Caleb: Military Heroes (The One I Want Series Book 3)

by Ellie Masters

  Caitlyn went with Abby to greet Draven at the front door. After giving her a hug, he handed her a small paper bag.

  "Antibiotics for Bear. Make sure he takes them all."

  Bear trotted up, sniffed the sack, then licked the hand Draven held out.

  "Didn't expect to see you so soon, boy." He crouched down to say hello.

  Abby ruffled Bear's fur, then shifted to sit on the floor.

  Drake joined them and went to the hearth where he added a log to the fire. "Thanks for coming out, Draven." He plopped down in the leather chair by the fire and gave Abby a wink.

  "No problem. Bert says hello, by the way, and I'm supposed to remind you about mending the fence in the north pasture."

  "It's on my list.” Drake’s lips twisted into a smile. “He thinks I'm going to do it without him, but I'm dragging his ass out to help."

  This was what she loved about small towns. Everyone helped everyone and enjoyed doing it. That kind of thing didn’t happen in big cities with strangers who didn’t know your name, and didn’t care to get to know it.

  Why couldn’t Caleb understand that home was more than where the heart was?

  It was a place filled with the kind of people who understood there was more to family than blood. It was in sharing memories from cradle to grave, and everything in-between. It was in the way Drake took care of Bert and his llamas, mended his fences, and asked for nothing in return. It was in the way Draven thought nothing of driving out of his way to take care of Bear, and in how the town doc stepped up to sew together Caitlyn’s dog. This was why she didn’t want to leave Bear Creek.

  It had nothing to do with being afraid.

  Draven returned Drake’s smirk like they shared a private joke between them about Bert and his llama ranch. Draven’s attention cut back to Caitlyn, his voice stern. "One pill, twice a day. Don't miss a dose."

  "You haven't tried to give Bear a pill, have you?" She looked to Bear and imagined a week’s worth of shoving pills down his throat.

  "Might go down better with food." Draven pulled out a plastic stick about a foot long. It had a trigger at one end and a little grip on the other. "Or, you could use this."

  "And what is that?"

  "Put the pill in this end, shove it to the back of his throat and pull the trigger. Shoots the pill back where he can't spit it out. Massage his throat to help him swallow." He demonstrated what she would need to do and the plastic stick made a small popping sound. Bear's ears twitched.

  "That sounds kind of brutal,” she said.

  "It's a lot easier than trying to wrestle with him and shove it down with your fingers, having him spit it out, and wind up not getting the medicine he needs." He gently guided Bear down on his side, then waited for Abby to show him the sutures she'd placed. "You said there were puncture wounds?" Draven felt at Bear's neck.

  "Yes, a few." Abby helped Draven find the wounds and he took a minute to feel at the soft tissues of Bear's neck. "This looks good, Caitlyn, but you'll want to watch for any tenderness, swelling. If Bear's not eating, or you notice he's not as active, you need to call me."

  Caitlyn should pay attention to Draven, but her attention wandered back to the kitchen where the faint sound of running water and clinking of dishes had her thinking of Caleb.

  Home is where the heart is. It's not a place. It's a feeling.

  "Caitlyn?" Draven had been telling her how to care for Bear, what to look out for, and when she should bring him back for another look.

  With a shake of her head, she tried to dispel thoughts of Caleb and focus on Bear.

  "You sure he needs the drugs?"

  “Mountain lion bites are nasty. Infection is a real risk. Make sure he takes all his pills."

  "Okay."

  Bear let Draven look at his belly. He didn't like going to the vet's office, but he liked Draven's belly rubs. Bear was a softy at heart.

  Eventually, Caleb came out from the kitchen and joined them. He took a seat on the hearth and held his hands out toward the fire after introducing himself to Draven.

  "So, is Bear okay to go home?" Caleb sounded genuinely concerned.

  "Yeah. I thought maybe I'd need to watch him overnight, but he seems to be moving around well enough, and there's no sign of infection."

  "We appreciate you taking the time to come over." Caleb spoke for her as if they were a couple.

  As if they were together. It felt good. Better than good. It felt right. He spread his powerful legs and propped his elbows on his knees.

  Caitlyn shouldn't look, but it was hard to ignore Caleb. From the depths of his eyes with his gentle expressions, to the strength of the heart within which always placed others above himself, he was a magnificent man.

  She loved the soft cadence of his voice and the way it quickened when he spoke to her, or about her to others. He exuded an otherworldly calm and there was a solidness to him. She especially loved the way he lost himself when he was around her, lowering his shields, and forgetting the mask he wore for others. She loved everything about him, and would give him her heart.

  Until he broke it again.

  His gaze cut to hers, catching her staring, then he pinched his eyes tight with pain. When he opened them, an intensity burned in his expression. Then, suddenly, irrevocably, it fizzled and popped.

  Her shoulders slumped, not faulting him for the loss of their connection. His words from last night bounced around in her head, settling in with a finality she wasn't ready to accept, but couldn't ignore.

  Caleb had a great spirit and a noble soul. His love for her rang true. They had an unbreakable bond, which was why he was letting her go. That kind of strength came from within. She admired and cherished it. As she stared at him, all she wanted was to feel how his lips might move in a kiss and how his hands would make her shudder as he explored every inch of her body.

  One kiss and one night weren’t enough. She wanted to be there as the years passed, to see lines deepen in his face, and specks of gray fleck through his hair. He would always be handsome, no matter the years because the beauty of his spirit would always shine true. She squirmed on the floor, knowing it was going to be a long drive home.

  Draven shrugged off Caleb’s comment. “Most of my practice consists of house calls, which was why I couldn't come last night."

  Abby clapped her hands. “Oh, I forgot to ask. How did it go with the llama? Does our llama mama have a baby llama?"

  "Yes, and thankfully the cria is healthy, although the delivery wasn't easy. It's unusual for a llama to deliver at night and it was a bit of a struggle.”

  "Well," Caitlyn said, eager to rejoin the conversation and pull her thoughts from Caleb. "I'm glad you were able to help Bert out. I know how he is about his llamas."

  Caleb gave a snort. She remembered he worked on Bert's farm for a couple summers during high school. He was the one who told her about orgling, a special sound male llamas make when breeding, and that baby llamas were called crias.

  It was nice to see Caleb smile. Too much tension hung between them and she missed the way his face lit up when he laughed.

  After Draven pronounced Bear good to go, she and Caleb said their goodbyes to Drake and Abby. They piled in Caleb’s Jeep and headed home.

  An hour was a long time to spend in a car with someone who replied to everything she said with one- and two-word answers. Fortunately, they made better time going home than getting to Peace Springs. It made the awkwardness of the drive more tolerable. The roads were plowed, clear even. Caleb gripped the wheel and stared forward while she gave up trying to talk.

  Bear moved around in the back seat, pressing his nose against the cold glass and leaving slobber marks on the window. At least he was feeling better.

  Deep blue filled the skies and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. A high-pressure zone pushed across the state which meant more snow would likely follow. Rock music blared out of the speakers, a harsh grating sound Caleb seemed to enjoy. Another thing which was different about him since he left
to join the Marines. Country music was the go to music for the kids in their high school class, and much of the town, but like many things, Caleb had expanded his interests.

  She admired that about him. Despite everything, she adored his adventurous spirit.

  When they pulled up outside her home, he jumped out and went to the back to get her things. While she helped Bear out of the Jeep, Caleb waited with her bags slung over his shoulder.

  Bear ambled inside and plopped down in his doggy bed while Caleb deposited her things on the floor. He stretched and looked around her home, taking his time, almost as if he were saying a final goodbye. Then it hit her.

  He was doing exactly that.

  “Take care, Cat.” He shoved his hands deep into his front pockets and headed outside. He didn’t wait for her to respond. She had no time to offer him something to drink or grab one last hug. She ran after him, but he was already in the Jeep, door closed, engine running, and tires slowly rolling.

  Away.

  One hand clutched at her belly while the other covered her mouth, silencing the low moan threatening to escape. This couldn’t be happening. Yet, he backed down the driveway.

  One last look passed between them filled with regret, sorrow, and aching loss. She felt each emotion slam into the pit of her stomach and shred her tender heart.

  Praying he would stop.

  But, Caleb drove away.

  This truly was the end.

  She fell to her knees and covered her face while she cried. Bear finally came in search of her, nuzzling her arm until she wrapped it around him and hugged him tight. She wiped her tears on his coat and sobbed.

  Chapter 19

  Caleb

  Thirty days of use or lose leave and Caleb thought he would spend all of it in Bear Creek. With no way forward with Caitlyn, he didn’t have it in him to stay any longer than necessary. The drive home, after dropping Caitlyn off, was pure agony. He couldn’t help but feel like he was leaving a part of himself behind.

  He spent three days with his mother. She told him everything about her leukemia and how she beat it with the help of her Lord, God Almighty. He held her hand and held back his tears. Strong men didn’t cry, and there was no reason to waste tears over a disease his mother had beat.

  There would be more tests, and it could always come back. She promised to tell him if it did. They talked about the rescue of the two girls, about Caitlyn, and his decision to once again walk away. His mother kept her thoughts to herself, although he could guess what was going through her mind. She believed in the grace of God, fate, and soulmates.

  But after a few days, he grew restless and struggled more and more with seeing Caitlyn one last time, but he held strong to his decision. As much as it gutted him, he didn’t break down and sneak in one last meeting. He couldn’t do that to her. It was time they forged separate paths for good. With the blessing of his mother, he packed his things and left Bear Creek one week after he arrived.

  It didn’t make sense to return to duty, seeing how he would lose a significant chunk of leave, but he chose to drive back to Fort Brag. He didn’t rush and took his time driving from Montana to North Carolina, stopping to hike and camp along the way.

  When he signed back in with command, no one raised an eyebrow, and no one asked how his time away had been. It was understood within the team that time away was sacred. Unless someone offered, nobody asked. It kept things neat.

  The rhythms of life took over. The laser focus of his job pushed thoughts of Caitlyn out of his mind.

  Almost.

  Each day, he hopped out of bed with nothing but training in mind; at least until called for an operation. Out of bed before sunrise, he cranked out a hundred pushups and fifty pull-ups. That was just to get his day started and the blood pumping in his veins. It barely counted as a workout but was enough to keep him prepared to react immediately after waking. After a protein fueled breakfast, he headed to base dressed in civilian clothes. One of the benefits of being a Delta Team operative was in ditching the uniform and the regulations that came with it.

  The military police guarding the gate checked his ID, looked at him, his out of regulation haircut, and the scruff of the beard he was trying on for size. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, being questioned at the gate, but after a quick call to check his credentials, the guard waved Caleb through. There was another security checkpoint to go through to get to his work, but the guard on duty knew him and Caleb proceeded unhindered.

  It was time for the real work of the day to begin.

  He hit the gym and, two hours later, gathered with his fellow team members at the mats for hand-to-hand combat drills.

  “What’s up, Killshot? Back from leave so soon?” Jeremiah Jones, aka Bullfrog, punched him in the gut; a light tap that took the wind out of him.

  “What’s it to you, Bullfrog?”

  “I’m surprised you cut your leave short. I would’ve thought you’d be getting as much tail as possible while away.” Bullfrog was a large man and the newest member of the team. Like Caleb, he was also single.

  Delta Force preferred their operatives to be married, or in stable long-term relationships. It didn’t seem to make sense at first, but marriage provided a stable home life, which made operatives less likely to be compromised by unfriendly females in the field. Unfortunately, his lifestyle didn’t lend itself well to dating, not when he could be called at any moment for an operation. Girls didn’t like being stood up.

  Not that he didn’t date, but he also didn’t sleep around, unlike Jeremiah who chased anything with a skirt. There had also always been Caitlyn. He may have left her behind, but she always held his heart. As that was no longer true, he considered asking Jeremiah to let him tag along at the bars later that night.

  The two of them squared off for hand-to-hand practice.

  “Ready to get laid out on the mat?” Jeremiah taunted.

  Caleb grinned. “Not happening.”

  He and Jeremiah were well matched, and he considered the odds of coming out on top around 50/50.

  Jeremiah swung at him, taking a preemptive shot. Trained extensively in hand-to-hand combat, it wasn’t necessary to spend much time in specific maneuvers. They got right to it, fighting as dirty as their adversaries would in real life. The saying went, if you had to fight hand-to-hand something had gone horribly wrong. They sparred to remain diligent and prepared for such shit-hitting-the-fan scenarios, but their weapons of choice were the side-arms and the SCARs they carried.

  He managed to get Jeremiah in a knee-bar and his friend tapped out.

  “Next time, Bullfrog,” Caleb said, “you’re dead.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Jeremiah pointed to the bruise forming on Caleb’s cheek. “I got a few clean shots in.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You tapped out.” Trading insults came with the territory, but he didn’t have it in him. Jeremiah may have sensed something was off because he didn’t press.

  They both sucked wind and took a minute before climbing off the mat to join the rest of the team for chow.

  He thought of Caitlyn only three times this morning and considered that a success. Yesterday had been worse.

  While eating, the team got a call. He was supposed to be in Montana on leave, but since he returned early, he followed his team to the briefing room, eager to be doing something real rather than going through training drills.

  A mission was the perfect distraction.

  They had been scheduled to practice a night drop. Not his favorite, the drop involved a helicopter taking them out into the middle of nowhere, dropping them off blindfolded with the expectation of them finding their way back with no maps, no compasses, and nothing but their extensive training. A mission would be much more fun.

  “Did you submit your reenlistment papers?” Jeremiah asked as they headed to the briefing room.

  He’d been in the Marines for seven years and had been a Delta Force operative for the last three. It was time to re-up and commit for six more
years.

  “Yeah. Handed them in before I went on leave.”

  “Making it a career then?”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He punched Jeremiah in the arm. “Seven down, thirteen to go, then it’s just me, the beach, and all the tequila I can stomach.”

  “You forgot about a girl?”

  He hadn’t forgotten, but thinking about a future with some nameless chick sharing his version of chilling out on the beach felt wrong.

  They cut the chatter and gathered around the table. No one said anything when the Deputy Director of the FBI showed up for the briefing. He probably had to jump through reams of red tape that didn’t officially exist to get this operation sanctioned. Technically Delta Force didn’t exist and they didn’t fit into the standard military hierarchy. A force unto themselves, they weren’t a part of any branch of the military, which meant they were loaned out to any branch of the military, FBI, CIA, DEA, or other law enforcement agencies as the need arose.

  He was interested to see what had brought the Deputy Director of the FBI knocking on their doorstep. Given the bad press the FBI had received over the years, whatever brought him here had to be bad.

  He shared a grin with Jeremiah and settled in for the briefing.

  Turned out a bunch of overzealous militia took control of a religious compound in west-butt-fuck nowhere Texas. They held over forty members of the church’s congregation inside, including one of the Governor’s daughters. The powers that be decided Delta Force should handle the situation.

  Caleb leaned forward and let all outside distractions fall away. This was what he lived for. For the next sixteen hours, he and the rest of the team reviewed all relevant data and intelligence acquired thus far. They used this to put together a plan of attack. There was some coordination with other agencies, but that wasn’t for him to worry about.

  Phones were tapped. Internet usage was monitored. Background checks on the militia as well as the hostages were completed. Mockups of the compound were modeled in the unit’s kill house from an amalgamation of overhead satellite info, drones overflying the area, and blueprints of the buildings their intelligence group scrounged up.