Embattled Minds (Military Romance) (Lost And Found Series)

by J. M. Madden

  Tightening the last bolt into the frame with his Leatherman, he deliberately made noise. She glanced at him and smiled, then seemed to catch herself. “Sorry, it’s a little strange having a man in my bedroom.”

  Zeke was unable to tear his gaze away from the pink tinge coloring her cheeks. Her straight hair was in another ponytail, disheveled yet sexy at the same time. He wanted to toss the elastic, just to see what she looked like with her hair down. Beautiful, of course, but he wanted to see it for himself.

  Another want he could add to his ever expanding, never-gonna-happen list.

  He pushed to his feet to stand in front of her. “I’m nobody.”

  *****

  Ember stared after Zeke’s retreating back. Why would he say that? He wasn’t really that down on himself, was he?

  They finished unpacking the larger items, then she locked up with her brand new key and they loaded into the vehicles to go back to her dad’s house. Drew fell asleep in the back seat, little action figure clutched in his hand.

  “I think one more load and we should be done,” she told Zeke, just to break the silence of the truck.

  He glanced at her. “Are you sure? S-seems like there’s still a l-lot of stuff there.”

  “I know, but I can’t take everything. I’m only taking what I know I’ve bought. Eventually Dad will get out of jail and come home.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “I feel guilty enough taking what I have. It’s going to break his heart when he discovers we’ve moved out.”

  “You can’t keep worrying about that,” he told her firmly. “If one of the-the waitresses came in, bl-black and blue, what would you have told her to do?”

  “Move out. And not to hesitate.”

  Zeke nodded, waving a big hand as if to say ‘there you have it’.

  In her mind, she knew she had taken the correct path. It was just hard telling her heart that.

  She ordered several pizzas to be delivered for lunch as they finished loading the trucks. The snow had tapered off and a weak Colorado sun was shining. While the guys ate, Ember wandered through the house, looking for things she’d forgotten. She ended at her father’s den, reluctant to enter. There probably wasn’t anything of hers inside, but she was going to check.

  When she opened the door, the smell of her father’s favorite leather chair rolled over her, and her heart clenched. She wished for a time when everything had been good. When Mom had been cooking in the kitchen and their shared laughter had filled the air.

  Dad’s worn scrapbook lay on the floor. Crossing the room, she retrieved the leather-bound tome and sank into the chair. A tumbler of his favorite Kentucky Bourbon sat on the end table, as if he’d just gotten up to close the blinds or tuck his grandson into bed. She flipped the book open to the page it had been spread to.

  It was a news article, dated from March first, nineteen sixty-eight. ‘The Marines have prevailed at the Battle of Huế…at the cost of 5000 civilian lives’. She recognized her father’s old Company name, and knew that he had been in Vietnam at that time. Her eyes drifted over the words of what had to be her father’s history.

  Zeke came in a few minutes later with a stack of pizza for her and a cola. Ember stared at the plate in his hand, honestly surprised he’d thought of her. “Thank you.”

  He set the cola beside the glass of bourbon. “If I’m bo-bothering you I can go.”

  She shook her head, looking back down at the news article. “Do you know anything about this battle? My father has never said anything about it. But there are several derogatory articles about it in here, and I recognize my father’s company name.”

  Zeke knelt on the floor beside the chair and she turned the book to him. He read for a few minutes, then glanced up at her self-consciously. “I didn’t get through the who-ole article, but I recognize the name. Huế, pronounced way, was a major cl-clash be-tween the North Vietcong and the Marines and South Vietnam. The N-north snatched power and held the city for a month. The Marines couldn’t get a break and were…outnumbered. But they f-f-fought on, and recaptured the city. B-but, most of it was gone. Like eighty p-percent of it. That was when support from home started to change.”

  “Really?” She’d never have known any of this, but was willing to take his word for it.

  He nodded, tilting his chin so that she didn’t see as much of his face. She’d noticed throughout the day that he would shift to keep the more damaged left side out of view.

  Wish he wouldn’t do that.

  Those marks were badges of courage. Nothing else.

  “They couldn’t get h-heavy…heavy artillery into the town, so they were l-l-l-l-literally under weapon fire every day. And they had an agreement with the g-g-government not to bomb anything. So they couldn’t get air support.”

  She flipped through a few pages of news articles, then came upon a page with an envelope stapled to it. There was something lumpy inside it. Curiosity got the better of her and she flipped it over, leaving it attached to the page. The envelope itself was open, so she slid her fingers inside the flap and fished out the item.

  A Purple Heart. Even she knew the significance of the medal.

  Zeke whistled through his teeth and reached out a finger to brush against the enamel. “They didn’t give these out very often b-back then, and a lot of times it was y-y-years after they’d returned home.”

  Why hadn’t Dad said something about this? She had known he’d been in the Marines but he’d never whispered a word about receiving the Purple Heart. Mom hadn’t mentioned it either. She flipped through the book and found another envelope, this one a small manila with ‘Frog Dog’ scrawled across the front. There were several more uniform ribbons and awards inside. She shook her head. “Why wouldn’t he be proud of these?”

  Zeke shrugged and his ice-blue eyes darkened. “S-sometimes you fall into…s-situations where you have no choice but to fight. A lot of guys don’t c-co-consider that being courageous.”

  Her throat tightened with emotion and she blinked hard. “It must have been one of these buddies that died.”

  He seemed to think the same thing, because he didn’t disagree. Carefully and reverently, he repackaged the ribbons and medals.

  Ember appreciated his care. It made her proud that her dad’s service could inspire that kind of respect.

  “Was your family in the military?”

  Blinking, he shook his head. “There may have been sh-short stints, but for the most p-p-p-part my family are farmers. They own a…d-dairy in Ohio.”

  She laughed and couldn’t help but reach out to squeeze his bulging deltoid muscle. Oh, yeah. “So that’s how you got so strong. You grew up drinking your milk like a good little boy.”

  His eyes flared with heat and he glanced away. “S-s-something like that.”

  Pushing to his feet, he set the book on her father’s desk, then turned to the shelves lining the far wall. Her father had a massive collection of books, on what seemed like every different subject. As she ate her pizza, she watched Zeke go from shelf to shelf, looking at the spines. He stopped to look at a book, and Ember caught her breath. Just the way he stood, with the light hitting his dirty blond hair, feet planted, faded blue T-shirt straining around his massive bicep, made her want to cross the room and snug herself up against his gorgeous ass. She’d wrap her arms around his waist and cuddle in.

  Reaching for the cola, she took a couple of huge swallows. The guy was helping her out, but all she could do was ogle him. Each of the others were cute too, in their own way and in spite of their injuries, but Zeke tugged at her heart.

  “Has he read all these?” he asked.

  Ember set her plate aside and stepped up beside him in front of the paperbacks shelf. “These, yes, some many times over. My dad always has a book close at hand. There’s a stack behind the bar at Frog Dog of loaners. His buddies come in here and there and they swap books. I guess it’s the masculine version of a book club.”

  He glanced at her and smiled.

 
“If you see something you’d like to read, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Just leave it at the bar when you’re done.”

  Zeke winced and reached out to run his finger over the spine of a recent bestseller. “I used to-to read a lot, but after the e-e-explosion I can’t… untangle words like I used to. Takes a long time.”

  “That must be so frustrating. Do you listen to books on tape?”

  His blue eyes twinkled as he looked down at her. “I do. Es-specially when I’m on surveillance.”

  She grinned at the enjoyment in his rough face, but he must have gotten uncomfortable with the attention, because he turned away.

  Ember pursed her lips in aggravation. Being injured the way he was, she wondered if he would even try to pursue an attraction. Maybe it was up to her to forge through his protective walls, so to speak.

  Zeke drifted over to her father’s guitar in the corner of the office. He stared at it for a few long moments, before glancing at her over his shoulder. “Mind?”

  She shook her head, curious what he would do with the old acoustic. It had seen better days and Dad kept it more for sentimental reasons than practical. Zeke picked it up and dust swirled away. He fitted it under his arm, running through chords to check to see if it was in tune. It wasn’t off by much, but his broad fingers tweaked and tightened until it was at perfect pitch. Seamlessly, he strummed the opening chords to “Home” by Michael Buble.

  Ember knew her mouth had to be hanging open, but she didn’t care. As if he couldn’t not, his deep voice fell into accompaniment. She stepped away to sink down into a chair, entranced by the broken man singing, eyes shut. Tendrils of need and longing crept into her heart, and it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. Tears filled her eyes.

  Almost halfway through the song, his fingers fumbled a note and he stopped singing. When she lifted her eyes to look at him, he stared at her as if he’d forgotten she were there. Jaw tight, emotion brimming in his eyes, he set the guitar back on the stand and walked out of the room.

  Ember could have wept. She didn’t know why he’d quit, but she wanted him to come right back in and finish the song. Her mind knew what melody was supposed to come next, but it couldn’t create the same type of emotion he had while singing.

  She thought back to the absolute absorption on his face as he sang, and realized he hadn’t stuttered or hesitated once through the entire performance.

  Chapter Four

  After cleaning up the pizza mess, she locked the house for the last time. As she jogged down the steps and sidewalk to Zeke’s truck, her throat tightened at the thought of not being able to plant flowers this year. Drew’s swing set was still in the backyard. Their lives for the past several years had been right here. Perhaps once all this mess had blown over she’d be able to bring him home for a visit.

  She would call her lawyer tomorrow and let him know they had moved out, and that her father could post bond. If there was a protection order in place, they’d have to work opposite shifts at the restaurant. It would be a pain in the ass, but it could be done. If not, though, she’d have to think about finding other work to support herself and her son. Or, she’d petition the court to remove the protection order.

  Leaving the restaurant didn’t scare her as much as she thought it might. She had a business degree under her belt and several years’ experience helping her father. She had enough of a cushion in the bank to carry her through for a few months if she was frugal.

  In her heart, though, she didn’t want to leave Frog Dog Grill or her dad.

  She didn’t say anything to Zeke about the guitar, though she couldn’t help replaying it over and over in her head.

  The men unloaded boxes like they were professionals, separating them room by room and putting them as out of the way as possible. The apartment was packed by the time they were done, but it would be manageable.

  Bryan and Diego cut out early. She offered them gas money, but they refused, as she’d suspected. Ember hoped it was a couple days before they noticed the money she’d stuffed into the ashtray.

  Zeke and Chad hung out and started helping her unpack boxes. Toward evening, she ordered Chinese takeout and they took another break. Chad connected the TV and Drew fell asleep in front of it almost immediately, oblivious to the movement around him.

  They ate from paper plates in the living room, sitting on the couch and chair.

  “I can’t thank you guys enough,” Ember admitted. “I can’t believe we got everything moved today.”

  Chad grinned at her as he slurped up a noodle. “Well, you had a squad of Marines at your disposal, but you’re on your own, now. My leg is killing me. I’m gonna have to roll out.”

  Scooping another forkful, he wound them around the tines, then shoved the mass in his mouth. After that final bite, he shoved the plate away, hand on his lean stomach. “I shouldn’t have eaten all that.” Even as he said it, though, he snatched up a fortune cookie to stuff in his pocket.

  Ember walked him to the door and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you for helping. I know Zeke talked you into it but I really could not have done it alone.”

  Blue eyes crinkling, he tipped his chin to her. “No, problem, Ember. Maybe I’ll see you next Saturday?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be there. And the first round is on me.”

  He grinned. “I might take you up on that.”

  When she returned to the living room, Zeke had started to gather up the leftovers.

  “I can get it.”

  He shrugged those broad shoulders and continued to clean up. She moved to help him.

  Zeke seemed to be walking a little stiffly, but she didn’t want to be nosy to ask him why. They put the leftover Chinese in the fridge, though she knew it would probably be gross the next day. She threw the trash in the can and leaned back against the counter.

  “What was wrong with Chad’s leg?”

  Zeke glanced at her, dark blond brows lowered. “The new pr-rosthetic must have been rubbing. He doesn’t usually say anything about his p-pain.”

  Ember blinked and realized her mouth was hanging open. “Wait, he’s missing a leg? Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “His left. That’s why he was sh-showing me his b-b-boots earlier today. He just had them…f-fitted for the prosthetic.”

  She thought he’d just been showing off his cowboy boots. Dipshit. She thought of all the boxes he had carried and all the trips he had made for smaller things. He’d never mentioned anything of the sort, and she’d not even noticed a hitch in his gait. “Damn, I feel even worse that he helped me now.”

  Zeke frowned at her. “Why? Just b-because he’s missing a leg it doesn’t mean he’s any less of a man. He doesn’t want to be kn-known by his injuries. None of us do.”

  Ember snapped her mouth shut, chastened. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled a half-smile. “Chad will ap-p-preciate that you didn’t even notice. He’s self-conscious enough about the arm.”

  “It looks painful,” she said. She led the way back to the couch and sank down into the corner.

  “If it is he doesn’t say.” He sank down on the opposite end and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed his hands over his face.

  “Are your scars painful at all?” She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Not so much. Th-this one,” he traced his finger over the deepest one across his forehead and down through his eyebrow, “has been the worst. My skull was cracked and my occ-occ-c-ciptal bone fractured. I have a couple of sc-screws holding it together. I get headaches here f-f-fairly often.”

  “And there’s nothing the doctors can do for that?”

  “Well,” he looked away, “they can m-make it look better but they can’t do anything about the h-h-headaches. I think I’ll always have them. I have…m-medication if they get really bad, but I can only take it if I know I’m not going to be doing anything for the next twelve hours.�
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  Ember crossed her arms to keep from reaching out and wrapping them around him. “How long were you in the hospital?”

  He quirked his mouth as he thought. “Months. I had no b-balance when they first got me up, and I couldn’t string ten words together. It took a long time to re-re-l-learn all that stuff.”

  “Was your family there with you?”

  He shrugged. “Some. Mostly at first. I finally sent them home because they were j-j-just sitting there. Not doing anybody any good.” He looked at her fully. “Do you n-not have any family around here?”

  She shook her head. “No, my dad has a brother out west somewhere but they haven’t talked for a long time. Not sure why. I have several cousins I talk to once a year. My mom was an only child. It’s always just been my dad and I. Then later Drew came along.” She smiled as she looked at him stretched out on the floor, pillow beneath his head.

  “And what-what about his dad?”

  “Well,” she sighed, “he didn’t want to be bothered with a kid. He was just getting through college. He signed over all his rights and I’ve never heard from him again.”

  Zeke leaned back into the couch as he looked at her son on the floor. “He helped m-make him. He should have stepped up.”

  Ember appreciated the sentiment, but she was just as responsible. “We were both really young, and didn’t plan on doing anything in the first place. It just kind of happened. Thinking back, though, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. It gave me my son, so how could I?”

  Quiet descended between them and she felt her eyes getting tired.

  “Well, I should go.”

  Pushing to his feet, Zeke waded through the boxes to the front door. Ember followed along behind, reluctant for him to leave. The silence had been easy and comfortable.

  He paused by the door long enough to pull his heavy canvas coat on.

  “Thank you, Zeke. For everything.”