  "Yeah, bring him a round, too." He nods, and I walk off, checking on the table of rowdy men receiving refills and food orders. I round the bar and bump hips with Kendall as we both try to use one tap at the same time. The thoughts I had just had of Duke bother me, and I’m running them through my head as I’m standing there and waiting for Kendall to finish.

  "After I get these drinks, I'm taking a short break," I say. Kendall's face snaps around to me as her hand goes to my stomach.

  "Are you okay?” I can see her brow crease as she gazes at me. "Do you feel sick?" I shake my head and smile a little, pushing her hand away from my stomach.

  "I'm fine; just tired," I start pouring the drafts into the glasses, shaking my head. "And you gotta stop putting your hand there; people will put two and two together. Plus, I can't feel anything yet." She gives me a fake pouty face, the same way she does every time she doesn't get her way, and I nudge her with my elbow. Giving her a wink as I turn to deliver the drinks, I throw out, "There'll be plenty of time for you to do that in the next few months."

  She grins and it makes me giggle. I set the glasses down on the table with the rowdy men and the other three at Duke's booth.

  "Rhea," Duke says as I turn to go back to the bar. Facing him, I see the genuinely admiring gaze on his face, and it makes me blush. "You look good."

  "Thanks," I whisper and quickly make my way back behind the safety of the cherry wood topped bar. Why the hell did Duke make me so nervous all of a sudden? I plop down into a high backed stool, sipping my glass of ginger ale as I watch Kendall flirting with Harlan.

  Is it because I miss Chad? No, because I don’t just miss Chad, I need him, in every way possible. There is a hole in my heart, in my soul, and I need him. I don't want to bring this child into the world alone.

  As if on cue, my phone vibrates, getting me to jump and retrieve it from my back pocket. It is Rosa, and her text reads, Hope you’re doing good today, Chica. Don't forget my doc appt, and call me tomorrow. Stay strong, mama-Love ya-R.

  "I'm gonna try to stay strong, mi amiga," I whisper, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

  ‘Try’ is the word that is hanging on the edge, along with my emotions.

  ~~~~~~~

  Duke

  I watch Rhea out of the corner of my eye as she sits on the stool behind the bar, and her perfect lips wrap around the straw sticking from her glass. Damn, how I wish I could be that straw, or hell, even the glass that holds the drink that her pretty little hand is wrapped around. Just the sight of her makes my chest tighten. I want her so badly that it hurts, literally.

  Yeah, I'm definitely not perfect, but who is? I made mistakes that I thought would make her want me more, but in the end they only pushed her away. I've changed now, though, for her, and I need to make her see that we can be good together; that I can love her like no one else can.

  She consumes every part of me, fills every hole that is in my heart and soul, and I need her to see that. She says she's in love with that asshole, Chad Payne, but I know better. She's just confused. That ass doesn't love her; he's just using her and leaving her, but I'd never do that. I want her to be in my bed every night and every morning. I want her personality to fill my home, and life, to the brim. I want her to have my children and to raise them with me by her side. I want to have her skin within my reach at any time that I want or need. Like now.

  "Hey," Jesse's voice bursts my bubble of reflection and I scowl at him. "What the hell is your problem tonight, Bro? " he asks, slamming his half empty mug down on the table as Jarrod slides in next to him at our booth. Jesse is my cousin, my blood, my family, but hell; sometimes I feel like just strangling the kid.

  "I ain't got a problem, Bro," I grind out, putting my mug to my lips and gulping down the last third of my beer. It is one way to get Rhea's sweet little butt over here again. I wipe the back of my hand across my lips, my eyes still lingering on her dyed black hair and milky white face. She is smiling, and it feels as if the sight of it is going to shatter my heart into a billion tiny pieces.

  "Oh, I see what's botherin' ya." Jarrod turns his honey brown eyes over his shoulder to settle on Rhea, and I reach across the table and punch his shoulder. He rubs the spot and smiles. "He's pissed off that Chad still takes number one in Rhea's book." My two buddies laugh, and it makes my face redden.

  "You've been hooked on that damn girl since high school," Jesse mumbles into his beer. "Why don't you just drop the trash and hook up with Holly? She is one fine piece of ass." Jarrod and him high five and I almost throw up all over the table.

  Yeah, I've slept with Holly more times than I'd like to mention, but she is definitely not wife material. She is just a play thing to relieve tension. She is not someone I’d be proud to bring home to momma.

  Jesse is right though. I have been after Rhea since I was a junior in high school and she was in eighth grade. She had just started to fill out with her curves, and I could tell even then that she was going to be prettier than any girl in town. Her older brother, Randy, had been on my ass since I was a freshmen to stay away from her, but I had always countered with, "I'm gonna take your sister’s cherry," riling even Payne up at the time. They never did lay their hands on me, and being two years older than me; they were enlisted in the Navy while I was still in high school.

  I had been disappointed when Rhea had gone off to college and I was stuck working construction here, doomed to end up like my father, and his father before him. I had tried my hardest to get with her at every party that she attended when she was home; never succeeding until just a year ago. She says that she's always been in love with Chad, since she was a little girl, but I don't believe that. She needs someone who can be there for her when she needs it. She needs someone who knows what she goes through day to day; someone who knows what it's like to live in this little Podunk town and not be able to escape.

  Chad can't do that for her. He's only God knows where, and who the hell knows when he'll be back. He's been all around the world, while Rhea and I have never traveled far from this one stop light town. I know it's a sin to wish ill of someone, but I can't help but wish that he won't return. Just the thought of him makes my fists ball on the table top of my booth, the hand around my beer mug feeling like it might shatter the glass.

  I love that woman and I will do anything to have her.

  I will do anything to have her.

  I will have her.

  CHAPTER THREE:

  April 7, 2012

  Chad

  Iraq

  Hell, this night is eerily quiet. I look over at Reno who's crouched down beside me in the sand, and he just shakes his head, his eyes peering through the night vision binoculars.

  "Fuck Chief," he whispers, shifting around on his stomach, "I got a bad feelin' ‘bout somethin'."

  "Me too," I nod, looking through the scope on my gun to the building we are watching. Our other teammates are spread around, surrounding the same building and I laugh as Timmons' voice comes over our mic system, complaining about the bugs. In the desert at night the bugs are pretty bad, here more than at base, because there is standing water in barrels and buckets, spread out all over the place.

  It is only about one in the morning and we are waiting for word from command to move in on the building to execute a
rescue mission. Intelligence says that a captured CIA operative is being held and interrogated within the building in my sight and we are the ones tasked with bringing him home. Home. That would be a nice place to be right about now.

  "Move in," the clear orders come through, and we are all automatically switched into combat mode.

  Reno and I flip down our night vision goggles and get on our feet, still crouching down behind a broken down car. Our M-4s in hand, we move in unison to the next cover spot, meeting up with Black and French. Like a four person snake, we move through the night, pressing our backs up against a brick wall as French orders Timmons to take out a guard from his position on a rooftop nearby.

  Executing the kill, Timmons clears the path for us as we near the building. Reno takes out a small explosive and tags it to the door.

  "All clear," he issues, making sure we are all backed away before he detonates the small charge. All of us flick on the lights mounted to our guns as we rush in. The smoke from the blast lingers and yells fill the small one room bunker as French and Black take out the four guards before I can even get a shot off.

  Benson and Talbot join us as more gun shots ring out in the night air. Timmons comes over the radio, saying he took out the last guards that were visible.

  "Keep your eyes open, Kid," I say, kneeling in front of the strung up CIA operative. He is suspended from the ceiling, his hands bound with chains above his head, his feet weighed down with a cinder block attached with another chain around his ankles. His face is swollen and all different unnatural colors, and my flashlight only makes him look worse.

  "Agent Howard?” I ask as Reno un-wraps the chain from his arms, lowering him to the dirt floor as I work on his ankles. The man mumbles a 'yes', and I'm glad he's responsive. "I have to ask you some questions before we get you outta here." He mumbles another yes, and I continue. "What was your high school mascot?"

  The government wants to make sure they rescue the right people, so when we get to them we have to ask questions to which only the real person would know the answers. "Cardinals," he gurgles, and I see one of his teeth come out as he coughs up some blood.

  Reno and I look at each other for a moment, and then nod, his answer being the right one for both of us. I yell for Talbot to come pick him up. We form a diamond around Talbot and the operative, and I tell Timmons we are coming out.

  "All clear, Chief," he replies, and we get to moving, our guns at the ready. We have no problem getting up to the rendezvous point as the sound of helicopter blades drums through the darkness all around us, and Timmons and Uclid appear.

  Talbot, with the operative, Uclid, Benson, and Timmons climb into the first chopper as it touches down almost silently; kicking up dust into the hot air. French, Black, Reno, and I jump into the other; all silent as it lifts us up and off into the night. The red light in the cab casts an eerie glow, and I snap off my helmet, setting it in my lap while gazing at that old Polaroid of Randy, Rhea, and I.

  "De-briefing at 0300," French issues and we all reply a 'yes Sir', his commanding voice bringing out the robotic nature in us.

  Ambulances are waiting as we reach the training base in less than thirty minutes, rushing the CIA agent off even before we are all out of the choppers. If a civilian were here, they would probably be very offset at the silence that surrounds us as we enter our barracks, tossing off our gear and heading for the showers like minions. It is just us, this is how we manage. This is how we deal with the weight of the things we see and do.

  No one speaks a word until after we have all been de-briefed and we are back in the barracks, sprawled out on our bunks. "I don't know ‘bout you guys," Timmons says, and I can see him roll over onto his stomach a couple bunks down, "but I'm hungry as hell."

  Leave it to him to be thinking of food while the rest of us are thinking of loved ones and how fucked up the world is right now. Well, at least that is what I am thinking about; I can't totally speak for everyone else.

  "Well it's only four-thirty," Reno says as I see him hop down from the bunk above me, "so back home it's about seven p.m. yesterday." I nod as he sits on my bunk, leaning against the end railing. "I say we use Skype, and then grill something up for breakfast."

  This gets everyone's attention as they all grunt and shout in agreement, hopping from their bunks. Stretching out, I slap Reno on the back, the sound echoing through the space around us.

  I get out, "Good idea, Man," before Reno pushes me with both hands on my chest, making me go over backward, landing to the floor on my ass. Everyone bursts out laughing, including me, as I stand and fake limp around to the couch, flopping dramatically down as everyone throws pillows at me.

  This is us; a group of manly SEALs, joking around and throwing pillows at each other. This is another part of how we deal with the things we do. The other part? Well, that other part will come when I shove in front of Timmons to use the Skype before him to see my Rhea's face. Her face, her voice—hell, just the sight of her—is my healing. Especially now, since she's carrying my child.

  My child. It's still crazy when I think about it. As I hear the guys start to argue over who's going first, I drift off into a day dream; holding Rhea in my arms as we watch the baby sleep soundly in its crib.

  I can't wait to be home. I can't wait to be back with Rhea.

  I can't wait to meet my child.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Rhea

  The bar is packed and buzzing as Kendall, Brad, and I run around like chickens with our heads cut off, serving drinks and food. It's only a little after seven and Brad has already had to kick out a handful of people for trying to fight or for just being too rowdy. Harlan and Garth are on their usual stools at the very end of the bar, talking animatedly with some guys from high school, when I see Duke motion to me from across the room in his normal booth.

  Stopping behind Kendall as she mixes two house specials, 'Wakefield Wow-zas', I say right into her ear so she can hear me, "Going to check on Duke's table." She nods, not breaking her conversation with Ms. Perry, the local female bar fly, and I round the corner, feeling Harlan's eyes on me.

  I am about ten weeks along and I have a little pooch going on. My jeans are a little tight, and Kendall says that if you look really hard when I turn to the side, you can see a little bump. I feel fat nonetheless as I weave from table to table, making sure everyone's doing okay and taking a couple shouts for popcorn and beer. I finally come to the edge of Duke's booth with a tray full of empty bottles and mugs balanced on my hip.

  "What can I get ya?” I ask loudly, leaning in real close over the middle of the table as Duke, Jesse, and Jarrod lean in toward me so that we can all hear each other. I hold back an eye roll as I see Jesse roam his eyes over my chest and backside. Keep dreamin', bro, I think.

  "We need another round," Jarrod slurs only inches from my ear, spraying a little spit on my cheek that I quickly wipe away with a disgusted look plastered on my face. He waves his empty mug at me and I snatch it from his hand, putting it, and the other two, with the pile of others already on my tray.

  "Anything else?" I look between Duke and Jesse, Duke's blue-green eyes scanning over me as I rest my gaze upon him. His Mossy Oak cap is resting on the bench seat next to him making it so that his perfect blonde hair is on display, and I can tell he's been running his fingers through it, pushing it back and off of his forehead. It is longer than I ever remember. My hand is resting on the edge of their table, and I'm shocked back from my little observational daydream when I feel his fingers brush mine.

  "You wanna dance, Ray?” he asks, leaning closer as I slowly lean back away from him, straightening my stance. What the hell is this? And why did I feel so conflicted right now? My lips are slightly parted, ready to give him a soft answer, saying that I’ll try but I’m not promising anything because we are so busy, and I feel a hand on my hip. I turn to see Harlan looming behind me.

  "I saw that, Duke," he almost yells out over the music, and I see more than a few heads turn our way; Jarrod and Je
sse both tense in their seats. Harlan's finger loops into the side pocket of my apron and I can feel him gently tug me to move to his side; the mugs and bottles chattering on my tray.

  "Ya keep your hands to yourself," Harlan says down to the grinning Duke, his dimples on full display, and I know it's just making Harlan even angrier.

  "I wasn't doing anythin'. I just simply asked her to dance." Duke looks up at Harlan while reaching into his front pocket and pulling out his Copenhagen can, pinching some of the chew between his index finger and thumb and nestling it down between his bottom lip and jaw.

  I put my hand on Harlan's elbow, looking up in his dark blue eyes. I nod, letting him know it’s okay to let it be. He starts to turn, but swings back, almost slamming his hands down on the booth table, his face only inches from Duke's. "Don't you dare put your filthy hands on her again." His lips curl up in an almost evil grin, and Harlan slaps his palms once more on the tabletop, scaring me enough to swing around and weave through the bar as I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket.

  Setting the tray down, I pull my cell from my pocket and my heart races when I see the Skype logo displayed on the screen, notifying me that Chad is trying to reach me. Kendall comes up to me, opening her mouth to say something, but I speak first.

  "Chad's calling. I'm gonna be in the office." I swipe the screen in a downward motion, hitting the Skype shortcut as I practically run through the kitchen and into Brad's office. I bump my butt into the door to shut it most of the way to drown out the rattles of the bar as Chad's face pops up on my phone.