by Jillian Neal
“Why the hell were you in Vegas? Thought you lived out in the cornfields.”
Griff rolled his eyes. “Why do you care where I was? I’m here now.”
It was going about as well as I’d assumed it would. Where was the father who was so worried about his son he paced for three solid hours while Griff was in surgery? Why couldn’t Duke show his son that side of himself?
“And stop giving the doctors and nurses your crap. They’re trying to help you,” Griff continued.
“Take this thing out of my arm. I’m going home.” When Duke reached for his IV, Griff caught his hand.
“Stop, Dad. For once in your life, listen to some voice other than your own.”
48
Griff
“I hope you don’t mind but I drove your Jeep up here.” Georgia handed over my old keys. “I thought you might want it.”
This woman seemed relatively normal, polite, and kind. What the hell was she doing with my father? “Thanks for doing that. I’m happy to drive you home.”
“Oh no, it’s fine. I plan on staying the night, but I’ll take you up on that tomorrow.”
Great, so now I was coming back to the hospital the next day. I’d managed to keep my father from removing his own IV and the heart monitor out of pure spite. He’d even chewed and swallowed half the salad. He’d cursed between every bite, but it was something. Now, to get Hannah out of that room before it completely closed in on us. Then I was going to have to apologize about Emma, a woman I had exactly no memories of being with.
“All right, Dad, we’re going to feed Kilgore. Please give everyone in this hospital a break, and try not to be a complete ass.”
It was the first time in my life I’d seen fear in my father’s eyes. “You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”
Sure, because volunteering to put up with an inordinate amount of shit is the very definition of being a Beret. I had a great deal of training. “Yeah, I guess. Do you want me to bring anything from the trailer?”
“Bring me some clean drawers and a pack of cigarettes.”
“I’m not bringing you cigarettes, old man. Go ahead and quit now.”
He scowled, but for once didn’t argue. “Fine.” After a nervous glance Georgia’s way, he motioned for me to come closer. Letting go of my anxiousness to get out of that room and away from the incessant beeps of the monitors, I leaned down. It was the closest I’d been to my father in two decades. “There’s a few nudie magazines on the kitchen table. Maybe bring those back tomorrow, but, you know, hide ’em in a newspaper or something,” he whispered.
My father, ladies and gentlemen. There was no one else like him. Thank God. When he gripped my hand, I stood back to stare at him. Patting our clasped hands, I shook my head. “Let’s let your heart recover before you…exert yourself again.”
“Fine,” he conceded again. Clearly, he wasn’t feeling as well as he was pretending to be. I’d never seen him so agreeable.
“We’ll be back in the morning.” I offered a wave to Georgia and tugged Hannah from the room.
“What did he want you to bring him?” she asked.
My legs were a solid five inches longer than hers, and I was having to rush to keep up with her. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one ready to go.
“You don’t want to know.”
“But I do want to know.” She shot me that beaming grin, and life’s breath rushed back into my lungs.
We stepped out into the quiet Boise night and it finally hit me. I had no recollection of Emma, or of Boise, or of the things that used to take my breath away and bring it back. I had no real memories of life before I’d met her.
We located my old Jeep in the parking lot. Hannah bounced on her tiptoes as I reached across to unlock her door. “Excited baby?”
She climbed up into her old seat. “Been a long time since I got in your Jeep. I still love it just as much as I did back then.”
“Oh yeah?” I paused to revel in the low metallic hum of the motor. “Me too. You know, I could take it to Denver when I move.”
“You are not moving to Denver,” she insisted yet again. She was crazy if she thought I was going to let her shut down Palindrome so she could move to Lincoln. One of us needed to have a job, and it would take me a little while to get back on my feet after I left Tier Seven.
“I am moving to Denver. You’re not shutting down your firm.”
“I don’t have to shut it down. I already work all over the Midwest. No reason I can’t do that from Lincoln.”
“Hannah, no. I’ll move down there. Just have to apologize repeatedly to your brother. Then I’ll pack.”
As I merged onto the interstate, she whipped that cute little T-shirt she was wearing up and flashed me a quick glance at her tits caught up in a teal lace bra. My eyes zeroed in on her light pink nipples as they tightened under the blast of the air conditioner. I almost drove the Jeep into the Buick in front of us. “Ha, you’ve been booby trapped! I win!” she taunted.
“Warn a guy, baby. Jesus. And you do not win.”
“That wasn’t the deal. I get to win the next ten fights as long as I show you my boobs.”
I did recall agreeing to something like that. “You had this planned all along, didn’t you?”
“I’ve had a few months to plan for this week.”
I shook my head. “We’ll discuss this later.” After she saw her brother’s reaction, she’d come around.
“So, Emma.” Her teeth raked over her bottom lip, and her eyebrows lifted.
“Sorry about that. I swear to you I have no recollection of being with her. I was drunk the majority of my senior year and clearly, almost as much of an ass as my old man back then.”
The miles passed as I flew toward Mayfield. I drove instinctively. I had no conscious knowledge of where I was even heading. It had just been too long ago. The Jeep seemed to remember, and that worked for me. It was real. She’d been in it so it existed. Everything else was just faint ghosts of memories I was being forced to look through to find my baby seated beside me.
“You don’t remember her at all?” Hannah finally asked.
“I honestly don’t remember any of this. It feels like I’m living someone else’s life.” Taking my eyes off of the road, I offered her my right hand. “I don’t recall anything about who I was before you.”
That was God’s honest truth. It was a bonus that it also elicited a swoon from her. I made the turn toward Weed Patch and willed the bile in my throat to return to my stomach.
Ten minutes later, I was pulling onto the land that had raised me. One slight memory wormed its way through my mind. When I’d left home, Kilgore was some kind of blonde Lab Husky mix who’d shown up when I was a teenager. Now, the dog that trotted out from under the trailer was jet black with a white mouth and neck. “That’s not Kilgore.”
“Are you sure?” Hannah asked as she hopped out of the Jeep. “He has a collar on.”
The dog was smart. He raced up to her and let her pet him before he indulged himself in a few licks of her chin. She caught the silver tag on the collar. “It says Kilgore Haywood.”
I grabbed our bags out of the back. “Probably went with the same name to save having to get a new tag when the old dog died. Wonder how many reincarnations of Kilgores there have been since I left here?” I wondered how many reincarnations of myself had occurred as well.
I gave the dog a few pats and then reached for the old key we used to keep on the front porch light on the double-wide I’d once shared with my father. I came up empty. More than the dog had changed. Fishing my kit from my bag, I had us inside in under a minute. “Come on in. I’ll open some windows.” Breathy memories of the trailer managed to take me back. Cigarette smoke, off-brand 409, and stale newspaper ink. Duke’s housekeeping hadn’t improved any in the last few years. Mail, copies of the Weed Patch Weekly, and magazines covered the kitchen table. The fan in the living room still clicked with every slow turn. I unlocked the kitchen windows and shoved them open wi
th brute force.
Hannah stepped into the kitchen taking it all in.
“I know it’s nothing like growing up in the General’s houses. Sure as hell not like the houses you design. I’ll take you to a hotel if you want.”
Her brow furrowed. “It’s perfectly fine. I’m excited to be here.” She lifted a fading copy of my senior picture from the mantle and wiped the dust from the corners. As far as I knew, Dad had never owned a picture frame.
“You have to be the first person in the history of this country to ever say that about Weed Patch.” I opened the cabinets under the sink. No dog food. The next three cabinets contained a few warped skillets, old Cool Whip containers, and a dozen cans of corn. Shaking my head at that, I searched the pantry and finally located a bag of dry dog food. I fed the new Kilgore and then located two bottles of Budweiser from the fridge. Idaho was known for its breweries. They grew almost as many hops as they did potatoes, but Duke would sooner give up cursing than drink a craft beer.
I popped the tops and handed one to Hannah. “You hungry, baby? I can make sandwiches or we can drive back into town. Should’ve asked that on the way. I got distracted with your tits.”
Laughing at that, she clinked our bottles together. “Welcome home, Sergeant Haywood.”
“This isn’t my home. For the longest time I thought wherever we were stationed was my home, but that was bullshit, too. You’re my home, and that’s the only way I ever want it to be.”
Setting the beer down on the dust covered coffee table, she wrapped her arms around me. “I think that, too.” She squeezed tighter like she believed she could love me enough to put me back together. If anyone could, it was her. She lifted her head and took another inventory of the trailer. “I think that’s why I wanted to become an interior designer. We moved all the time. Home was wherever the army sent us.” She shrugged. “Then I met you and I finally figured out that it would never matter where I was as long as I was with you. I love giving people a place to call home, but I always want to remind them that home has to have a heartbeat.”
“I love you, baby doll.”
“I love you, too. Show me your old room.”
I flipped on lights as we headed down the hallway. Duke’s room was much the same. Ancient bedspread wadded up at the end of the bed. My room was at the end of the hall. I did have a distinct memory of making the bed the morning I’d left for boot camp. I never wanted to come back. And the bed had sat just the way I’d left it. A poster of a scantily clad woman stretched out over a Corvette still took up most of the back wall.
Hannah laughed. “She could kill someone with those.” She pointed to the chick’s chest.
“I was sixteen. Back then, I couldn’t even see the car.”
“So, he hasn’t redone anything since you left?”
“Doesn’t look that way.” I lifted an old iPod off of the dresser. I’d worked my ass off for that thing. It was still plugged in. To my shock, when I pressed the button, the screen came on.
“And what were you listening to back then?” Hannah scooted beside me. “Ha! Maroon 5. Oh, I am never letting you live this down.”
“Clearly, someone else messed with this in the last decade.” I laughed at my own expense.
“Liar, liar,” she taunted. “Better take your pants off before they burst into flames.”
“Oh, baby, if I take these off yours are coming with them.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “Make me a sandwich then we’ll get to the things we could do with no pants on.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I couldn’t believe I was standing in the old trailer in the middle of a town I hated and having a good time. The woman could make hell appealing and take me straight to heaven all in one shot.
49
Hannah
I proceeded to dance around Griff’s childhood bedroom belting out the lyrics to “Sugar.” When I wiggled my finger in his face, and asked for a taste of his sugar, he grabbed my hand, wrapped his other arm around my waist, and dipped me low while he ground his pelvis against mine.
I danced my way back up, shimmying all the way. That left eyebrow cocked upward. “Watch it, woman,” he teased. “You’re gonna get yourself into all kinds of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The kind that ends up with you naked underneath me in that bed, that hasn’t been slept in for years, begging me for mercy.”
“Mmm, my favorite kind of trouble.”
“There’s not another house anywhere near here, baby. Nobody would hear how loud you get for me.”
“Good. But we’re making sandwiches first. I need sustenance.” Shaking my ass for him, I raced back down the hallway to the kitchen.
His laughter echoed after me. There. That’s how my big bad Beret should sound. When I leaned to look in the old refrigerator, he scooted in front of me, lifted, and had me over his shoulder in one quick move. I kicked my legs beside his face, laughing hysterically. “I’m trying to make you a sandwich,” I reminded him.
“I know.” He sat me down on the countertop. “But I dragged you all the way out here and then made you endure Duke. The least I can do is make you dinner.” He dug a loaf of white bread out of the pantry and located cheese slices in the fridge. “Looks like I can do grilled cheese. However,” he balanced a lopsided skillet on the stove, “I cannot put mayo on it as I am still not over the mayonnaise truck comment.”
Still unable to believe everything that had happened in the last few days, I sighed. “I completely understand. I’m good with just cheese. I can’t believe Ms. Mallory got herself involved with actual criminals. The police never called me. I wonder if they let her go.”
“No idea. Whole thing was insane.”
“It was sweet what she was trying to do, but damn, when she decides to fall down a rabbit hole she really does it right.”
I watched him spread margarine on the bread and set it in the hot skillet. When he flipped the first sandwich, I admired the slight flex of his biceps as they worked. “Until you said that about them not winning me so they could get a copy of your check, I hadn’t figured out what exactly the mistake you heard them refer to was. I was flying by the seat of my pants. You saved my ass again.”
“I didn’t figure it out until you said something about them living off of other people’s checking accounts. And your ass is unfairly perfect. Seriously, other men are probably jealous, so I’m happy to save it whenever you need me to.”
“Oh yeah, the exit wound is quite the sight.”
Someday, I’d convince him. “Your scars make up the man you are. The man who gave everything for this country and for his team. I love that man, scars and all. It just didn’t make sense to me that they’d only want my credit cards. Those can be turned off too easily. With my bank account information plus my address from a check, they could’ve done a lot of damage. Plus, Victoria said something nasty about a check and a mistake to Megan the night of the auction. I didn’t know what she meant then.”
He piled the sandwiches on a paper plate. “They were too vague with Megan. She really didn’t get what they were using her for. I could tell. She heard the part about letting them win the wealthiest bachelors in the room, but she missed that she was supposed to let you win whoever you bid on.”
“I guess.” I didn’t really want to talk about it anymore. I still felt like a fool, even if it had gotten me where I wanted to be. We were standing in the shadow of a whole other mountain now. We still had to tell Smith and my father. I hopped off the counter and tried to clear the table. “Would it be okay if I moved the centerfolds before we eat?” I held up a few copies of Playboy from fifteen years ago.
“That’s what he wanted me to bring to the hospital.” Griff shook his head. “Sorry. Just put them…wherever.”
We devoured the sandwiches there in his father’s kitchen as the warm mountain breeze whispered through the open windows. “Hey, Griff?”
“Yeah, baby? You want another beer?” The jangle of beer bottle
s rattled through the air when he opened the refrigerator.
“I’m good, but there is something I think you should do.”
Grabbing a towel, he twisted the cap. “What’s that?”
“I think you should tell your dad about finding your mom. I think it would be good for you to clear the air, so to speak.”
“I don’t want to clear the air. I want him to get better and then I want to go back to enduring a phone call to him a few times a year.”
I wiped the grease off of my fingers with the same towel he’d used to open the bottle. “I don’t think that’s really what either of you wants. He’s scared, and in his own weird way he misses you. I could tell. I think that might be why he always says awful things. He wants your attention.”
“Yeah, well…” he downed another sip of his beer, “…I spent eighteen long years wanting his. He’ll live.” He scooped up our bags and marched back down the hallway to his bedroom.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “And until one of you gives a little, both of you will be miserable.”
Trailing after him down the worn carpeted hall, I found him stripping his old bed. He made quick work of locating fresh sheets from the hall closet and stretching them over the mattress.
“Need some help?” I smoothed the blanket he fanned out.
“I got it, baby. I’ll scrub the bathroom for you in a second.”
While I believe every woman in the world would agree on the supreme sexiness of a man scrubbing anything, I didn’t need him to try to clean up his past for me.
“Stop.” I grabbed his hands. “You don’t have to clean anything. I’m not some spoiled four-star general’s daughter. I thought you knew that.”
The pain in his eyes was raw, edged with an anger I wasn’t sure he fully understood. “You know I never thought of you like that. Why would you even say that?”
I gestured to the freshly made bed. “You’ve either been apologizing, or cleaning, or cooking since we got here.”
“That is not all I have done. You harassed me about Maroon 5 then danced around the room. We talked about Megan Mallory and the…” Irritation swept the pain from his gaze. “Dammit, I’ve got nothing. I’m out of workable trios or foursomes.”