Broken Barriers (Barriers Series Book 4)

by Shirley, Sara

  However, I had to listen to my sister berate me over the phone for nearly twenty minutes, because when Josh got home, the first word out of Dean’s mouth was ‘boobies.’ I was quite proud of our bonding session that afternoon. I finally taught the kid something that would be useful later in life. Josh had predicted this phone call, though, when he walked in and saw The Wolf of Wall Street on the screen and his son’s eyes staring in awe at the gorgeous set of naked tits displayed on the screen. Was I sorry? Nope.

  As I finally finished putting away all the items Dean took out, I noticed the sun had disappeared outside, and at first glance, the ominous clouds were rolling in from the other side of the lake. I quickly checked the forecast on my phone and saw a major thunderstorm was due to hit within the hour.

  I quickly plugged my phone and laptop onto the charger and turned off all the lights in the house. There really wasn’t anything like a good summer afternoon rainstorm. After the past week I’d spent at the lake, a lazy afternoon with nothing but peace and the tranquil sounds of rain hitting the roof sounded refreshing.

  I grabbed a beer from the fridge and pulled the cap off against the wall opener. The first crack of thunder boomed from a distance through the windows. I shut off the air conditioner in the living room before opening the back door and listening to the sounds of the outdoors. The wind had changed, and a cool breeze passed through into the house. It was still warmer outside than inside, but it wouldn’t take long for the temperatures to even out with the door open.

  The screen door squeaked as I pushed outside. My bare feet trudged along the old wooden farmer’s porch. I moved the white wooden rocker chair to a better viewpoint of the lake, sitting and resting my elbows on my knees before taking a pull from my beer. The cold beer slid down the back of my parched throat. I’d been dying to have one all day, but with babysitting, my sister’s phone call, and cleaning, there just hadn’t been time.

  The warm July afternoon air quickly turned cooler as the storm inched closer. The wind really picked up and blew against my heated skin, instantly chilling the beads of sweat along my neck.

  I leaned back and rested my foot on my other knee. My foot pushed and rocked the chair back and forth, calming me even more. The wind gusted between the trees, and the limbs curved and creaked with the tension. The green leaves rustled with the shift in the air.

  A number of boats made their way quickly to the marina. I grabbed the pair of old binoculars from the basket next to the rocking to see more clearly. People scurried around on the docks as they dropped rubber bumpers over the rail and tied boat lines tightly against the docks. My sights set on one boat in particular. The Careless Whisper skimmed across the bay and toward the marina. Marty slowly pulled his old fishing boat into an empty dock. Cocoa had her front legs up on the edge, waiting to jump off. Her long, scrawny, brown tail wagged a mile a minute. A few other people at the docks came over to grab the ropes Marty tossed at them as they secured the lines to the dock. He grabbed a small red cooler from the boat after turning the engine off and heading up the gangplank. I saw him wave to someone before he hopped into a beat-up old Chevy truck and drove off.

  With another rumble of thunder, my attention was drawn to the other end of the lake, as the storm appeared to be moving this way rather swiftly. The once gray clouds hovered close to the horizon. The clouds had turned black as the night sky, and white lightning struck. The skies along the mountaintops in the distance appeared more ominous now.

  I dropped the binoculars back into the basket and continued to relax and listen to the sounds of Mother Nature surround me. Storms here were nothing like what occurred overseas. Even a raging sandstorm couldn’t compete with this weather.

  With one final crack seconds later, the rolling clap of thunder rattled the floorboards of the deck, and the skies unleashed their fury. Windswept rain effortlessly danced across the water and pelted everything in its path. Nothing was safe when it came to these storms. Each lightning strike was more unpredictable than the next.

  The wind howled through the trees, and the pouring rain pounded against the overhang above me. The unrelenting thunder grew louder and closer with each passing minute. Dad taught Sam and me how to count the seconds as kids to see how far away the storm was. If my time and math were correct, it was only about a mile away.

  It was funny how even in the midst of a storm—rocking alone on the deck with a beer in my hand—I was relaxed in the middle of chaos. I thought of how it was just a short time ago when all it took were a few fireworks or an unexpected hand to my shoulder to send my heart racing. As I sat and closed my eyes, rocking and listening to the rain strike the roof, all I thought of was my dinner with Cole in a couple of days. My heart beat. I could feel it as my hand rested flat over my chest. Da-dum...da-dum…da-dum. Slow and relaxed as I rocked and imagined her face, her smile. A hiss of air passed through my teeth before I opened my eyes to stare at her house across the bay.

  It had been so long since I’d cooked anything for anyone. I didn’t know where to begin, and I didn’t even ask Cole what she liked. I was no expert chef, but I usually did all right with the basics in the kitchen. I boiled water like a pro and used the microwave. Macaroni and cheese was an acceptable dinner, right?

  I guessed she certainly knew her way around the kitchen, so what the hell was I thinking when I suggested cooking for her? No matter what I made, it probably wouldn’t hold a flame against anything she cooked. Even her blueberry muffins would be far better than anything I cooked.

  My eyes closed as I rocked and rested my head against the back of the chair. I ran my fingers through my growing beard and scratched at my jawline. The thunder cracked again, and the sound of a few pellets of hail mixed in beat against the roof above me.

  Light misty raindrops cooled my face, and my eyes bounced open to see darkness all around me. The dark storm clouds had suddenly made their way on top of the bay, and the afternoon skies were dark. A single light across the bay caught my attention, and I barely made out a figure standing in the doorway.

  Cole.

  With both of my feet flat on the deck, I pushed off the rocker and stood, taking two short steps to lean against the banister of the deck. I took my final pull from my beer and placed it onto the ground next to me. The windswept rain continued to soak through my khaki shorts and old Metallica T-shirt. I didn’t care, though. My mind raced with a million questions about her. She was such an enigma, and yet I felt as though I’d known her for years. It was both a strange and comforting feeling at the same time. Something about her made me want to be better. To actually try to see what I could do with my life.

  How could one person I had just met do that to me? A flash of lightning brought me out of my thoughts, but the thunder didn’t roar seconds later. The storm was moving farther away and on to cause destruction somewhere else. The thought passed through my mind that perhaps the storm was a sign—as if it came here to wash away the old I was so desperately trying to get over and clear a new path for me into the future. With a final glance up at the sky, I saw the dark clouds part and blue skies just over the mountains again.

  Was it really that simple to let go?

  To walk through a newly opened door?

  To let my heart heal and move forward?

  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so broken. I felt optimistic that things would work themselves out for me. I had to believe in myself and fight for the things I wanted in life now. I had to.

  The rain moved in again late yesterday afternoon after the sun set, and cabin fever took over by midday today. I needed to get out of the house. I honestly couldn’t take it anymore. I had forgotten there was nothing to do at the lake when it rained.

  There was absolutely nothing on TV that interested me. I’d already watched Couples Retreat and The Hunger Games at least three times since I had arrived. I didn’t read books, and I had searched almost every recipe in the world on my laptop that looked easy but classy. I had narrowed my choices down to three: Chicken Parmes
an or stir-fry beef, and if neither of those worked, Juicy Lucy burgers it was.

  However, no matter how narrow my meal list was, I still had trouble deciding on one item. I had already stopped by the coffee shop, but Cole wasn’t there. One of the high school-aged girls working there said she was out ‘shooting.’ The girl noticed the confused expression plastered on my face and clarified further. What she meant was shooting new photos for the gallery. She didn’t know what time Cole would be back, so I decided to stop in Wolfe’s Tavern for a drink.

  As I trekked through the waterlogged parking lot and into the bar area, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. With a few long strides, I grabbed a seat at the bar, placed my wallet onto the bar top, and glanced at my phone to read the incoming text message.

  Court: Saw something today that made me think of you. Miss you. Xo

  I instantly clicked the screen off just as my body began to strum with guilt. I slid my phone next to my wallet and ran my hands through my damp hair. I hung my head and pushed past the feeling of being directionless in life. Would anything ever be the same between Courtney and me? I pushed the failed feelings deep down inside me. As my head lifted, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the rows of top shelf booze on the bar. I didn’t look like myself. I used to be this specimen back in the day—a college wrestling all-star who made any suit and tie look good in a downtown Boston law office. I was built tough like a fighter, but never overly muscular. The women flocked to my side, which was another reason why I had no qualms about screwing Katie years ago…well, now days ago. God, what was I thinking? Dad always said ‘Don’t shit where you eat.’ Guess I didn’t exactly listen to those words of wisdom. God, I really fucked everything up back then.

  Now, as I tried to move on with my life and put the past behind me, I kept getting knocked back a few pegs. First, Katie at the strip club, and now, another text from Courtney. Frustration that grew as a muffled growl shook my shoulders, and my fist connected with the bar.

  A sudden movement to my side alerted me as someone sat next to me. Other than a couple of people sitting out under the awning on the deck, I was the only other person at the bar at that moment. This person could have chosen any seat in the house. Why right next to me?

  I turned, expecting to confront the punk and ask him to park his ass somewhere else. That was, until I saw the face of the person who occupied the seat. My mouth gaped before I even said a word. Thank God I didn’t lose my lid and fly off the handle for once.

  Everett appeared behind the bar, already sliding an opened beer bottle in front of my neighbor who was clearly a regular in here. He just as quickly popped off the cap to another beer and placed it in front of me. My hands wrapped around the frosted glass in stilled silence. I could usually talk to anyone, but why this one person had rendered me speechless I had no idea.

  Cole told me I had to introduce myself and talk to him. I was typically never nervous around anyone, but now as the portly man with a gray beard and Vietnam Veteran mesh-back hat sat beside me, I didn’t know where to begin.

  “Son, you gonna just sit there catchin’ flies with that open mouth, or you gonna say somethin’?”

  Marty wrapped his lips around the beer bottle and tilted his head back. As the bottle rested back on the bar, he ran the back of his hand over his lips, wiping away the excess liquid on his beard.

  I slowly shut my mouth and ran my damp hands on my shorts before extending a hand to him. “Sorry, sir. I just wasn’t expecting to see you here. Name’s Drew. Drew Daley.”

  His large, rough hand covered mine in a firm grip. “Marty Cook. Nice to finally meet you.”

  My eyes quickly narrowed as my lips formed a thin line, questioning how long he had been waiting to meet me. “Finally, sir?”

  “’Nuff of that sir shit. Call me Marty.” I nodded in understanding. “Cole told me all about you. Sweet girl like that shouldn’t be mixing herself up with another military man like yourself—“

  “Marty,” Everett cut him off, as he obviously overheard our conversation. The two exchanged a quick glance as Everett shook his head. “You know Cole has told you to stop meddling,” he added. Marty gave Everett a long stare, but a deep humph sounded, and I wondered just how many times he’d talked to guys like me. Although this time it wasn’t my choice to talk to Marty, it was Cole’s.

  Marty took another quick sip of his beer before wiping down his beard again. “So, Drew.” His tone quickly changed to avoid discussing whatever happened to Cole in the past. “I heard you had quite the time at Naughty Nick’s.”

  Everett choked on his bottled water behind the bar and headed in the opposite direction, laughing. He turned halfway down the bar and grinned like the friggin’ Cheshire Cat at me. Good. Shithead wanted to tell the town about my rendezvous at Nick’s.

  “Hey, Everett!” I hollered. “Perhaps Marty over here wants to hear all about your pink bowtie and glittery boxers, too? Yes?” Everett’s slack jaw as he filled a pint of beer told me he certainly didn’t give away all the night’s events to Marty.

  Marty sighed heavily. “What on earth is the Corps teaching you boys these days? I’ve got this one over here in bowties and glitter, and you, I only just met you, and already I don’t like you. You want to know why?” Marty attempted to refrain from cracking a smile, but even with a full beard, I still saw the upward turn of his lips. I’d continue to play along with it for the sake of finding out why. I casually leaned my elbow onto the bar and urged him to continue with a simple wave of my hand. “Cole. Now I know it’s not my place to say anything, but she’s like a daughter to me and has been nothing but generous since my dear wife passed away. And I know your type. How do you think I landed my wife back before I served?” He pointed a stern finger at me. “I know you just got back from overseas and have more shit going on up there in that head of yours than I could ever imagine, but,” he waved his finger at me, “I’ve seen just as much shit as you in my day.”

  His words settled me. Vietnam was nothing like Afghanistan, and yet it was everything like it at the same time. I knew without a doubt that Marty had been through hell. He’d seen some pretty fucked-up shit, as had I, but he was sitting here now alive and well.

  We chatted about our experiences during two different wars in completely different eras. He told me back then the unit was just as much a brotherhood as it was now, but the men serving these days had it easy. The issued gear was so far advanced than what he ever had. He laughed when he explained that Vietnam would have taken half the time to fight had they been given the shit we had now.

  Beers continued to flow between fellow Marines and Marty, the Army soldier. Everett joined in our conversation as he recounted more stories about his time in Iraq. I thought Afghanistan was bad, but it was a cakewalk compared to what Everett’s unit dealt with. His two tours brought him within inches of his own life. His first tour in Iraq in 2004 led him right through some of the bloodiest days in the country. He told the story of how the Marines began their operation in Fallujah during some of the most hostile days in Iraq. IEDs were everywhere, making land travel even more treacherous than anything I had ever experienced.

  They didn’t have the armored Hummers we had now. They were vulnerable to almost everything. It wasn’t until his second tour that things improved. They were able to run convoys between bases without the constant fear of attack.

  Everett’s stories allowed me to see him in a different light. His tours weren’t easy. In fact, they might have been worse than mine. He lost a lot of men in his unit during a battle on the Syrian border, but here he was standing alive and well, and even though his love life was a disaster, at least his shit was in order. I truly believed I could overcome everything and put that next foot in front of the other.

  I watched their faces as I relayed my own personal experiences of the final convoy I did with my unit. I was the lead vehicle. I was responsible for the men in that MRAP. Just because the vehicle was mine-resistant against IEDs and ambushes di
dn’t mean we were protected against all injuries. Against my own better judgment, I let my guard down. My mind ran in every other direction except for the place it should have been—focused on the men at my side instead of thinking about Courtney or getting distracted by music. I fucked up and fortunately the men in my vehicle walked away with only a few minor injuries. I took the brunt of the explosion. My hearing and shoulder would never be the same, but better me than my guys in the end to have paid the price.

  “Is this the first time you’ve spoken about these events?” Marty asked before looking at Everett. I simply nodded and released a dejected sigh through my barely parted lips. My shoulders sank with the admittance of my own failures finally being said to someone who related.

  With a simple nod and two finger taps onto the bar, two shot glasses appeared before us. “Pick your poison, Son. This one is on me,” Marty said as I eyed Everett, who was already pulling the tequila from the shelf. My head hung low as my hands clasped together on my knees. A heavy hand rested upon my shoulder. “Son, listen to me.” I raised my laden eyes to look at the stern wrinkled face staring back at me.

  He gripped my shoulder a little tighter, garnering my attention. “Nothing…and I mean nothing you did or didn’t do could have prevented what happened. One man cannot bear the burden for an entire unit. You did your job, Marine, and at the end of the day, all of them came home safe. That alone means more to those families than you will ever know.” Marty grabbed my shot glass and handed it to me. I took the glass and suddenly felt overwhelmed, but it wasn’t a bad feeling or an elated feeling. It was a feeling as though this moment among three men…no…three veterans should be remembered forever.