“Bree.”
“I’m okay. Just really tired. I can’t sleep with those damn helicopters buzzing around all night.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?”
“I’m sure. How’s the Belliveau house?”
“Fine. There was a leak from a new fixture in the kitchen, but it was tiny. Not the flood it was described to be,” she said, laying Hannah in her crib and covering her with a blanket. “Why don’t you go home and try to get some rest.”
“But what about—”
“I can handle things from here on out now that crisis has been averted. So go on.” Marie waved her hand, shooing her from the room. “Go get some sleep before the sun goes down and those men of ours start invading the damn town again. As a matter of fact, I might do the very same.”
Maybe Marie was right. An afternoon nap might be the very thing she needed to shake the funk she was in. Bree gathered Hannah’s bath towels and yogurt-covered pj’s and headed downstairs for the laundry room. After changing back into her own clothes, she grabbed her handbag from the counter.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said to Marie as she passed by her on the way out.
“All right. And Bree—”
After fishing her car keys out from the bottom of her purse, she turned to look back at her friend.
“Just so you know, I cried at the drop of a hat with each of my kids. Any chances you’re pregnant?” The look on Marie’s face was so hopeful the tears were an indicator of something to celebrate.
She mustered the best smile she could under the circumstances. “Afraid not,” she said, stopping in the doorway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Bree closed the front door behind her and could only hope that tomorrow things would be better.
GOD, HOW HE loved airfield seizure training. It was, after all, the 75th’s specialty. Need to topple some foreign government? First things first: send in the Rangers to parachute behind enemy lines in the dark of night and take over their airfields. Which was made all the more interesting if the assholes’ Spidey-senses started to twinge and they decided to park every damn vehicle they could find on the runways to prevent the military planes from landing. Like that would stop them from coming anyway. He could still remember the day when he found out hot-wiring cars would become an essential part of his military training.
Then there were the night jumps out of a C–17 while loaded down with a shit ton of equipment. For many of the guys, the airborne component was a necessary evil. Despite their fear of heights, they sucked it up and jumped because all the best jobs in the military required it. But for him, the sweet build of anticipation made his insides tingle from the moment he hooked on to the static line and made his way to the door, followed by a brief moment of terror when he bailed out into the pitch-black sky. Then, once his parachute was fully opened and untangled, a sense of peace washed over him as he floated to earth.
The only thing he didn’t like—the landings. Controlled crash would be more accurate. And if there was a call for a medic through the headset, well then, that sucked. Because it meant someone had likely jacked an ankle or knee if not something worse. But if you were one of the lucky ones who made it to your feet, that was when the real fun began with explosions and gunfire and dirt bikes racing around and every fucking kind of aircraft imaginable circling the skies above you.
Goddamn, he loved his job.
In the past three days he’d managed maybe seven hours of sleep. And just like every other guy in 1st Batt when they’d go op-tempo, he’d survived on three things: adrenaline, caffeine, and Copenhagen.
As he made his way to the mess hall along with the other guys for lunch, he saw his brother for the first time all week. He sped up to catch him. “Any word on Rodriguez?” His fellow squad leader had been one of the unfortunate ones the night before when his left foot found a hole in the ground upon landing and his ankle rolled over on him.
“Not yet. Sent him for an MRI. Best guess is an ATFL tear.”
“Damn. Surgery?”
“Nothing broken but it looked pretty nasty. I’d be surprised if he didn’t have surgery.”
Which meant Rodriguez would be out of commission not just weeks, but likely months, until his rehab was complete. Looked like Osweiler could get his first shot as squad leader sooner than he expected.
“How does Bree like her new oncologist?”
The question took Danny by complete surprise. He knew she’d have follow-ups. They’d discussed that much. But when he promised not to hover, he honestly thought she’d at least keep him in the loop without requiring him to press the issue. Obviously not. And yet, Michael was once again in the know.
He schooled his expression as best he could. “We haven’t had the chance to really talk this week. Just a text message here and there.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed as if he knew damn well Danny was lying to him. Thankfully, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, distracting him for the moment. “I’m needed in the clinic,” Michael said as he read the screen. He slapped Danny on the back of his shoulder as he headed off. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Sure thing.”
He watched his brother walk away as he stood there feeling as if he’d just been smacked upside the head with a two-by-four.
She’d promised. Bree had looked him in the eye and promised to keep him informed, whether there was any news, good or bad.
For the past five weeks they’d been sharing not only a bed, but their lives together, too. He’d made a point to be open and honest with her, to answer all of her questions. He’d explained why he’d left without saying goodbye ten years before and why he didn’t like returning home to Myrtle Beach. To regain her trust, to make himself worthy of her, he knew he had to be completely forthcoming. So it grated to learn she hadn’t done the same. And to pour salt into an old wound, she’d entrusted her secrets to his brother instead.
Danny took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to rein in his anger. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and fired off a text message.
Just checking in. Everything going okay this week?
All through lunch he kept checking his phone for a reply. By the time he had to stow his phone away in his locker, he still hadn’t heard from her. Night had fallen before he had a chance to check his phone again. Still, he found absolutely nothing.
Chapter Twenty
BREE DUMPED HER plate and napkin in the trash and grabbed a second bottled water from a nearby ice chest. Spending the day at Charlie Company’s family picnic really wasn’t her idea of fun at the moment, especially since Marie was at home with Hannah, leaving her with no one to chat with. And yet, at the same time, she was secretly grateful since the past two days she’d submersed herself in a stack of invoices and payables, effectively avoiding any lingering questions from Marie.
She really needed to find her way out of this funk. She’d survived lows before, often with a dash of anger, but this was different. This time it lingered.
Far away from the wives and girlfriends and little ones running wild, Bree found a shady spot beneath an oak tree. A group of boys gathered around Danny as he held a baseball and showed them different grips then adjusted their fingers once they took the ball in their hands. He ruffled their hair, adjusted their caps. Demonstrated how to position their feet to make a pitch. He called out warnings to innocent bystanders and chased down errant throws. He was so good with them. Patient. Her entire life she’d known he’d be a good dad someday.
“Hey, there.”
Bree shielded her eyes from the sun to see Michael standing next to her. “I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”
He shrugged then plopped down on the ground next to her. “Haven’t talked to you in a while. I saw you sitting over here by yourself and thought I’d say hi.” From the look on his face, her gut said th
is would likely end up being more of a therapy session than friendly conversation. “So, how are things going?”
She turned her attention back to the ball field. “Fine as always.”
Michael chuckled. “Now I know something is wrong. No woman I’ve ever known has used the word fine and meant it.”
Bree blew out a breath. “Honestly, it’s taking a great deal of effort to not bite your head off right about now.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
She glanced at her phone for the time, wondering how much longer they’d be here. What she really wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed and just be left in peace and quiet.
“Earlier this week I asked Danny how your appointment with the oncologist went.” Michael reclined back on his elbows. “It was pretty obvious you hadn’t told him anything about it.”
“There’s nothing to tell. Just normal screening stuff. You know that.”
“That’s the problem, Bree. I know that, but he doesn’t. The less you tell him, the more scared he gets.”
Now he was getting dramatic. “You don’t know that.”
“Did he do something? Say something to make you so upset? I have no problem kicking his ass if he’s hurt you in any way—”
“He didn’t do anything. I’m just having a hard time right now, that’s all.”
“You might as well tell me what the problem is,” he said, plucking at the long grass with his fingers. “I’ve got all day and nowhere to be.”
“You want to know what my problem is?” She waited until his eyes met hers then directed his attention to two little girls practicing cartwheels. “That is my problem. And that.” Directing his attention to a woman pushing a stroller. “And that.” Finally pointing at Danny as he helped a young boy with his swing.
He sat up straight now. “If that’s how you’re feeling at the moment, then why are you here torturing yourself? Danny knew there’d be a ton of kids—” Michael swore under his breath. “Have you told him anything, Bree? Anything at all?”
Hot tears burned her eyes and a heavy dose of guilt settled squarely upon her chest.
“My brother went above and beyond for you and this is how you treat him?”
Out of answers, she popped up to her feet and headed for the parking lot.
AFTER SPENDING THE last few minutes hitting fly balls to a group of boys, Danny glanced over to where Bree and Michael had been sitting only to find them gone. As much as he hated to admit it, he hoped his brother could succeed where he’d failed and get Bree to socialize a little bit. He hated seeing her so down and if Michael could cheer her up, then so be it.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the bright pink shirt she wore. And by the time he realized she was headed for the parking lot, he noticed Mike jogging to catch up and slinging an arm over her shoulder.
Enough with this bullshit. He was tired of being on the outside looking in. Tired of their whispered conversations about her diagnosis, her ongoing treatments. Tired of them making him look like a fool.
This ended. Now.
He dropped the bat on the ground and followed after them. A large SUV blocked his view as he approached, but the moment he rounded the back of the vehicle, he got one hell of an eyeful. Bree in his brother’s embrace, her face buried in his chest while Mike stroked her back.
In his head he knew nothing remotely sexual was going on, but fuck if his heart didn’t give a damn. The idea she would accept comfort from his own brother instead of confiding her fears and insecurities in him, instead of telling her husband, temporary or not, made him want to rage.
Everything slowed. Blood rushed in his ears. His heart pounded in his chest. The fury inside reached the point he could no longer contain it.
After three quick steps and in one swift motion, he pulled Bree away from his brother’s arms and swung with his opposite hand. Danny’s fist connected with his brother’s face, the crunching of bone against bone louder than Bree’s screams.
But he didn’t stop with the single blow. Danny threw another and another until Michael retaliated and connected with punches of his own. The first shot connected with Danny’s mouth and he welcomed the grinding of teeth and copper taste of blood from his freshly split lip. Adrenaline surged through his veins and in that moment he felt invincible.
“Jesus Christ! Knock it the fuck off before you’re both court-martialed!” came a voice from behind them.
Ignoring the voice, Danny charged ahead, dropping his shoulder, pounding into his brother’s torso as if he were a tackling dummy. Although Michael had squared his body to prepare for the attack, the momentum still knocked him to the ground. Each throwing multiple blows until Bull hauled Danny to his feet and dragged him backward by both arms.
Seeing the opportunity to sucker punch him, Michael hopped to his feet and swung.
“Get your fucking head on straight, Danny!” he yelled.
Gibby stepped between the two of them and placed his hands on Michael’s chest to put some distance between them.
“I’m not the one cozying up to another man’s wife!”
“I wasn’t doing anything with Bree!”
“What the fuck are you even doing here? Don’t you know better than to fraternize with lowly enlisted men?”
“You’re right. My mistake,” Michael said, raising his hands in the air. “I was just leaving.”
It took more than a few deep breaths for Danny to settle himself down. Bull waited by his side, more likely than not to ensure he didn’t find any more trouble.
His hands still shook from the adrenaline coursing through his body and only once his heart rate and nerves settled could he even bear to look at his wife. Except by the time that came about, she was gone. And so was his truck.
Shit.
He’d truly fucked up this time.
HOURS PASSED BEFORE Gibby returned Danny to his apartment. Before they even pulled into the parking lot, Danny knew the Tahoe wouldn’t be there. He’d tried calling her cell phone several times, but each time it went straight to voice mail.
As he climbed the stairs he wondered what he would find. Would her things be gone? Did he embarrass her enough, make her angry enough, that she’d packed up all her belongings and left town? He opened the door to their darkened apartment and made his way down the hall, peeking in the spare bedroom and then the one they shared. At first glance it didn’t appear she’d left him. At least not yet.
He wanted to try her phone again, but pride stopped him. Ten attempts already. It was her turn now.
A quick shower helped with his disposition although his mood darkened a bit when his phone showed he hadn’t missed any calls. Fixing things with Bree obviously would have to wait until she gave him the time of day. Of course, that wasn’t the only fixing needing to be done. Danny grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from atop the refrigerator and headed out across the courtyard.
A sharp pain shot from hand to elbow as he knocked on Mike’s front door. He was shaking his hand to ease the discomfort when the door opened.
“Still hurts, huh?” his brother asked, holding an ice pack to his own cheek.
“Not so much.”
“Liar.”
Mike pushed the door open wide in silent invitation.
Without asking, Danny went into the kitchen, took two glasses from the cabinet, and walked back into the living room. Setting them both on the coffee table, he poured a healthy amount of Jack into each glass then slid one across the wooden top in Mike’s direction.
His brother stared at him through narrowed eyes then finally reached for his glass.
Danny followed suit and swore silently when the first sip of bourbon set his busted lip on fire. He pressed a finger against the wound to temporarily ease the ache
. Thankfully, the burning eased and numbness quickly followed.
“Your mouth okay?” Mike asked before taking a drink of his own.
“Yeah. You?” Danny pointed to his brother’s bruised cheekbone.
Mike touched the corner of his eye, the swelling evident when he pressed with his fingertips. “Barely felt a thing. You hit like a goddamn girl.”
Danny laughed. “Who’s the liar now?”
Ignoring him, Mike went to the kitchen, pulled a plastic grocery bag from a cabinet, and filled it with ice. “I’m going to assume nothing is broken in your hand, not that you’d let me or any other doctor look at it anyway. Do me one favor? Amuse me and put this on your hand.”
Reluctantly, Danny took the bag from him. But before he obliged the good doctor, he opened the bag, removed a few pieces of ice, and dropped them into his glass.
His brother shook his head and dropped in the chair across from him. “Good Lord, you are a lazy ass.”
“Resourceful is what I am.”
They shared a laugh, but the silence quickly returned. Danny pulled his phone from his pocket and set it on top of the table. No messages. No missed calls.
“Anything from Bree?”
Danny shook his head. “You haven’t heard from her, have you?” He hated the desperation in his voice. Even more, he hated the possibility she’d called Mike while steadily avoiding him.
“No, I haven’t.” Mike scooted forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “Danny, surely you know there’s nothing going on between us.”
“I know, I know. Temporary insanity, I guess. I just feel like she’s intentionally shutting me out of her life.”
“She is.”
He said it so matter-of-fact-like, it struck him with the same force as the earlier blow to his face.
“Believe me when I say I’ve been asking her to talk to you. There’s a lot going on in that head of hers that’s no fault of yours.”
Once and For All: An American Valor Novel Page 19