Divine

by Cait Jarrod

  “I have phantom twinges once in a while, nothing more.”

  “And you don’t need help?”

  He liked this type of conversation better. No feelings to force him to weep like a kid. “Jeez, Grandma, I don’t.”

  Travis considered him and nodded. “Ready?”

  All the emotional talk coiled him in knots. “I need fresh air. I’m gonna take a walk.” He patted his right thigh “Exercise is good for my leg.”

  “All right.”

  He rose, tossed their trash in the bin, and followed his big brother to the parking lot. “See you later.”

  “I’m not heading out for a couple of days.” Travis bumped knuckles with him. “Keep your phone close.”

  “Got it, Grandma.”

  Travis chuckled, slid into his truck, and drove away, throwing up a hand to him on the way by.

  He walked toward his parents’ home, the one he and Travis refused to leave after their premature deaths, not intending to go there. No, a certain spot along the river, the place where he’d found home, beckoned him.

  Chapter Six

  “Stupid to think Trina would answer,” Matt mumbled and disconnected his cell. He shoved the phone in his pocket and snatched a beer from a neighborhood grocery store bag he carried. Twisting the top with his teeth, he spit the cap into the brown bag and moved through the woods to the bridge.

  By the time he’d stepped onto the footbridge, he’d finished the beer. Holding onto the railing, he slid to the splintery wood floor and opened another, this time with his hand. The hoppiness tasted good, but it didn’t come close to what he sought—eliminating the grief. He rested his forearms on a railing and rotated until his legs hung over the side.

  The day he ran to the river like a maniac came to him as if he lived the agony of Mom’s death again. The sad part was all these years later, the ache hadn’t diminished, not as he’d thought and hoped. Losing contact with Trina exacerbated the issue. In her company, the pain lessened.

  He tilted the bottle and didn’t stop drinking until he sucked out the last drop.

  Fuzziness messed with his vision. He really should stop drinking and stop thinking about her. Being a glutton for punishment, he didn’t take a break from doing either.

  He glanced at the bank where they had met, then at the spot in the river where he’d jumped in to save her.

  Coldness seeped into his chest and limbs.

  “Fuck a duck!” He grabbed another beer and knocked it back. Tomorrow promised to be a better day. Right?

  His rigid muscles relaxed. He reclined on the bridge and stared at the twilight sky. “What did I do to deserve this?” The haunting image of her followed him wherever he went. No phone calls, no emails, nothing from her! “What the fuck gives?” he shouted at the cardinals flying overhead.

  The setting sun warmed his face and the flowing river lulled him. He sucked in a deep breath of damp mustiness and pines. The scents usually carried him to fond memories near the river and eased his mind, but not today.

  Nope, the area lacked its secret ingredient. Trina.

  With the exception of being a sniper, she fueled everything he did, everything he had done, everything he wanted to do. Pathetic to let another person have such control of your life, a person who brought him, a hardened Marine, to his knees. Hell, he’d fought in the war, seen the worst of humanity, and had kept a positive attitude. Now he struggled to keep his wits.

  How weak to drown his sorrows in beer. Such a fucking cliché. He rose, opened another bottle, and downed more alcohol. Tonight, he’d give into this vice. Tomorrow, he’d try to figure out a way to survive.

  Travis’ idea of moving might be the best thing. He’d love to start fresh. Here, bittersweet memories plagued him everywhere. She had been a distraction after he lost his parents. What could possibly distract him from missing her?

  Each time his phone rang, his insides jolted with anticipation and hope. Disappointment followed when he didn’t hear her voice on the other end.

  Bradley called a couple of times right after his last visit, but the suck-ass reception distorted his words. Even though he and Bradley had become somewhat friends, he wouldn’t talk about her and put either of them in an awkward position. Besides, the loyalty between brother and sister outdid their friendship. Nope, Bradley’s allegiance went to her first, as it should.

  Travis move to Montana sounded more appealing. It was a safe bet.

  The beer empty, he stretched out flat on the bridge, draped an arm across his forehead, and closed his eyes. From this day forward, he’d work toward the future—a new home, a new life in Montana—and forget his past.

  “If only.”

  “Get up!” a uniformed Marine yelled. Chaos and destruction reined the area. Men flew. Pieces of equipment whipped past as if a tornado had slung them. Metal impaled Matt’s leg. He jerked one way then the other, trying to see what happened. Did someone get hurt? Where were his fellow Marines?

  “Matt!”

  He didn’t call him sergeant. He moved his head and saw darkness. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Bradley. Wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”

  Cold water splashed his face and a hand patted his cheek. “Come on, Squirt! Wake up!”

  “Travis!” He focused through the jackhammer pounding his head, to his brother and Bradley’s pitiful faces, and rose to a sitting position. He wanted to puke.

  The sun shone its early morning rays on the rippling river and the empty bottles lying around him.

  “You have a death wish?” Travis asked, emptying the contents of the bag on the bridge. “You drank all twelve or did elves join you?”

  “I don’t need your shit.” He braced his hands behind him and shoved backwards. “What the—”

  “You’re missing a leg,” Bradley said, the pitch in his voice rising with shock.

  Not having seen him since he returned, Bradley wouldn’t know about his leg. “Damn thing was a nuisance. I got rid of it.” He teased, wanting to get him with the fuck-you factor for not telling him about Trina dating someone.

  Bradley’s mouth dropped open.

  Travis braced his hands on the top railing. The corners of his mouth twitched.

  “An amputee joke, a poor one.” He leaned forward and peered below.

  On the edge of the rocks along the bank rested his shining leg. “There it is,” he said.

  Bradley followed his finger. “Wow, I’m sorry. I heard you underwent rehab, but I had no idea.” His words drifted off.

  “How would ya?” he scoffed. “What I can’t believe is that your sister hasn’t tried to contact me. What the hell? Her and I were friends—”

  “Matt,” Travis said, his voice stern.

  He was pissed. Last night, he’d lost his feelings in alcohol, but today he needed to unload. “We had something special and she… screws the first guy she comes across. Hell—” He shuffled and stood with the aid of the railings. “Travis, get me my damn leg. I’m getting out of here, away from this area, and everything reminding me of her. Montana here I come.” He was being a jerk. Seeing Bradley, despite understanding his actions, brought out his anger two-fold.

  “You want to hear what Bradley has to say,” Travis warned.

  “The hell I do!” He wanted to hit something. It might as well be Bradley. After all, he’d already practiced on him at the bar a few months ago. He lunged, fell, and rolled onto his back.

  “What the hell happened to your face?” Travis knelt beside him and touched his chin, turning his face one way then the other. “Did you run into someone’s fist?”

  He sucked in a deep breath and lifted his chin toward the light blue sky with faint billowy clouds. The promise of a pain-free day shot to hell. “Not a fist. A tree.” On the way to relieve himself, he’d tripped on a root and brushed the bark. “It’s a scrape.”

  Travis’ eyebrows narrowed to slits. Here comes judgement, the lecture.

  Bradley scratched the side of his face and d
arted his attention away from him and Travis.

  “You’ve been busy,” Travis said. The judgment he expected to hear in his tone didn’t come.

  He tilted his head. “I was.”

  “Feel better?”

  What the hell? A pissed, lecturing Travis would give him a reason to fight, not this compassionate guy.

  “Matt.” Travis’ tone put him on hyper-alert. “Bradley has something to tell you that I should have mentioned when I found out, but with your,” he hesitated before continuing, “injury.” He spoke as if saying the word hurt to speak as much as it had Matt. “I kept quiet, I wanted you to heal, not just physically but mentally.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m gonna go get your leg.” Travis stepped off the bridge and stopped. “Listen to what Bradley has to say.”

  He growled and redirected his frustration toward Bradley. “What?”

  Bradley plopped onto the bridge beside him, rested his elbows on the middle railing, and held his head. “Bad news.”

  Matt’s heart clenched. Tears stung his eyes. His sullen tone knocked the fight out of him. Wanting to tell him to hurry, yet too afraid of what he’d say, he sat idle and waited.

  Bradley raised his chin, swallowed, but his head fell forward again.

  Being patient ate him alive. “Tell me!”

  “The day you left—” An odd noise escaped him. “Trina was in an accident.”

  Blood pounded in his ears. A sob snorted out of him. “No. No! Not possible.” As if Bradley could change the universe on command, he yelled louder. “No! Tell me, Bradley. Fucking tell me, she’s okay. Tell me, she’s alive!”

  Peering at the sky, Bradley wiped his face. “She’s alive.”

  He let out a shaky breath. His pulse didn’t stop pounding, but it slowed to a manageable level. “Then what?”

  “She’s in a coma. No life support. I talk to her every day. I think she can hear me, but I’m not sure. The doctor told my parents to abandon hope. They said she’d been out too long. Her brain wouldn’t function right. I think the human body is too much of a mystery for a doctor to predict her outcome.” Bradley’s tone turned foreign, like a reporter’s.

  Intense emotions barreled into him like a tank crushing a car, demolishing everything in its path. His organs seemed to flatten, to feel nonexistent.

  Then something odd happened. He wasn’t lost. The sweet comfort she had bestowed on him returned. Once again, because of her, he’d found his inner-strength and what he needed to do. “Give me my leg,” he said to Travis, resolute, and eyed Bradley after he snapped it in place. “Let’s go.”

  Trina tried to open her eyes. She concentrated and thought hard, even pictured them opening.

  They didn’t.

  “Hi, Miss Katrina,” a too-happy nurse said. “We need to shift you around so you don’t get bedsores.”

  Previously, Bradley said if her skin hurt to let him know by squeezing his hand so he could reposition her. She didn’t feel any sting, but she desperately wanted to squeeze his hand. She’d give about anything to see him smile.

  The nurse moved her body. A second later, she sensed she fell back in the exact same spot she started in. The same impression occurred each time a nurse said they would reposition her. If only she could open her eyes and let them know.

  That would give them a start. She laughed. Even if she couldn’t share her joke, she got a kick out of it.

  “Oh, excuse me, sir,” a deep voice said in the distance “Are you family?”

  “He’s family,” Bradley said. She heard her brother’s voice loud and clear, but who was with him?

  She went rigid. Matt? Oh please, let it be. Ugh! She wanted to scream. Please let me talk! Let me see! Her anxiety escalated. So unfair!

  “Okay, then,” the man said, a second before she heard the door tap closed.

  “She got out,” Bradley said and cradled her hand. “Didn’t she?”

  Got out? What did he mean?

  “She escaped the turmoil,” Bradley said to whoever else breathed in the room. “Trina and I try to do the right thing in accordance with our family’s way of thinking. We strove for our parents’ respect.”

  Her brother continued as if giving a monologue. “I messed up. If I had been stronger, confronted them, you wouldn’t be fighting to live. You would have been with Matt and not in that damn car.”

  No, Bradley! It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. Wait a second. The driver of the SUV is to blame! That SOB. Oops, she covered her mouth—at least in her mind she did.

  “May I have a moment?”

  Matt’s voice washed over her like a summer’s day. Oh, how she’d missed hearing his hint of an accent, the inflection stronger since his rugged good looks didn’t distract her. She pictured him grinning, the way he watched her from the corner of his eyes when he didn’t think she saw. Sexy, so darn hot she wanted to jump his bones. She wanted him! His friendship! Comfort! She could name his traits for hours and still not finish listing everything she loved about him.

  “Sure.” Bradley kissed her forehead and released her hand. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

  “Thanks.” Matt sounded croaky.

  He sniffled. The chair scraped on the floor. Then he touched her. Oh gosh, she wanted to leap out of her skin and dance. Both of his hands wrapped around hers. His head touched the back of her hand and his silky hair brushed over her. “God, Trina!” He sobbed, his voice a mess of broken slurs and cracked tones. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad. It’s your decision who you want to be with.”

  I’m not engaged.

  “I have no right to request or demand anything from you.”

  Yes, you do!

  “While I fought in Afghanistan, I had so much time to think. I imagined we had a relationship. When I found out you were engaged to some Joe Blow, I went ape shit.”

  His words faded and he rubbed her finger where the ring would be. “The hospital must have it.” He snickered. “The Lovetts wouldn’t trust anyone to have your possessions. They probably have it locked away in their safe.”

  No, no one has it. I’m not engaged, she screamed again. Matt, I’m okay. Please hear me. Come get in bed. Snuggle as we used to in the grass next to the river. Just be with me.

  Sobs flooded her ears, as if someone ripped out his insides.

  No-o-o! Matt! No. I’m okay!

  “I love you. I’ve loved you in some form since the day we met. I didn’t realize how much until the day I saw the ring on your finger, and now,” he paused, “and now, I may never get the chance to tell you. You will always be in my heart.” Warm lips touched hers.

  Let me kiss him!

  She felt him touching her as sure as the day was long, felt his love bone deep. If only she could speak her feelings, her thoughts, say ‘I love you.’ How good everything would be.

  The warmth moved to her eyelids. “How would you like to live in Montana?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Mountains and land stretch for miles. The purples flowers Mom raved about.” He chuckled. “We could have it all there, you and me.” He spread kisses across her face before touching her lips once more.

  Climb in bed. Let me feel you. Come on! Oh, Lord, hear my thoughts! Please!

  The chair screeched again.

  Her spirit sunk. He’s leaving. Matt, don’t go. Stay.

  The mattress dipped.

  Oh my god! He heard me! He heard me! Did I speak? Matt?

  He didn’t answer.

  Ugh!

  “One thing you should know. I’m not quite the man I was. I have a bum leg.” He made a funny noise then shifted some more.

  Tenderness like she’d never experienced, never knew she needed, flanked her right side. If she could simply wrap an arm around him, hold him close.

  A hand slid across her stomach and his lips touched her cheeks. “I’ll always be yours, sweetheart. Always.”

  Soft breaths blew across her skin. She breathed in the scent of alcohol
. Since when did he drink?

  It didn’t matter. What mattered was he was here. Everything would be okay. He’d find a way to get her help, make her better. They’d ride into the sunset together. She chuckled, a sound only she heard. How she’d love to climb into the saddle of her horse and ride into the mountains…with Matt.

  Better yet, to watch children feed the horses at Matt’s and her petting zoo while their parents shopped in the garden nursery. A dose of adrenaline rushed her, reviving her depleted spirit. “It would be divine,” she wanted to say, but couldn’t hear anything past her heartbeat drumming loudly in her ears.

  Matt’s stomach flipped. He snapped out of his sleepiness and lifted onto an elbow until he saw her sweet face. Trina spoke. It was her. It had to be. No one else knew the word, its significance, what it meant.

  He gawked and took in a ragged breath, smelling her unique, wonderful scent, and waited for her to speak again.

  She didn’t.

  Except for the steady beeps of the monitors, the room remained quiet. The sun’s rays streamed through the hospital’s window. The built-in mini blinds didn’t block out the bright light. He squinted and focused on her. She hadn’t moved. Her lips slightly parted. Eyelids closed, but not squeezed shut, soft, and line-free.

  He kissed her cheek and feather-touched her stomach, making circles around her belly button through the cotton hospital gown. “Sweetie, did you say something?” He kept his voice light, relaxed, and repressed the eagerness out of his tone.

  No answer.

  “If you can hear me, move your eyelids.”

  Nothing.

  He lowered to the mattress and snuggled against her. Weariness from the last several hours plagued his body, his mind. Did he dream she spoke? Wanted it so intensely, he imagined it. For him to think he heard the one word that would connect them, that would let him know she was okay, proved reality had left.

  He lived in a dreamer’s world, hoping she’d speak, that she would open her eyes for him…to see him. He rested his hand on her arm, savored her warm, soft skin, and once again enjoyed the comfort of being close.