by Jamie Magee
“Tell me,” she managed to say, glancing back at Dawson who was crumbling more with each second. She had reached the point of shuddering.
Providence pressed his lips together in anger then looked forward before at her. “You know I tried. I knew from the start this was a bad deal and at the very least ya’ll needed closure,” he said as his stare flicked to his rearview mirror at Dawson.
The blush Justice was known for was so red she felt hot and cold all at once.
Providence nodded forward. “I told them to check this way, but they said they didn’t have the funds to chase an idea.”
“What?” she managed to say, still not getting what was going on but knowing no matter what, she was not going to be good with it.
“If Nolan dropped those letters off at your place, and if he didn’t want too many people to see him, then he would have taken the back roads.” He paused. “This bridge was out...”
“No. No,” she said, shaking her head. “It was marked well long before you reached it. I remember. He would not have driven through a barricade. He lived here. He knew how dangerous it was.”
She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, could feel a pain in her soul as the final sliver of hope she had for Nolan’s safety died that dawn.
He nodded. “Yeah, the Sheriff said the same. The federal investigators wanted to take a look, though.”
“No...”
Moments later Providence was walking her along the road. Dawson was a step back as if the actual river was repelling her.
“The current had to have been strong that night, the river was still swollen from the storm.” He nodded toward the bank. “I called in a favor and for the past few weeks we’ve been moving down this waterway looking with sonar so we’d know where to dive.” His jade stare met hers. “We found the truck...what’s left.”
She heard the awful sound of a winch and then as the endless minutes ticked by she watched Declan’s truck being pulled from its watery grave.
The windshield was shattered, the driver’s window was halfway down. There were deep scratches all over the side of the truck.
As it dangled in the air, upside down, the driver door flung open. When Justice saw the seat belt was fastened, when she saw boots and other clothing falling down into the water, she retched. She cried, and beat the earth with her fist. The grief was hers, yes, the anger was, yes.
But it was just as much for Declan, for his family. For the lost years of worry. For the fact that Nolan sat at the bottom of this river for months before the search ever began. She’d let Nolan down. She should have said something. They should have known to look sooner. They would have seen the path the truck went off the road—something. Closure would have been giving and then maybe now, four years later, they would be ready to move on, not still suffering from this tragic loss.
“It’s going to be okay,” Providence said to her and Dawson, who wasn’t fairing much better at the sight of Nolan’s tomb.
Justice shook her head. She knew this was going to kill him...Declan would never recover from this finality.
Twenty-Two
Chasen had arrived right as the truck was set on the tow truck. The other boys were not far behind him. The demand for answers, the fall of blame caused more than a few fights and eventually the Sheriff made them all leave.
That was hours ago, now the sun had been down for a long time, and Justice was pacing her porch as Dawson sat and stared into space, unable to deal with the pain she had shut down—cut her emotions off.
The investigators were very clear when they stated there was slim to no hope of finding any actual remains at this point. The river life and the current would have ensured what was there was gone by now.
The family was going to have to bury an empty casket.
Providence had not only come to break the news to Justice face to face that morning because he knew that she had never given up, and had felt the same way as Declan about the search—but also because he almost assumed Declan would be with Justice.
Providence knew for sure Declan was not on base, and those who saw him last said Declan told them he was heading toward what mattered.
One would think that would mean the girl and family he’d pushed away, but since he wasn’t there, Providence thought perhaps Declan had started to look for Nolan all over again.
Dawson looked up from her phone when a text came in, then shook her head, “He hadn’t really had a chance to land anywhere, he will,” she said. The pressure now was to find Declan before he heard the news from someone else.
Declan had left base just before dawn, and until he checked into a hotel somewhere, used his card anywhere, Providence wouldn’t be able to flag where he was.
“He’s going to see the news,” Justice said, clutching her first.
Every channel had picked up the story, even national news, each calling off the newly engaged search for James Nolan Rawlings.
“Good, maybe he’ll call home then,” Dawson said right as truck lights peeled into the drive.
In a beat Dawson was at her side and both of them, who almost always stayed armed, stood shoulder to shoulder.
Murdock had been calling all day, wanting to talk to Justice. More than once he had driven by but wasn’t stupid enough to turn in.
“Oh my God...it’s him,” Justice said when she was sure it was Nolan’s truck, the one Declan had driven for years.
Dawson squeezed her hand then went inside to tell Bell who had little Nolan in her arms.
On shaky legs, Justice walked down her steps.
Over the years she’d figured out the first few seconds she saw him after he had been away, there was this odd vacancy, then it was good. Then he felt like home all over again.
This time, she’d have to face the same emotion, but on the heels of their fight, a birth, and a death. She didn’t even know what to broach first. Or how she was going to find the courage to say one word.
***
Declan slammed the truck into park and then got out, the same haunted expression he’d carried since he’d heard the news across the radio two hundred miles back was in his eyes.
He was on his way home to her but needed the drive to get his head right, to work out the words he’d been thinking over for too long. Words he should have said months back but knew he couldn’t.
She’d put up with a lot from him. And the last thing he was going to do was take the coward’s way out and say he was sorry over text, a letter, or a computer screen.
He half expected her to not listen, and tell him it was too late that she had moved on. Hell, for all he knew there was some guy in her bed, tracing the fire blush, and that would be fine.
No, it wouldn’t be.
But it would let him know for sure, one way or another. If she made it through this, and still cared about him, even a fraction of what he felt for her—there was no end to them. Nothing could destroy what had pulled them together long before they understood the world was cruel.
Now all the shit between them, the hell he’d caused had been overshadowed. He wanted to look at her, the one person who had never given up, stood by him and believed him when he said Nolan was not gone, and for her to tell him they were wrong.
It didn’t happen. One look in her blue eyes, and he knew it was final.
Declan staggered forward and fell on his knees before her. His arms encircled her and he buried his face next to her and shook with silent tears.
It took her a second, only because she was having a hard time balancing out the magnitude of his presence, but her arms fell around his shoulders as she held him tighter.
Long moments later, he rose in one fluid motion and took her lips like they were the air he needed. She did kiss him back, and for precious heart racing moments it was as if no time at all had passed.
But things were different now, and right as he went to pick her up, when she knew he was seconds away from using her body to help him forget it all, she stopped him and stepped back, catching
her breath.
Declan turned sharply, and rushed his hands through his short cut and he bent forward on his knees and cussed.
“I said I was sorry,” he said as his chest heaved. He couldn’t deal with this without her. He knew he couldn’t now.
“That’s all you said,” she managed to say.
Declan stood up straighter and glanced at Dawson’s new truck and shook his head in a pissed sway, sure now there someone else in Justice’s bed.
He turned sharply around. “That was it? That easy for you? Out of sight out of mind?”
“Don’t you fucking blame me for this!” she yelled. “I told you not to leave!”
With a sardonic shake of his head he looked away. “You needed better.”
“So you said,” Justice said as her entire body tensed. She could see the war he just fought in his eyes, the pain there, the years it put on his soul and she knew he just walked into another. At the same time, she had some more earth shattering news to give him and she had no idea how he’d take it.
“You chose to listen to me?” he raged. “Hours after I beat the shit out of my brothers, my father. After I told them to never fucking come near me again—you. After they tried to fucking bury my brother!”
“He’s gone...” Justice said, knowing Declan’s emotions were still set on a year ago. He wasn’t on track with the notion that time had kept moving here. It always took him a minute to understand under the best of circumstances.
Declan shook his head and turned. He still couldn’t believe it, not after hearing it, not after driving by and seeing the taped off riverbank, not after he saw all the flowers on the side of the road. He still felt Nolan. He did. His God given Rawlings instinct felt him.
“You let them bury the idea of him, let me go and put another man in your bed,” Declan accused in a dark tone.
“Yeah, I did.”
Declan looked right at Justice, and she was sure then she watched his soul shatter. She was sure he did love her still, just as much if not more today then before.
“They needed to move on, Declan.”
Before he could leave she gripped his arm, and pulled him to face her. “The letters gave them hope, the letters are the reason we have closure today.”
He jerked his arm away. “No.”
“Declan.”
He shook his head. “You moved on.”
“Don’t move,” she said sternly then she ran to her porch, then inside. Both Dawson and Bell looked up, Justice shook her head. “Take him upstairs right now,” she said then she flung open the drawer in the kitchen and pulled out not only Nolan’s letters but also things she had wanted to give Declan, send to him, but was too sacred to do so.
When she came out, under a minute later, he was still there. His head was bowed. In his mind, he was sure the driver of that Silverado was going to come out and leave. When he didn’t, the finality of all this hit him in his chest.
Justice stood a few feet away and held out Nolan’s letters. “These helped your family...they’ll help you. His voice, Declan.”
Declan didn’t look at her when he took them. With his head down he shifted through the stack, seeing the dates on the bottom corner, ones that were long gone.
The first date fell when he would have still been in boot camp.
Declan didn’t want to read it in front of her, to be there a second longer, but his fingertips slid the short paper up, he recognized it. The paper came from a pad Declan had in his truck, in his glove box.
Yeah, so I just dropped your ass off and you were looking like a man with a few regrets. Let me lay it out for you, bro. This is your gig now and when it’s over you’ll figure out where the rest of it is. My money is on the great town of Bradyville. Don’t roll your eyes at me. You only got the wild idea to leave when Mom did. You wanted something to fight and saw the perfect path. That’s good. That’s right. But now your dumb ass has figured out girls do not all suck. Some stay, they stay forever because they are just as loyal as your fucking ass. I wasn’t sure about you and Justice, not right now with her dad being all crazy, you leaving, but after this morning, when I saw you with her, I was. She makes you care, that says something. I’m officially taking my take away. Go slow, take your time. Give her the space she needs when she asks for it. And don’t say stupid shit you’re going to regret.
In seven days you’re going to be home, a Marine, the family is going to think you’re the best thing since gravy and I’m going to be the crazy tree loving hippy (yeah, I sent the letters—a lot). And I’m good with that. Take her out when you get back. Tell her you’re an asshole but if she gives you half the chance you might grow on her.
Catch you in a few...
Declan almost crinkled the letter, had nearly done so before he stopped himself.
“Just let this sink in a bit, Declan. You don’t have to read them now.”
He didn’t say a word, just bowed his head again.
“Your family needs you,” Justice said quietly.
A hurt smirk emerged but he never looked at her.
“I’m serious. There is no blame there. That fight was expected, and forgotten.”
Another shake of his head.
The silence across the next few minutes was terrifying. The sickening weight of grief and regrets were heavy in the air.
“Declan, we need to talk...”
He shook his head and leaned up. “I don’t want to hear it,” he said and he meant it.
“You have no choice because you’re going to hear it from me before I let you hear it anywhere else.”
“What?” he roared. “You want to tell me someone else is drowning in the smell of strawberries and champagne, that they’re lying across your fiery blush, making you smile, driving you crazy?”
“Yes!” she yelled back so ready to kick him, hit him, something. Every chance this boy got he accused her of sleeping with someone else, when the bare bones of it was he was the one with every opportunity to step out.
She slammed what was in her hands against his chest. “It’s all there. I didn’t fucking tell you because you didn’t call. Should I have tracked you? Maybe. But I was mad, and right now I’m not feeling much better about it.”
He looked down at the thick envelope and the iPod in his hand, lost as ever.
“The ‘man’ in my bed is Declan James Nolan.” Her eyes welled. “He is five weeks and three days old...and looks just like his father.”
Declan’s hands started to tremble. His heart was thundering and nothing was making sense to him. This day, this afternoon had tested him, and put him through more emotions than his entire time in the Corps.
“You—you kept this from me!” he roared.
Her blue gaze raced across his, anger and disbelief clashing on both sides. “I wasn’t going to trap you. I’m not a burden.”
He threw his hands to the side. “So denying me my own blood sounded like a better idea to you? That’s your truth?”
“My truth?” she huffed. “You stole my first kiss, my first touch, my virginity and acted like nothing happened the next time I saw you.” She glared. “You’re good at ignoring me. I was going to tell you when I saw you. When you got over your last bout of pretending I don’t exist.”
He charged her but stopped an inch from her, his face wincing with emotion. “Mine. Mine—this was wrong.”
She bowed her head, silent tears dripped to the ground. “I know...” she looked up at him. “I was hurt.”
“This is the wrong way to hurt me back,” he said just as sharply, but lacking the thunder in his voice. “Do you have any idea—” He stopped short only because he saw it, all of his last tour flashed before his eyes. “I could have died never knowing.”
She’d thought the same but was fast to push it away, hearing him say it, and knowing he never bothered to exaggerate what he saw, what he went through, that at best it was hard to even get him to speak about it cut right through her.
“Why didn’t you write back whe
n I told you I had the letters, why didn’t you call?”
He gripped what was in his hand and wanted to understand what it was but afraid to at the same time. “I was only a few weeks from home...wanted to see you.”
“One letter saying as much and I would have told you everything. I was scared, Declan.”
He shook his head. “Don’t. This was wrong.”
“And would it have been right for you to have another worry there? For you to make whatever choices you had about your career with this as an underlining issue? For me or you to not know if we are where we want to be for the right reasons?”
“How would this not be the right reason? How would it not be something I should consider?”
She shook her head. “I’m not trapping you.”
What was in his hands, as precious as it may be, hit the ground as he gripped her shoulders and pulled her closer. “I love you!” She melted just a bit, it was hard to keep up with the sharp twist in his emotions. “You keep saying burden, trap—it’s all bullshit,” His hold was still strong but not as desperate when he figured out she wasn’t running from him. “That night of the storm...” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to leave anymore, and it wasn’t because I thought you couldn’t handle it or you were weak. It was because I wanted to be with you. You were reachable seconds before I had to leave and there was nothing I could do about it.”
One hand reached for her face as his gaze searched hers. “I’ve never trusted myself to be good enough for you.” He swallowed harshly. “I gave you space, time to figure out who you are. I didn’t want to trap you.”
He pressed his forehand to hers. “I didn’t re-up, no reenlistment. I’m done.”
A shuddering breath left her. She stepped back for air. “Was it so you could search for Nolan? I’m not looking for validation; I swear I’m not. I just want you to make sure where you are and what you want is right with you.”
He moved forward and took her lips, a slow and sexy kiss that underlined how starved this girl left him. “It is now.”
A relieved smile came as she kissed him back, and she moved her arms around him. He was washing away a year of doubt and all the other ugly shit emotions tilled up—then clarity came to her. A beat later, she let go and reached for the items on the ground, and then rose slowly looking up at him.