“As you can tell, the rain has ceased, and we need to find her. Quickly. We’ve got about four hours left of good sunlight. According to the guide, he left her about an hour in and marked the trail with her bandana, which is pink. We found the bandana, and it’s still there, but there’s no Mrs. Dupreveny. Plan is to hike in as a group, then zone out search coordinates and get this woman back to her husband.”
A hand went up from one of the Telluride guys. Capshaw, if I remembered correctly. I really needed to spend more time with the other guys when I went in, not just training Havoc.
“Capshaw?”
At least I got that one right.
“Who is taking point on this?”
A mumble went through the group, and I saw it for what it was, two rival organizations working together, and hoped it wouldn’t get in the way. Egos usually blew an op. I scanned the group, seeing another dog and handler on the opposite side in a county uniform. A yellow Lab who was changing his position from sitting to standing every minute or so. Restless.
Not my business.
“County is taking point. Telluride is here as support.”
Another mumble.
“If you guys are done determining pecking order, can we get started?” I asked, impatience getting to me.
The guy’s eyes narrowed in my direction and then Havoc’s. “You’re the new guy, right? The soldier? And the dog?”
Heads swung in my direction. “That’s us. Now if we’re done wasting daylight?”
He made the be-my-guest gesture toward the trailhead, and we took off. I tightened my small pack on my back and zipped the lightweight fleece across my chest. It was already cool and only going to get colder.
“Damn, gotta step on toes on day one?” Gutierrez asked, walking next to me.
“No point talking when the mission is pretty clear.”
“Point taken.”
We handed out radio frequencies as a group and hiked along the trail, crossing a bridge and earning a view of Telluride. It really was spectacular here, with the mountains rising on both sides of us, reaching toward the sky.
Ahead about twenty yards, the other dog sprinted through the meadow that ran alongside of us. Havoc stayed right by my side, her footsteps and breathing steady.
“So I saw you downtown with Ella MacKenzie,” Gutierrez said, breaking the silence I’d been enjoying.
“Probably.” I liked Mark well enough while we were on duty and occasionally made an effort with him on the conversation front, but Ella wasn’t on my list of approved topics.
“Something going on there?” he asked in a locker-room-talk kind of way.
“Be careful,” I warned.
“Hey, I know Ella. She’s a good girl—woman. I used to be friends with her brother. He died. You know that, right? About six months ago.”
My heart stuttered in a beat that had nothing to do with the altitude. “Yeah, I know.”
“She’s got kids, too. Good kids.”
“Yep.” What was this guy getting at?
He sighed, curving the bill on his cap in a nervous tell. This guy would be easy pickings at a poker table.
“Look, I’m not trying to be nosy.”
“Sure you are. Question is: Why?”
He looked behind us, seeing what I already knew. There were about twenty feet between us and the nearest crew members. Enough distance to talk in private. “I’m just trying to look out for her.”
“Good to know.” There wasn’t a soul on the planet who cared more about Ella than I did, and while it was almost cute—his concern—it was absolutely unnecessary.
“I’m serious. She’s got a shit-ton going on, and if there was a short end of the stick to be had, Ella was given it. Between losing her parents and Jeff walking out—”
“You know Jeff?” My footsteps would have faltered if my body hadn’t been on autopilot, used to pushing on when my mind went elsewhere.
“Knew Jeff,” he corrected. “I hung out with his older brother, Blake.”
“One preppy name after another,” I muttered.
Gutierrez laughed. “That’s so true. They both are—preppy assholes, that is. Trust-fund babies who never had to struggle a day in their lives. Both had their fortunes handed to them, and now their jobs.”
A stab of pure hatred coursed through me like an acidic poison burning in my veins. Of course he had everything easy while Ella worked her ass off.
“So you know where he is?”
“Sure. He’s working for his daddy’s company in Denver. Engaged to the daughter of a politician, if his Facebook is true.”
I stored the information away, feeding the plan that had been forming since I’d promised Maisie that she wasn’t going to die.
“Anyway, you and Ella serious?” He looked at me sideways, and I glanced at his hand. Nice wide gold band. Good. I wasn’t in the mood to fight off some guy for Ella. Not when I couldn’t trust myself not to beat the shit out of him.
“We’re friends,” I said in that noncommittal way. “I’m just helping her out.”
He seemed to ponder that for a minute and then nodded. “Good. That’s good. She needs all the help she can get right now with her kids.”
“No,” I corrected, my eyes scanning the forest line just in case we found our hiker. “She doesn’t need help; she’s honestly got it handled all on her own. But I need to help her. I don’t want her to have to handle it solo. There’s a difference.”
Gutierrez nodded again, like a bobblehead, but sincere. Maybe I’d spent too much time around soldiers. Maybe civilians chatted about their feelings on hikes in the mountains. Maybe I was the odd one for being so closed off, not him for being so inquisitive.
“Sorry, man. It’s just…it’s a small town, and you’re new. And after losing Ryan, I know she’s hurting. I mean, they wouldn’t even tell her what happened.”
Of course they didn’t. Because when ops went wrong, when soldiers were knocked unconscious instead of killed, then hauled out by insurgents into the desert, stripped of their uniforms, bound, gagged, tortured, and shot in the back of their heads while wearing nothing but their boxers, the military tended to hide it from their families and call it classified.
No one wanted to think of that happening to their brother.
“I mean, they wouldn’t even let her see his body. That’s got to mess with her. For all she knows, he could still be alive somewhere, and the military is covering it up to turn him into Jason Bourne or something. It’s messed up.”
The muscles in my jaw flexed as I clenched my teeth to keep my mouth shut. This guy didn’t know anything, not what happened to Ryan, not that he was my best friend. He was just trying to watch out for Ella, to make sure I had a good, clear picture of what she’d been through. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as we approached the search location.
The path was lined with aspens, which cut our field of vision to a minimum, but there it was, tied to the stump—a pink bandana. We gathered in another circle as bullhorn guy took center stage.
It was time to go to work.
…
“That’s quite a dog you have there,” Gutierrez told me about an hour later, when our hiker had been airlifted out and we were headed back down the trail.
“She’s one of a kind,” I agreed.
He then let me walk the rest of the way in silence, for which I was grateful. It had taken me months to let Ryan in, and years to become his best friend. Ella was the only person I’d ever had an instant connection with, and I smiled when I realized Maisie and Colt were on that list now, too.
We made it down to the trail base, and I opened the truck door for Havoc to jump in. She settled in the passenger seat, happy and a little tired.
“You did great today,” Gutierrez said as he stripped off his own pack, loading it into the car parke
d next to mine.
“Thanks. It felt good to be useful.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He took off his hat and rubbed his head. “Look, about the stuff I said about Ella—”
“Don’t. It’s okay.” My grip tightened on my doorframe.
“Small town,” he said with a weak shrug.
It really was. Maybe not the village with the ski resorts, but the old town. Especially when the tourists weren’t around and it was mostly locals. They were all connected here, and I might not understand it, but I could do my best to respect it.
“Ryan hasn’t been dead six months.”
Gutierrez’s head snapped up.
“He’s been dead for five months and seven days, give or take a few hours. A few very long hours. I know, because he was my best friend. I served with him for the better part of a decade.”
“Oh man, I’m so sorry.” His whole posture slumped.
“Don’t be. Never be sorry for looking out for Ella. I told you only so you’d know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe, to take care of her and the kids. Nothing. They’re the whole reason I’m here.”
He swallowed and finally looked at me, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. If you need anything, or if she does, just let me know, or ask for my wife, Tess. Ella won’t ever ask.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty stubborn like that.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Something tells me you are, too.”
“Guilty.”
I drove home with a tired body, a content dog, and a mind that wouldn’t quit running circles. I’d meant what I’d said: there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep Ella and the kids safe.
Or was there?
I hit the brakes as I passed Ella’s cabin.
Her insurance wouldn’t pay for the treatments that could save Maisie’s life.
But I’d read over every scrap of information online about that hospital, and my insurance would.
I threw the truck into reverse and then turned down Ella’s drive. I was out of the truck before the engine died, taking her steps two at a time and pounding on her door before my brain kicked in with every reason she’d say no, knowing I’d have to convince her to say yes.
“Beckett?” Ella asked as she opened the front door. She was in jeans and a long-sleeve tee, her hair in a thick side braid that made me want to grab ahold of it while I kissed her. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry for the drop-by. Do you have a second?”
“Sure, come on in.”
“Not where the kids can hear,” I said softly, tucking my thumbs into my pockets.
Her eyebrows raised in surprise, but she stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. “Okay, what’s up?”
“Your insurance won’t pay for the MIBG therapy, or the hospital she needs, or the stem cell transplant.”
“That’s right.” She folded her arms under her breasts and looked up at me, those blue eyes inquisitive but trusting.
“She has to have it, right? Or she’ll die?”
“Beckett, what is this about?”
“Will she die without it?” I repeated, my words a little sharper than I’d ever used with Ella.
“Yes,” she whispered.
I nodded to myself, turning around and pacing the length of the porch while Ella followed.
“Beckett!” she snapped.
I turned around and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Your insurance won’t pay for it—”
“Right, we already covered that.”
“But mine will.”
“Okay?” She blinked at me, her forehead puckering.
“Ella, marry me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ella
Letter #15
Ella,
We lost someone today.
You’d think I’d be used to it after all this time, even callous toward it. A few years ago I was. I have no idea what’s changed lately, but now it feels like every loss is exponentially harder than the last.
Or maybe they’re the same, but I’m different.
More angry.
It’s hard to describe, but I’m somehow more aware now of my disconnection, my inability to forge emotional bonds outside of a few close friends. That small list includes you.
How can I be so connected to someone I’ve never laid eyes on, yet not the majority of the guys around me? Is it that you’re safer through paper because you’re not standing in front of me? Less of a threat, maybe?
I wish I knew.
I wish I had the words for this guy’s wife, his kids. I wish I could take it away for them, take his place. Why does the world take the people who are loved, ripping holes in the fabric of other people’s souls, while I’m allowed to skate by unscathed? Where is the justice in such a random system, and if there’s no justice, then why are we here?
I feel that same restless urge taking over again, to accomplish the mission and move on. Check the box, pull up the stakes, and know we made a difference.
I’m just not sure what that difference is anymore.
Tell me something real. Tell me what it feels like to live in the same place your whole life. Is it stifling to have such deep roots? Or does it let you sway instead of break when the winds come? I’ve gone with the wind for so long that I honestly can’t imagine it.
Thank you for letting me unload on you. I promise I won’t be such a downer next time.
~ Chaos
…
“I’m sorry?” I asked, staring at Beckett like he had two heads.
“What did you just say?” There was no way he’d said what I heard.
“Marry me.”
Or maybe he did say it.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Maybe.” He leaned back against the porch railing but didn’t cross his arms in front of his chest like he did when his stubborn switch was triggered. Instead he grasped either side of the railing, leaving his torso unprotected. Vulnerable. “But it would work. On paper, at least.”
“I don’t… I can’t… I’m speechless.”
“Good, that will give me a chance to convince you.”
Oh my God, he was serious.
“If you marry me, the kids are my dependents. I can take care of them.”
“You want to marry me to take care of my kids.” I said it slowly, certain I had somehow heard it wrong.
“Yes.”
My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to get a word—any word—past my lips. I just couldn’t think of any.
“What do you think?”
“We’re not even dating! And you…you want to get married?”
Havoc came trotting up to the porch, but she didn’t go to Beckett. She sat next to me, like she’d sensed her handler had lost his fool mind.
“Not in the romantic sense!” He raked a hand over his face. “I suck at explaining this.”
“Try. Harder.”
“Okay. I was reading the MIBG papers in the hospital with Maisie, and I remembered what you’d said about your insurance not covering it. So I looked through the hospital website, and they take my insurance, and not at your coinsurance rate. The whole thing is covered.”
“Good for you. Now you can get treated for cancer.” How the hell could he just suggest that we get married?
“I’m not done explaining.”
I wanted to throw him back in his truck and off my property, but there was the tiniest spark in me that lit up at the thought that Maisie could get the treatment she needed. And that little spark was hope. Man, I hated hope.
Hope fooled you, gave you the warm fuzzy feelings just to yank them away again.
And right now, Beckett was a big slice of warm, fuzzy hope, and I hated him for it.
Taking my silence for acquiescence, Beckett continued.
“If you marry me, the kids are covered. All of Maisie’s treatments are paid for. No more fighting with the insurance people. No more generics. She will get the best possible treatments.”
“You want me to marry you, to become your wife, sleep in your bed—when you won’t so much as kiss me—all for insurance? Like I’m some kind of pros—”
“Whoa!” He interrupted me, waving his hands. “We wouldn’t have to actually…you know.” His eyebrows rose at least an inch.
“No, I don’t know.” I crossed my arms over my chest, knowing damn well what he meant. If he had the balls to suggest marriage, he could certainly lay out the terms.
He sighed in exasperation. “We’d only have to be married in the legal sense. On paper. We could live separately and everything. Keep your name, whatever. It would just be to cover the kids.”
Oh my God, the man I loved was really standing in front of me, proposing marriage, not because he loved me back but because he thought it would save my daughter. Now I loved him even more, and hated both of us for it.
“Only in the legal sense? So you don’t actually want me? You only want to protect my kids?” Great, now I sounded pissed that he didn’t want me in his bed. If my emotions could just pick a side, that would be great.
“I thought we covered this already. I want you. That just doesn’t play into me asking you to marry me.”
“Can you actually hear yourself? You want me, but you don’t want to marry me. But you’re willing to marry me to cover the kids for insurance, as long as we don’t actually live like we’re married.” All of the legal entanglement, none of the love, or the commitment, or the sex.
Which left us with the only aspect of marriage I was really familiar with: the part where the husband walked away.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, this conversation is over.” I turned, and then spun right back around to face him. “You know what? It’s not. Marriage means something to me, Beckett! Or at least it used to. Maybe it’s not the same for you, or you think because of the way I let Jeff divorce me that I think it’s just a piece of paper, but it’s not. It’s supposed to be a lifetime of love, and commitment, and loyalty. It’s supposed to be all those vows about sickness and health, and better and worse, and loving someone even on the days you don’t like them. It’s not, hey, let’s sign this piece of paper and join up while it’s convenient. It’s supposed to be about building a life with the one person on earth who is meant to be yours. It’s…it’s not meant to be temporary. It’s supposed to be forever.”
The Last Letter Page 20