Officer Breaks the Rules (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.)

by Murray, Jeanette

  “I didn’t sign—”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Son, you can’t screw around with your career like this. I know you’re hitting some sort of roadblock. But the longer you take to simply acknowledge to your monitor you’re staying in, the less seriously they’re going to take you. Nobody wants someone who can’t make up their mind. Just sign the damn papers. Deal with whatever crisis you think you’re going through later. Sign the damn papers.”

  “I’m not signing them. I told them I was getting out.”

  If he hadn’t heard his father’s breath catch, he would have thought he’d hung up. The silence, as they say, was deafening.

  Cue the cartoon crickets.

  “Dad?”

  “This isn’t amusing.” His father’s voice was low, menacing. It was the voice Jeremy always remembered being scared of as a kid. More than the yelling, more than the screaming. If his father used the low, hushed, almost whispered voice, it was time to hide. “This is your career. Our legacy. And you’re going to blow it? For what? Tell me what is so goddamn important that you’re walking away from a damn good career and a reputation the Phillips men have fought to uphold.”

  “I’ve served. I served ten years. Honorably. Three tours in Afghanistan.” I’ve been a damn good son. “Why does that mean nothing?”

  “It’s not what we do. We retire. We are lifers.”

  “So what if I’m not?” The question was met with complete silence. With each passing second, each moment his father had to make a fresh start with his son and chose not to, it became easier to say what was on his mind. “I’m not a lifer. I didn’t want to be a lifer when I joined. And I don’t want to now. The only thing I can think of that would be worse than staying in for another ten years would be losing the two things I want more than anything else because I couldn’t get my head out of my ass long enough to realize I was living another person’s dream, and they didn’t even appreciate me for it.”

  “Don’t speak like that to me. Don’t you dare speak like that to me.” Something slammed in the background, and Jeremy could easily see his father pounding a fist on a table, rattling coasters. “I raised you by myself. I did what I could for you. Showed you how good the Corps could be for a man. What a good life it provided.”

  “And I’m grateful. But Dad, how far do you expect that to go? You want me to repay you for keeping your own son around by doing what you want for the rest of my life? I’m a man, not a kid anymore. Would you seriously respect someone who couldn’t make their own decisions and had their father do all the thinking for them?”

  “That’s not what this is!” his father roared. Jeremy pulled the phone back a few inches and waited for the echo to die down.

  “That’s exactly what this is. I can’t apologize for it. I’m sad you’re upset about this, instead of hearing that my career was making me miserable.” God. It was all clicking into place now. Why hadn’t he been able to do this years ago? Why had he re-upped three years ago when he had the chance to get out?

  Maybe because you wouldn’t have met up with Madison again.

  Right. That. Oddly enough, the voice in his head sounded nothing like his, and very much like Skye’s. There was something to be said for Skye’s Fate theory.

  “Misery is temporary. And if you’d…” His father trailed off slowly, but thanks to his heavy breathing Jeremy knew he was still there. “You said you didn’t want to lose the two things you want more than anything else.”

  Had he?

  “What are they?”

  Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “My writing. And Madison O’Shay.”

  “Writing?” His father chuckled. “Writing. Writing… what? Books?”

  “Yes,” Jeremy ground out through his teeth.

  His father laughed a little harder. “And Madison O’Shay. That’s… that’s the…” He sucked in a breath around belly-deep laughs. “That’s the Navy nurse. Sister of your friend Tim. The lifer?”

  “That’s correct.”

  No longer able to hold back, his dad burst into laughter.

  Jeremy gave him two minutes before barking, “You done yet?”

  Winding down, a few stray laughs escaping, his father admitted he was.

  “Well, thanks. Your support means the world to me.” Every word oozed sarcasm.

  “Can’t say I expected this. And I’ll have to tell you, I’m not okay with it.” Back to his gruff self, not a chuckle in sight, he went on. “This isn’t the plan we laid out. You don’t toss away plans because of a distraction.”

  “They’re not distractions. They’re what I want. And they’re what I’m going to have.” If Madison is still willing to have me. “If you’ve got a problem with that, then…” Then what?

  “Then what?” his father asked, almost as a threat.

  “Then that’s all I have to say, I guess. I hope eventually you’ll change your mind. Call me when you do.”

  He hung up amidst his father’s protests. But he gave it another moment, waiting to see if his father called back, before closing the phone completely.

  So there it was. The official final straw. Jeremy walked over to his desk calendar and flipped a few months ahead. Taking into account the six weeks it would take before paperwork and other bureaucratic crap would be filed, and then adding on his terminal leave, he had a good four months left before he was actually out from under the military’s wing. In theory, anyway. He’d get a more exact date later.

  Plenty of time to follow up on the leads he received constantly from corporate recruiters to contract jobs to fellow Marines who’d gotten out recently and loved their jobs.

  He jiggled the mouse a little and smiled when the screen of his computer came to life. Writing was his passion. And until he could make it a living, he’d find another job. No problem. But he’d always write. And hopefully it would start paying off soon.

  But in the meantime, he had a girl to win.

  Chapter 21

  “You want a water?” Matthew called from his kitchen.

  Madison dropped down on one end of his couch. “Sure.” Her voice cracked a little, and she scowled into the empty room. She had to shake this. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she looked around the room for a distraction. And found herself realizing that even when in another man’s apartment, she couldn’t stop thinking of Jeremy.

  Matthew’s home was the polar opposite of Jeremy’s place. Open, airy, decorated perfectly with little personal touches here and there. A painting, a picture frame, a bowl full of interesting pebbles. Of course, Madison knew her friend hadn’t done any of it himself. An old boyfriend chose the décor and did the hard work. Matthew just paid for the furniture and was glad to have the decision out of his hand.

  Matthew walked back to the couch in his apartment and sank down at the other end, completely opposite from Madison. She smiled and shook her head.

  “You don’t have to give me space. I’m not mad at you.”

  “I know. I just wanted some room so I could stretch out my legs.” With that, he plopped his feet down by her butt on the cushion. “There. That’s better. Now. Tell Matthew all your problems.” He handed her a bottle of water.

  Madison cracked the top open and took a drink, hoping the water would wash down the tears that crawled up her throat every time she thought about it. “That could take weeks. We don’t have that kind of time.”

  “Right, this is true. But we have until our shift in a few hours.” Matthew reached over and grabbed the leg of her jeans and hauled her around until she faced him, her own feet draped over his thighs, her back pressed against the arm of the couch. “And since we can’t guarantee a good time to talk in the ER, let’s go ahead and talk now.”

  Madison shuddered at the reminder of being back at the ER again. “Don’t remind me. It’ll be bad enough when we get th
ere.” She thought for a moment, tapping the bottle cap against her chin. “I think I might see about working my way in to surgery. I think that’s where I belong.”

  “Really? Not full-time OB?” Matthew reached and snatched the bottle from her to take a sip of his own. “Color me shocked.” He raised a brow. “And won’t that be like asking for more deployments?”

  “More? I haven’t even gone once yet. Not that I’m dying to,” she added when his brow only raised further. “My number just hasn’t been called, as they say. But if that’s the result, well, so be it. If I’m happy with my job, then that’s what matters. I didn’t exactly join the military under false pretenses, thinking it would be a cakewalk. I figured I’d go over to play in the sandbox eventually.”

  “And are you?”

  “Am I what?” She gave up on her water and grabbed a magazine off his coffee table, mostly to have something to occupy her twitchy hands.

  “Happy.”

  “Hmm. That’s a hard one. I like my job. No, love. I love my job. I have my family, my friends. A new place to myself—minus Veronica, of course, but I chose her, so clearly I wanted her—and so what’s left?” She glanced down at the magazine and saw the picture of some new Hollywood couple staring back at her with glowing smiles and eyes full of love, as if nothing could stand between them and eternal devotion. She mentally scoffed at them. Don’t you have a lot to learn? She opened to the table of contents, where she wouldn’t have to look at them.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a mysterious, brooding Marine who looks at you like you’re his everything and you have the power to devastate him with one careless word?”

  Madison’s hand froze mid-page turn, and she narrowed her eyes. “Drama much? Stop DVRing General Hospital. It’s not good for your psyche.”

  “Fine. But simply using his name is so much less of a punch. Jeremy. What’s left is Jeremy.”

  “Jeremy’s a friend.” She held up the magazine and pointed. “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s a bandage dress.”

  “A what?” She glanced again at the glazed-eyed starlet in the dress so tight it made her look fat. Which was a little odd, since she probably weighed ninety-two pounds soaking wet.

  He sighed in exasperation. “A dress that wraps around like a bandage. It’s super-tight, and as you can tell, it’s not always flattering, depending on the cut. Now stop stalling.” He ripped the magazine from her hand and tossed it over his shoulder.

  “It’s nothing.” She raised her hands over her head and stretched her back. “We agreed it wasn’t going to last. I knew that going in. So I don’t exactly have room to complain.”

  “I must say, that’s very grown-up.” He set the bottle on the coffee table. “Much more mature than I could ever be.”

  “That’s because you have the maturity of a fifth-grader,” she said wisely.

  “Do not.”

  “Do too.”

  Matthew laughed. “And I’m the only fifth-grader here?”

  Despite her poor mood, Madison smiled. “I’m rubber and you’re glue.”

  “Quite frankly, I’m glad you’re over the whole thing. Since that’s the case, I have something else to talk to you about.”

  “Hmm?”

  “There’s this guy…”

  She smiled and patted his leg. “Tell Madison all about him,” she said, playing on his earlier words.

  Matthew threw a pillow at her. “Not for me. For you.”

  “Me?” She was stunned. And not really in a good way.

  “Sure. He’s a friend from high school and now conveniently lives pretty close by. He’s cute—for which you know I’m actually a reliable source on that—was always a good guy in high school. Athletic, but not a meathead. Actually, he was a golfer, if I remember correctly…”

  “Matthew.” She couldn’t breathe very well.

  “Shh, you’ll get your turn in a minute. Anyway, he does something with computers right now. Goes from company to company helping them shore up against hackers and things like that. Security stuff. Pretty intense, but seems like it’s a good, solid job.”

  “Matthew,” she tried again, a bit louder. Why did her stomach hurt all of a sudden? And that ringing in her ears… Was she developing tinnitus?

  “Oh!” Matthew clapped his hands and rubbed them together, an unholy gleam in his eyes. “Let’s go get my laptop and Facebook stalk him. I’m friends with the guy. Total access to his pictures and profile.”

  “No.” Madison pressed a hand to her stomach. Definitely feeling ill.

  “You’re right. Why move off the couch when we’re comfortable right where we are?” He dug in his jeans pocket to pull out his phone. “I’ve got the Facebook app. I’ll do it here. You just wait, give me a minute and I’ll—Ow!” He jerked one leg back, rubbing along his shin. “What the hell?”

  She sighed. “If you’d let me get a word in edgewise then I wouldn’t have to pinch you.”

  “That wasn’t a pinch. You pulled leg hair.” He grimaced and rubbed harder. “Exactly why do women get waxed again?”

  “For reasons you’ll never know.” Madison sat back. “I’m not interested in Boy Wonder you have stashed in your friend list.”

  “Any reason why not?”

  She bit her lip. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Prove it.”

  “And back to fifth grade we go.” He grabbed the water bottle and took another sip before passing it to her. “Look, if the guy means that much to you, then fight.”

  “I tried.”

  “Fight harder. Break out the big guns. Cry if you need to.”

  “Tears are the big guns?” she asked skeptically.

  “Yeah, sure. Girls are great criers. Beg. Leave your pride at the door and weep at his feet. Show him the pain.”

  Madison pointed the capped bottle at him. “Okay, one? Completely offensive that just because I’m a girl, you think I can cry on command.”

  “Can’t you?”

  “Yes. Comes standard issue with every pair of ovaries. Not the point.”

  Matthew smirked.

  “Two? I’m not leaving my pride behind. If I wanted to do that, I’d quit the military myself. And I’m not about to give it up for a man.” Even the man she loved. “So, we’re back to square one.”

  Matthew shrugged. “Was worth a shot. So is there a plan B?”

  Madison nodded. “Of course there’s a plan B. There’s always a plan B. Plan B is to stick to my guns. Keep my chin up and hope eventually…” Suddenly, as if a dam broke unexpectedly, her lip quivered and she pulled her legs up tightly against her chest. Through a shuddery breath, she finished, “And hope eventually it stops hurting so much.”

  “Oh, baby. Come here.” Matthew sat up straight and pulled her across his lap, legs draped over his thighs, her head on his shoulder. Long arms went around her, and for a moment, while her tears soaked the cotton of his T-shirt, she could believe that this was all she needed. Friendship. Platonic love and commitment.

  As she sniffled, she said, “We should just move in together and spend the rest of our lives with each other. Like Will and Grace, but without that awkward part where they tried to have a baby together.”

  Matthew smoothed a hand down her hair, briskly rubbing over her upper arm. “That’s very thoughtful of you, sweetie, but I’ve got a man on the hook and I’m close to reeling him in. That might make for very uncomfortable cuddle sessions.”

  Damn. That didn’t work out either. Would none of the men in her life cooperate? “Guess I’ll just have to toughen up. I’m in the military, after all.”

  “Oh please. You don’t have to be tough to be in the military. They let me in, after all.”

  “No, they didn’t,” she said with a reluctant smile. “You’r
e a civilian nurse.”

  “Hmm. I guess I have to say they have excellent taste then.”

  She laughed, partly because it was funny and partly because he wanted her to. “You always manage to make me feel better. Thanks, Will.”

  “You’re welcome, Grace.”

  A few quiet moments passed by.

  “So, are you going to go out and buy a red curly wig now? Ouch! Stop doing that! I can’t have bald patches on my legs. Tony is going to think I’m weird!”

  Madison smiled into his shirt. Men. Such babies.

  ***

  Once more.

  No.

  It won’t hurt anything.

  Absolutely not.

  But maybe if I just…

  Veronica sighed, hating the feeling of indecision pressing against her chest. Her finger hovered over the mouse like a trigger, hesitant to pull back. The past ten minutes had been a continuous argument with herself over whether she should use Skype to call Dwayne.

  On the one hand, she’d done it once before, and he seemed to appreciate the gesture. He’d been nice, and he’d needed the support. Not to mention, she’d enjoyed herself as well.

  On the other hand, she had nothing to tell him. Nothing to share. No messages from friends to pass on. No true excuse for making the call.

  But she still wanted to. Like an addict, she’d become used to their chats, infrequent though they were. And for some reason, she simply felt the overwhelming desire to call him again. On purpose. Once more, like she had before.

  It was so forward of her. One time could be excused as a silly lark. Or an accident. But twice was intentional. And not at all her style. If she even had style…

  Huh.

  If she left her previous life behind because she didn’t care for how things were going, and this was the opposite of what the former Veronica would have done… didn’t that mean it was the perfect thing for the new Veronica to do?

  She shook her head. That barely made sense even in her own mind. Time for action, no more thinking.

  Her nerves tingled with some strange, hypersensitive mixture of excitement and anticipation. Or maybe they were responding to her sweating palms out of sheer terror. Just like she’d felt the first time she dialed him. But he’d appreciated it, that much he’d said. He wanted to hear from friends. It helped. He swore it did.