by Mj Fields
She steps back and looks up at me. “I wanted to thank you again for Christmas Eve.”
I nod. “Not a problem.”
“Mom,” the little boy in the front says, tugging on her coat. “I want coffee.”
The kid’s about three; sure as hell shouldn’t be drinking coffee.
“Sure. Just a minute, okay?” She smiles then turns her back on him. “Well, if you aren’t busy later, feel free—”
“Mom, I want coffee,” the kid says again.
“Okay,” she answers, never looking back. “Sorry about him. He’s—”
“Mom,” he interrupts again.
“Just a minute,” she says with a thin line of a smile.
“Catch you around.” I nod.
“Wait, does that mean—”
“I’m here with my sister, Alexis,” I tell her as I start to walk away.
“I’m here to buy a few books. I enrolled in some classes,” she says to my back.
I turn around. “That’s great. Good for you. You were always a smart girl.”
She smiles with pride. “I’m going to IC.”
“That’s great.” I give her a small smile before walking away, seeing Lauren coming toward me with an armful of books.
“Glad you dodged that bullet?” she asks.
I smirk. “She’s a good person. She’ll figure it out.”
She grimaces. “Two kids, though?”
I shrug. “You ready?”
“Can I get them all?”
“Have I ever told you no?” I take the books from her hands then head toward the cash register as she follows, giggling.
When we walk into the house, I hear Mom and Ryan talking. They normally aren’t home at this time of day.
I look at Lauren when I hear Mom crying.
“Mom?” Lauren calls out, walking quickly toward the living room where their voices are coming from.
“What are you doing home?” she asks, standing up, and then she sees me. “And you? Oh, my God, you’re home again so soon!”
“What’s going on?” I ask as she hugs me.
“Oh, nothing.” She laughs as if we hadn’t just caught her crying.
“Obviously something’s wrong,” I comment, pulling back so I can look at her face.
“You know women,” Ryan tries to joke.
I bring Lauren into the hug because she looks scared as hell. We both know something is up.
Mom reaches out and grabs Ryan’s hand. “Everything’s fine.”
“Damn right, it is,” he says, pecking her on the cheek.
I step back and eye them both suspiciously. Ryan notices.
“Wanna help me out in the garage?”
I nod.
“He’s on medical leave; don’t make him work, Dad,” Lauren scolds him.
“What happened?” Mom asks.
“Training. No big deal; I’m fine. Going back soon,” I assure her.
“Going where?” she asks, scowling, which is unlike her.
“Middle East,” I answer then turn and look at Ryan. “What do you need help with?”
Ryan nods toward the door and begins to walk. I follow him into the garage.
As soon as I shut the door, he turns and crosses his arms. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. What’s going on?”
He rolls his eyes and runs his hand over his head. “No need to worry. And we don’t want the others to know. I had a physical a week ago. My PSI levels are a little high. To rule out cancer, I had a biopsy two days ago.”
“Did it rule it out?” I ask, knowing by my mother’s reaction it was a negative.
“Was inconclusive. They need to do another,” he answers, looking me in the eye.
“When?”
“Tomorrow. I’m sure it’s fine,” he sighs out. “Hell, I feel no different today than I did ten years ago. Your mom is...Well, she’s more worried than I am. She got a little bossy and is jumping the damn gun, so I told her to chill. Wrong thing to say. She needs to at least be given the illusion that all the research, phone calls, and planning gives her control over the situation when, in fact, it doesn’t do shit but make her even more crazy.” He chuckles at that. “She’s ready to have me get the damn thing removed, and there is no fucking way that’s gonna happen.”
“Unless it needs to,” I tell him. Then I remember I’m not on post and need to tone it down, so I add, “Right?”
“Not gonna need to.” He shrugs and turns away. “Let’s make sure that’s what your mom believes, too. She doesn’t need to stress.”
“Got it.”
“Brother and sisters, too. They don’t need to know.” He turns back and looks at me. “And you. This is no big deal. I don’t want you to worry over something that’s not in our control.”
I nod. “Understood.”
“Good. You know how women are. It’s really no big deal.” He pats me on the shoulder before walking toward the door to go inside. “Dinner at Harper’s tonight; you in?”
“Of course,” I answer, following him inside.
After I watch Mom and Lauren’s interaction to figure out if Lauren has a clue about Ryan, I realize she doesn’t. They are simply looking over the bag of books she just got.
“Who’s hungry?” Ryan asks.
“Let me run my bag upstairs. I’ll be right down to help,” I tell them as I walk toward the stairway.
Once in my room, I put my bag down and look around. Walking to the shelves of trophies, I pick up one of my IAC championship basketball trophies. Our high school basketball team won the IAC’s two years in a row. Mine sit right next to the one my father’s team won in his junior year of high school. I remember the day my paternal grandfather gave it to me. I didn’t want to take it because I saw it hurt my grandmother. My grandfather insisted I put it next to my own, while she said it would be great if I brought mine to the house and left it there with his.
I take my dad’s in my hand and sit on the edge of the bed as I look at it, wondering how upset he would be about what I said to Ava.
Taking in a deep breath, I shake my head as I stand back up and place it back on the shelf. What I said to her was the damn truth, yet it didn’t need to be said.
I walk over and look out my bedroom window that faces the Link’s house. Ava’s room is directly across from mine, and below it is her family’s kitchen window.
“Fuck.” I slide my hand over the top of my head as I feel my blood begin to boil.
Regret isn’t something I feel a lot, but I’m feeling it now.
I heard her cry. I saw her stumble. I saw her pain, the pain I caused her. I saw the way she looked at me the morning after that fucking British drummer stayed at her place.
I showed up after accepting the text invitation to join her brother and father at the gym. I shouldn’t have gone, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see it with my own two eyes. I needed to see her eyes that could hide the truth from everyone but me.
Never me.
That fucking box took up half the damn kitchen, and those fucking balloons the British shit sent her floated around the stupid, motherfucking kindergarten-like craft project he had made for her like a big reminder that he fucked her.
I know damn well she has been with him before. Never when I was home, though.
Now that has fucking changed. It all changed because of two things. One, she said she loved me and expected something I had no way to give her. And two, because I fucking hit her.
I hit her and bruised her eye. I hit her, and she flew off the bed by the force of my strike. I hit her, and she scurried into the bathroom to hide from me. From me! I hit her, and she acted like it was no big fucking deal. Accident, yes. Acceptable, never. During sleep or not doesn’t matter to me. It is unforgivable.
It was a big deal. Still is. It’s a fucking nightmare come true. It’s a reminder of all those men I see come home from war and flip their shit, knowing damn well that’s not who they are. And it’s certainly not who they would choose
to be if they had a choice.
I hit her, and she professed her love to me. There is no way in hell I would ever let a woman love me after that.
Never.
“Luke, you coming down? Lunch is ready,” Lauren calls up to me.
“Yep,” I answer as I look away from Ava’s window and walk out of my room.
After lunch, we sit down in the living room, and Ryan pulls out a deck of cards.
“Pitch?”
“Sounds great.” I nod.
Not sure why, but honestly, whenever I am home, it feels like the world stops. As relaxing as it is, I’m not a relaxing kind of man, so after all this relaxation, I am dog-ass tired.
After playing cards for hours, I tell everyone I’m going to shower before we head to Harper and Maddox’s place. When I walk into my room and see a reflection of light pass through the window, I look out the window and see that fucking asshole’s Land Rover pull in, and I’m pretty damn sure Ava is sitting on the passenger side.
The muscles in my neck tense when I allow myself to think about what exactly she is doing lying across the front seat. I swear, if she is giving him fucking road-head, I am going to blow a fucking gasket because, all those fucking times I was home and fucking her, I never got a blow job. I never even got to eat her pussy. She was always too fucking wound up and needy.
I look away when they walk into her garage and disappear, having no fucking right to be angry, but I am. So fucking angry.
I throw my clothes off, and then I can’t stop myself from walking over and looking toward her house again.
In the kitchen window, I see her. Then I see his hands on her. She turns around so her back is to me, and the fucking asshole’s eyes meet mine. He gives me a shitass grin as he lifts her up.
Doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going on. He’s fucking her, knowing damn well I am watching, and he’s fucking enjoying it.
I turn away, now knowing he doesn’t deserve her any more than I do.
When we pull into Harper’s, I see the punk-ass Brit’s vehicle and know I have to play nice. She’s not mine. Never was.
Walking in behind Mom and Ryan, Mom laughs, asking, “The party started early and no one told us?”
“Ava and”—Lucas points to T—“T surprised us.”
I see Ava look at me, and then quickly at T, giving him a huge smile.
“T has asked for Ava’s hand in marriage.” Lucas smiles, but it’s pretty obvious he’s forcing it.
“Oh, my God.” Mom looks at the rock on her finger. “Holy shit! Look at that!” Then she hugs her.
“Thanks, Jade,” Ava says, looking at me briefly, clearly trying to see how I will react.
“Congratulations, Ava.” Ryan hugs her next.
“Congratulations, Ava,” I smile at her since it’s expected.
“Thank you, Luke.” She smiles back, a genuine one. “Hey, what are you doing home?”
“Our boy rolled his ankle during training, so he’s home until Wednesday when he flies into God only knows where to meet his team,” Ryan answers, patting my back. “Last mission, right, son?”
I nod. “Last mission.”
The drummer boy is glaring at me, so I smile and tell him, “Congratulations, Thomas.”
T nods, not saying a word.
At dinner, T asks questions that are none of his fucking business.
“How long will you be deployed?”
“Six months.”
“That’s too bad. You’ll miss the wedding.” He reaches over and pulls Ava against him. She smiles at him, nothing fake or forced.
“When is the wedding?” Tessa asks.
“We haven’t set a date yet,” Ava answer.
“But she was okay with getting married the night I asked her,” T boasts.
“I’d have a problem with that,” Lucas sneers, and I can’t help laughing. What the hell else can a man like me do in a situation like this?
T shrugs. “Whatever she wants, I’ll give her.”
He looks at me, and I know that look. He thinks he has won. He thinks he has Ava, the girl who told me she loved me just weeks ago. The girl who told me she always will, and I reacted like a man like me always did. I crushed her with words, with the only truth I could give her.
My truth.
What I didn’t expect was that what she said to me would be true.
“I am going to fill that hole you have created so that, when you pull your head out of whatever darkness it’s settled in, there is no room for a do-over.”
I would never ask her for a do-over. Never. I am a man of my word, and my words were harsh, unjustly so given the circumstances, but a girl like Ava needs that in order to walk away.
My words were a gift to her. She doesn’t know it, but it’s true.
Her gift is now my hell, and that hell has a British accent and voyeuristic ways. I don’t want that for her. She deserves better. Always has.
“Is it in hostile territory?” T asks me.
I glance at Ava, hoping she sees that he’s a little bitch, and an undeserving one at that.
I continue to look at her as I address him. “Usually is. But I’ll be fine.”
She looks away quickly, standing up to help clear the table.
“I think we’re going to head back to the house,” Ava says as she helps clear the table.
“Why so soon?” Lucas asks her and the loud mouth fucking peacock.
“She’s been working on a big case, traveling all over. She’ll be traveling for a few weeks, right, love?”
Ava nods.
“She’s one hell of a lawyer,” asshole says as he stands and hugs her.
“She’s worked her ass off to become one,” Lucas adds.
“And she’ll continue if that’s what she wants. Although, it is totally unnecessary,” T says, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looks at her.
It rubs me the wrong fucking way.
A little while later, Harper and Ava are chatting, and Ryan and Lucas are as well. I see T walk outside and decide to follow him. Fucker needs to know a few things.
As he walks back from starting the vehicle, he looks at me. I can tell he knew damn well I would be here.
He smiles and shakes his head as he walks closer. “You know you fucked up, right, Lane? But here’s the deal. I’m not pissed at you, brother. I want to hug you. Thank you. Fuck, I may even name our first child after you.”
“You don’t deserve her any more than I do. The difference is, I care enough to walk away. I have known her since she was a little girl when she used to tell everyone she was a princess. Hell, I believed she was just as much as she did back then. You are no fucking prince, and—”
“I don’t deserve her any more than you do? You must have sniffed too many fucking chemicals over in that desert, brother. That woman is a fucking princess, a goddess. I knew it from the moment I saw her years ago. And, in just a few months, she’ll be my queen.”
“Your queen?” I laugh. “A woman you fuck, knowing another man is watching? You are a sick fuck; you know that?”
“Some men”—he laughs as he says it—“need to see with their own fucking eyes when a woman has moved on. Just because she was sitting around, waiting for you all those years, doesn’t mean she will forever. Hell, the day after you last fucked her, I made love to her. Made. Love. To Ava. She said she’s never had it so well.”
“After all those pictures of the two of you over the years at my fucking family functions, don’t you think, if she loved you enough to marry you, she’d have known then?” I ask.
He tsks, “She was fucking you and living in her own head, believing in a childhood fairy tale she created.”
“She’s always been a dreamer,” I snap. “Your fucking point?”
“My point, motherfucker, is, you had her for seven years and didn’t deserve her. My point is, you are a sorry piece of shit for not seeing beyond your dick and seeing her”—he pokes me in the chest—“for who she is. My point is, I am her tr
ue love. Love doesn’t work the way she believed. She loved you enough to allow you to fuck others and her? What the hell—”
“She was fucking others, too,” I snap defensively.
He shakes his head. “And the U.S. Army trusts you to defend her? What a fucking joke. Stupid, stupid man—”
“Now, you listen to me, you pompous, little prick.” I poke him in the chest like he did me. “Word is word. She and I made a deal—”
He laughs. “Wow, some men are so incredulous. Are you the fucking heroic type? The men who protect and serve?” He laughs again. “Fucking idiot.”
I’m ready to break his fucking neck. The worst part is that I can do it in two seconds, and I know that.
“You hurt her, and you’ll see what a hero is. I will rip you apart with my bare hands. You hear me?”
“Hear you? Like your opinion or words mean dick to me. Ava and I are getting married. We’re already trying to start our family. You’ll rip me apart? Pft. I will fucking shatter you and make it look like an accident. Stay the fuck away from her. You hear me?” he mocks. “Stay. The fuck. Away.”
I am two seconds from killing him when Ava walks out.
“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” she asks in a tone filled with nervous anxiety.
“Getting some fresh air,” I tell her quickly.
“You ready to get home, Ava?” T asks, giving me a taunting smile.
“What I’m ready for is peace!” she snaps, fully aware there is an issue.
I glare at her, pissed at the discoveries I made. Her word was not good. She lied to me.
“I hope you’ve found it.”
“I’m pretty sure I have,” she says, her voice again full of nervousness. “T?”
He doesn’t budge.
“Thomas Hardy, are you gonna stay here all night? I’m going home,” she says as she walks past him.
“You’re driving, Ava. Your boy’s drunk,” I tell her, my eyes deadlocked with his.
She gets defensive.
Defending him.
Fuck.
“Enough.” She points at me then him. “Let’s go.”
“Good luck.” I laugh, feeling anger as I walk into the house.
I have reflected too damn much these past few days. Emotions make a person weak. Feelings cause emotions. More to the point, sadness, anger, hurt, worry—those emotions cause weakness. I allow myself to feel emotions here at home.