In the Midnight Hour

by Deborah Cooke

  Aidan was divorced.

  Chapter Twelve

  All of the partners were present at the Wednesday night business meeting at F5, since Kyle and Theo had flown back for Natasha’s funeral. Damon was a little self-conscious about causing so much disruption, but they expressed their sympathy and asked what they could do to help.

  It was just as Haley had said. They really did have his back.

  Damon couldn’t even count the number of times they insisted he should have told them.

  He’d brought the final plans for the layout of F5 West, and that was the first order of business. They pored over the plans and Cassie planned the opening even as Ty crunched the costs for the construction. After the ideas were discussed and changes decided upon, Damon cleared his throat.

  “There’s one more thing I have to tell you,” he admitted.

  “The biter,” Kyle said, wagging a finger at him. “Who is she?” Everyone laughed but Damon didn’t answer.

  He folded his hands together and his manner made them all sober. “I never told you that I was USMC. I served in Afghanistan.” He swallowed, aware that he had their complete attention. “And I have PTSD.”

  Theo gave a low whistle. “That’s a big load to carry alone, even without your mom being sick.”

  Cassie moved to Damon’s side and put her hand over his. “What can we do?”

  “I’m getting to that.” Damon took a deep breath. “I went for therapy and learned coping strategies when I left the service, and that worked until my mom got sick. The nightmares came back, which I guess is pretty typical, but now they’ve changed. My therapist thinks this is a good thing and something to work with, so he wants me to participate in an intense program. He wants to see if he can take my healing to the next step.”

  “Boston,” Ty said quietly.

  “Boston,” Damon agreed. “For a month.”

  Kyle spun in his chair, then pointed at Theo. “How about you take point on the construction? I could stay here and make sure the shifts at the club are covered.”

  “No problem,” Theo said, indicating the plans. “With this, we can really get rolling.”

  “Maybe we can open by June,” Cassie said. She smiled at Damon. “I’m up for three nights a week in the club for the month, so you can take that program.”

  “Thanks, Cassie.”

  “I’ll do Fridays,” Ty said. “And don’t forget we have Hunter now.”

  “Thursdays and Saturdays are mine,” Kyle said. He grabbed a pad of paper and started to make notes. “What about your personal coaching?” he asked. “I can take them while you’re away, if you update me on each member.”

  “I’ve got notes on each one of them,” Damon said. “Goals and progress, strengths and weaknesses, areas to push.”

  “Great. It should be easy for me to step in.”

  “You won’t miss me at all,” Damon teased, relieved that it had been so easily managed.

  “Of course, we’ll miss you,” Cassie said. “You’ll have to call in and keep us updated.”

  “No, actually, that’s the thing.” Damon told them the last detail. “They control the environment completely. I need to surrender my cell phone when I check in.”

  “Social media withdrawal!” Kyle said and pretended to twitch. “I’d never survive a day, let alone a month.”

  “I can take a book.”

  “Hard core,” Theo said.

  “He was a Marine,” Cassie chided. She met Damon’s gaze steadily. “I think it’s great that you have this chance for a new therapy and that you’re asking for help. I also think it’s awesome that you confided in us.” To Damon’s surprise, she gave him an impulsive hug. “I feel like we’re becoming friends now.”

  “Oh, so now you’re going to show him your new tattoo before I get to see it,” Kyle said, coming around the table to clap Damon on the back. Ty shook his hand and Theo gave him a hug. He felt like he had a support network.

  One he’d always had, but never dared to use.

  It was just the way Haley had said it would be.

  “It’s still puffy,” Cassie complained.

  “Bull. You just don’t want to show me,” Kyle complained. “Did you get the name of your one true love over your heart?”

  “No, that’s your trick,” Cassie retorted. She gripped the front edges of her sweatshirt. “I guess I could show it to you, if you make it worth my while.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to bring you love and romance?” Theo asked.

  “That’s why she wants to work in the club!” Kyle said. “Where better to meet a hot guy and find romance?”

  “If Cassie doesn’t want to show us, she doesn’t have to,” Ty said.

  “I think she does want to show us,” Damon said and she grinned at him.

  Cassie peeled off her sweatshirt and spun around. “Ta da!” She was wearing her black yoga gear, with her hair tied up in a ponytail. Beneath the sweatshirt, she had on a black tank top that showed her muscle definition to advantage. On her left bicep was the new tattoo.

  Kyle peered at it. “Shoes?” he asked, his brows drawn together in confusion.

  The tattoo showed a pair of shoes, the kind of Mary Janes with high heels worn by dancers. One was on its side. Behind the shoes were the numbers 2006 and in the middle was a single red heart.

  “Not just any shoes,” Cassie said. “Those are dancing shoes.”

  “Oh right.” Kyle rolled his eyes. He raised his hands. “Why shoes?”

  “Where did you dance in 2006?” Damon asked. “You must have loved it.”

  “Aha! At least someone is perceptive,” Cassie said, turning on Damon with a brilliant smile. “Radio City Music Hall. I was a Rockette for one Christmas season and you’re right, I loved it.”

  “Get out,” Kyle said.

  “Wow,” Ty said. “Isn’t that hard work?”

  “Toughest months of my life,” Cassie said, shaking her head in recollection. “I’ve never been so sore, before or after. I’d dropped out of college when I got the job, but I went crawling back in January.”

  “With sore feet,” Theo said.

  “With sore everything,” Cassie corrected. “Turned out I only missed one semester and I made it up. The second show of the day was always brutal, but we smiled right on through.” She sobered. “It taught me that I could do a lot more than I thought I could, if I didn’t give up.”

  “I know that feeling,” Damon said, when once he would have kept quiet. “They call it boot camp.”

  They laughed together.

  “Tomorrow at two,” Theo said, cocking a finger at Damon.

  “I really appreciate you all coming,” he said, his voice tight.

  “Of course,” Ty said. “You’re part of the team.”

  It was true, although Damon hadn’t believed it fully until now.

  He had Haley to thank for this change in his life.

  * * *

  Brad’s wife Katie arrived after work and so did Haley’s mom. They all worked together in the kitchen to make dinner together. It was busy, noisy, and fun, and Haley found herself laughing at her brother’s lame jokes again.

  Her sister Tiffany breezed in for dinner before her midnight shift to show off her engagement ring. Plans were already afoot for the spring wedding. Matt changed the time of his weekly call to their mom from Kabul so that he could talk to Haley, too.

  She was exhausted, not just from the clamor of family but all the innuendo, when she retreated to Tiffany’s old room, which acted as guest room. It might be worth staying in New York, just to have some privacy or time to hear herself think.

  The room was still full of Tiffany’s things, even though Haley’s sister had her own apartment. She made a little space on the end of the dresser for her toiletry bag. There were a couple of inches of space in the closet for her suit for the next day’s interview. There had to be six bridesmaid’s dresses jammed in there along with everything else, evidence of Tiffany’s army of friends and her bad l
uck with bridesmaid’s dresses. Haley couldn’t decide which one was more hideous.

  The closet was full, the dresser was full, and the bookcase was jammed. Even Haley’s old yearbooks had been amalgamated into her sister’s collection, along with the Agatha Christie paperbacks that Haley thought had gone to a thrift store or church sale. There was hardly space to move around, but this room had to be the least of Brad’s worries.

  On impulse, Haley took the yearbook from her sophomore year of high school from the shelf. She flicked through the pages to the one she wanted to see. It might as well have had the corner turned down, because she knew exactly where it was.

  Aidan’s picture. He had the kind of classic good looks that aged well. She eyed his killer smile and her heart skipped.

  Would she see him the next day? He had taken over his father’s practice in town, but he might be at the hospital if any of his patients were there.

  She wasn’t sure she could bear to see him again.

  Haley took a deep breath and ran a fingertip across his scrawled message.

  Love you forever.

  Well, maybe not quite.

  Divorced.

  Haley shut the yearbook and put it back on the shelf. She was moving all the plush toys from the bed, marveling that she and Tiffany could actually be related, when someone knocked on the door. She peeked around the door to find Tiffany in the hall.

  She waved, her diamond sparkling. “Got a minute? I want to ask you a favor before I head to work.”

  “Does it involve a bridesmaid dress with shoes dyed to match?” Haley teased. The truth was that she’d wear anything for her sister, at least for a day, but the contents of the closet were sobering.

  Tiffany laughed. “Probably not. Although, you know, a lot of them are still in that closet.”

  “I saw. Why don’t you get rid of them?”

  “Small town. The bride might see it at the thrift store and know from the size that it was mine, and that I hadn’t kept it forever after all. I can do without that drama.”

  Haley stepped back and opened the door wide. Tiffany came in and pushed the door shut behind her, then bounced on the bed. She picked up a stuffed bear and gave him a snuggle. “How cool that you’re crashing in my old room.”

  “It’s neater than I’ve ever seen it.”

  Tiffany laughed again. “Two sisters, completely opposite. One a neat-freak and one a tsunami of disorganization. I should drop by in the middle of the night and mess up your stuff while you’re sleeping.”

  “You’ll have a hard time finding my stuff in here.”

  “True.” Tiffany nodded. “You got the minimalist inclinations in this family.”

  “Hardly. Brad and Matt have their share.”

  “So, it’s more accurate to say that I’m the family packrat.”

  “If the shoe fits...”

  Tiffany smiled. “Speaking of which, I want to come to New York to shop for my wedding dress.”

  Haley immediately understood. “You can stay at my place, if you want. We’ll both fit on the futon.” And it was possible that they would still be able to move around the apartment if Tiffany only stayed a few days. Haley knew from experience that her sister’s baggage would seem to explode on arrival and her belongings would cover every available surface within minutes.

  “Wow, you offered without even wincing.”

  Haley smiled. “I’m assuming you won’t stay long.”

  “I won’t. But a free place to stay isn’t all. You need to come shopping with me.”

  “For your wedding dress?” Haley winced then. The notion of spending thousands of dollars on a dress for a single day always bothered her. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. You need to take five days off, Wednesday through Sunday. I’ll come Tuesday night, we’ll shop for four days and live the wedding fantasy.” Haley groaned. “Then we’ll go dancing and get really drunk on Saturday night before I crawl to the airport on Sunday.”

  “We have taxis. You don’t have to crawl all that way.”

  “I’ll probably have to crawl to the curb for the cab.” Tiffany nudged Haley. “Maybe I’ll find you a hot date—unless, of course, you’re going to hook up with Aidan again.”

  Haley ignored that. “So, this would be your bachelorette party or your last fling?”

  Tiffany’s eyes widened. “God, I hope not. You’re my big sister. You can keep me from doing anything I might regret.”

  “Like dragging home a hot guy.”

  “Exactly that.”

  Haley shook her head. “I don’t think three will fit on the futon.”

  “An excellent consideration. And in exchange for your good sense and wise judgement, I’ll buy all your meals and transport for the shopping adventure, plus your frilly drinks on our big night out.” Tiffany crossed her heart and held up her fingers. “I promise that I won’t even mess with the organization of your cupboards.”

  Haley smiled. “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

  “That was exactly the idea.” Tiffany grinned. “We could get commemorative tattoos.”

  Haley rolled her eyes. “I’m going to guess that you’ve already picked the dates.”

  “No. Look at your shifts and choose a weekend. Sooner is better.”

  “So, you’ll know you have the dress.”

  “No! So, I know you’ll still be in New York!”

  Another reference to her inevitable move. “Come next week,” she said on impulse. “I have it off.”

  “Excellent! Let me see if I can get the days.”

  “And don’t count on my moving before I even survive the job interview.”

  Tiffany waved off the comment. “You’ll ace it. You ace everything. Just think: you’ll be living here in time for the wedding!” She kissed Haley on the cheek and headed for the door before Haley could protest.

  Commemorative tattoos. Maybe she and Tiff weren’t really related.

  * * *

  Damon stood in the church with the priest and his mom’s ashes and found himself thinking of Haley. It had been two weeks since he’d goaded her into leaving, two weeks in which she hadn’t called or stopped by. Two weeks in which he hadn’t heard her voice or felt her touch.

  Two weeks in which he’d missed her more sharply than anyone he’d ever lost.

  Even his mom.

  It had easily been the longest two weeks of his life.

  Damon told himself that it was good he’d ended things when he had, before there’d been any chance of him really hurting her. That didn’t change how much he missed her.

  Being responsible didn’t seem like such a good thing.

  He was starting to hope that the therapist was right and that he might, one day soon, have more to offer Haley Slater than he did now.

  For the moment, he wanted to thank her for kicking his ass.

  He watched the door, hungry to see her again. He’d let the hospital staff know about the service. It had been in the local paper and because of his mom’s career, the obituary had been picked up by the larger papers. The priest expected a full house, but Damon didn’t care about that.

  There was only one person he wanted to see.

  Then a guy walked into the church and Damon was so completely surprised that he thought his eyes were deceiving him. Was that Nate Buchanan? It couldn’t be. The man in question waved his right hand, giving Damon a two-fingered salute. His hand was gloved.

  Because it was a prosthesis.

  Buchanan had come—even though Damon hadn’t answered his messages. Damon was astonished and humbled by his presence.

  His throat was tight.

  Ty and Amy led the F5 team into the church, Kyle and Lauren hand-in-hand behind them. Cassie was with Theo, all of them dressed in black. They came straight to Damon and gathered behind him, like his support staff. Cassie kissed his cheek and Kyle gave him an impromptu hug.

  “We can stay with you or step back,” Ty said and Damon indicated the first pew.

  “I
’d be glad to have you with me,” he said, his voice thick.

  The church filled to capacity and was standing room only by the time the service began. The priest had suggested that he gather pictures of his mom when she was healthy, and Damon had created a collage, which was at the altar. In the middle was a drawing he’d done of her years before, laughing with her usual abandon. He kept his gaze fixed on it during the service, not really hearing the words, filling his mind with memories. There were flowers from friends and the lilies had a strong sweet scent. They celebrated communion, because his mom would have preferred it, and when the service was done, people came to speak to him.

  Damon was overwhelmed by their kindness.

  His mom’s neighbors were out in force, and several of them promised him casseroles and fresh baking. Some of them had already dropped off food for him. Mrs. O’Toole from the dance academy hadn’t changed much and she seized his hands as she remembered the days of his mom tutoring little girls. There were younger women who had been those little girls, very few of them dancers now but all of them with perfect posture and their eyes filled with tears. There were ladies from the church and retired dancers who he vaguely remembered from his childhood. To his amazement, many of the kids from Zeke’s gym had come to give their condolences to him and he was impressed to see what fine men they’d become.

  And last of all, there was Nate Buchanan, a familiar twinkle in his eyes. Damon remembered how this guy could find the silver lining in any thunderhead.

  “I’m sorry, Damon,” he said and offered his hand. Damon didn’t know what to do, since Nate’s right hand was the prosthesis. Nate just shook his head. “You can’t break it, bro,” he said.

  Damon shook his hand, then met Nate’s gaze. “I am so sorry.”

  “Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was...”

  “No, Damon, it was not your fault,” Nate interrupted, his tone stern. “You didn’t make the grenade, you didn’t pull the pin, and you didn’t chuck it at us.”

  “But Foster...”

  “Knew exactly what he signed up for. We all did.” Nate’s gaze was steely. “The best team I ever worked with was you and Foster. I miss him every day, but I don’t regret that we served our country and gave our best. He gave his life doing what he loved, and I don’t think he would regret it.”