From the Start

by Cheryl Etchison

  Within a matter of minutes she was on his doorstep, but unlike the last time she had shown up unannounced, there was no music blaring from inside his apartment. No sounds of any kind from within. The only indication he might be home was his car in the parking lot. She stood there for several minutes, knocking on his door at regular intervals. Finally, she had no choice but to give up and head back to her car. But as she followed the walkway to the parking lot, something drew her attention to the swimming pool in the middle of the complex. There, in the fading light of day, was a man sitting all alone on the deck and staring out over the water.

  Kacie cut across the lawn to the pool gate.

  Michael had his back to the gate and headphones in his ears, so she was able to walk right up without him noticing. Although he wore swim trunks and no shirt, it was evident he hadn’t gotten in the water. Instead, he sat on the stairs leading into the shallow end of the pool, the water reaching only midcalf. And sitting beside him was a half-empty bottle of Gentleman Jack.

  She placed her hand on his bare shoulder and he jerked around in surprise. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said once he pulled the earbuds free.

  “Go home, Kacie,” he said flatly.

  “Sorry about that, Major MacGregor,” she said while picking up the half-empty liquor bottle. “I’m not required to follow your orders.”

  She’d intended to move the whiskey out of her way, but after a moment, she picked it up and walked over to the fence where she poured out the remaining liquid into the bushes before tossing the bottle into a can for recyclables.

  He didn’t react. He just sat there. Like a bump on a log. Numb.

  And her heart broke for him.

  Despite his unwillingness to fight, she noticed the tension in his body, how his neck and shoulders were hard as stone. Instead of trying to squeeze in between him and the pool railings, she slipped off her flip-flops and settled on the deck behind him, her legs astride his body. Then she smoothed her palms over his back and began massaging his muscles, hoping it would help him relax. Much to her surprise, it wasn’t long before his held fell forward, almost in surrender.

  She continued working as the light dwindled around them. She began with the trapezius muscle, its fibers lean and powerful, but not so overdeveloped that his neck disappeared into his shoulders. Next came the anterior, medial, and posterior deltoids forming his strong shoulders, each muscle clearly defined. Then there was the shadowed valley of the infraspinatus and teres major and the strong vee of the latissimus dorsi.

  For a long time they sat in silence as she worked the tense muscles until her hands ached and fingers cramped.

  “I need to take a break,” she said, shaking out her hands.

  Again, there was no protest.

  She could only hope she’d helped somehow. Moving from back to front, her palms smoothed the exterior abdominal obliques before sliding upward to the pectoral majors. She flexed her arms and scooted closer, her feet now resting in the water alongside his, her pelvis flush with his backside, her breasts pressing into the newly worked muscles.

  “I know I talk a lot,” Kacie said, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to his spine, “but I think I’m a pretty decent listener, too.”

  She held her breath, waiting for a response. Finally, she turned her head, resting her cheek against his skin as she hugged him close.

  He covered her hands with his. The left he moved to cover his sternum where she felt the powerful beat of his heart beneath her palm. The right was lifted higher, her palm turned upward to receive a tender kiss in the center.

  “Thank you,” he whispered across her skin before kissing it again.

  “Are you ready to talk?”

  “Not just yet.”

  She nodded against his back just so he knew she’d heard and then held him a little tighter.

  It was full dark by the time Michael stood up, took Kacie’s hand, and led her back to his apartment. He knew she was still waiting for him to say something, anything. And he wanted to tell her everything—but he didn’t even know where to start. He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her being there for him. He wanted to tell her that he was falling in love with her. He wanted to ask her to stay here with him forever because the idea of her leaving made it difficult to breathe.

  Because she would leave. And he had to stay.

  He unlocked the door to his darkened apartment and reached past the doorjamb to flip on the light. Kacie followed him inside, and before he even closed the door and turned the bolt, she noticed the massive hole in the wall.

  She turned to look at him with concern in her eyes. “What the hell did you do?”

  He lifted one shoulder, then let it drop. He was all out of excuses. “I was stupid.”

  But she didn’t turn tail and run like he thought she might. Instead, she took his left hand, his good hand, and led him into the kitchen. After grabbing a bar stool and positioning it beneath the bright overhead light, she pointed to it. “Sit,” she ordered.

  “There’s no need,” he protested. “I’ve already checked it. It looks worse than it really is.”

  But one thing was for certain—while the whiskey had temporarily dulled the pain, his hand was going to hurt like a son of a bitch come morning. His head, too.

  With a look of disgust, or maybe disappointment—to be honest he was having a hard time reading her at the moment—she pointed at the empty bar stool once again. “Sit.”

  This time he sat.

  “If there is one saying that is completely true, it’s that doctors make the worst patients.”

  Obviously, she was not going to take his word that his hand was fine. For a split second the smart-ass taking up space in the back of his brain suggested asking just where the hell she got her medical degree. But while he was drunk, he wasn’t that drunk. Saying something that stupid in this moment was essentially a death wish.

  She stepped closer, bringing herself to stand between his knees, and instantly he was enthralled by that wild hair of hers. She must have showered, because bits and pieces were still damp; and even though he smelled like a distillery, there was an overpowering scent of cocoa butter in the air.

  Kacie tested each joint and bone in his hand, then mumbled under her breath, most of it incomprehensible. But he did manage to catch “doctor,” “hand,” “idiot.” Pretty much summed it up.

  Satisfied nothing was broken, Kacie began a full recon of his kitchen instead of just asking where things were. Opening and closing drawers, slamming cabinet doors, all the while looking for . . . whatever it was she was looking for. Finally, she gave up and headed down the hallway only to return within a matter of seconds with one of his army T-shirts. She passed by him, going straight to the refrigerator where she used her hand to scoop ice from the bucket before dropping it into the cotton fabric. Then she gathered the sides and twisted it around a few times before placing it on the top of his hand.

  Putting some distance between them, she took several steps backward until her butt met the counter on the opposite side of his small galley kitchen. She folded her arms over her chest and huffed in frustration. “I think you need to start talking.”

  There had been very few women who had spoken to him that way during his lifetime. Most of them found it was easier to walk away from him rather than tolerate his bullshit. Bree was the exception. And apparently Kacie—at least for now.

  “I think it’s obvious I lost my temper and punched a hole in the wall.”

  She shook her head in frustration. “Start talking about what’s important. What was that all about at your brother’s house? What happened?”

  Even through the haze of alcohol, he felt his earlier irritation bubbling up inside him again. “What do you think happened? He was injured last year, spent several weeks recovering in Walter Reed. But instead of counting his blessings and getting the hell out, he’s determined to re-up.”

  Her earlier expression softened a bit. “It’s understandable you’
d want him to leave.”

  “Yes.”

  “What I still don’t get is why you got that upset,” she said, pointing to his hand.

  How the hell was he going to explain this to her?

  Despite the sedating effects of alcohol, he could feel his heart rate ratcheting up. “Because if he stays, I stay.”

  The little crease appeared between her brows. “But you told me you never intended to be career military, or even join the Rangers. That you only did it because you and Danny were so competitive. Surely that’s not still the case anymore?”

  Damn her and her memory.

  Michael rose from the stool and tossed the ice pack into the sink. “I think we’re done here.”

  But as he tried to walk away, she took hold of his arm in both of her hands. “Don’t just walk away from me. Talk to me. Why don’t you just leave the army if you don’t like it, Michael?”

  He tore his arm free from her grip and spun around, hovering over her. “Because I can’t!”

  Immediately, she stepped back. She rapidly blinked her eyes and he knew she was trying to keep the tears at bay, refusing to show any weakness.

  God, how he wished he were as strong as her. To take back his life and just start over like she was doing.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but I just . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heels of his hands to them as he shook his head in frustration. “It’s not that simple, Kacie.”

  It felt like a lifetime passed before he heard her footsteps on the ceramic tile floor. He could only assume she was leaving and he couldn’t bear to watch her go. But then he felt the cool touch of her hands on his face. He opened his eyes and saw those calming green eyes, the color of sea glass, staring back at him.

  “You just said you only had a few months left.” She smoothed one hand over his cheek, along his jaw. “Get a job in a hospital. Get a job in private practice. Go anywhere.”

  “I wish I could.” He wanted it. He dreamed of it. But he couldn’t have it. “You make it sound so very easy.”

  “It is that easy—”

  “You. Know. Nothing.”

  Stunned into silence, Kacie pulled her hands from his face.

  “You don’t have any idea what it’s like to hold your brother’s life in your hands. To be covered in his blood. To know that if you fail, if you make one wrong move or make one tiny mistake, you’ll have to live with his death on your hands for the rest of your life. That you’ll have to face your father and admit your absolute best wasn’t good enough.”

  Kacie stepped back again, folding her arms over her body as if protecting herself. Michael watched as tears welled in her eyes and eventually spilled over to race down her cheeks. She so badly wanted to know what happened? Well, he’d tell her now.

  “He was shot three times. Twice in the lower torso. One bullet tore through his kidney and spleen, another perforated his small intestine. He damn near bled out before the medevac even got him to me, and I was only five minutes away. He was sweaty and breathing hard when he arrived. And he was suffering. He was fighting, but he was suffering. Abdominal wounds are the worst. Take a shot to the head, you at least lose consciousness. And you’ll die in minutes from a shot to the heart. But abdominal wounds . . . it takes people hours to die. And then there’s the fact he was shot with an AK-47. Do you know what that’s like? What it does to a person? It’s like an explosion going off inside someone’s body. There’s microscopic pieces of bone fragments everywhere. Everything is torn to shreds. And in order to save a person, you basically have to fillet them. Cut them wide open. Because you need to see everything in order to find out where the damage is. And the amount of bleeding . . .” Michael shook his head. “By the time the surgery was over I was covered in as much of his blood as he had left in his body.”

  Kacie swiped a tear from her cheek. “You performed surgery on your own brother? No wonder you’re so screwed up about this.”

  “He crashed twice on the medical transport to Landstuhl. Once he got there he spent several more hours in surgery. And then the infection damn near finished him off. It is truly a fucking miracle he is alive.”

  Needing an outlet for his pent-up energy, Michael began pacing across the small kitchen.

  “He shouldn’t even be in regiment. Having only one kidney should have disqualified him from service. I personally recommended his medical discharge, said he wasn’t fit to remain in the military. But my brother, I’ll be damned if he didn’t convince the higher-ups to let him stay.”

  “Is that what you’re mad about? That he had you overridden?”

  He slammed his already bruised and swollen fist against the counter. “I’m mad that he damn near died! And instead of appreciating the second chance he has at life and staying safe and having a future with Bree, he’s just signing his death warrant.”

  A short silence followed until Kacie made her way to his side, her hand skimming across his spine as she tried to calm him. Soothe him. “But the important thing is Danny didn’t die. You saved him. And he’s happy and healthy, building a life and a house with his wife. He’s making the most of every minute and that’s because of you. But you? You’re just sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “And when it does, I’ll be here to pick it up. That’s my job. I promised.”

  This time he did turn his back and walk away.

  He was so tired. So fucking tired.

  He made his way to the bedroom where he collapsed on the end of the bed and held his head in his hands.

  And of course she followed right along behind him. “Promised who, Michael?” She dropped to her knees in front of him and took hold of his wrists, pulling them away from his face. “Michael, look at me. Who did you promise? Your father? Bree? Who did you—”

  He was staring into those beautiful green eyes of hers the moment they widened with surprise.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  And he knew she had figured it all out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Michael sat in his desk chair and stared out the window, watching what seemed like the entire population of Hunter Army Airfield pass by. Although he was up to his eyeballs in new medical training policies and procedures, supply requisitions, and other assorted paperwork, he couldn’t bring himself to go through any of it.

  A quick knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and had him spinning his chair around. Speak of the devil. There was his brother standing in the doorway, a huge grin on his face.

  “You mean to tell me the US government pays you the big bucks to stare out the damn window all day?”

  Michael smiled back. “Today they do.”

  After his argument with Bree on Saturday, Michael had anticipated a visit from his younger brother sometime the day before. Especially since Danny was quite protective of Bree and wouldn’t tolerate anyone raising their voice to her—much less his own brother. He’d fully expected Danny at his door, fists a-flying, but the visit never happened.

  “What brings you here?”

  Danny’s boots thumped across the floor as he made his way to the empty chair on the opposite side of the desk. “I was just dropping off some paperwork, saw your door was open and thought I’d stop by and see how Kacie was feeling.”

  Now he was confused. “What’s that?”

  “Is she feeling better?” Danny repeated. “Bree said that Kacie had a migraine or something that came on pretty strong. That’s why you guys left before I got back with the propane, right?”

  Not only had Bree not told Danny about their argument, but she’d covered for him as well. And if that didn’t make him feel like shit.

  “Right, yes. Kacie’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

  Danny smiled. “Well, maybe we can do it next weekend if she’s up to it.”

  Suddenly, talk of a reschedule made it impossible for him to smile back. “Afraid that won’t happen. She’s moving to Durham this weekend. She starts her fellowship on Monday
.”

  His brother folded his arms over his chest and reclined in the chair with a smug smile on his face. “Now the staring longingly out the window makes sense. You’re moping.”

  Michael shook his head. “I’m not moping.”

  “The hell you aren’t.”

  Irritated that his brother had indeed caught him moping, he rose from his chair and began organizing the massive piles of manila folders on his desktop. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Someone else to harass?”

  “Nope,” Danny answered without dropping his smile. “Bree and Marie are going to some women in construction thing so I’m on my own for dinner. Ben invited me over to their place but I passed on that one.”

  Michael chuckled. Dinner with four kids wasn’t his idea of relaxing either.

  “So I thought I’d see if you want to get something to eat. But that was before I realized your girl is leaving this week.” Danny waggled his brows. “I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with your little brother.”

  “Fuck off,” he muttered. “So about that paperwork . . .”

  “Signed, sealed, and delivered for another four years at least,” Danny said matter-of-factly.

  Although Michael had expected it, the news still came like a dagger to the gut.

  “I thought you were getting out?” He dropped into his chair. “The last time we talked you sounded like you were considering it.”

  Like the soldier he was, Danny sat up straighter in his chair. “That’s true. I was. But several guys with ten years recently decided to get the hell out for various reasons. If I left now, 1st Batt could be in one hell of a lurch.”

  “You don’t owe them your life, Danny.”

  “That’s true. But I like it here,” he said with a smile. “I’m happiest here. And Bree wants me to do what makes me happy.”

  His stomach churned. If only he’d been able to convince Bree . . .

  “What about you?”

  Michael looked at his brother. “What do you mean?”

  “Your time is about done. Are you ready to get the hell out of here? It’s not like the army was ever your style to begin with.”