Showing off the Goods

by Weston Parker

  “You want to go for a drink?” he asked gruffly. “Aiden and Max are meeting me at the Boar.”

  “When?” It probably wasn’t the best idea to start drinking again, not this early and not after the night I’d had, but I wanted to see them.

  “Now?” he suggested with a humorless laugh. “I’ve just picked up my keys.”

  “I’ll see you when I get there.” My phone had survived the crash against the wall, but when I pulled it away from my ear after Jeff hung up, I noticed I’d taken a chip out of the corner. Ah well. There are worse things in life.

  After going back to my bedroom to put on shoes, I collected my wallet, picked up my own keys, and pocketed my phone. I didn’t need anything else.

  When I walked into the bar, I spotted my old buddies almost right away. They were seated at a booth in the corner, each of them with a beer in front of him. A pang hit my heart when I noticed how quiet they were.

  Usually when I got here, there were shouts of laughter and I could hear their banter from the moment I walked through the door. They were all regulars here, but then again, so were a lot of veterans.

  Timothy had only lived about an hour away, and he’d been here with them on more than one occasion. His seat at the table was conspicuously empty today. A fact I was more aware of than ever as I approached them.

  Wordlessly sliding a beer they’d already ordered for me across the table, Jeff glanced at me with red-rimmed eyes when I sat down. “Glad you could make it. We weren’t sure if you’d be busy.”

  “Nah, not today.” I raised the beer without taking a sip, letting it hang from my fingers over the center of the table. “To Timothy.”

  “To Timothy,” they said in unison as their bottles crashed into mine.

  After all of us took a long swallow, I took stock of the guys around the table with me. None of them had their lives together like I did. My looks had opened a lot of doors for me, and I knew it.

  I worried about every one of these guys, but they kept telling me they didn’t want my help. Regardless of how much I wanted to help them get back on their feet, I respected their decisions to do it by themselves.

  Their expressions were as haunted today as I knew mine would be, the ghosts of the memories I didn’t doubt we’d all cycled through after getting the call lingering in our eyes. Max looked over at me first, a frown between his bushy dark eyebrows.

  “You spoken to anyone else?” he asked, his voice just as gruff as Jeff’s had been on the phone earlier.

  I shook my head. “Only Oliver when I got the call. I went off the rails a little for a while after that.”

  Aiden rolled his hazel eyes at me, his face gaunt and his hair hanging over his ears. “You? I didn’t know you were capable of going off the rails anymore.”

  “Good to know I can still surprise you,” I said, but I knew where he was coming from. “You doing okay?”

  He dragged a giant hand through his tousled hair, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we lost him like that. It’s fucking unfair.”

  “Amen to that,” I said. “He’d have been pissed if he’d known that was how he would go out. I can’t believe it either.”

  Max’s lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was pretty much as close as he got to one these days. “He’d definitely have been pissed. Especially after that bomb blast he skated through by the skin of his teeth that one time. Do you remember that?”

  I laughed, even though there had been nothing funny about the blast. Timothy’s recounting of it, however, had been hilarious. That was just how he’d been, though. He’d always managed to find the silver lining, the humor in a situation, or at the very least, a way to make any moment just that little bit lighter.

  The other guys joined in, and we traded war stories about him we’d all told and heard a hundred times before. It helped to talk about him. Even if most of us tuned out of the conversation every so often to get ourselves back under control.

  “How’s work going?” Jeffrey asked me after we’d reminisced about Timothy for almost two hours. “That pretty face of yours still bringing in the cash?”

  “You know it,” I said, even managing to force a smirk. “You know I could get you a job if you’d just shave that caveman beard off, right? On the other hand, I hear big beards are all the rage these days.”

  He ran one hand over his Viking-style beard and flipped me off with the other. “No can do, brother. I’m not shaving it off, and I wouldn’t want to have my picture taken for a living anyway.”

  I shrugged, having heard all the ribbing before. “It’s your loss. If you see some of the women I work with, you’ll be begging me to get you in.”

  Max sat up a little straighter, sliding his elbows forward on the table. “Speaking of which, is that photographer friend of yours still looking for an assistant?”

  My brows rose in surprise. “I don’t know, but I can ask him. You ready for that now?”

  “I think so.” He cleared his throat, his eyes darting one way and then the other before coming to a rest on mine.

  I didn’t think he’d ever stop keenly surveying our surroundings. On the other hand, I also hadn’t thought he’d ever seriously consider Josh’s offer, but it seemed like he was. “If he’s still looking for someone, you’ll let me know? I’ve been having private sessions with Jonty, and he thinks I’m ready to start a steady job.”

  My head cocked. Jonty was the leader of the group meetings for veterans I knew they all still attended every two weeks. He ran sessions for soldiers to keep in touch, discuss some of their troubles, have some solidarity, and to help those like Max who suffered with PTSD.

  The guy had been doing it for years. He knew his shit. If he really thought Max was ready, it was a very good sign.

  “Let me find out from him tonight,” I said, glancing down at my watch. “As far as I know, he’s in Miami for the week, on set all day. He should be available a little later, though.”

  My friend nodded. “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem.” I grinned, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you. That’s a big step to have taken already, talking to me.”

  “Let’s see how it goes first,” he mumbled before taking another long sip of his beer. When he set it down, he brought his gaze back to mine. “Jonty’s been asking about you. When I spoke to him earlier after I heard about Timothy, he asked if I’d spoken to you.”

  “He did?” I raised my drink to my lips, intently studying the bubbles rising to the surface. “I’m fine. You can tell him I’m doing okay.”

  Jeffrey let out a humorless chuckle, and when I looked at him, he narrowed his eyes at my red and swollen knuckles. “You sure about that?”

  “I’m sure,” I said, even though my destroyed kitchen and the hole in my wall might not quite agree with that statement.

  “You sure you don’t want to start coming back to the meetings?” Aiden asked, also staring at my knuckles. “It might help you process what happened to Timothy.”

  “I don’t think I need meetings to help with that,” I said, shrugging as I transferred my beer into my undamaged hand so they’d all stop looking at it.

  It was too late, though. They’d all already seen it, but they just chuckled and shook their heads at me. They left it at that, not trying to push me to go back.

  We got a fresh round of drinks and shot some pool before I finally decided to call it a day. The beer was going to start going to my head if I drank much more of it, and it was well into the afternoon by now. I still needed to look over those contracts, and then I probably needed to get back to my sister.

  I’d put my phone on silent after the call from Jeffrey inviting me here, but I was sure Tierra would be worried. When she’d gotten hold of me earlier, I’d told her I’d received some bad news about one of the guys in my unit and that I needed to take a rain check on seeing her today.

  She’d asked me if I needed her to come over, but I really hadn’t been up to it. When I left th
e bar, I saw that I had dozens of missed calls from her and even a message from Colette.

  Vowing to get back to Tierra as soon as I’d read the message, I tapped into it and felt a smile spreading on my lips when I read it.

  Colette: Your sister’s trying to get a hold of you. She seemed worried, called me, and now I’m worried. Are you okay?

  It might be a little twisted, but my smile widened into a full-blown grin. Colette was worried about me, which was an unexpected development after the way she’d run out on me this morning.

  But it may just mean that there’s hope for me yet.

  Chapter 24

  COLETTE

  A week after I stormed out of Paxton’s place in a huff of post-party guilt and uncertainty, I still hadn’t heard another word from him. I’d taken over most of the wedding to-do stuff on our list, but I knew he’d kept in touch with Tierra about the other things he was involved with.

  I sat on the sofa in my living room, staring absently out the window with my teeth rasping across my lower lip. April was quietly building a puzzle on the coffee table, her brow furrowed as she tried to find the spaces for the pieces.

  Meanwhile, I was trying to do pretty much the same thing. Just mentally instead of physically, and the pieces weren’t slotting together quite as well for me as they were for her.

  The wedding date was racing up on us, and the bachelor parties were right around the corner. If the only reason I was worried was because I’d suddenly been left alone with all our joint tasks, it would’ve been one thing.

  But it wasn’t just that.

  As much as I knew he wasn’t mine to worry about, I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about Paxton. Not the wedding, not the to-do list, but Paxton.

  After being vague with me during that first phone call, Tierra had called me back the next day to let me know what’d happened to his old friend from the military. Apparently, she’d cleared it with him that she was going to tell me since I would be the one picking up the slack in the planning department.

  She’d apologized again for not telling me right away what had happened, but I got it. It hadn’t been her story to tell, and she’d wanted to speak to him before sharing something about his personal life with me.

  Today had been his friend’s funeral, and I wanted to show up for him somehow. While I hadn’t known Paxton during his time in the service, I’d had plenty of clients who were veterans. I knew a thing or two about what he was going through as a result of those clients, but again, offering him my professional services wasn’t really what it was about.

  I hated that I cared so much, but I did. Not about being ditched with the planning, not about his mental state, but about him.

  But I did care about him. A lot.

  Paxton was hurting, and I didn’t want him to be—at the very least, I didn’t want him to be hurting alone.

  And therein lies the problem.

  I knew his sister was there for him, and so was her fiancé, who was my best friend. I also knew from experience that those two people were absolute rocks. They’d carried me through some difficult times, and I knew full well how completely capable they were as a support system.

  But no.

  Sometimes I hated my professors and mentors for drilling mindfulness and the necessity of introspection and reflection into us, because I knew what this feeling was really about. I wanted Paxton to know that I, Colette Wynne, former hater of everything having to do with anyone who even happened to have the same name as him, was there for him.

  One time, I’d even stopped reading a book just because the main character had been called Paxton. The blurb had been good too. I’d been looking forward to it until I saw that name leaping off the page at me. I deleted it off my e-reader without a second glance.

  To have gone from that to admitting that I cared and wanted to be there for him was unfathomable. Unfathomable, but oh so true.

  All week long, there had been this pit in my stomach. He was never far from my mind, and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t seem to push him out of it. Sending him mental condolences and strength just wasn’t good enough anymore.

  Especially today, I hadn’t stopped thinking about him and worrying about whether he was okay. Funerals were always damn tough, but veterans’ funerals were another beast entirely. More than a few times throughout the course of the day, I’d found myself with my phone in hand to call him.

  Eventually, about an hour ago, I’d given in and sent the text. The one he still hadn’t replied to. All I could think about was the way he’d taken care of me when I’d been a drunken mess and how I wanted to take care of him now.

  The bigger problem, now that I’d admitted it to myself, was that I honestly didn’t know how to be there for him. The last time I’d seen or spoken to him, I’d stormed out like a brat when he’d only been trying to do something nice. How do I come back from that?

  I’d contemplated sending over pizza, alcohol, flowers, or even just a card, but I’d nixed all those ideas. They were too impersonal—the kind of thing one’s acquaintances or even an employer or concerned coworkers would do.

  As I racked my brain trying to come up with something that said I’m here for you if you need me, there was one thing I kept coming back to. The only thing that could cheer me up when I was having a rough day was April.

  Since the moment she’d come screaming into the world, she’d been like a balm to my soul on even my darkest days. While I knew I was likely to be biased because she was mine, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that together, we’d be able to put a smile on his face.

  A few minutes later, when there was still no answer from him, I made up my mind. If he slammed the door on us, then so be it.

  “Honey,” I said, drawing April’s big brown eyes to mine. “You remember Paxton, right?”

  She nodded, eyes lighting up at the mere mention of him. “He hasn’t come to visit us for a long time.”

  It had been only a little over a week since the last time he’d been here, but I knew that could feel like an eternity to her. I smiled and got up, smoothing out my oversized, ancient football jersey. And by mine, I mean his.

  While I’d been so worried about him, I’d wanted something that would make me feel closer to him. As if that would help my mental signals to him to let him know I was thinking about him go through. I’d forgotten I even had this old thing, but then I’d remembered about a dusty box of keepsakes I’d long since stuffed into the back of a closet.

  So, voilà. Sense of nostalgia achieved. He’d probably think it was creepy if I ever told him I even still had it, so I planned on keeping it a secret forever and always—and possibly four more days after that.

  “He’s been a little sad recently,” I said. “Would you like to come with me to try to cheer him up some?”

  “Yes,” she just about shouted as she jumped up, scattering the puzzle pieces that’d been lying in her lap all over the carpet. She glanced down at them before looking at me imploringly. “Can we please clean these up later?”

  “Sure.” In comparison to what Paxton must’ve gone through today, having to pack up a puzzle later was absolutely nothing. “Let me just go get changed, then we can leave.”

  There was no way I could go see him until I put on a different shirt. Perhaps toss this one in the trash so no one ever finds out I’d kept it.

  At least I could say with total certainty that I hadn’t put it on to smell his scent on it or something. There was none of that left. It actually smelled like mothballs. That has to bring the possible creep factor down a few notches.

  Nodding to myself before I realized how ridiculous I was being, I headed into my bedroom and took a clean shirt off a hanger. If it was a frilly blouse that happened to make my cleavage look fantastic, it hadn’t been planned that way. I almost snorted out loud, then hung the shirt back up to take one out that wouldn’t attempt to distract him with a body part of mine I knew he favored.

  He went to his friend’s funeral tod
ay, for God’s sake. Get over yourself, I chided internally as I put on the sleeveless turtleneck. I kept the jeans I’d been wearing all day but slid my bare feet into a pair of sandals before dragging a brush through my hair.

  Refusing to do any more than to make myself presentable since that most certainly wasn’t what this visit was about, I strode out of my room and grabbed my purse. April clutched a teddy bear when she came out of hers to meet me.

  “What’s that for?” I asked when I noticed the bear.

  Her eyes were round when they met mine, filled with that sweet innocence that simply couldn’t be manufactured. “It’s for Paxton. You said he was sad. Bob always makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

  That he did.

  Bob had been given to her by Brett after she’d fallen and skinned her knee once, and he’d become a beacon of comfort to her since. I knew how much she’d miss him if she tried giving him away.

  “That’s really sweet, baby girl,” I said, not wanting to fail to acknowledge what she was trying to do. “Mommy thinks we should get Paxton something of his own on the way. What do you think? We can always let him hold Bob if he needs him next time he comes here.”

  She considered for a few seconds before nodding and going back into her room. When she came out again, Bob was gone.

  “We’ll get him his own bear,” she said decisively, “and some sweets.”

  I laughed, reaching out to ruffle her hair when she passed me. “Dinner first, then sweets.”

  The weather outside was balmy and nice even though it was early in the evening. April and I found a parking spot only about a block or so down from his building, then walked past a flower shop on our way to the door.

  “Here,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll sell everything we need. Why don’t you pick out some flowers for him first?”

  She nodded enthusiastically, preceding me into the shop once I’d opened the door. The soft floral scent inside was gorgeous, and we both inhaled deeply before she skipped off in the direction of the flower boxes lining the wall.