A Reason to Love

by Alexis Morgan

  “Don’t you have someplace better to be?”

  She shrugged. “Obviously not.”

  Okay, that cracked him up or maybe it was the beer laughing. He took another long drink and set the empty bottle to the side. After a few more swallows, the haze was back, softening the edges of everything that had happened. Tomorrow, he’d probably hate himself for how he’d acted at the church, and he figured a world-class hangover would be suitable punishment.

  At least Liam kept the beer coming. He’d stop by every so often with two more bottles and to take the empties away. On the last trip, he grinned at Melanie. Spence looked over to see what the man found so entertaining. Her head was nodding, as if she couldn’t keep her eyes open another minute. This despite having finished off the entire carafe of coffee by herself.

  Liam walked away, his shoulders shaking as if he were laughing. Clearly he found the pair of them amusing for some reason. Right now Spence was too drunk to care.

  As a rule, he’d never been much of a drinker, mostly because his bastard of an uncle had been a mean drunk. Spence was adopted, so they hadn’t crawled out of the same gene pool. Even so, he had seen up close and personal what a lifetime of hard drinking did to a man. He had more respect for himself than that, or at least he used to. By now he’d lost count of how many beers he’d had.

  Too many by anyone’s count.

  He’d also lost track of time. How long ago had Melanie fallen asleep? She looked pretty damn uncomfortable wedged there in the corner with her back against the wall, her legs up on the bench, and her head angled against the back of the seat. What should he do about that? He blinked several times to clear his mind. It didn’t work, but he had to do something.

  “Hey, Melanie.”

  No response. He tried again, louder this time. “Melanie! Wake up. It’s time for you to hit the road.”

  She shifted, but her eyes remained closed. He reached across the table to shake her. “Mel, wake up. You need to go home.”

  Damn it, he meant it this time. She couldn’t risk being seen like this. She was stone-cold sober, but anyone who saw her would think she was passed-out drunk. That was his goal in life right now, not hers. When he shook her again, she batted at him with her hand but still didn’t wake up. Had she always been this stubborn? He caught her flailing hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Wake up before Liam throws your sleeping ass out into the Dumpster.”

  • • •

  Melanie wanted to burrow deeper under the covers and ignore the guy telling her to wake up, especially because his voice sounded an awful lot like Spence Lang’s. That couldn’t be, though. Everyone knew Spence was dead. She hated knowing that, and if she woke up right now, even the dream Spence would disappear. She reached for the blankets and found none.

  Reality slowly filtered in. She wasn’t in bed; she was in a bar. And the voice she heard wasn’t coming from a phantom Spence, but the real thing. Her eyes finally fluttered open. Still thickheaded and confused, she sat up taller and looked around.

  Spence settled back into the corner of his side of the booth. His eyes looked as bleary as hers felt. He saluted her with a half-empty beer bottle. “Yeah, you’re really here.”

  Dropping her feet back down on the floor, she smiled back at him. “So are you.”

  That simple truth improved both her cognition and her mood considerably. Meanwhile, Liam must have been watching, because he appeared with a pot of coffee in his hand. He filled her cup and shoved it in front of her. “It’s almost closing time. Drink that before you go.”

  Melanie wrapped her hands around the mug and stared down at the hot liquid as she soaked up its warmth. After a few seconds, she finally doctored it with cream and sugar and took a sip.

  She shuddered. “God, that’s strong. It tastes like pure caffeine.”

  Not that it kept her from chugging it down. The taste improved only slightly after she toned it down with two more packets of sugar and another one of those little plastic tubs of half-and-half. As soon as she finished it off, she picked up her purse. It was way past time to head home.

  “Okay, Spence, finish that last one so we can go.”

  He reached for the beer. “Yeah, I should walk you out to your car. Not safe for a woman. There’s a bunch of drunks around.”

  She didn’t point out that he was one of those himself. After he downed the beer, he set it down with a loud clink and carefully lined it up with a neat double row of others just like it.

  He cocked his head to the side to admire his work. “There, neat and tidy like a squad of soldiers reporting for duty.”

  As he studied them, his smile looked a bit loopy. “I’ll be back, guys. Just gotta see the lady out.”

  Melanie didn’t bother to correct him. Once she got him outside, she wasn’t about to let him head back into the bar. For one thing, he’d had enough to drink. Spence might have good reasons for consuming that much alcohol, but he would suffer tomorrow for it. Besides, the bar was about to close.

  When he stood up, though, he reeled from side to side as if the whole world had done a back spin, and he stumbled slightly as if the floor rippled beneath his feet. Flailing his arms for balance, he staggered across the aisle to bump up hard against the empty booth on the other side of the aisle.

  Spence narrowed his eyes and glared at everyone in the bar. “Whoa! What the hell just happened?”

  Using the exaggerated care of the thoroughly drunk, he managed to stand upright again. At least he was smart enough to hang on to the back of the booth for support. “Did someone push me?”

  When no one immediately confessed, he pushed off in the direction of the bar and muttered, “Sneaky bastards.”

  It happened again, but this time Melanie grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders while she put hers around his waist. After two steps, the two of them settled into a steady rhythm.

  Yeah, that was better. Definite progress being made here. Their friendly neighborhood bartender stood waiting for them at the bar. She kept one arm around Spence and used her free hand to dig in her purse for her wallet. “How much do we owe you?”

  Liam waved her off and held out a receipt. “Your soldier gave me his credit card number, so I put everything on his tab. Figured he should foot the bill.”

  Spence immediately nodded like a bobbleheaded doll and looked proud of his own generosity. “Right. My treat.”

  Liam followed as they shuffled toward the door. “How is he getting home?”

  Spence reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Dangling them in the air, he announced to one and all, “I’ve got my Harley outside. It’s a real beauty, too. I’ll ride it home.”

  Then he frowned. “Hey, come to think of it, I don’t have a home anymore. I gave it to Callie when I died.”

  Melanie wasn’t sure what to say to that. Where had he been planning on spending the night if he couldn’t stay in his own house? Meanwhile, Liam made a quick grab for Spence’s keys and then backed out of reach after shoving them in his own pocket. Spence made a futile attempt to steal them back.

  The other man stood his ground. “Sorry, Corporal, but you’re not driving anywhere tonight. The cops would have my license if I let someone in your condition out on the roads.”

  Spence looked insulted. “Hey, I’m not . . . What’s the word I’m thinking of?”

  He addressed that last part to Melanie, but it was Liam who answered. “Impaired, but that is exactly what you are, my friend. Now, let me help you out to the lady’s car. I’ll make sure your bike is safe. You can pick it up here tomorrow.”

  Spence was clearly prepared to stand there and argue, but he was looking worse by the second. If they didn’t get him poured into her car soon, they’d most likely have to scrape him up off the floor. She did her best to move him off dead center toward the door. Finally, he cooperated enough to get him moving.
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br />   Liam opened the door for her and then helped her guide Spence’s faltering steps outside. “I’m parked over there.”

  Outside, the parking lot was bright from the full moon high overhead. How long had they been in there, anyway? Hours upon hours, judging by the nearly empty parking lot. When she got Spence to the car, she propped him against the quarter panel until she had the door unlocked and open.

  “Get in, Spence, and buckle up.”

  He grumbled a bit, but he did as she said. While he got settled, she crossed over to where Liam stood by Spence’s bike. He was busy pulling stuff out of the saddlebags. He held out a leather shaving kit and a few articles of clothing.

  “Here, this should be enough to do him until tomorrow. Tell him I’ll have his motorcycle locked up in the garage out back. No harm will come to it.”

  She accepted the stack of Spence’s things. “Thanks for everything, Liam.”

  He looked past her toward the car, his eyebrows drawn down low and his mouth set in a hard frown. “Something has been niggling at me all night. It’s like his name is familiar, but I know I’ve never met him before tonight.”

  How much should she share? After all, there was a lot she didn’t know herself. “Spence grew up here in Snowberry Creek, but as far as I know, he hasn’t been home for years. I don’t know a lot of the specifics about his time serving in Afghanistan other than his vehicle hit an IED. His two friends survived, but there was a second explosion. All they found were his dog tags, and he was reported as killed in action.”

  She paused, finding it difficult to continue. “Spence saw his own headstone earlier tonight.”

  “Son of a bitch, no wonder he ended up here.” Liam’s eyes glittered in the darkness, staring toward her car. Finally, he turned his attention back to her. “Do you have someplace to take him? I’ve got a cot in the storeroom if he needs a place to crash.”

  She’d already considered driving Spence to the nearest motel but had rejected it as being too far to go, not to mention how late it was. Maybe dumping Spence on Liam’s cot would be the smart thing to do, but she already knew she was going to turn down his kind offer. Spence deserved better than to wake up in the morning surrounded by cases of beer and hard liquor.

  “He can stay at my place for tonight.”

  Liam didn’t argue, but he did ask, “Is there someone there to help you in case he gets rowdy?”

  No, she was alone, just like Spence. “We’ll be fine. Thank you again for everything, but we should get going.”

  “I hope he appreciates what you’re doing for him, Melanie. If he doesn’t, let me know, and I’ll kick his ass for you.”

  She laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good night, Liam.”

  By the time she had the car started, their host was astride Spence’s Harley and revving the engine. Hoping she was doing the right thing by entrusting the bike to Liam’s care, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

  “We’re going to my house, Spence. Hope that’s okay.”

  A soft snore was his only response.

  Chapter 5

  The moment Spence opened his eyes, he slammed them shut again. Thanks to the sunlight streaming in the window, it felt as if his eyes were being stabbed with shards of broken glass while some bastard pounded a bass drum inside his head.

  It was a vicious combination that made it impossible to figure out answers to his two most pressing questions. How far was the nearest bathroom? And where the hell was he, anyway? Only one way to find out.

  This time he used greater caution and peeked out at the world through narrow slits. Rolling his head to the side, he studied his surroundings. Nothing looked even vaguely familiar, leaving him just as confused about how he came to be sleeping in this bed. Obviously, if he was going to find answers to his questions, he’d have to hunt them down.

  Bracing himself for a renewed surge of pain, Spence rolled up to sit on the edge of the bed. His head spun and his stomach lurched, but at least he could take pride in the fact that he’d managed to stay vertical and not puke on the carpet. Progress was being made.

  After the dizziness was under control, he slowly stood up. A quick look down showed he was wearing yesterday’s boxers and T-shirt. He spotted his ACUs folded in a neat pile on the dresser with his boots sitting side by side on the floor. His shaving kit was there, too, along with a thick green towel, a matching washcloth, and a bottle of aspirin.

  Okay, someone else had to be around. If he’d been alone, his clothes would be scattered on the floor, not squared away. Growing more curious by the second, he made his way around the edge of the bed to look out the window. He closed his eyes and then opened them again to verify what he was seeing. Nothing had changed. It was all real, and he now knew exactly where he was.

  Wow, somehow he’d spent the night in the Wolfe House, which was on the local historical register and had a sign on the front fence to prove it. Definitely not the kind of place that took in strays like him. How the hell did he get there? He closed his eyes again and tried to recall the events that had brought him to this point.

  Rolling the clock back, he remembered riding into town and stopping at the cemetery. That’s right. Melanie Wolfe had found him standing over his own grave. He shoved that WTF moment to the back of the line and kept going. They’d left for the church, where he’d watched Callie marry Nick. Skipping over the details of that disaster, he concentrated on what had happened next.

  He’d left the church, looking for the closest watering hole. Someone had been there with him—Melanie. Bits and pieces from the rest of the night came pouring back with a vengeance. He had vague memories of a long, double row of beer bottles lined up on the table in front of him. God, no wonder his head was so fucked up. He hadn’t consumed that much beer at one time in years.

  He had more questions to add to his list. Why had Melanie decided to keep him company instead of going to her friend’s wedding reception? And why would she drag his worthless ass home with her?

  All things considered, he was surprised that her mother hadn’t come after him with a rolling pin for daring to cross their threshold. Hell, Mrs. Wolfe and her husband had never had much use for him back when Spence and Melanie were in high school. He could only imagine her reaction to the sorry condition he’d been in last night. The woman he remembered would’ve tossed him out to sleep in a ditch somewhere.

  Well, he couldn’t hide in this room all day. He also probably owed Melanie an apology—or maybe a dozen—as well as his thanks for sticking with him last night.

  He picked up his pants and yanked them on. Grabbing the towel and his kit, he headed out the door. Before he faced anyone, he needed a hot shower to clear his head. Once he was presentable, he would collect his boots and the rest of his gear, make his apologies, and disappear.

  Except how would he do that? He was pretty sure his Harley was still back at the bar. He had vague memories of the bartender lifting his keys to keep Spence from driving drunk. Smart of him. He had no need to risk his livelihood for a soldier on a full-out bender. If he’d let Spence ride out of there, he could’ve been held liable if anything had gone wrong. Even so, Spence was grateful.

  He’d thank the man when he got there to retrieve his wheels. How he’d even get there, though, was another problem in itself. Right now he was in no shape for a forced march across town, although he hated asking Melanie for another favor.

  He could always stop to refuel at the Creek Café with one of Frannie’s jumbo breakfast platters. A gallon or two of her ridiculously strong coffee would do the trick. That would have to be his fallback plan, though. His return to Snowberry Creek had caused enough of a stir last night, and he’d barely survived the experience. Postponing any further public appearances until after he was back in top form only made good sense.

  His plans made, he opened the door as quietly as he could and headed down the hal
lway in search of a bathroom.

  • • •

  Twenty minutes later, he was back in his temporary bedroom and unsure what to do next. That was one good thing about life in the military: What needed to be done at any given moment was rarely in doubt. Standing there having to figure it out for himself felt wrong somehow.

  He stared at his own image in the mirror over the dresser. “One step at a time, Corporal. One step at a time.”

  Those were the words the counselor had forced him to repeat from the first time they met after Spence had been rescued. Even now, he could hear Terry’s voice in his head, speaking in that maddening slow, Southern drawl of his. During their first few visits, Terry had done everything he could to get Spence to open up, to cough up all the gory details about the hell he’d been through. Spence had fought him tooth and nail, but he’d ended up spewing it all out anyway.

  Afterward, he’d felt as if he’d been turned inside out and upside down, but he’d been able to sleep through the night for the first time in months. The next visit was only marginally easier, but he’d come to trust Terry and the process. Although the man had used all the correct mumbo jumbo of his profession, in the end he’d boiled his advice down to a few words: Don’t rush. Don’t run. Take it easy. Better to take one slow step back toward normal and get it right than to run like hell only to fall on your face.

  Last night definitely qualified as a face-plant episode. It was time to take that next slow step. Gathering up his gear, he left the sanctuary of the bedroom and went in search of his hostesses.

  Out in the hall, he paused to listen. The house was strangely silent as he headed down the staircase that led down to the main floor. The enticing scent of fresh coffee led him around to the back of the house, where he found Melanie sitting alone at the kitchen table.