Chapter Nine
“Hey, pack some stuff. Enough for a long weekend. We’re spending Easter with Skye’s family.”
I frown at Logan. “You’re going to meet the parents?”
“I already met the parents. Spent Thanksgiving with them. They have a farm a couple of hours away from here. They’re very informal, pack everyday clothes and they might make you work, make sure you have something you don’t mind getting dirty in.”
“I’m not going.”
“The hell you aren’t.” The look he gives me tells me I wouldn’t be able to get away with it.
“This is the first holiday we get to spend together in over four years. As far as I’m concerned you are the only family I have and I’d like my family to be with me when I spend Easter with my girl.”
“I don’t know anyone there.”
“You know Skye and you know River.”
I snort. “Yeah, River—as if that’s a good reason for me to go.”
“I’ve seen you staring at her tits and her ass and her mouth and—”
“Okay! Enough. You caught me checking out the goods. So what? It’s been a long time. Pussy didn’t come around easily in Afghanistan.” I hate the way the words spill out of my mouth. This is not the way I normally talk about a woman.
“You don’t seem to be interested in anyone else’s goods. If you called any of those girls who were always all over you, they’d be running over here.”
“I called one of them, remember? And how well did that end up? I can only imagine what Tate is telling everyone back hom—back in Connecticut. All that was a long time ago. It’s not my world anymore.”
“You’ve been back for over a month now, Liam. Did you even tell them you’re back?”
I know who he means by them. Our parents. The same parents who manipulated Logan his whole life. The same parents who told me they would not pay for college if I didn’t comply and go to law school. The parents who knew that being only seventeen, I couldn’t get any student loans, not that I was eligible anyway with all the money they had. Well, seventeen had been too young to get student loans on my own, but as soon as I turned eighteen I enlisted. So, fuck you, Mom and Dad! Fuck you for forcing my hand and making me the angry asshole I am today. I’ve seen more blood and carnage than any one person should have to. I could be in the middle of medical school right now. They knew it. They’d always known it. As long as I can remember I always, always wanted to go into medicine. But when they shattered my dreams, I went into the navy and became the closest thing I could. I was a corpsman. But all the lives I saved cannot, will not make up for the ones I lost. Especially, not hers—I look at my hands and I can still see Hannah’s blood on them. I made her a promise. Told her I’d keep her safe. I failed.
Like always, any time my thoughts drift to Hannah, I’m brought right back to that day, to that moment. The moment I relive in my mind over and over, looking for a different outcome and never finding one. I feel myself folding into the darkness as guilt builds around me.
Logan’s voice brings me back to the present.
“Where did you go, man?”
I realize he’s been talking to me and calling my name.
“Nowhere. When do we leave?” I don’t meet his eyes. I’m sure he’ll be able to see the nightmares that follow me even in the light of day.
“We’ll head out tonight around seven.” He hesitates. “You know you can talk to me, right? You can tell me anything. I don’t presume to imagine the shit you saw and went through, but I’ve had my share of crappy days and I’ve seen friends go down. I’m here for you, Liam. You know it, right?”
I nod, not sure my throat would work right now. Logan hesitates, trying to read me. He can tell something is off, but he’s on the clock and has to leave for work. When the door closes shut behind him and silence fills the room, I close my eyes and descend into darkness as the memories take over, dragging me down a road I’ve traveled many times before. I don’t resist. The pull of despair and guilt is familiar. I’m an observer and a participant, watching a movie in which I’m the main character, and try as I may to think a different plot, to guess at what-ifs, the ending is the same. Like moth to a flame, I let myself burn, welcome the pain, and accept the outcome as I punish myself the only way I can.
Fragmented images, smells, sounds invade my mind, mixed pieces of different puzzles. Explosions, shots, fire. Screams, words I don’t understand. Blood. So much blood. It’s hard to breathe. I taste blood and sand. Thirsty. I’m so thirsty. I’m being dragged still holding on to Hannah or what’s left of her. Someone tries to take her from me, but my arms hold on to her harder. Pain, so much pain and then darkness again. There’s peace in darkness, there’s nothingness in darkness.
The next time I wake up I’m on a plane. Can’t open my eyes, but I hear the hum of an engine. I try to move. I can’t. A muffled voice tells me to hang on and I do. The last thought I have before darkness takes me again is Hannah is no longer in my arms.
Five days later, I wake up for good. I’m told that after emergency surgery to stabilize me at a military outpost, I was airlifted to the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center next to the U.S. air base at Ramstein, Germany, where I could get a more extensive treatment. There are bandages around my chest, back, and left shoulder. There are bandages around my neck and head as well. Doctors told me I was clipped twice. Chest and left thigh, and the explosion had inflicted dozens of shrapnel wounds. There was impact to my head, causing my brain to swell, and they induced me into a coma. They removed all the shrapnel. I asked about Hannah. I already knew the answer. She didn’t make it. Her body had already been sent home. I failed her. I had promised her I would keep her safe and she would see her little girl again. I asked about my unit. Three lives lost, including Hannah’s. She was dead before I even got to her, they told me. She hadn’t suffered. I don’t find comfort in the words even though I know they’re meant to comfort me. I still failed her. They tell me that in trying to save her, she had actually saved me. I would have been dead if I hadn’t left the cover of that truck trying to get to Hannah. Then she saved me a second time when the explosion went off because her body took most of the impact.
On my final day at the hospital after being there for over a week I was granted my discharge papers. I was free to go home. Except I had no idea where home was. I requested permission to stay in Germany, located an old friend of mine in Munich, and stayed with him another two months then spent nearly a year traveling through Europe’s countryside aimlessly. I worked odd jobs in farms, in exchange of food and some cash. I needed time to think and for my wounds to completely heal. I hated all the scars on my back. There were dozens and dozens of them over the entire left side. I hated them because they were a reminder of my failure and I hated them because I knew anyone who saw them would ask questions I didn’t want to answer. That’s when I decided on the tattoo. I wanted it to mean something. To hide the scars, yes, but to mean something as well. I spent weeks looking for the right place and the right person. I had an idea of what I wanted and the right artist would be able to create the image I had in my head. It took hours and hours of work, over a month to complete it. When the tattoo was finished, not a single scar could be seen. I could still feel them under my fingertips, but this guy had used his skills to hide the scars in the design in shades of red and blue and green. In shades of gold and black. The tattoo took up most of my back. It moved with me as if alive. I think the day he finished I smiled for the first time in over a year. I felt free. It was time to go home.
Chapter Ten
Guess who’s sitting next to me in the back of Logan’s Escalade? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not my sister.
Liam has sunglasses on, so I can’t see his eyes. His head lies back on the headrest, his long legs fitting awkwardly behind Skye’s seat, which is not as far back as Logan’s, giving him a few extra inches.
“Stop looking at me,” Liam says.
“What are you? Twelve? I’m not look
ing at you.” I totally am.
He faces me now. “You’re staring at me. I can feel it.”
“Oh, and you’re psychic too! Mom’s going to love you.” I’m fluent in English, sarcasm, and fuck you.
“Mom is going to love him anyway.” Skye butts into our conversation if one can call it that.
“Yeah, but she’ll always love me more,” Logan says, then picks up Skye’s hand and kisses it.
She giggles.
I groan, “Can you two save it for later and keep the PDA to a minimum?”
“Haters gonna hate.” Logan’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and I flip him the bird. He laughs.
Liam’s head falls back against the seat again. “It’s going to be a long ride.”
“You can say that again.”
For the next two hours we alternate long moments of frigid silence with heated bickering. It’s juvenile. I know. He knows. And yet we can’t help ourselves.
Logan and Skye exchange glances every few miles and are having a silent conversation all of their own. A conversation I’m not privy to. My choices are silence or to annoy Liam.
Guess which one I pick?
I glance at him sideways. He’s facing away from me and looking at the trees passing by outside his window.
I take the chance to drink him in. He’s the same height as Logan, six-foot-two, but more muscular. His shoulders are a little bigger, his chest wider. His biceps strain against the fabric of his dark gray Henley.
I once read that soldiers and marines in Iraq and Afghanistan routinely carry between sixty and one hundred pounds of gear. Every day. For hours at a time. That’s like carrying a small person on your back.
I imagine him in a marine uniform, all that gear on his back, sunglasses protecting his gray eyes against the unforgivable desert glare. How strenuous it must have been to be so exposed, not only to the elements in a hostile place but also among hostile people. To be in a place where almost everyone is an enemy who wants you dead and you’re responsible for keeping everybody else around you alive.
I know I could never handle a fraction of what Liam must have faced. I have a healthy dose of respect for him and anyone in service. But I’m not telling him that. He still bugs the heck out of me.
Liam may be annoying, but there’s no denying he’s hot as fuck. It would be a lot easier to ignore him if my insides didn’t tingle every time I saw him.
I study his hands now. Beautiful hands, long fingers, nails short and clean, resting on muscular, strong thighs in dark jeans. And a sizable bulge. In my mind, the uniform is gone now, and what’s left is a beautiful and muscular man, tan naked skin gleaming in the sun.
I swallow. My imagination is trying to run wild and I have to rein it in.
His chest expands with a deep breath.
I glance up.
He’s facing me. I can’t see his eyes behind the reflective lenses of his sunglasses, but I know his eyes are on me. His lips tilt in an all too knowing smirk.
“Like what you see?” he asks me.
“A little full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“It’s hard to be humble when you’re among the world’s finest.”
“And he’s modest, too.”
Liam’s smirk grows. And so do the tingles in parts of my body that shall remain unnamed.
What is it about this irritating man that has me out of sorts? I’ve dated plenty of hot guys before. Jocks, hot nerds, musicians, sweet next- door types, and yet, none of them got me this hot and bothered.
That’s just it—Liam is a man. All those guys before him were boys. Still growing up. They confused cockiness with confidence. But none of them could ever hold up against Liam.
Damn it.
I give him my best cold and dismissing glare and turn away.
It’s my turn to look out the window at the passing trees.
Chapter Eleven
I’ve been awake for two hours now. Seven a.m. Is it too early to get up? This is a farm. People wake up early on farms, right? I can’t stay in bed anymore. I pull on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then fight with my morning boner so I can take a piss, wash my face, and brush my teeth.
I walk downstairs, the wooden steps surprisingly quiet, and stop at the bottom of the stairs when I hear voices. I take a few more steps toward the sound. It’s coming from the kitchen. Last night during dinner, River’s dad said the house was over a hundred years old and had been in the family for a couple of generations. It had been gutted and remodeled a few years back. The house has a semi-open concept, with the large kitchen and dining room taking a huge chunk of the first floor. Through the living room archway openings, I can see Skye and her mother sitting at the long wooden table drinking coffee.
“Is River up?” Skye asks her mom.
“If I know that daughter of mine, she was up the crack of dawn and is working up a sweat with Big D. You know she can go at it for hours and hours.”
What the fuck!
“I don’t know how she can handle him. He’s a beast,” Skye replies to her mother.
Her mom laughs.
Skye continues, “I tried only once. I couldn’t go more than five minutes. I thought he’d split me in half. I was limping for two days after.”
I can’t believe my ears. What the fuck? And who the fuck is this Big D guy?
I must have made a sound because her mom looks my way then.
“Good morning, Liam. You’re up early. I hope you slept well.”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Devereux.”
“Please call me Serena. I hate formalities. And you are just what I need. A big, strong man.”
I know my mouth opened but nothing comes out.
“I need a hand and my man’s still sleeping. I tired him out last night.” She laughs.
“Mom!”
“Oh, please.” She turns to Skye. “Your man is still sleeping too. Your dad’s not the only tired one this morning.”
Skye has an apologetic look on her face as her mom pushes me out the door.
“I need a pair of strong arms to help me move the hay and then I’ll put food in you. You look like you could use coffee and breakfast.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I tease, tipping an imaginary hat. It’s easy to talk to her. She’s one of those people who’s always happy.
She laughs and brings me to a barn with several stalls. All empty except for one. There’s a very pregnant mare in it. I don’t know much about horses. I grew up in the suburbs, but I went riding with friends often, I’m comfortable around them.
“This is Midnight Dreamer and we are keeping her in the stall instead of the pasture because she is about to birth anytime now.” She rubs the horse’s nose and offers her an apple. “Could you bring me a bale of hay from that pile and put it in her stall?”
“Sure.”
As I step closer to the barn opening, I see what looks like a black blur with legs racing down the green pastures with someone low on its back. Both the horse’s mane and the rider’s long hair are flowing in the wind behind them. River, I realize, and then fear clamps my chest because she’s going too fast. If she falls . . . I look at her mother, but she doesn’t seem worried at all.
As River gets closer to the barn, she slows the horse to a canter and then to a walk. The animal is restless under her. Picking up his head and shaking it. “Hi, Mom. Do you need help with breakfast?”
“Nope. Take care of Big D. Liam can give you a hand and then you both come in for breakfast.” She leaves me with the beast and I’m not sure if I’m referring to River or the horse.
Fuck! Big D is a horse? My mind had me going on another direction altogether. I grimace.
I take a few steps closer to River and the horse tries to lunge in my direction, but River reins him in.
“Easy, Big D,” she coos to him, scratching behind his ear. She guides him to the barn, comes to a stop by a stall, and dismounts from the biggest horse I’ve ever seen. His black coat is covered in sweat. The animal looks
at me and shows me his teeth. River tethers him and pulls the saddle off him. I bring the bale of hay I’ve been holding this whole time to the mare and then approach River and the beast. He prances, digging his hooves in the ground. River laughs.
“This is Big D?” I ask.
“His name is Deegan. It’s an old Irish name. It means black-haired. But he got so big we started calling him Big Deegan and eventually Big Dee.”
I take a step closer and the horse snorts at me.
“He doesn’t like you. You should keep your distance. He might kick or bite you.”
“Why wouldn’t he like me? I did nothing to him.” It annoys me that she said the horse doesn’t like me. Animals love me.
“He dislikes most males. Big Dee is a little possessive of me. He gets jealous if a guy gets too close.”
And right on cue, the horse uses his neck to pull River closer to him and shows me his teeth again. Menacing.
She giggles, grabs a brush, and runs it over his body. “Come on. Give me a hand so we can grab breakfast faster.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I thought you said I should stay clear off him.”
“You can come closer. Just make sure not to walk or stand behind him.”
I don’t move and wonder if she’s trying to get me killed. Death by horse would be ruled an accident, right?
River takes my hand and pulls me behind her, stopping just out of reach of the horse. “I’ll introduce you to him. Hey, Deegan,” she baby-talks to the beast, rubbing his nose. “I have a friend for you to meet. Now be nice to him, okay?”
The beast snorts. And I can almost hear him saying, “Yeah, right.”
She looks over her shoulder and pulls me closer to her, then lets my hand go and grabs the brush again. “Put your hand over mine and brush him with me.”
I do it, standing just behind her, her body barely touching mine as she moves the brush over the animal with brisk movements. She smells like spring, hay, and wind, making it a heady and sweet combination, and I feel myself getting hard for her. Fuck!
Because of Liam Page 4