“You don’t know him,” Iaconelli said.
“And you do. And that closeness blinds you to the reality that he’s got a long hard slog ahead of him to stay sober.” No point in pulling his punches, regardless of whether they were talking about Iaconelli's personal issues or Foster's.
“Oh I'm very much aware of the road he's on." After another moment, he turned and stalked back to the formation. Whatever was eating at him wasn't going to come out today. But soon. The situation needed watching. Closely.
Gale let the other man go. He didn't need to get into a dick-measuring contest with his platoon sergeant. Foster wasn’t one of Gale’s boys. He was just another soldier, another face in the crowd. If he soldiered, Gale would let him continue to soldier. If not, he was going home. Because Gale had a war to train his men for and he needed every single body able and fit to fight.
Another soldier who was distracting from the mission of prepping to head back to Iraq wasn't going to garner much sympathy from Gale.
The cannon sounded, and Gale called the formation to attention and present arms as Reveille trumpeted over the installation. They saluted the flag, a moment of somber pride as the colors were hoisted up at the division headquarters. When it finished, Gale turned the troops over to Iaconelli, who took charge of the formation for PT.
Teague fell into step with him as they headed toward the parking lot.
“So. You call your ex yet?”
Gale sighed but said nothing. He never should have told Teague that Melanie lived in Harker Heights and that he was still summoning the courage to call her.
“I’ll take that as a no?”
Several weeks had gone by since Gale had reported to Hood. He’d told himself that he needed to get situated first. That there would be time.
But he was lying to himself. Because the truth of the matter was he was afraid.
Afraid of seeing the daughter who'd nearly died almost two years ago. Afraid to look at her and see the hate and the blame and the guilt looking back at him. Oh he knew he wasn't going to win any parenting awards for stalling. He should have been on the first plane smoking and to hell with what the sarn't major said.
But he hadn't been. He'd damn near been court martialed back in Iraq and it had taken Sarn't Major Cox almost eighteen months to save his ass. The fact that Gale was on his second tour as a first sergeant despite the assault said a lot about how well connected Cox was. Only Cox and Tellhouse knew his history from downrange in this unit and Gale intended to keep it that way if he could.
But even the charges and the job didn't excuse Gale's action or lack thereof. He hadn't seen his daughter since she'd gotten out of the hospital. He told himself that Skype calls and text messages were enough, that she was okay. That Mel had a handle on things.
But even those were convenient lies. Fear was a powerful thing and yeah, he was afraid. He'd finally gotten his wish of being stationed near his ex-wife and their daughter and he was paralyzed by fear. Fear of what it meant to live in the same town as Mel and Jamie. Fear that if he tried to be a dad after all these years that he would fail miserably. Or worse, that Jamie no longer needed him because he'd been gone too long.
Afraid to face the bitter truth that Melanie didn't need him after all these years.
Maybe she never had.
* * *
***
* * *
Melanie Francesco stirred her coffee while the captain next to her made idle conversation about one of the local pawnshops burning to the ground.
Melanie was reasonably certain that the fire had not been an accident, but she wasn’t in a position to comment. She was a liaison between the business owners and the real estate council and random speculation like that could cause problems for her office.
She fought the urge to check her cell phone for the thousandth time that morning. She told herself that Jamie was fine. She’d dropped her off at school that morning after the requisite fighting about whether or not the sky was blue or if the sun was actually going to come up tomorrow. Because all they did was fight.
The fights were exhausting, but it was the fear that kept Mel up at night. Fear that Jamie was slipping away again and Mel wouldn't be there to save her next time.
The captain moved away, leaving Mel alone. She stole a quick glance at her phone. No text but no missed calls from the school either. Relief crawled over Mel's skin. Jamie was still in school then.
She tucked her phone back into her purse as she spotted a friendly face—someone she wouldn't mind actually talking with—and made a straight line for Major Olivia Hale. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Mandatory fun and all that,” Olivia said with a smile. Melanie envied the woman—even in ACUs, which were not exactly made for women’s bodies, Olivia looked stylish and effortlessly well put together.
Melanie smiled back. “Life isn’t the same without you on the Council harassing the slum lords trying to screw over soldiers.”
“It was one of life's true pleasures,” Olivia said dryly.
“There is no one to play the Faux Outrage Drinking Game with me anymore. The monthly meetings are epically more boring.” She sipped her tea, watching the room. “How’s life down in the new unit?”
“It’s good. I have a sense of purpose again.” Olivia smiled warmly.
Melanie set her tea on a nearby table. “So what are we doing here? And I’m not interested in the official bullshit line, either, so don’t waste your breath.”
Olivia grinned wickedly and it was the smile that Mel remembered all too well. The smile the other woman used when she was about to rip someone a new one. “Well, since you put it that way.” She took a sip of coffee. “We’re trying to build relationships that will strengthen the community. We’ve got a massive problem with soldiers being involved in misconduct off post and we want to get civilian agencies involved before the police get involved.”
And just like that all the pieces clicked into place. “So you’re bribing the landlords with shitty coffee and donuts in the hope that we’ll call you guys instead of the cops?”
“More or less.” Olivia set her coffee down and retrieved a folder from the table. "We've got this handy little quick reference guide with all the unit phone numbers. Kind of a cheat sheet of names and numbers to call. We even laminated it to make it durable. Isn't it nice and shiny?"
Mel shot her friend a wry look. “Is this even legal?”
“I’m not going to offer an official opinion on what I think of this program.”
"Why don't you approve?" Mel asked quietly.
Olivia sighed. "Because it enables some people's misconduct to be hidden away and covered up. I prefer we work things through official channels. Transparency and all that." Olivia’s smile was laced with sarcasm. “Community outreach with the realtors keeps problems handled through informal networks instead of the Bell County legal system.”
Melanie opened her mouth to speak but the words locked in her throat.
The tea in her stomach turned bitter and cold, as her guts twisted with recognition and surprise at the last person she expected to see here today.
Gale.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as anxiety and something else knotted in her belly. For a moment, she thought about turning away. About hiding from the man who’d just walked into the room like he owned it.
But it was too late.
Because across the conference room near a tray of donuts and a box of coffee, her ex-husband’s eyes met hers and a thousand emotions slammed into her all at once.
The world tilted beneath her feet. He was supposed to be stationed at Fort Lewis halfway across the country. And instead he was here. In this room. At this moment. As a first sergeant?
Closer than he’d been in two years. His jaw was iron, his shoulders broad and strong. It was criminal how good that uniform looked on him. And damn it, she was not going to notice these things about him.
But despite herself, she noticed everything about
him. His dark brown eyes were hard and filled with shadows now. Colder than she remembered. A smarter woman might have been intimidated by him. A younger woman might have already been wringing out her panties. But she remembered him for the boy he’d been. The boy she’d loved.
The boy she'd left.
He was not that boy anymore. And she was no longer the scared uncertain girl trying to find her way in the world.
She offered a tense, flat line in place of a smile as he approached. Defenses up, that's what she needed. She could not do this with him right now. “I’m not exactly sure what the correct greeting is,” she said doing her damnedest to keep her voice level.
As though they were perfect strangers, talking quietly about unimportant things.
The silence between them swelled into a living thing, pulsing with raw and ragged emotions.
“I can explain.” His voice was rough and deep.
“How long have you been here?” Her words were too sharp on her own ears. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to stave off the riot swirling in her belly. No matter how long they spent apart, every single time they were around each other, thing went to shit in a rapid, predictable manner. She really wanted to avoid that at the present moment.
“A couple of months.” Gale cleared his throat and had the decency to look embarrassed. “I should have called you.”
“And yet you didn’t, so there we are.” She set her cup down, needing space, needing distance between them before she broke apart into a thousand ugly pieces in front of her peers and coworkers and a half dozen random strangers.
Gale's hand was rough and strong on her shoulder. “Mel—”
"Don't.” She moved away from his touch, barely keeping her voice low. “You don’t have permission to touch me.” Mel bit her lips together, sucking in a deep, hard breath. Gale lowered his hand and they stood there at an impasse.
A few weeks. He'd been in town a few weeks. No call. No note. Nothing. Hadn't tried to see Jamie. Just move to town and don't say a word.
That told her all she needed to know about where she and Jamie stood on his priorities. Just like always, the Army always won. She bit down harder, trying to divert the pain in her heart to the pain in her lip. “Jamie will be happy to see you,” she said finally.
She didn’t mean to throw Jamie in the middle but that’s the way things were with them. It was the way it had been since . . . since always.
He stiffened. His hands flexed by his sides. Like he needed to do something with his hands that hopefully didn't involve her.
“I meant to call.” There was a rough edge to his voice. A blade, like cut steel, ragged and raw.
"I'm sure you did." Her words were brittle. She sucked in a deep breath and slipped past him, heading for the door in what she hoped was a relatively inconspicuous manner.
She needed a few minutes to put everything back in the box she marked Gale and did her best to ignore.
Because she'd be damned if she was going to cry over this man one more time.
CHAPTER 2
* * *
Melanie kicked the front door closed and sorted the mail: junk, bills, Jamie’s latest catalogue from that store in the mall that Melanie hated. She was, of course, the worst mother in the world because she wouldn't let Jamie shop there. Mel was all for women owning their own sexuality and all that but she drew the line at hyper-sexualizing her teenage daughter. If they both survived Jamie's teenage years, maybe Jamie would thank her later.
She had her doubts, though. She put the envelopes in stacks, almost on autopilot until she came to a tan, card-sized envelope with a Fort Lewis return address. No name but then again, she didn't need the name to know who it was from.
Her heart fluttered a tiny bit as she opened the belated birthday card. It was a squirrel holding a sign and wearing pink heart sunglasses. Happy Birthday Mel. - Gale.
In the fifteen years since their divorce, he’d sent a card every year and every year he’d screwed up the date. Still, it was a nice if empty gesture. He'd missed far more than just birthdays since their marriage had fallen apart all those years ago.
If she hadn't seen him today, maybe she would have smiled at the stupid squirrel. But she had seen him today. Had been sorting through her reaction all damn day. She wasn't angry. She wasn't sad.
She was… she didn't know how to handle the news that he'd moved to Killeen. She'd never expected that. How had he even gotten here? The last time Jamie had asked her dad to move closer to them, he'd said something about burning in hell before the Army sent him to Hood.
And yet, here he was. He'd caught her off guard. Completely off guard. And she hated that more than anything.
There was a thump on the ceiling. Then the sound of feet moving from her daughter’s bathroom down the hall to Jamie's bedroom. It was a normal sound. Nothing about it should have set her heart to pounding rapidly in her chest. But there was something off. Something that set the hair on the back of Melanie’s neck on edge. She'd ignored her gut once before.
And she would never make that same mistake again. She rushed upstairs to find the bedroom door locked.
“Open the door, Jamie.” Her voice was deadly calm. She was proud of herself, actually. She managed to smother the kick of panic that sucked the air from her lungs.
“Just a sec, Mom.”
“I'm going to count to three, then I’m kicking this door in.” She’d done it before. Jamie knew better. She knew not to lock the door. Fear gripped her throat, her voice tightening. “One.” More scrambling. “Two.”
The door swung wide, and her daughter rushed to fill the space. “What’s up?”
Melanie inhaled deeply. No drugs. No smell of antiseptic or rubbing alcohol. Jamie stood there, one arm behind her back. “What were you doing?”
“Homework.” Jamie blinked innocently.
Melanie didn’t buy it for a second. "What's in your hand?"
"Nothing, Mom."
Fear licked at her spine. Jamie was lying. Again. She grabbed the arm Jamie held behind her and shoved the sleeve up.
Pale scars crisscrossed Jamie’s forearm, but no fresh marks. Relief slithered over her skin.
Jamie yanked away, her mock innocent expression shuttering closed into the belligerent look Mel knew all too well. “I’m fine, thanks,” she said.
“You’re not allowed to block the door.” Melanie folded her arms as they prepared for the all too familiar battle.
“I can't have any privacy?” Defiance looked back at her from Gale’s eyes lined with heavy black liner that no matter how many times she threw away, her daughter kept coming back with.
Melanie sighed heavily, praying for patience. "You know the answer to that question."
"You know, you treat me like a criminal, I might as well act like one."
Melanie held out her hand. “Phone.”
“You have no right—”
Her temper snapped beneath the weight of the fear. “I have every right. You live in my house, you live under my rules. When you go to college, you can make your own rules.”
Jamie slapped her cell phone into her mother’s outstretched hands. "I can't wait."
The texts were blank. All that meant was that Jamie had gotten better at deleting them before Melanie caught her. She was hiding something. Mel just couldn't figure out what.
“Come do your homework at the table.”
“I’m fine in here.”
Melanie lifted her eyes toward heaven, grinding her teeth. “It wasn’t a request, Jamie.”
Jamie made a disgusted sound and slammed the door shut with a bang. Melanie briefly considered for the thousandth time taking it off the hinges entirely.
But that wouldn't really do any wonders for trying to rebuild trust like their therapist kept trying to get them to do, now would it.
She walked straight into the kitchen. She started to pull salad out of the fridge, then stopped. Leaned against the counter and sucked in deep, hard breaths. Tears burned behind her eyes
. Every single day was a new version of the same old fight.
Makeup. Phone. Homework. And those were the easy fights. They took up most of her energy, keeping the real fear buried. Waiting. Lurking in the dark for the right moment to strike back and remind her that she'd almost lost Jamie once.
That it could be happening again and Jamie would be able to hide it this time.
No, their therapist didn't really understand the fear that Mel lived with. The fear of the tiny nicks in her daughter’s flesh. The blood that circled down the drain that left a faint stain that taunted Melanie with the epic levels of her failure as a parent.
The fear that her daughter was only pretending to be okay and that she was slowly spiraling out of control again, and there was nothing that Melanie could do to stop it.
Not for the first time, she wished she’d found someone to share the load with. But the few times she'd dated hadn't really gone anywhere serious. She had her hands full with Jamie. Most men, even the good ones, wouldn't stand for being second place. She didn't blame them, honestly.
But damn, she was tired of being alone.
“Mom?”
Mel lowered her hands. Jamie stood near the wide arch that led into their living room, her books clutched to her chest. For once, she didn't look like she was ready to fight at the drop of a hat. For a brief moment, she saw her little girl, looking at her with worry in her eyes when she'd caught Mel crying once. For a moment, it was just Jamie standing there.
Mel would do anything to hold onto that moment. To make it last longer than a few heartbeats.
Melanie lifted her chin and straightened. Took a deep breath and tried to change the tone of their evening. “Sorry. Rough day at work. Any preferences for dinner?”
“Macaroni and cheese?” Jamie said hopefully.
“Sure.” She wasn't going to win any Parent of the Year awards for feeding her kid mac and cheese out of a box, but then again, your kid ending up in the hospital for cutting herself pretty much already ended any chances of that.
Come Home to Me Page 10