Full Measures

by Rebecca Yarros

  “Everything hurts,” she whispered, sounding like Gus. She tore her eyes from the calendar with a shake of her head. “Do you want to go back to Boulder? I don’t want to keep you here, from your friends and Riley.”

  “Riley isn’t exactly missing me.”

  “Oh, Ember. What happened?”

  “Turns out he doesn’t do long distance well.” I put my hand up to ward her off when she stepped toward me. I didn’t want sympathy from her, not when she needed all the energy she had to keep herself together. “Yeah, so I live with Sam, and the number is on the fridge next to my class schedule. Just call and I’ll be here.”

  “Ember, I’m sorry you’ve lost so much.”

  “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

  “Right. Whatever doesn’t kill you.” She went back to staring at the calendar.

  Chapter Nine

  I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder and snatched my coffee off the roof of my car. Thank God there was a Starbucks between the apartment and school, or I might never have gotten going this morning.

  Arranging the apartment had been more physically exhausting than I expected, but it turned out perfectly. It was incredibly freeing to have a place off campus with no rules, regulations, or random room checks. Plus, Sam as a roommate was an added bonus. For every detail that had changed about us in the last eighteen months, there were at least two that hadn’t.

  I pulled out my schedule as I walked into the building, checked the room number, and slid inside the class without spilling my coffee all over my white sweater. Score.

  A quick scan of the room showed a few open seats in the front row. I set my coffee on the desktop and slid my bag off my shoulder to take out my books and pens. I couldn’t wait to fill the pages of the empty spiral notebook. History got me in the same way some girls dug nail polish or shoes. I’d pegged my major early.

  I shook my head at the obnoxious giggles from the back of the room. A leggy brunette perched on a desk in front of a guy, and if he couldn’t see past the facade dripping off her, then he deserved whatever he got out of that one. She threw her head back in laughter.

  Shit. That guy was Josh.

  His eyes widened as they met mine, and that grin stole my breath. I ripped my gaze away and took my seat, concentrating on the white board. Stupid freaking hormones. Did he really have to look that good at 8:30 in the morning? Who was I kidding? The guy was pretty much sex personified twenty-four hours of the day. I couldn’t blame the girl for sitting on his desk. Hell, she showed restraint. I’d have been in his damn lap.

  I didn’t need to look over to know that he had taken the empty seat next to me. Keep your eyes forward. I would not look over. I would not get lost in those brown eyes or remember exactly what those hands were capable of on my body. Nope.

  “I’d been dreading this class, but seeing you this early in the morning makes it worth getting out of bed, December.”

  “You and the ‘December’ . . .” I muttered, not willing to admit how much I liked it. “You can’t just call me ‘Ember’ like everyone else in the world?”

  He leaned over, his mouth closer to my ear. “I only do it when no one else can hear, and besides, I’m not just everyone—not to you.”

  Did his voice have to be so smooth? I glanced to the back of the classroom, tapping my pen on the empty notebook that would soon be full of delicious historical facts. “I think your paperweight is missing you.”

  The brunette was sulking in her back-row seat, and I couldn’t blame her.

  “Want to take her place?”

  His mocking tone brought my gaze right to his, and I was a goner. I couldn’t stop the smile that erupted on my face when he waggled his eyebrows and patted the top of his desk. I shook my head and forced my focus back to the front of the room. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get that close to you,” I reminded him with a smile.

  “I’ll sit on my damn hands if it means you’ll wiggle up here.”

  Speechless. I couldn’t even think of a retort for that one.

  The prof saved me by handing out his syllabus and starting the lecture. I paid attention, really. Well, not really. I wrote down copious notes, but felt Josh’s eyes staring, which reminded me too much of his hands on me. I snuck a glance and found those brown eyes locked onto mine. Hot. Freaking on fire.

  I crossed and uncrossed my legs, reminding myself that class was not the place to jump a fellow student, and paid more attention to the details. Papers, I could handle writing papers, taking notes, and concentrating on the Civil War. What I couldn’t handle was my self-imposed slow-down on Josh, not when I was ready to jump him in the middle of class.

  It was the longest and shortest hour of my life. I was almost as desperate to get the hell out of that room as I was to stay there as close to him as I could get. Our prof dismissed us, and I scurried out the door like my chair was on fire. Monday was a light day, and I didn’t have another class until the afternoon, so I could get a jump-start on the reading if I headed home right now.

  I was nearly to my car when Josh caught up to me. “What? No good-bye?” he teased, not even out of breath from his jog.

  I opened my door and tossed in my bag, cringing when the books slammed to the floor on the passenger side. “Good-bye, Josh.”

  “Cold.”

  I turned to look, but his eyes held the humor his tone didn’t. I rolled my eyes. “Seriously.”

  “Seriously what?” He leaned against my car. “I’m not kissing you, not calling you, since I don’t even have your number. Maybe a guy just needs a study buddy.”

  “Study buddy?” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat to cover it. I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep the chill off my fingers and my fingers off Josh. That seemed to be the only way.

  He leaned in, just inches from my mouth, and even though I’m the one who drew the line, my body wanted him to cross it. “Something tells me we’d be really good at doing it together.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Josh!”

  An impish grin stole over his face. “What? We would be good at studying together.”

  I swatted his chest with the backside of my hand and laughed. “Ugh!” Then again, he’d been right. We’d do a lot of things . . . well . . . together.

  Dave Matthews rang out from my back pocket, and I reached for my phone, thankful for the distraction. A quick glance at the screen and April’s picture elevated my heart rate. She was supposed to be in school.

  “April? You’re supposed to be in third period by now.” God, I sounded like Mom.

  “You might want to get over here. Uncle Mike just showed up and there’s a news crew and Mom doesn’t want them in the house and it’s a big mess.”

  “Slow down, April. You’re talking too fast.” I reached into the car and started the ignition to warm the engine. “What’s going on?”

  “Uncle Mike showed up as I was leaving for school, and then about a half hour ago, a news crew showed up. Mom’s wigging out.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I hung up and turned to Josh. “I have to go, there’s major shit going down at my house with my mom’s brother.”

  His flirtatious look was gone, immediately replaced with concern. Too bad that was almost sexier than the flirting. “Do you need me? Help? Do you need help?”

  I bit back my instinct to say yes, that I wanted him with me. I couldn’t depend on another guy, not this soon. “No, I’d better handle this alone.”

  His face fell, and he swallowed quickly with a curt nod. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Thanks for asking, though. It means a lot.”

  I made the drive to the south side of town in twenty minutes, pulled into our subdivision-standard driveway, and threw the car in park. Sure enough, some huge news conglomerate was parked outside our house.

  I’d called Captain Wilson on the way home. He’d warned us something like this might happen, especially with the incident being Afghan military on American, but when the funeral
had passed and nothing had happened, I’d hoped it wouldn’t. Apparently it did.

  “Mom!” I threw open the door and tossed my keys into the entry hall basket. Then I hung my coat onto the pegs. “Mom!” I called into the kitchen, but there was only Grams.

  “She’s upstairs.”

  “Grams, what the—” I stopped myself before I ended up with an old-school bar of soap in my mouth. “What’s going on?”

  “Your mother’s brother arrived earlier and brought some guests. Some rather uninvited guests.” She sipped her tea calmly, but there was a slight tremor in her hand.

  “Right.”

  I took the back steps two at a time, coming around the corner at my bedroom door and running smack into a cameraman.

  “Oh, excuse me, ma’am,” he muttered.

  “You’re damn right, excuse you. Get out of my way.” I pushed past him and two guys with long, metal rods until I found April cowering in the hallway.

  Her breath expelled, and she hugged me to her. “They’re in Gus’s room.”

  “I’ll take care of this.” I had no idea how I was going to do it, but I was. I ruffled Gus’s hair where he was plastered against April’s side. He should have been in school. He shouldn’t have to see this.

  I cracked open the door to the Star Wars shrine Gus called a room and walked straight into an argument.

  “I don’t want this, Mike!” Mom shouted at her younger brother. Yoda’s giant face on the bedspread separated them.

  “They’re willing to pay you, June. This is a legitimate story, and our family should have a public say about what happened to Justin.”

  “Uncle Mike?” I shut the door behind me and took my place next to Mom. If she didn’t want this, I wasn’t going to allow it.

  “April, I told you, this is between your mother and me. Run along now and go to school.”

  “I’m Ember, not April, and not as easily dismissed. If my mother wants these people to go, they’ll go.” I looked him up and down, from his dark suit to his expensive-looking tie. “And you’re shorter than I remember.”

  He flushed. “Of course you’re Ember. I misspoke. It’s been years since I’ve seen you.”

  “Yeah, like fifteen or so. I hardly think that entitles you to any opinion about what’s going on here.” I had vague memories of Uncle Mike, and they usually revolved around my mom’s parents who were now dead.

  “I’m here to help my sister.”

  “Right, which is why you were so thoughtful during the funeral and everything?” There might as well have been crickets in that room.

  A woman cleared her throat, and I turned to Gus’s desk behind me. A leggy brunette I vaguely recognized stood and offered her hand. “You must be December. So tragic, losing your father, and on your birthday nonetheless.”

  My head snapped back like I’d been slapped, and my eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

  A camera-ready smile erupted onto her face. “Excellent! I’m London Cartwright, and we’d love your reaction, since I understand you held the family together?”

  “My mother would like you to leave, and I’ll have to ask you to do the same, Ms. Cartwright.”

  The smile didn’t falter. Eerie. “I’m sure once you understand what we’d like to do . . .”

  “And what the hell is that?”

  “They want to expose the Green-on-Blue killings, Ember. Really delve into what our continued presence is doing, and why our soldiers are being killed, victimized by the men they were protecting and training.”

  What. The. Fuck. “My father wasn’t a victim. He was at war.”

  “We just want to give you an opportunity to share your feelings.” Ms. Cartwright crossed the room and stared at the wall behind Uncle Mike.

  Mom shrank back. “Mom?” I asked. “What do you want me to do?”

  Her eyes went vacant. No. Not again. I grabbed her shoulders, ducking my head to look into those eyes. “Mom? Stay with me.” I pulled her to the doorway. “April, take her downstairs to Grams. You, too, Gus.” April led Mom and Gus downstairs, and I made sure they were clear before I turned back to Mike and Ms. Cartwright.

  “Do you see how fragile she is? What are you thinking?”

  “Your dad deserves to be remembered and the American people should know that he didn’t die in vain.” Her voice dripped false sympathy. Maybe a weaker person would have fallen for it.

  “It’s a war. No one dies in vain.” I shook my head and nearly laughed. “Hell, everyone dies in vain. My father is not your headline.”

  Uncle Mike leaned forward with his car-salesman smile. “Ember, this could be really good for the family. People are moved by what’s happened, and we know college isn’t cheap. We could all use this.”

  My face fell slack, unable to even process that he’d suggested we profit from Dad’s death. A very bitter taste filled my mouth. “You’re out of your mind if you think—” I sucked in my breath as I saw the pennant Ms. Cartwright pinned to Gus’s bulletin board. West Point. “Get. That. Thing. Off. His. Wall.”

  “We thought it would be a good touch, army family and all. You’d be representing the army, so to speak.” She made it sound so reasonable, like I was the one off my rocker.

  “Dad went to Vanderbilt, not the Academy.” Words slipped through my clenched teeth. I was afraid to give full rein to my temper. “Gus doesn’t want to go to West Point, and he’s not going to.”

  “Be fair, Ember. Gus should be proud of the military legacy in this family.” Uncle Mike pulled a West Point shirt out of Ms. Cartwright’s bag. “Besides, people will eat it up when we interview him in this. Who knows, maybe one day he’ll be the military man in the family.”

  Something within me snapped. The fine web of civility I’d woven around myself after Dad died and Riley screwed Kayla shredded around me. They were not going to use Gus. I clamored over the bed and ripped the shirt from Uncle Mike’s hand. “Get out!”

  “Ember—”

  “GET. OUT!” I gripped the shirt, longing to shred it, but it wouldn’t be enough. I shoved through them and tore the pennant from the bulletin board. The thumbtacks went flying under the bed, skidding along the bare hardwood. “No story! No pennant! No West Point!” I held the offensive crap in front of me and herded them out of Gus’s room. “Now get out!”

  They scurried from the room, Ms. Cartwright’s stilettos frantic on Mom’s cherished hardwood floor. I chased them down the back steps, the camera and sound guys getting caught up in their wave of retreat. “Get out! Get out!” It was my mantra, and it was all I could think.

  They bottlenecked at the kitchen door before popping through, scattering across the tile floor. Mom sat at the dining room table, a cup of coffee in her hand. Grams stood guard, wearing a look fiercer than I’d ever seen. I pitied that news crew. For a second. Maybe.

  “Ember—” Uncle Mike started toward me, and I backed around the island to the kitchen sink.

  “Don’t! How dare you bring this in here! How dare you even think of putting such an idea into Gus’s head! The army? West Point?” I shook the shirt and pennant as if they were his neck.

  “It’s just a symbol—”

  “No! There will be no army for Gus, no West Point, no interview! Are you insane? Why would we ever want him to . . . to . . . No! This family has bled enough, and I will not let you walk in here and cut us any deeper!” My voice cracked. I couldn’t handle the images that pennant put into my head. Gus in a uniform. Gus laid to rest under an American flag.

  I threw the pennant and T-shirt into the empty kitchen sink, then tore open the drawer to the right, pulling out the lighter Mom used for birthday candles. A click later, the flame burst to life, and I set the West Point shirt on fire.

  “Ember! What are you doing?” Uncle Mike stepped forward, but the warning in my eyes must have been enough because he quickly retreated.

  “That is what I think of your cute notions of dressing Gus up like a future soldier and parading our grief around for profit!” The fla
mes rose from the sink as Captain Wilson came in, flanked by two other soldiers. “Now get the fuck out of our home!”

  “Ember?” Gus’s small voice broke through my rage. My gaze snapped to his worried eyes peeking backward over the sofa where he sat cuddled next to someone else, someone I couldn’t bear to see me like this. Someone whose brown eyes were locked onto me and my insanity.

  The smoke detector wailed, finally sensing the danger. At that moment, I seemed more hazardous than the fire. I reached around the flames and flipped on the faucet, using the spray attachment to drench the burned mess and wishing it would put out my rage as easily.

  My heart raced, threatening to jump out of my chest, and my cheeks flamed as hot as the shirt I’d just destroyed.

  Captain Wilson escorted the team out. “Don’t bother contacting the Rose’s. They’ve been warned. This family has signed no releases, and you are not authorized to use anything you heard or filmed here today.”

  “June, I hope you’ll reconsider.” Uncle Mike put his hand on Mom’s shoulder.

  “Not a chance, Mike.”

  Whoa. Mom spoke up, a hint of her usual stubbornness I knew so well peeked out. What a relief.

  “Please—”

  Grams rose from her seat, her backbone stiff. “I believe my daughter-in-law asked you to leave, sir. Please don’t abuse her hospitality by making her ask twice.”

  Uncle Mike shot one more pleading look at Mom. Her single, arched eyebrow said he wasn’t getting anywhere with her. I hadn’t lost her to the void if she could still fight back.

  Before I could make more of an ass out of myself, I walked out the kitchen door and stood on the porch. The mountains rose up before me, consuming my vision, but all I could see were the flames I’d just doused. I leaned over the icy, wooden railing and let the chill seep in.

  The door slid open on the track, and I cringed.

  “Hey, you okay?” Josh’s voice washed over me, bringing a wave of comfort I didn’t need, didn’t want. He’d just watched me go completely freaking postal.

  “I told you I had this. You didn’t need to come.”