Driving Whiskey Wild

by Melissa Foster

  “You’re the least selfish person I know.”

  “No, not even close. That would be you.” She unlaced their fingers and touched his skull ring. “Is that for the Dark Knights?”

  “No. It was my grandfather’s. The other one I wear was my uncle Axel’s, my father’s brother. He died when I was on tour, and Bear held on to it for me.”

  “But you wear three sometimes.”

  “The third was my old man’s. He gave it to me when I went into the military.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever tell your family about the time you were in the hospital? The truth of how you almost died?”

  He shifted his eyes up to the clear blue sky. Talking with Finlay about his past was easier now, since they’d talked about it quite a few times. She was too curious to let many questions go unanswered, and he knew this one bothered her because not only did she hate lies as much as he did, but she loved his family. She was too bighearted to let it go.

  She straddled him, and his blond angel smiled down on him. “How long were you in the hospital?”

  “Several weeks in the hospital and a couple months of rehab. I came home about eight months after I was discharged.”

  “You’re not going to answer me about telling them, are you?”

  She didn’t say it accusingly. She said it with acceptance and without judgment, and that made him hurt in a whole new way. “Babe, I can think of a hundred reasons not to tell them, but not one reason to do it.”

  Her expression turned serious. “Do you think they’d be hurt knowing you didn’t tell them in the first place?”

  “Definitely. They’d want to know all the details, and who knows what kind of shit that’ll bring up. Some things are just better left unsaid.”

  “Are you protecting them, or yourself?” Again, there was no judgment, just the need to understand shining in her eyes.

  “Both, to be honest.”

  She nodded and ran her finger over the names tattooed on the right side of his chest. “Would it bother you to tell me whose names these are?”

  “Fallen brothers. Guys I couldn’t save.”

  She squinted, lowering her face so she could look more closely. “There are so many I can barely read most of them.”

  “They’re not for anyone else to read. They’re for me.”

  Her gaze met his. “Should I not try?”

  “No, babe. My body is your body. Go ahead.”

  She shifted so she was lying on his other side and began whispering the names as she read them and pressing kisses over each one. “Dreamer.” Kiss. “S. Nelson.” Kiss. “Brinks. Michael Z.” Kiss. Kiss.

  He closed his eyes against the pang of painful memories accompanying each one. When he’d started honoring his fallen brothers, he hadn’t known if he’d remember them, but with each name she spoke, he knew he’d never forget. Many he hadn’t known well. Some he’d met on missions, known them for only minutes or hours before they were killed. Others he’d known for years. He listened to her sweet voice, concentrating on that instead of the heartache.

  “Daniel.” Kiss. “Gunner.” Kiss. “Chip. Buzz.” Kiss. Kiss. “M. Martinez.” Kiss.

  Her hand stilled on his skin, and a chill rushed down his spine. The air around them, the very atmosphere, turned colder. His eyes flew open, and he grabbed her hand, unsure of what she’d sparked and afraid he’d tumble into a flashback. But when his eyes met hers, the fear in them revealed the chill he’d felt. Her hands trembled within his, and he bolted upright. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I. A. Rush…?” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Wails burst from her lungs, and she turned away, sobbing into her hands. He knew. He just fucking knew that was her guy. The man she’d lost in the war. He scooped her into his lap, holding her as she cried. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Aw, Christ, Finlay. That’s the man I was carrying when I got hit. I tried to save him.”

  His mind reeled back to the battlefield, and he fought against the mounting fear, the uncontainable anger that consumed him when he thought of that last battle. And then like he’d stepped in front of a moving vehicle, the realization crashed into him. Jesus, he’d fucking killed Finlay’s guy.

  “Ian Aaron Rush, that was his name,” she said through her tears. “He went by Aaron.”

  She buried her face in his neck, her tears soaking his skin, her heartache drowning him. He felt sick, needed air. His head fell back, and he gulped long, painful inhalations. He was vaguely aware of her stilling against him, of her hands on his cheeks.

  “Bullet. Bullet? It’s okay. You were with him. I always thought he died alone. But you were there.”

  Her words flew at him like darts. How could he tell her the truth?

  She climbed off his lap with panic in her teary eyes. He sat up on his knees, dragging air into his lungs.

  “Bullet, breathe, honey. Breathe. You’re okay. You’re here with me, not back there.”

  She put her shaky arms around him, but he broke free and pushed to his feet, the spiky grass poking into his skin. He didn’t care. He deserved the pain. Fuuuck. “It’s not a flashback. It’s the fucking truth of it all.”

  Confusion rose in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “I killed him, Finlay. If I hadn’t been carrying him, he wouldn’t have been hit in the chest, and you’d be with your guy right now, not here with the one who killed him.”

  Her jaw hung open, her entire body shaking. “No. No, no, no. No, Bullet.”

  She pushed to her feet, lifting them in quick succession as she stepped on the prickly grass, and hopped back onto his shirt. Fresh tears tumbled down her cheeks. “Don’t do this. You didn’t kill him. Aaron died of the wound in his leg. It severed his femoral artery. They told his family he had other wounds, but it was the one in his leg that killed him.”

  He tried to process what she said, but his head was spinning. “I was there. I looked into his eyes.”

  “Yes, which is why I’m so relieved. That’s why I’m crying. His family—I—always thought he died alone on the battlefield. But he didn’t, Bullet. You were with him. You held his hand. You comforted him in the end.” She went to him, but he took a step back in disbelief. “Bullet…why are you doing this?”

  He turned away, grabbed his head, and pitched back on his heels, eyes clenched tight against the blazing sun. “Aw, fuck, Finlay.” Could she be right? All these years he’d been sure he’d killed the man. He shook his throbbing head as her hands came around him from behind.

  “You didn’t kill him, Bullet. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to us.”

  He folded his arms over hers, the weight of her words crashing over him like shattered glass, and he sank to his knees.

  “You didn’t kill him,” she said into his ear. “Don’t let his death kill you.”

  Tears burned in his eyes as she rested her head on the back of his shoulder, whispering, “I love you. You didn’t do it, Bullet. I promise it’s true. It’s not your fault.”

  Struggling against the emotions clawing for release, he inhaled deeply, unwilling to fall completely apart in front of Finlay. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have saved him.”

  She came around and climbed into his lap, her arms around his neck, her head on his shoulder, and she held him tight. “Nobody could have saved him out there. But you consoled him. And now you’ve healed the piece of me that was still broken, the one holding on to the image of him alone as he took his last breath. Don’t you see, Bullet? No one could save Aaron, but now that we know this, maybe Aaron can save you.”

  “I don’t need saving.”

  “Not saving. That’s the wrong word,” she said quickly. “You can give his family the closure they’ve never had, and it might help you move forward and finally leave the guilt of that awful time behind. Ed and Helen Rush live right outside Pleasant Hill, on Mercer Street.”

  He closed his eyes, doubting anything would ever ease the guilt that had strangled him since that fateful day.
“I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Of course you can. You’re the strongest man I know.”

  Anger erupted inside him like a volcano, abrupt and unstoppable. “Stop it, Finlay. You know what’s at risk for me. I don’t know if seeing his family and relaying what happened out there will slam me back into another flashback, or worse, into full-on PTSD. And if it does, I don’t know who I’ll be if, or when, I come out on the other side.” He tried to lift her off his lap, but she refused to let go.

  “I’ll go with you. I’ll help you,” she offered. “You’ve been okay talking to me. Talking seems to help.”

  “Goddamn it, Finlay. I just found you! I’m not risking everything for a family I don’t even know.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she swallowed hard. “Bullshit,” she said softly.

  The curse hit him like a shotgun round.

  “You risk yourself for strangers all the time, and I believe with my whole heart that this will help you as much as it will help his family. As much as it’s helping me. They’re not strangers to me, Bullet, and I wouldn’t ask this of you if I thought I’d lose you because of it. But you’ve obviously been harboring tremendous guilt over what happened out there, and it’s not yours to hang on to anymore. Not now that you know the truth.”

  “Finlay…” He’d do anything for her, but this?

  “Please think about it for me? For us? I honestly believe it’ll help you let go of that part of your past.”

  She climbed off his lap, and they dressed in painful silence. For the first time since he’d been with Finlay, he needed space away from her. He needed to clear his head. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a ravine with Finlay rooted on the opposite cliff and a world of fucked-up nightmares between them.

  The drive back to his place was long and cold, and when Finlay climbed off his bike, he took her in his arms and said, “I gotta go ride, baby. Gotta clear my head.”

  “I know,” she whispered, and he gathered her in his arms.

  “I’m sorry. I want to be the man you need, but I just don’t know who I am right now.”

  Several tortured hours later, long after darkness chased away the light of day, Bullet sat in front of the dark house, struggling to make sense of all that he’d learned, needing an anchor to settle him in the dizzying sea of worries.

  He pulled out his phone and called Bones, who answered on the first ring.

  “What’s up, B?”

  “I don’t know, bro. Some shit went down. That guy I was carrying when I got shot was Fin’s boyfriend, man.” His chest constricted.

  Bones cursed. Several long moments later, he said, “Where are you?”

  “If I fuck this up, if I lose her…” Tears burned in his eyes, and he gripped the phone tighter.

  “Bullet, where’s Finlay?”

  He glanced up at the house again, pain slicing through him anew. “Keep your phone on.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “ARE YOU SURE I can’t come over?” Penny asked for the millionth time since she’d called an hour ago.

  “I really need to be alone,” Finlay answered. She lay on the couch bundled up in Bullet’s flannel shirt, needing to feel closer to him, with Tinkerbell curled up beside her. Tinkerbell seemed to sense that something was wrong and had been by her side since she’d arrived several hours ago. She’d made the mistake of answering Penny’s call earlier, and now Penny and Isabel, who Penny had patched through on a three-way call, didn’t want to let her get off the phone. They’d called to hear about Finlay’s first motorcycle ride, and she’d been too distraught to pretend like nothing had happened, so she’d told them everything. From the amazing ride, to the devastation of realizing that for all these years Bullet had believed he’d killed Aaron. As thankful for their company as she was, she didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bullet.

  “Should I go to my place?” Tears stung her eyes again at the thought of not being there when Bullet got home. “Do you think he’ll want to be alone when he finally comes back?”

  “Definitely not,” Isabel said. “He’s working through things the best way he knows how, but he’ll want you there, Fin. Otherwise he would have dropped you off at your place.”

  She petted Tinkerbell, hoping Isabel was right. “I shouldn’t have pushed him to talk to Aaron’s family,” she said for the hundredth time, which was only about half as many times as she’d thought it.

  She’d tried to distract herself for hours before the girls called, but she’d even been too upset to cook, which had never happened to her before, and she felt utterly and completely lost without that outlet. But every time she looked at the kitchen, she felt sick to her stomach about pushing Bullet into a corner. She’d alternated between pacing and curling up on the couch. She’d even tried taking a walk with Tinkerbell, but the yard seemed too big and empty without Bullet. That struck her as funny, considering her man needed space and, without him, she needed to be confined. To be wrapped up in his shirt, surrounded by his belongings, his scent, his energy.

  “Aw, Fin,” Penny said. “You love him so much. I don’t think you’d ask him to do something you thought he couldn’t handle.”

  “But he left, Penny. He’s so protective of me, for him to leave for this long can only mean—”

  “That he’s working his way through what you’ve asked of him,” Isabel said adamantly. “That’s all it means, okay? Bullet is crazy about you, and he let down his guard, but he’s still Bullet. He’s got more walls inside him than any of us can imagine, and right now he’s figuring out if he can scale them or not.”

  She stared at the ceiling, wishing she could talk to him, to take back their conversation. She’d texted Bullet earlier, but she knew if he was riding he’d never feel the vibration. “I made everything worse for him. After the most incredible day ever, I screwed things up. What if he shuts down completely? What if I sent him over the edge and he can’t see his way clear to forgiving me?”

  She sat up, feeling worn out and too sad to stay on the phone. “I’m hanging up—”

  “No!” Penny and Isabel yelled.

  “Sorry, you guys, but my heart hurts too much. I just need time to”—curl into a ball and cry—“think things through. I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  After ending the call, she went up to the bedroom with Tinkerbell and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the sticky notes from that morning. Bullet was so thoughtful. Had she slowed down enough to think things through, instead of seeing a path for him to clear his conscience, she might have offered to tell Aaron’s parents herself. If Bullet couldn’t handle doing it, then at least she could help them get closure.

  But he needs it just as much.

  Did he? Or was she just hoping it might help? Ugh. She’d asked herself the question too many times and couldn’t even ponder an answer any longer.

  She lay back on the bed, and Tinkerbell lay beside her. She grabbed Bullet’s pillow and curled up around it, allowing the tears that had been coming and going all evening to flow. She closed her eyes, and when sleep came, she welcomed the escape.

  THE ROAR OF a motorcycle engine sent Finlay’s heart into her throat. She pushed from the bed and ran down the stairs with Tinkerbell on her heels. She flew through the house and out the front door as Bullet climbed from his bike. She rushed toward him, nearly falling over Bones, who was sitting on the front step. She’d forgotten he was there. He’d shown up hours ago, before she’d talked to Penny and Isabel. She’d heard his motorcycle and run outside thinking it was Bullet. She’d been devastated, but she’d tried not to let that show. She must have failed because when she’d invited him inside, he’d insisted on waiting out front. What was it with Whiskeys feeling the need to stand guard?

  Tinkerbell beat her to Bullet, trying to climb his leg. Bullet’s shoulders were rounded forward, and his eyes lacked the spark of vigor they usually held. When he shifted his gaze from Finlay to Bones, he looked…defeated.

  Good Lord, what h
ad she done to him?

  She stopped moving, and when he opened his arms, she fell into them.

  “You don’t have to talk to his family,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry I asked you to. I was wrong. You’ve been through enough. You don’t need to be anyone’s hero. I’m so sorry.”

  He kissed the top of her head, his big hands caressing her back. He didn’t say a word, just held her tighter, and that sent fear trampling through her. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but it was too hard. She didn’t know what else to say, so she buried her face in his chest again.

  “Can you see my eyes in the dark, angel?” he finally asked.

  She gazed up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. She searched his solemn expression, and when she met his eyes, they were unlike anything she’d seen before, and she didn’t know how to read them. But she nodded, because she could see them.

  “I’m sorry I took off. I had to figure things out.”

  “I know. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I won’t ever ask you to do anything like that again.”

  “You won’t have to,” he said evenly. His gaze shifted to Bones.

  “I came over thinking you were here,” Bones said. “And when I saw your bike was gone, I couldn’t leave Finlay alone. I’ll take off now, unless you need me.”

  “You’ve been here the whole time?” she asked.

  Bones shrugged. “Of course.”

  Of course? More tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Thanks, bro. You should hear this.” Bullet looked down at Finlay. “I went to see Aaron’s family.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You saw them?”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t risk letting you down, baby. Not when you’ve done nothing but lift me up.”

  “You went…?” she said, unable to believe it. “And you’re okay? You don’t hate me?”

  “I could never hate you. I did it because I love you, Finlay. You needed this, and I need you. I just had to wrap my head around the idea. But you were right. It helped.” He walked over to Bones and embraced him. “Thanks, man.”