by M. S. Parker
Too bad we couldn't make them standard army issue.
It was clear that while I was getting better, I'd never be the same. The hardest part was looking in the mirror and not seeing any marked difference. I was still in peak physical condition. All of my other injuries had healed. I'd been able to do weight training, even jogging as long as I kept my head straight. I was able-bodied and willing. The only physical difference was the tiny tear inside my ear where it wasn't even visible. And because of that, I was no longer in the army; I was no longer eligible for active duty.
My whole family tried to congratulate me when I'd received the honorable discharge. They all told me I was a hero, but that hadn't changed the fact that I was the first Welch since World War II to be taken off active duty.
My father still had shrapnel wounds from his second tour. Colin had crushed his knee in Afghanistan six years ago, and was still dealing with all of that fun chemical weaponry bullshit. My other older brother, Keith, had nearly blown himself up more than once thanks to his job as an EOD Specialist. Teague had almost lost an eye during a training exercise during basic, but he was a Calvary Scout now.
None of them had ever thought about not going back to active duty.
None of them had the choice taken away from them.
“Don't worry,” Mom said. “Your dad will find you a job at Fort Riley. They need men like you there.”
I smiled and continued nodding in all the right places as she kept talking. Dad had found satisfaction in his training position at Fort Riley. So what if it was a couple decades earlier than when I'd thought I'd have to make the transition. If Dad had done it, so could I.
After she left, her words echoed in my head. Men like me. Men like me didn't sit behind desks and handle mountains of paperwork behind closed doors. Men like me didn't stand still while battalions marched past outside and shipped overseas.
So what did a man like me do now?
“Your mom pushing the Fort Riley desk job route?” my brother-in-law asked as he strolled in the open front door.
“How'd you know?” I asked.
“Heard her discussing it with your sister. I'm surprised Gwen didn't come with her. The two have been campaigning to get you settled here permanently from the moment we got word...”
He let his voice trail off as he wandered around the renovated barn and spied the whiskey bottle I had pulled out of the locked liquor cabinet in the living room. I knew it wasn't smart to indulge when my balance was already impaired, but it was the only way I'd been able to function over the last few months.
“Not you too, Blake. Checking up on me?”
“Hell no,” he said, “I'm here because your sister's pregnancy hormones are at high tide, and I need a drink.”
Blake was a retired army doctor now working at Irwin Army Community Hospital. When I'd first arrived home, my big sister had dragged him over to check on me immediately. Within sixty seconds, Blake had announced to everyone that my recovery was my own, and when he visited it would be strictly off-hours.
“Pour me one too,” I said.
“Not here, Welches everywhere,” Blake said with a smile, his dark blue eyes amused. “When was the last time you had a drink in town?”
I laughed. “I'm pretty sure I haven't been to Corner Tap since that Christmas you decided we could walk into town. What'd we get that night? Seven inches of snow?”
“A light dusting,” Blake said. “Come on. They put up a new dartboard next to the bar, big changes. Better see for yourself.”
I knew that expression on his face. He may have been right in between Colin and Keith age-wise, but he and I had always been closer. And that meant I knew that Blake wasn't going to give up until he got me out of the house.
I followed Blake to his car and tried not to scowl as I thought about my complete lack of freedom without being able to drive. I understood the danger and wasn't about to risk someone's life just because I didn't want to admit that a sudden movement could make me too dizzy to be safe. I'd been cleared by the doctors to take the test again. I just had to schedule it. I'd been trying to avoid it, not wanting to risk failing or having restrictions placed on me. I'd do it at some point, but not now.
As Blake drove into town, I felt my pulse accelerate. I'd been isolated for a few months, only putting up with the intrusions of my family. Though our little town had no more than four hundred citizens, the Corner Tap was sure to be crowded since it was the only bar on Main Street.
I adjusted the motion sickness bracelets and tugged my shirt cuffs down over them. If I was careful, nothing would happen.
7
Haze
The Corner Tap looked the same as it had the first time I'd snuck in just after my seventeenth birthday. Snuck in and kicked out. Even though my family had only arrived a few months before, everyone had already known who I was. Like I said, small town.
Neon beer signs glowed in the narrow casement windows and obscured any view of Main Street. Dark-stained wooden booths edged the walls with matching square tables scattered down the L-shaped room. Hanging lamps of bottle brown dangled above the bar with low watt bulbs and in the corner a jukebox pulsed.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I noticed there were actually a few changes. The low ceiling tiles were new and surprisingly white. The old ceiling, hanging like a brown cloud of nicotine stains, was gone. The ripped vinyl stools and chairs had been replaced with sturdy, dark-stained wood. And next to the bar, the new dartboard still retained its red and green colors and readable numbers.
“Hardly recognize it, right?” Blake said.
The biggest change, though, was the clientele. The Corner Tap had always been a scattered crowd of older men and boys who thought they could drink. Now women sat in groups or clustered around the bar. They were young, bright, and not at all bothered by the scowls of regulars. It was a definite improvement.
Blake noticed my eyes scanning the new crowd, and he chucked me on the shoulder. “Better watch out, Haze. These ladies have been starving for new blood.”
“There's a booth in the corner. It looks good,” I said, ignoring his statement.
Blake laughed and led the way, nodding at a lady here and there. I glared at him.
“Just being friendly,” he said, holding his hands up.
“And about to be a father,” I reminded him as I slid into the booth. “How's that going?”
“Easier for me than your sister,” Blake said. He gave me a knowing look. “She's not good at slowing down. Guess you can relate.”
I laughed. My family had never been known for taking things slow or easy.
Tap beers arrived at the table before the waitress asked for our order. The Corner Tap assumed it knew what its patrons wanted, and nine times out of ten, it was right.
“This is good, thank you,” I said.
“No problem,” the waitress said with a wink. “I'll keep 'em coming. And you just let me know if there's anything else you might need.”
Blake grinned at me as the blonde walked away. “Could be a good night for you. What was it your brothers used to say, 'Haze's got it made'?”
I choked on my beer and grimaced. I coughed, tensing as I waited for the wave of dizziness. Relief came instead. “Like any of my brothers have room to talk. None of them have ever had a hard time getting a woman's attention.”
The beer tasted good and the booth afforded us both an easy view of the entire Corner Tap bar. One of the things I always liked about Blake was how easy it had always been for the two of us to be quiet together. We watched a group of four women down a round of shots at the bar and make their way to the new dartboard. Giggles and more drinks punctuated a decent game, and I kept an eye on them as they played.
“You used to be pretty good at darts, I recall.” He elbowed me.
“It's been years,” I said.
“Nah, gotta be like riding a bike.” He gave me a sideways look. “No harder than dropping bottle caps in a can from across the barn.”
Of course he'd noticed the hobby I'd started at home. Tossing the bottle caps from all over the barn into an empty bean can was my new way of testing my hand-eye coordination. Or that's what I told myself. Sometimes the angle I leaned to make the throw triggered the vertigo, but that made the practice all the more important to me. Like I could somehow force my way through the dizziness like I'd learned as a kid to ignore the way gunshots had made my body involuntarily jump until it had stopped happening. Also, Dr. Bouton had told me that I should stay away from firearm and target practice, because the decibels could further damage my inner ear. Just one more restriction that erased my former life. So I drank and threw bottle caps.
“Might play you in a bit,” I said. “After another round or two.”
“It's not me I think you should play with,” he countered.
The foursome of women glanced our way, posed over their game, giggled, and glanced at us again. The two shorter women, with their straight blonde hair and round hips, were clearly related. Sisters, most likely. The tallest had black curls escaping from a long braid, brushing her bronze skin. She was stick thin and stood as straight as a silo. Completely different appearances, but none of them were my type.
The fourth one, however, kept catching my eye but I couldn't figure out why. Her hair was dyed a deep red and fell in loose waves over freckled shoulders. About an inch of black hair showed at her scalp, and the contrast stirred something in my gut.
“Bullseye,” Blake said.
“What?” I asked, returning to my beer.
“That redhead is a good player. Just got a bullseye. I thought you were watching.”
“Must have missed it,” I said, draining the last of my beer.
Blake smiled and signaled the waitress. She trotted over with two more tap beers and a big smile for me. Blake hadn't been kidding when he said the Kansas girls were on the hunt for new blood. I'd been away long enough that I qualified.
“How about a round for the ladies over there,” Blake said, handing the waitress cash. “And let them know Haze here is challenging the winner.”
“You're Haze Welch, aren't you?” The waitress leaned against the table. “I was in your brother Teague's class. Kimmy Frost.”
Not surprising. Pretty much everyone in here had been born and raised in this town. If I looked hard enough, I could probably see some of the people I graduated with.
Kimmy let her pink-glossed lips pout a little as she turned to me. “You a big darts player, Haze?”
“Not really,” I said with a polite, but distant smile. “I just need to work on my hand-eye coordination.”
“There's a back room with a pool table.” Kimmy leaned down until I could smell her perfume. “You and I could play back there. Let me show my appreciation for your service.”
Yeah, that was one I hadn't heard before. Still, I kept it polite. “Thank you. I think I'll finish my beer for now.”
Kimmy frowned, but went to deliver the shots and Blake's message. I watched the bottle redhead from the corner of my eye. Red hair, black streaks, the image swam in my memory more intoxicating than the beer. Even a head injury hadn't been able to get that girl out of my head. Not surprising. If nearly four years hadn't done it, why should a two-week coma?
“Haze's got it made,” Blake said with a grin. “Kimmy or Bullseye?”
“How about neither,” I said, looking down at my half-empty.
“No way,” Blake said. “You're not turning this down. Think of it as physical therapy.”
“I'm fine,” I said, finishing my beer.
“Come on, man. You need this. It's like the start of getting your old life back.”
I'd never have my old life back. I didn't say it, but apparently my face said it for me, because Blake kept going.
“How about the start of your new life? If not for you, then do it for her.” He gestured with his chin, unable to contain that smirk of his. “Looks like she won you fair and square.”
I glanced at the foursome again and saw the redhead being pushed toward our table by her friends. Her cheeks were heating up to match her hair. Freckled skin. Not unattractive, but not that creamy shade of pale. Hazel eyes, I thought, not blue. Not bright laser blue that seemed to cut through me.
“Hi,” the blushing darts champion said. “I'm Tara.”
“This is Haze,” Blake spoke for me. “He keeps talking a big game, but I think you can take him.”
I suppressed the urge to glare at him as I carefully stood. I held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Tara. You throw a good game.”
“Thanks,” she said. Her hand was small, but strong.
We stood next to the booth for a beat too long and Kimmy returned, her lips curved into a smile that looked a bit too much like a sneer for my taste.
“This round's on me, gentlemen. Oh, and the pool table's free for us, Haze.”
Tara's blush brightened and she looked at the floor.
Annoyed, I suddenly decided that a game of darts wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. “I promised Tara here I'd play darts.”
Before Kimmy could come up with some sort of reply, Blake stood up and hailed a group of men who'd just come through the door. When he grinned at Kimmy and mentioned that his friends were fellow doctors, she smiled and stepped aside to let Tara and me pass without a word. The doctors joined Blake and I knew this was his way of making sure I didn't come back.
“I'm trying to grow it out,” Tara said, touching her hair when she saw me looking at it.
“I like it how it is,” I said. “Bold.”
The problem was, Tara was anything but bold. In contrast to her sweet conversation and shy smiles, my memories of the other redhead burned. Even soaking wet and confused from her fall in the pool, Leighton had been sharp and sure.
Typical rich girl, I supposed, she'd been so sure she'd get everything she wanted that she'd had no manners at all. I knew I wasn't exactly being fair to Leighton. I hadn't known her...except intimately. I had no idea who she really had been or who she was now.
Tara was even timid in her flirting. “You're just trying to give me false confidence.”
Confidence. That's what Leighton had. The confidence to crawl across my lap and take what she wanted. Shit. I shifted my stance and hoped that Tara didn't notice. Some women might've taken it for a compliment that my jeans were suddenly a bit tight, but I had a feeling that Tara was the sort of person who might be embarrassed. Either way, I wasn't about to tell her that it wasn't the thought of her, but another redhead who'd put me into this predicament.
Tara's friends returned with more shots and whispered advice that I tried not to hear. They were all young, and I didn't only mean the fact that they were probably just barely twenty-one. These were small-town girls who hadn't seen more than this bar and maybe a couple college parties.
I finished another beer and decided Tara was wholesomely beautiful. The freckles, the blushing, all of it contributed to that image. Then there was how, every time she leaned out to throw a dart, her shirt tightened around the swell of her breasts. Her small waist rounded to a heart-shaped bottom that was hard to ignore.
I rubbed my hand on the back of my neck. I was feeling overly warm and knew it wasn't only from the alcohol or the crowd.
“How about we get a little air?” she suggested, a new sort of tension radiating from her.
“Sure,” I said. I gestured with my arm and followed her outside.
Once we started walking, it seemed Tara was in danger of losing the boldness brought on by just the right level of alcohol. The cool breeze was sobering and she stood at the edge of the parking lot, looking a bit lost as to what she should do next.
Apparently I was going to have to take the initiative if I wanted this to go any further. I still wasn't sure if that's what I wanted, but I knew an easy and gentlemanly way to buy myself a bit of time. “Can I walk you home?”
She smiled, relieved. “Yes, please. I just live a few streets over.”
I d
idn't bother to point out that in this town, there were only a few streets that close anyway. The main two roads consisted of the bar, a bank, the post office, a small chain grocery store, and two churches. The other two roads had another church, a Mom and Pop grocery store, some small houses and a few bigger ones that had rooms for rent or apartments above the single car garages.
It was to one of those apartments that Tara took me.
“You should come in.” Tara stood in front of the open door and looked up at me. “I could, um, make us some coffee.”
I smiled. “I'd like that.”
I followed her inside, pausing to take off my shoes when she did the same. She gestured toward the obviously second-hand couch, the stain on her cheeks deepening as she looked everywhere but at me. It didn't take a psychic to know she wanted more than coffee but was too shy to make the first move.
Fuck it.
As she shut the door I turned and kissed her. I kept my lips gentle, not wanting to misread her signals, but her mouth opened and she pressed her body against mine. She tasted of the sweet shots she'd taken to bolster her courage, and she moaned as I explored her mouth. My body reacted even as my mind pulled toward the memory of someone else. I shoved it aside and let my hands trail up Tara's sides. Her breasts were heavy, soft, her curves more generous than...I stopped myself.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Say goodnight, I thought, just head home now.
“Please stay, please,” Tara murmured against my mouth.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and wriggled against me. Blood rushed south, and I felt myself start to harden. Maybe Blake was right, and I needed this just to complete my recovery. I hadn't been with a woman since before the accident, and even then, it'd been sparse enough I'd generally taken care of things myself.. Since the accident, however, I hadn't even done that. Getting laid could clear my mind, prove I was really over my injuries. I could move on. Make a fresh start.
