So then why was he having to fight so hard to keep his hands off her?
***
Dwayne settled on the couch for a much-needed catch-up of the shows he’d missed while deployed. First up, The Walking Dead.
But just as he hit play on the DVD, his phone rang. Of course. He sighed and reached for the phone, perfectly content to hit the ignore button and go back to his show. But when the display showed Natalie’s name, he answered without hesitation.
“Hey, sis, what’s up?”
“Deeeeeee!”
Dwayne held the phone away from his ear to save his eardrum from the high-pitched squeal. “Not sis. Hey, button, did you dial Uncle Dwayne all by yourself?”
His fifteen-month-old niece, Suzanna, squealed with delight again.
“Can you go find your mama?”
A muffled thump, an exasperated groan, and then Natalie was on the phone. “I’m sorry, Dwayne. I swear, this kid grew wheels when she started walking. I turn around and she’s dumped out my purse and dialing you.”
Dwayne stretched out on the couch and settled in. He loved his family more than anything, and missed them like crazy since the day he left for TBS. “Suzanna just wanted to talk to her favorite uncle. There’s no harm in that.”
“You’re her only uncle,” Natalie said dryly.
He wouldn’t have been, if Natalie’s deadbeat ex were in the picture. Guy had more brothers and sisters than Dwayne could remember. But he’d left her high and dry, repeatedly, in the past. The guy couldn’t be counted on for anything. Though Natalie didn’t see it that way, Dwayne saw it as a blessing he was completely out of the picture now.
But it killed him that his sister had taken the same path their mother had. Deadbeat loser boyfriend, who turns into a deadbeat loser dad, which leads to single motherhood and a rough life for everyone.
Something clattered in the background and he winced. “What’d she get into now?”
“Nothing. That was me. I’m putting groceries away.” Her breath huffed out a little. “So how’s the readjustment going?”
Immediately, his back stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“You know, catching up with friends, seeing what you’ve missed, all that. Can’t be easy, being gone for so long and coming home to a brand-new world.”
“Oh. Right.” He scratched his jaw and sat up. “It’s fine. Meeting people who came into town after I was gone.”
“Veronica?”
How the… “How did you—”
“You mentioned her before, in emails.”
“No I didn’t.”
“So I just made up her name?” Natalie laughed. Then a giggle sounded loudly. She must have picked up Suzanna. “You mentioned her at least four times in emails while you were deployed. I saved most of them to read over again later. You made her sound like a good influence.”
He was so not doing this right now. “Suzanna stick anything interesting in her mouth lately?”
Natalie sighed, but moved on with the wisdom that came with twenty-five years of siblinghood. “Nothing new to report.”
He paused, then decided to go for it. “Need help?”
They both knew what he meant. Did she need a check to make up for the lack of any support from Suzanna’s deadbeat dad?
But Natalie wasn’t having any of it. As usual. “Look at the time. Gotta go put missy here down for her nap. Call me later. And don’t scrimp on the details about Veronica.” With that, his sister hung up.
Well, damn. He’d pissed her off and made her curious all in one phone conversation. That was, as Madison would say, an epic fail.
Dwayne tossed his phone on the coffee table. Maybe the delightful image from a zombie apocalypse would cure his need to go find a punching bag and start wailing on it.
***
Veronica was glad she’d asked for the whole day off from the restaurant, rather than just the afternoon as she’d planned. Now she had all the time in the world to hang out with Madison and Skye for a girls night in, or GNI, as Skye liked to call it.
“Let’s talk boys.”
“Oh my God. Really? Five minutes into girls’ night and you’re already bringing a penis into this?” Madison threw a cracker at Skye, who batted it away.
“Yes. We promised we’d take tonight to go over Veronica’s options for men.” Skye glanced at her upside down since she was draped over the armchair with her legs dangling over the back. “You’re still wanting to go through that? Ready to jump into the dating pool?”
Veronica thought back to her reaction to Dwayne’s touch. The way her body had sparked and sang and almost… recognized his touch. That she’d craved more even long after he’d left the formalwear shop. “Yes. I’m ready.”
“Well, then,” Madison said, popping a grape in her mouth. “By all means, let Skye begin.”
“No dating coworkers.”
“Hmm?” She looked at her cousin and saw Skye holding a pad of paper and pen. “What are you doing?”
“Making a list,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Dating rules, ideas, preferences. That sort of thing. Something to reference as you toss yourself into the great unknown.”
“You make it sound like I’m about to go backpacking through Alaska.”
“Close enough. Dating is an uphill mountain climb. You must proceed with caution, be ready for a long hike, and bring provisions.”
“Hear, hear!” Madison toasted her with a bottle of beer. “Provisions for everyone.”
Skye tapped her pen on the pad of paper and ignored her sister-in-law. “Nobody needy.”
“Nobody who is emotionally unavailable,” Madison added around another cheese cube.
“Is this your list or mine?” Veronica asked.
She gave Veronica a smug smile. “I don’t need a list anymore.”
Touché. “Nobody too young,” Veronica added.
Skye and Madison both looked up at that.
“If it’s my own list, I should contribute, shouldn’t I?”
“No young ’uns,” Skye said while scratching on the pad. “That’s a good point. And no oldies either.”
“What are we defining as oldies, and young ’uns for that matter?” Madison asked, leaning over to read the list.
“I don’t think I’d like anyone younger than me. As for older…” She shrugged, not sure.
“Mid-thirties, I’d say.” As if agreeing with herself, Skye nodded. “Yep, mid-thirties it is. Any older and I think you’ll start feeling intimidated.”
Veronica felt the stirring of annoyance. But she tamped it down. Skye was helping, and it was kind of her to do so. Even so, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d said she wanted a guy in his forties if these two would have talked her out of it.
Not that she did. Principle of the thing.
“Veronica?”
“Yes?” Glancing over, she realized both Madison and Skye were staring at her. “I’m sorry. I think my mind drifted again. What did you say?”
Skye smiled gently. “I was just asking if you had any ideas of specific men. Someone you found attractive, that met your ideals, so on. A starting point.”
“Well,” she began, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I was thinking about David.”
“David who?” Madison asked.
“Oh, he’s perfect!” Skye cried at the same time. To Madison, she said, “David was a server at Fletchers, but his class schedule and work weren’t compatible so he had to give notice. He’s a grad student now. Cute, nice, polite, not a coworker anymore. And a sweetheart. In other words, a great choice.”
“Sounds like a paragon of virtue,” Madison joked as she took a sip of her beer.
“I think he’s nice, so leave him alone,” Veronica shot back, then covered her mouth. Oh, no. She’d snapped. That was
rude.
Madison laughed. “That was awesome! You really need to get pissy more often. It’s fun.”
Skye just grinned and shook her head.
What a reminder. That she could have a negative thought, say a cutting remark, and wouldn’t be struck down for it. That she could be sarcastic, or even rude, and the world wouldn’t come to an end. A smile tugged at her lips, and she couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped.
After she and Madison calmed down, Skye asked, “So what’s your plan with David?”
Veronica paused for a moment, grabbing a cube of cheese from the tray and chewing slowly. She already knew, of course. But the reaction from her cousin and friend was what worried her. “I think… I think that I will just ask him out.”
Skye and Madison stared at her, unblinking.
“Is that wrong? Did I mess something up?”
“Nope. I’m just surprised. It’s good. Gutsy.” Madison grabbed a handful of grapes and tossed one in the air, catching it in her mouth. “Way better than playing coy and doing something weird like stalking him and showing up wherever he is.” Madison smirked. “Not that I’d ever do anything like that…”
“Moving on,” Skye interjected.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll email David and ask him out for coffee.” It sounded so bizarre to hear herself say it, but the thrill of anticipation excited her.
“Here’s to your training wheels,” Mad toasted her with a mock salute. “May you have a lot of fun, get in a little trouble, and live a little. Time to break free from the shy-girl routine, sweetie.”
Routine? Did they think this was an act? She nibbled on a cracker while pondering that.
Maybe Madison was right. She didn’t often feel shy, just unsure. After years of having every action, every word scrutinized by parents who thought she could do nothing right, she’d lost any semblance of who she really could have been.
Well, she could be that woman now. There was nothing stopping her from doing—or saying—whatever she wanted any longer. And it was time to get living.
***
Dwayne shifted on the cushion, trying to find a comfortable spot while maintaining posture. The room was quiet, so much that he could hear the clock ticking out every second. Every awkward, silent second of every torturous, agonizing minute. Maybe this was a bad idea. Horrible, actually. He should excuse himself and just—
“Captain, why don’t we get started?” The chaplain sat back, relaxed, in his office recliner. He was a few years older than Dwayne, likely just on the other side of forty. Old, by military standards. Gray colored his temples, lines etched around his eyes and mouth. But despite the rank and extra years, Dwayne still felt like he was looking at a contemporary instead of a superior.
He’d never been in the chaplain’s office before, but it wasn’t what he expected. An overstuffed couch with wild floral print sat facing a La-Z-Boy recliner. The sitting area was completely separate from the more businesslike side with the man’s desk and bookshelves. Homier, more relaxed.
“I was referred, sir.” Not with an ultimatum, but close enough. “A friend suggested I come speak with you.” Because talking to the chaplain was a better idea than seeing a shrink. At least for now.
Major Dunham waited patiently, not saying a word. To fill the silence, Dwayne went on. “I’m having… a few problems. Minor ones.”
“Reintegrating to daily life.”
It wasn’t a question. Dwayne could only imagine how many times he’d heard the same thing, with Marines beating around the bush. “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s, for now, drop the sir. And I’m begging you, sit back. Kick up your feet if you want. You’re making me stressed just looking at you. The couch was meant to be lounged on.” Major Dunham gave him a smile. “You seem uncomfortable enough with the visit; why bother making it worse with a stiff neck?”
Dwayne sank back at that, grateful for the chance to loosen a little.
“Let’s talk about what made you seek help. Anything specific?”
“Typical stuff, I guess. Driving still freaks me out a little.”
The major nodded. “Of course. You spent seven months not going over ten miles an hour, having to suspect every bit of debris that crossed your path as an IED. Driving seventy on the highway and ignoring typical roadside litter is bound to be tough.”
Just hearing that it was understandable, his tension started to melt. “I also scared the life out of someone. She woke me up, startled me. We’d been watching a movie and I fell asleep. I felt a tug on my leg, heard the sounds of gunfire from the speakers, and…”
“I assume she’s okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Your wife?”
Dwayne snorted. “No. Acquaintance.” Or could he just think of her as a friend by now? He’d like to.
“How did she react?”
“Fear first. Then, it almost felt like pity.”
“And that made it worse?”
He got it. The chaplain was all but reading his mind. Talking around the lump in his throat, he choked out, “Yeah.”
“Captain.” Major Dunham leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “This isn’t uncommon. You are aware of that. You lead the briefings on looking for the signs of PTSD, of reintegration problems for your men. You know this is normal, almost expected. After living in a state of heightened awareness for seven months, where your very job has life or death consequences attached, coming home to daily life and all its trivial, silly moments that civilians can ignore with ease is not as simple as flipping a switch. Nobody expects it to be.”
Dwayne shook his head.
“And it doesn’t make you crazy, no matter what you want to think. You served the country, and you deserve the time to pull yourself back to rights. Give yourself a break. You’ve come seeking help; you’re not a danger to anyone. I don’t see you snapping anytime soon. All in all, I think you have a healthy grasp on the situation. And you’ll work out that left seat, right seat mentality soon enough. Give it some time.”
“Can I do anything to speed it up?”
“Keep hanging out with your friends, the ones who will notice changes in you. Talk about it if you need to. If there’s someone you trust to air your worries with, all the better. You’re not married, as you said. How about a serious girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Dating anyone?”
“Not yet.” Hold on, what did that mean? “I mean, not currently, no.” He shouldn’t be thinking of dating anyone. He couldn’t dump his problems on anyone.
“Then stick close to your buddies. They’ll know if you’re struggling, and they can do what is necessary to help you out. If you trust them—”
“With my life.”
“Then don’t disconnect. Keep those relationships open, and communicate. And come back.” He chuckled at the wide-eyed stare Dwayne gave him. “It’s not an order, merely a suggestion. My door is always open. And despite the fact that you might hate handing your problems to someone else for analysis and help, it can sometimes be the best thing. A person once-removed from your inner circle can provide perspective. So, if you need to talk, my door’s open.”
He nodded, stood, and shook the major’s hand before showing himself out.
As he opened the outer door of the chaplain’s area, it opened in, hitting him on the shoulder.
“Oh, sorry, ah. Robertson.” Captain Bryson Beckett looked up from the stack of papers he was carrying. “Welcome back.”
Dwayne took the offered hand. “Thanks. Good to be back.” He squinted. “You shave today, Beckett?”
The younger man smiled and rubbed at his jaw. “That bad already, huh? I blame my Italian mother. Dark hair and the background means I get the five o’clock shadow around lunchtime.”
Dwayne smiled in sympathy. Shaving daily wasn’t fun, but having to do
it twice would just suck. “You’re just lucky you got here after the old CO took off. He’d have you shaving every hour, on the hour.”
“So I hear. Managed to transfer in at the right time, right command.” Bryson had transferred in after receiving his promotion to captain. They shared a rank, but Dwayne had a couple years on the new guy, both in age and time in service. “Is the chaplain in?”
“Yeah, he’s in. I’ll let you get back to your errand. See ya.” Dwayne held the door open and let Bryson pass by to—he assumed—deliver the papers to the chaplain. He walked back into his office ten minutes later and shut the door behind him. He’d meant to head straight there from the chaplain’s office, but his first sergeant intercepted him with forms to sign. When he was able to sit down in the quiet, peaceful silence of his own office, the enormity of what he’d confided to the chaplain finally hit him. Added to that, the realization of the work he had ahead of him made him want to lay his forehead down on the desk and take a nap.
His mind, without permission, drifted back to the small woman with the long golden braid. The shy sweetheart that looked at him so watchfully with those clear gray eyes. On the quiet side, but always absorbing, taking it in. His hands remembered the smooth skin of her back as he’d zipped her up into that dress, and he clenched them, shook them out to relieve the feeling.
The chaplain wanted him to keep his friends close. That wasn’t a problem. Tim and Jeremy had his back, always. There was never any doubt about it. And they would pull him away from the edge if he even started looking at approaching it. But staying close to them meant staying close to the group as a whole. And he was afraid that one tiny, blond woman might end up getting in his way more than anything.
A knock on the door sounded, and he ignored it. Let them figure out problems for ten or fifteen minutes. The Corps wouldn’t fall apart in the meantime without his help. But all the same, his conscience made him sit up a little straighter and open his email to clear out the spam.
Starting something with Veronica could end in disaster. For her. He couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let that happen. She deserved more than a guy with a screw loose. Even if he could get it back together eventually, right now was the worst possible time to start forming something—anything—with a woman. And with her sweet, sensitive nature that he instinctively sensed… she could get hurt, big time.
Officer and the Secret (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.) Page 7
