There was a long stretch of silence that broke when Tori mumbled a heartfelt, “I’m so sorry.”
Meghan sighed and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears threatening to break free. “He broke my heart.” It was all she could say.
“I know.”
“I still love him.”
“I know that, too.”
Shit. Her nose stung while she fought back the tears. Sniffing loud enough for Tori to hear she added, “God, Tori. I feel like crap, and I’m falling apart physically. It’s more than I can take.” The last words came out in a shallow whisper that gave away much.
“Sweetie,” Tori asked gently. “Have you given any more thought to calling Alex? Maybe try to talk to him?”
This time she sniffed really loud as her lip trembled. “Fuck him. He didn’t say good-bye.”
Tori groaned. “I could say something here about his head being up his ass but it’d be a waste of time. He’s a man, Irish. And a Justice Brother. Remember the cowardly lion searching for courage? For redemption from the past? I just know he’ll get there eventually. Just hang onto that, okay? And don’t give up. Not now.”
Meghan pushed up off the floor and sprawled across the love seat as she remembered Tori saying she’d called with an update.
“Hmmmm. You’re up to something Mrs. St. John. I can hear it in your voice.”
Tori burst out laughing on the other end. “Christ, girlfriend. I wish I were up to something. You two are driving me and Lacey batshit. As it is, I can only offer up a bit of inside information. What you choose to do with it is up to you.”
“Go on…”
“Well, it turns out that Big Daddy is taking the agency plane to the East Coast.”
“What?” Meghan’s heart started thudding in her chest.
“Mmmm hmmm. You heard me. Alex is headed to your coast. He’s doing some classified security ‘whateveryouwannacallit’ in Washington. I Googled the distance between Boston and D.C. It’s less than five hundred miles. A short plane trip or a even a train ride.”
She didn’t respond right away; just sorta let the information sink in.
“Irish? You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“What’re you thinking?”
What was she thinking? Now there was the million dollar question. She’d had an overabundance of time to think when she made the drive from Arizona to Boston. He had freaked out - she understood that. At first she clung to the belief that if she’d just told him about her feelings it would have made a difference. But as the weeks went by and he didn’t even try to reach out to her she’d begun to replace that narrative with one that was anchored in the notion that she’d been spared more pain by not revealing what a romantic fool she’d been. It was the proverbial rock and a hard place. The two warring points of view were eating her alive.
“He’s not coming east to see me, Tori,” she whined petulantly. “Not really. No matter what your imagination tells you. And I’m sure it’s not even a little bit unusual for him or anyone from the agency to be in high demand by Washington.”
She heard Tori sigh and hesitate. “You’re forcing my hand, Meghan. My husband will spank me for what I’m about to tell you, but I think you have a right to know even though Draegyn doesn’t think I should meddle. Alex, well…he, um – he asked about you. And before you say anymore about his trip, we both know it’d practically take an act of Congress to persuade him to willingly step in the middle of all that military and national security shit. He’s going because it’s where you are.”
“What did he ask, Tori?”
“Well, first of all, the framed photograph arrived. Well played, Irish, well played. He looked like a man in need of oxygen once he saw the card with it. After everyone had a chance to rub it in a little he sucked it up and asked if you were alright. He knew when he asked, what a big deal it was.” After a quick pause she added, “ Sweetie, Alex knows he fucked up. Big time. His only thought was concern about you. That means something, doesn’t it?”
Shit. This crying business was getting old. “What did you tell him?”
“Are you kidding? I told him the damn truth. That you miss him. And since I might as well spill all the friggin’ beans, he knows we’ve been talking and flat-out asked if I’d tell you. About his asking how you are.”
“I’m not going to D.C., Tori,” Meghan interjected passionately. “No way. Fuck that noise.”
Tori snorted with obvious delight. “Good! Don’t you dare make this easy for him. Just hang tough a little longer, okay? He’ll reach out to you Irish. I know he will.” Meghan cringed hearing the slight ring of hopeful wishing in her friend’s voice.
“Can I ask a question, Mrs. St. John?”
“Uh oh,” came the lighthearted reply. “What did I do?”
Meghan grinned. She’d come to really love the feisty, brilliantly intelligent little woman with the vocabulary of a shit-kicking Marine. It felt like having a sister. Tori was loyal to a fault where the Justice family was concerned. Knowing that she’d take care of Alex once she’d left had helped ease some of her anguish about leaving Arizona behind.
A squeaking embarrassed cough shot from her throat. “Were you, um… serious before? About the spanking?” It might have been an off-hand comment but Meghan’s curiosity was piqued. When she heard Tori hysterically giggling she couldn’t help but laugh right back. “Don’t read anything into the question,” she shrieked with a hiccup of giggles.
“Oh my God, Irish. Is Big Daddy a bad boy in the bedroom?” She could imagine Tori practically falling over with glee. “I fucking love this! And the answer to your question is most definitely, yes. My demanding, Alpha husband finds spanking to be a way of handling my smart mouth.”
Meghan howled with laughter. Tori’s smart-ass mouth was practically a legend at the Villa. “Oh, that’s clearly working out so well, huh?”
“Pff. These Justice men. Oversexed, naughty boys in my opinion. It’s the same for Lacey. I say enjoy yourself and remember one thing sweetie…when it comes to who’s really in control, it’s you wielding the real power when you allow him to be lord and master.”
Wow. She was good. Meghan had to choke back a sigh. Lord and master, indeed. “I love you Mrs. St. John.”
“I love you too Irish. Now stop your sulking and tighten your laces sweetie because your shit’s about to get real. And remember, when you finally see Alex, it’s tits out, okay?”
What wasn’t to love about such a hilariously ribald and yet oh so true statement? Especially when it came out of the naughty mouth of an adorably pregnant elf.
“Message received, Mrs. St. John. Tits out. The girls send their regards and promise to make a statement as requested.”
They both giggled, then grew silent. It was time to hang up.
“Give the bump a pat for me.” Meghan sighed, and then pressed the end button on the phone.
After the kids were excused from the table along with their mom following Sunday dinner to go hang with Pop in his basement handy room where all manner of cool things were always in store for visiting grandchildren, the remaining adult contingent of Meghan’s immediate family closed in on her.
“So, let me get this straight. Some dickwad Lawrence of Arabia out in the desert is begging for a Boston beat-down?” It was Deval scowling furiously and sounding like a bully. Fabulous. Meghan felt the start of a stress headache bumping around inside her head.
Mike chimed in next. “This Special Forces asshole needs to get his butt kicked. And Dev,” he continued, nodding in his brother’s direction, “I think it was Desert Rat not Lawrence of Arabia.”
The obvious slam at Alex’s honor made Meghan flinch. It pretty much went downhill from there as she endured an endless barrage of smack talk from her siblings.
Finn waited until his older brothers were finished thumping their chests, then flashed her a harsh look, dramatically cracking his knuckles for emphasis. “How do I find this guy, sis?”
Meghan gro
aned and sat back in her chair taking in, one by one, the furious looks on all the faces turned in her direction. Her mother’s pained expression didn’t help things.
“Nobody’s getting a Boston beat down, and you can stop with the shitty character slurs. Just let me handle my own life and back the hell up.”
Feeling her fury rising Meghan regarded this whole farce of a family meeting as nothing more than an opportunity for her swaggering siblings to try and run her life.
“Meggie’s right,” her mother declared, bringing the entire discussion to a screeching halt. “She’s a big girl and knows what’s best for her. You boys will have to learn to play nice with others.” The look she gave each of her three boys meant business.
Knowing her mother was just as meddlesome as her brothers were controlling, Meghan rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back. Crossing her arms defensively across her chest she visibly sulked like a bratty teenager. At one point she got in a good shot at Dev. Finding him staring at her, she wrinkled her nose and furiously stuck out her tongue just like she did when they were kids. Pfftt. He infuriated her the most—always had and always will. Though he was the brother she adored the most, his heavy-handed interference in her life had always made her crazy. Maybe because he was the oldest, Deval thought it was his job to keep his siblings safe and out of trouble. With her though, as the only girl, he’d taken it a bit too far sometimes.
As if the matter of her meddling brothers wasn’t enough to stress her out, there was the matter of Alex. The Major. She missed him so much it hurt. With Tori’s information about an impending trip to the East Coast hanging in her mind, she was struggling to keep calm.
After Tori’s call last night, when she finally went to bed, sleep eluded her once again as her entire being churned with anxiety. Would he contact her? Oh God. What if he didn’t? What had happened to him in the weeks they’d been apart? All night long that was how it went. An endless cascade of questions and fears chasing her.
By breakfast time, she was exhausted and emotionally ragged, felt like shit and about as miserable as a person could be. In the end it all came down to one thing. She loved him. The truth wouldn’t be denied, and she couldn’t hide from it if she hoped to survive with her sanity intact.
It was all on the line. Her heart and soul, their future. She had to hope her Major had found his way. It’d probably kill her if ….. if what? If he didn’t love her? If he went away without seeing her? If he couldn’t find closure for the past? There were so many ‘ifs’.
She continued to sulk for the remainder of the evening until, family dinner over, the boys made moves to depart, calling the kids to clean up and say their good-byes. She couldn’t let them leave without having the final word. It was her right dammit, as their only sister and if ever there was a time to make that point, it was now.
“Ma, guys….c’mon back here a minute, will ya?” Four pairs of curious eyes met her determined expression. Time to remind everyone who she was. Meghan O’Brien. Goddamn gym teacher for heaven’s sake who could hold her own in a drinking game, kick some serious ass if she had to, and of course the fact that hands down, she was a true Boston bitch of the ball busting variety. Feeling mad irritated, she glared at them with an uncompromising expression.
“Listen carefully, all of you. Ma, this includes you too.” Meghan’s eyebrow arched high in clear warning. Only a fool wouldn’t see she was wicked serious.
“If anyone here so much as breathes on Alex Marquez, I will make you wish you hadn’t.”
“Ah. Stuff a sock in it, Meggie,” Mike chortled.
“No!” she demanded with a stern finger pointing in their direction. Everyone looked shocked at her outburst. “He’s mine. Do I make myself clear? You know the rules - do not fuck with what’s mine.” Glancing at her mother, she murmured, “Sorry Ma, but the f-word was necessary.”
“Oh, no, no,” her mother answered with a surprisingly smug expression on her face as she waved her hands indicating she wanted no part of an unnecessary apology. “I think everyone got the message. I certainly did. You did too, right boys?” she asked innocently as she vigorously nodded her head.
Leveling Meghan with a meaningful mom stare she continued, “Thanks for clarifying things, my dear. I’ll make sure to tell Da later that the Arizona Zorro is yours. Special emphasis on the yours. He’ll be glad to hear it.” The mocking tone in her mother’s voice couldn’t be overlooked. “Seriously daughter, it was him you needed to worry about, not these three,” she taunted while waving at her brawny sons. “If this mysterious desert soldier knows what’s good for him, he needs to man up with your father or you can kiss family peace on the ass.”
She couldn’t hide her grimace. Her parents used a tag team approach with their kids. Generally, Ma did the talking, the negotiating, the interrogating. She’d then parse whatever information Da needed and go from there. They rarely descended at the same time on her or any of her siblings. The two-pronged approach was so much more effective. Hearing her mother remind her that her other parent had yet to weigh in on the matter got her stress levels percolating.
The anxiety headache pulled up a stool and sat down, determined to stick around for a good long while. It occurred to her that she’d probably need a mouth guard soon, as well; to protect her teeth from the constant grinding and clenching.
Alex felt like an old man and not because his injuries were acting up. Blaming his current state of malaise on that old saw wasn’t going to cut it this time. There was no way he could avoid what was going on. Every fiber and sinew in his entire body seemed to have shut down until he was left with the sensation that his skin was too heavy to hold up. Plus, he was twitchy and downright grumpy. Might as well plant his miserable ass in a chair on the front lawn from where he could rail at the kids on the street like a cantankerous old fuck. In short—he was a mess.
Glancing around the room with an admittedly cynical eye he grew even wearier at the reminder of what he’d gotten himself into. Day three of a week-long event for him and about forty others, an intense group of bad ass motherfuckers, almost exclusively ex-military, who made up the cream-of-the-crop so to speak, in each of their areas of expertise. Bunch of Terminator-type private security people not too unlike Team Justice, some Men in Black spooks, black ops guys, mercenaries, someone he knew to be one of the best hackers on the continent, and two black widow lipstick lesbians who were pretty fucking scary. It was like a Who’s Who in in the civilian worlds of counter-intel and security. A shudder of revulsion raced through him. He nodded slightly, confirming that he really did hate all this shit, and let the honesty of how he felt get some oxygen. He was done having his head up his ass.
While he hated being a part of anything that had the power to yank his Special Forces chain, he’d also accepted that he brought all this on himself. Desperate for any crazy plan or ploy to reconnect with Meghan, he’d grasped at straws and really bitten the bullet when he accepted the request that he participate in the Washington D.C. event.
Pfft. Not much of control junkie now, are we? Pondering the irony of his situation he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to willingly don women’s clothes and walk a runway if it meant he could see his beautiful Irish goddess just one more time. Even though he’d need a figurative Silkwood Shower to wash away his jaded bitterness at having to get involved in this crap, it was a small price to pay for what he thought would be step one of Operation Meghan. As usual with pretty much anything involving the fiery woman who consumed his every waking moment and dominated his dreams, he could make all the plans he wanted but where she was involved, the outcome was never quite what he’d envisioned.
After flying into D.C. and getting settled, he’d calmed down considerably following weeks of escalating tension at home that threatened to explode in epic fashion if he didn’t get his shit together. Just knowing he was on the same coast as Meghan gave him a few moments to breathe calmly again. When the symposium got underway he kind of paid attention during the meet and gre
et and orientation because, despite his disdain for the proceedings, some of the folks present were of value to the agency and vice versa. Though he gave a back the fuck off vibe, most of the others present had beat a hasty path in his direction early on. Clearly, his reputation preceded him.
By day two however, he fell so deep into his thoughts that he’d barely connected more than a handful of times the entire day with whatever was going on. All he could focus on was Meghan and figuring out what step two should be in his attempt to re-establish some sort of connection. Running a loop of never ending options in his head he picked apart everything. No hair-brained idea was too crazy to consider.
The notion of flying to Boston and flat-out catching her off-guard with his appearance was carefully vetted. He considered every conceivable scenario about how it would play out and in the final analysis decided the surprise frontal assault was a very bad idea. After the way he’d behaved the last time he saw her, she’d rip his balls off for what he put her through.
Texting seemed like a viable alternative. Sort of like a foot in the door. A simple, ‘Yoo hoo, I’m over here’. Maybe combining a text with something like a big floral delivery was worth considering. Somehow, though, he doubted it.
This was what I’d been reduced to. Conscious of his unsettled state, Alex sighed heavily. What the hell was he doing; pretending to be professionally interested in something he had no taste for then quite literally checking out mentally so he could engage in this endless internal emotional hand wringing? Some bad ass, he snickered silently. All it took was a fistful of red curls, a set of mouth-watering tits, and the type of fleshy curves that make you want to grab on tight. He was toast.
By the days’ end he’d decided to just man the fuck up and call her. He was being a total pussy. His whole world tilted slightly the day she walked through his door. Whatever the hell he thought about his future had been blown to smithereens when a bewitching pair of wicked green eyes locked on his. It took those same eyes glaring at him with a mixture of hurt and disappointment when he pushed her away to wake him the hell up and eventually force him to tackle the landmines in his past. He still wasn’t quite there, but did that ever really happen? He somehow doubted with all the fucked-up shit that goes on in the world that every good guy like him got to tie up brutal realities with a nice neat bow.
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