“Just one,” says Ramsey, emerging from behind the wedding planner with a fist- full of miniatures. “Who’s ready for a shot, to start this celebration off right?”
Everyone laughs and grabs a miniature. Ramsey obviously still knows how to get a party started.
“To Jensen’s future as a love- sick, captive husband,” Ramsey says, and we all clink our plastic tiny bottles and take the shot.
The liquid burns as it goes down my throat, and Jensen shakes his head back and forth as he forces it down, shouting, “To captivity indeed!”
I find Riley’s mother and escort her to the front row, and then I escort our own mother to a front row seat across the aisle. Mom squeezes my arm and says, “I’m so happy for Jensen.”
I squeeze hers back. “Me too, Mom.”
I’m happy for all of us. Mom has been doing better lately, and that’s about as best as we can hope for. She looks lovely in a light blue dress, with her hair and makeup done.
Mom looks over at Ramsey, who is playing his guitar under a tree, and whispers to me again under her breath.
“But I’m worried about Ramsey. Something has seemed… off… lately.”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
I pat her arm. But I’m worried about Ramsey too. He’s seemed even more irrational and angry since his subdued blow- up at Los Cuates. I don’t know what I’ll do if his strong shell cracks, since he’s the glue that holds our family together.
I kiss my mom’s cheek and then help her lower herself into her seat. Then I take my place next to Jensen and I catch Whitney’s eye after I find her seated in the audience. She smiles at me, her cheeks red with excitement and happiness for my brother and Riley.
As I stare at Whitney— thinking of how lucky I am to have found her— and time stands still before my brother ties the knot, I think about what he said, about how when you know, you just know. I definitely did know as soon as I met Whitney that she was the one for me. I just hadn’t wanted to trust myself, because it had been scary. But I still know, for sure this time: she’s the one for me.
Chapter 55
I’m a sucker for weddings, but Jensen’s and Riley’s is even more beautiful than the average ceremony. It’s outdoors at a bed and breakfast in Old Town, and decorated with red roses, white calla lilies, black lace and a pop of turquoise ribbon to match the Southwestern décor.
Jensen and his brothers and some military buddies are dressed up in their formal military uniforms and look dashing. Harlow always looks good but today he is particularly stunning. And he even looks a bit nervous as he stands proudly next to his brother.
“Your man is looking good,” Lance whispers to me, while jostling my leg with his own.
I jostle his back.
“I know.”
Things are working out well for both of us. After everything that happened with Dr. Davis, and Piñon parted ways with him, it still wanted a program focused on helping service members who had suffered catastrophic injuries requiring reconstructive surgery. Piñon was so impressed with Lance’s work with Harlow and his dedication to honesty and service members that they put him in charge of the program.
So although Lance had originally feared he would be fired for his involvement in exposing Dr. Davis, he was in fact promoted. It’s a great outcome because an even greater number of service members will be receiving the follow- up treatment they deserve, and a trusted, internal physical therapist is running the program instead of a corrupt outside doctor with his own agenda.
I find Jesse Morrow in the audience and wave at him; he waves back, with a big smile on his face. Jesse is a patient at the clinic, and Lance himself has been working with him for further physical therapy treatment.
He’s progressed quite a bit physically. And he and Harlow have become good friends. They encourage and motivate each other, and sometimes we all hang out at Gecko’s, or at Louie’s when Jensen can manage to drag us there.
While Piñon was developing its new program, I graduated from college with a good GPA, good GMAT scores and high recommendations to medical school, not only from Lance but also from many others at Piñon. Piñon offered me a job as a full- time, full- fledged physical therapist, but I had to decline because in the fall I’m set to start medical school.
I’m looking forward to medical school as a welcome distraction and something I’ll be forced to focus on while Harlow is deployed. But I’m also proud of myself for finding the courage to apply. Perhaps I’ll be referring patients to Piñon one day, and working closely with Lance to oversee their treatment.
My parents were happy to hear of all my recent news— not only did I dump Tony and get with Harlow, but I also got back on the path to medical school.
“We’re so proud of you!” My mom beamed, when Harlow and I went to visit them last month. “We always knew you could do anything you set your mind to.”
And they were right. It doesn’t matter how confident they were for me in the past, because I myself didn’t share that same confidence in myself. Their words of encouragement felt like empty platitudes, but they are great parents.
When I see everything that Harlow has been through, with his deceased father and unstable mother, I’m even more grateful for the love and support my parents have always provided. Maybe one day they’ll be here for my own wedding, with Harlow…
Harlow smiles at me, jolting me back to the present, which I’m glad for because I don’t want to miss a moment of Jensen’s and Riley’s big day. As Jensen and the groomsmen took their places, Ramsey was singing and playing the guitar to Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.”
I never expected Harlow’s brother to be such a good musician, but I’m pleasantly surprised. Now, as the bridesmaids begin walking down the aisle, he switches to a “Somewhere Over the Rainbow/ What a Beautiful World” mix.
The ambiance is casual yet elegant. The bridesmaids wear black and white dresses that Riley was clearly kind enough to let them choose on their own, which definitely fits her laid- back and thoughtful personality.
A cute little boy and girl pair toddle down the aisle as ring bearer and flower girl. And after Ramsey puts his guitar down and joins Jensen in front, Pachelbel’s Cannon in D starts playing over the speakers. We all know to stand up, because the bride is on her way.
Riley looks beautiful in a ruched white dress with lace and pearls woven throughout. I want to cry when I sneak a glance at Jensen’s face, because the look I see there is so touching.
The wedding officiant begins a unique and personal ceremony, which she says that Jensen and Riley wrote together. She mentions how they met under tumultuous circumstances but began to rely on each other as both advocates and lovers.
The story sounds rather similar to that of Harlow’s and mine, and he winks at me, letting me know he thinks so too.
“Before today’s festivities, I met with the bride and groom and their families to go over the type of ceremony they wanted,” the officiant says next. “Both of the groom’s brothers were quick to let me know that they can’t believe he is getting married. But he told me privately that he knows he started a trend, and that they’ll both be next. I hear one of them is already in a committed relationship that Jensen himself at first couldn’t believe.”
Harlow winks at me, and I know our turn is coming soon. His deployment will be hard, but I know it’s for a good cause, and I know he’s worth the wait. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and he’s changed my life for the better in every possible way.
I know for sure that we’ll be together for the long haul. One of these days it will be him and me standing front and center as we exchange vows in front of our friends and family members.
I’m not sure exactly when we’ll get to that destination but I sure am enjoying the ride.
THE END.
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Soundtrack / Song List!
Here is a playlist of all songs from the soundtrack referenced in Ramsey.
If you have Spotify, click here for the Spotify playlist,
or this is the link for it: http://hyperurl.co/RamseyPlaylist.
Heroes – David Bowie
Tom Sawyer – Rush
Patience – Guns N Roses
Motorcycle Drive By – Third Eye Blind
Under the Bridge – Red Hot Chili Peppers
Make You Feel My Love – Bob Dylan
Hallelujah – Leonard Cohen
Closer – Nine Inch Nails
Baby – Justin Bieber Ft. Ludacris
Sweet Child of Mine – Guns N’ Roses
Can’t Take My Eyes Off You – Frankie Valli
Righteous Love – Joan Osborne
Chapter 1
It’s my first day of special mission training, but it’s about the tenth time I’ve been through one of these training sessions. I’m glad my two brothers, Jensen and Harlow, are going through it with me. Misery loves company, I suppose— or at least some drinking buddies to celebrate with once the misery ends.
“Welcome to joint training, gentlemen,” our commander, Colonel Jim Marshall says, which is always how he begins his little speeches for these things. “The next three days will be a grueling, competitive session designed to train the current pararescue unit for their upcoming mission while on deployment, and will also serve as the final test for the new recruits to the unit.”
“Boring,” whispers Harlow, while Jensen pretends to snore.
“After 48 hours of intense field simulation, if you can pass the upcoming close air support training test, you will be accepted as a member of the United States Air Force Special Operations team, in the pararescue division of the Control and Command unit,” Colonel Marshall continues. He’s been using the megaphone so that everyone in our large group can hear him.
He acts like we’ve never been to one of these trainings, or heard these tough- sounding instructions before. They’re mostly to scare the newbies. But we still have to listen to them every time there’s a joint training.
I look around at everyone gathered on Johnson Field, the largest open training area on Kirtland Air Force Base. I’m glad to be surrounded not only by my two actual brothers but also my many figurative brothers, fellow members of my pararescue unit.
We only have about a month left before Harlow and I ship off with the rest of our unit. Although the upcoming training is no joke, it’s a breeze compared to being deployed. The calm before the storm, so to speak.
I’m so glad Harlow is coming with us, as it didn’t look like he would be at first. After suffering catastrophic injuries when our helicopter went down over enemy territory, he underwent facial reconstructive surgery and physical therapy. He’s back with us, and good as new.
Harlow is my youngest brother— I practically raised him— and I was really worried about him for a while. But now he looks to be doing well, and even has a girlfriend: Whitney is a physical therapist who helped him get back to active duty status, although now she’s headed to medical school to become a doctor.
Jensen isn’t being deployed with us, because he’s no longer active Air Force. He works for a private contractor who trains the new recruits to do the same things we’ve done in the pararescue unit. His men are being put to the test today— hopefully they all make it through, since they’ve already been weeded down significantly since their first day of training. One of them, though, who everyone calls Pipsqueak, might not make it. I’m not even sure how he got this far, but I assume Jensen has his reasons for passing him through.
Jensen, man. The middle Bradford boy. He’s another one who worried me recently. He did some punk ass shit— in his defense, though, it was all for the good of our mother— and got himself into trouble.
His lawyer, Riley, helped him fight the charges and he was so appreciative he fucking fell in love with her and married her. He seems to be in a better place now, and I’m happy to see that both my little brothers have figured out their shit, even if it did mean breaking The Pact.
Now it’s just down to me. The last man standing. We’d all promised each other not to fall for the bullshit that is love, marriage, commitment. Our mom left our dad when we were young— for some no good loser addict and then a string of men just like him throughout the years.
It killed our dad, literally. He died young of undiagnosed cardiac hypertension. None of us understood why he would hang on for a love that was never returned to him. We were determined not to let it happen to us.
And yet, first Jensen and then Harlow fell. It’s almost like it’s contagious or something. But not me. I’m only interested in casual flings. And I don’t have time for anything serious anyway. I’m too busy looking after my brothers, and our mom.
And fighting for my country. And some side interests I’ve recently picked up. Some people think they should go see a shrink about their problems. Me, I’d rather play my guitar or learn martial arts. My schedule is packed these days. There’s no room in my head— or heart— for anything or anyone else.
“As some of you may know,” Colonel Marshall continues, “We’re teaming up with the Air Force fighter pilots for this close air support training. I’d like to introduce our latest fighter plane, the F-35 Lightning II jet.”
As if on cue, a plane begins descending from the sky, and as it gets closer, everyone’s faces express more and more awe. The F-35 is an impressive beast, from its expansive bird- like wings to its pointed bird- like tip.
Once the plane lands, we all gather closer to get a better look. But as the door swings open, we have a new sight to behold.
“It’s a fucking woman,” says someone beside me, under his breath.
I turn slightly to see Jerry, a fellow PJ.
“Holy shit,” Harlow exclaims.
“I’d also like to introduce Lieutenant Colonel Monica Carrington of the 33rd Fighter Wing,” Colonel Marshall announces. “She is the first woman to fly the Lightning II jet. Prior to doing so, she has had extensive experience flying combat missions in the F-15 Strike Eagle plane in Afghanistan. She fulfills an important role in her unit, which is charged with training pilots, maintenance and support crews for the F-35 in all its variants. As part of her job duties, she has come here to help train all of you in this mission.”
“Yeah right,” Jerry laughs. “Like this girl could teach us anything.”
“The Air Force and all other branches of the military need battle- tested pilots to help put the F-35A through its paces and ensure we have a trained and ready force of F-35 pilots to feed into our combat air forces,” Colonel Marshall continues. “So everyone here is grateful for Lieutenant Colonel Carrington, and glad that she’s able to join us for this joint training session.”
“Speak for yourself,” someone yells from the back.
I look over at him but don’t recognize him— must be a newbie, one of Jensen’s trainees.
I glare at Jensen, disapprovingly, wanting him to get his man under control, but he has a slight smirk on his face, and says nothing.
Monica steps down from the plane, and there are some hoots and hollers and whistles from among the crowd. I feel embarrassed to be part of this drooling circus crowd, but I have to admit that she’s super fucking hot.
Blonde hair tumbles down around her shoulders as she lifts her helmet. And when she removes her glasses, she reveals two sharp eyes. She’s obviously in shape, but even in her flight suit, her striking curves are gorgeous. She’s a specimen impressive enough to match the plane she flew in on.
“That’s enough, gentlemen. We are going to give Lieutenant Colonel Carrington the respect she deserves,” says Colonel Marshall. “She has the unique experience of being part of
the first all- female combat mission in Afghanistan, in 2011. The pilots and weapons officers aboard two F-15s, as well as the planners and maintainers, were all women.”
“Yeah, and they all sucked,” Jerry says, in a tone slightly above a whisper.
I roll my eyes. The political climate has stirred up strong feelings and harsh resistance towards women in combat positions, especially in any branch of the Special Forces. A recent presidential directive mandated that the Direct Ground Combat Assignment Rule, which barred women from serving in combat units below the brigade level, be slowly dismantled, so that females could now begin serving in combat positions.
The directive doesn’t apply to the close combat occupations and skills that comprise the Special Forces, so our unit hasn’t been affected. While women can accompany these units, they usually do so as “Cultural Support Teams,” who clear civilian women and children away from battle areas and communicate with Afghan women in a way that male service members cannot.
Still, many of my brethren are of the opinion that women should not be involved in any kind of combat at all, especially not the highly stressful and technical operations that we carry out, and they wish to keep them far away from our unit. So this training session— run in part by a woman— should be interesting. To say the least.
I’m sympathetic to Monica’s situation, even though none of my bonehead teammates seem to share my feelings. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a woman in this field, but I’m sure it has to take a lot of “balls,” or the female equivalent anyway.
Twice the Fun: A Bad Boy MFM Menage Romance Page 27