After the War

by Jessica Scott

  “And you do. And that closeness blinds you to the reality that he’s got a long hard slog ahead of him to stay sober.” No point in pulling his punches, regardless of whether they were talking about Iaconelli’s personal issues or Foster’s.

  “Oh I’m very much aware of the road he’s on.” After another moment, Iaconelli turned and stalked back to the formation. Whatever was eating at him wasn’t going to come out today. But soon. The situation needed watching. Closely.

  Gale let the other man go. He didn’t need to get into a dick-measuring contest with his platoon sergeant. Foster wasn’t one of Gale’s boys. He was just another soldier, another face in the crowd. If he soldiered, Gale would let him continue to soldier. If not, he was going home. Gale had a war to train his men for and he needed every single body able and fit to fight.

  Another soldier who was distracting from the mission of prepping to head back to Iraq wasn’t going to garner much sympathy from Gale.

  The cannon sounded, and Gale called the formation to attention and present arms as reveille trumpeted over the installation. They saluted the flag, and there was a moment of somber pride as the colors were hoisted up at the division headquarters. When it finished, Gale turned the troops over to Iaconelli, who took charge of the formation for PT.

  Teague fell into step with him as they headed toward the parking lot.

  “So. You call your ex yet?”

  Gale sighed but said nothing. He never should have told Teague that Melanie lived in Harker Heights and that he was still summoning the courage to call her.

  “I’ll take that as a no?”

  Several weeks had gone by since Gale had reported to Hood. He’d told himself that he needed to get situated first. That there would be time.

  But he was lying to himself. Because the truth of the matter was he was afraid. Afraid of seeing the daughter who’d nearly died almost two years ago. Afraid to look at her and see the hate and the blame and the guilt looking back at him. Oh, he knew he wasn’t going to win any parenting awards for stalling. He should have been on the first plane smoking and to hell with what the sarn’t major had said.

  But he hadn’t been. He’d damn near been court-martialed back in Iraq and it had taken Sarn’t Major Cox almost eighteen months to save his ass. The fact that Gale was on his second tour as a first sergeant despite the assault said a lot about how well connected Cox was. Only Cox and Tellhouse knew his history from downrange in this unit and Gale intended to keep it that way if he could.

  But even the charges and the job didn’t excuse Gale’s action or lack thereof. He told himself that Skype calls and text messages were enough, that she was okay. That Mel had a handle on things.

  But even those were convenient lies. Fear was a powerful thing and yeah, he was afraid. He’d finally gotten his wish of being stationed near his ex-wife and their daughter and he was paralyzed by fear. Fear of what it meant to live in the same town as Mel and Jamie. Fear that if he tried to be a dad after all these years that he would fail miserably. Or worse, that Jamie no longer needed him because he’d been gone too long.

  He was afraid to face the bitter truth: that Melanie didn’t need him after all these years.

  Maybe she never had.

  * * *

  Melanie Francesco stirred her coffee while the captain next to her made idle conversation about one of the local pawnshops burning to the ground.

  Melanie was reasonably certain that the fire had not been an accident, but she wasn’t in a position to comment. She was a liaison between the business owners and the real estate council and random speculation like that could cause problems for her office.

  She fought the urge to check her cell phone for the tenth time that morning. She told herself that Jamie was fine. She’d dropped her off at school that morning after the requisite fighting about whether or not the sky was blue or if the sun was actually going to come up tomorrow. Because all they did was fight.

  The fights were exhausting, but it was the fear that kept Mel up at night. Fear that Jamie was slipping away again and Mel wouldn’t be there to save her next time.

  The captain moved away, leaving Mel alone. She stole a quick glance at her phone. No text but no missed calls from the school either. Relief crawled over Mel’s skin. Jamie was still in school then.

  She tucked her phone back into her purse as she spotted a friendly face—someone she wouldn’t mind actually talking with—and made a straight line for Major Olivia Hale. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “Mandatory fun and all that,” Olivia said with a smile. Melanie envied the woman—even in ACUs, which were not exactly made for women’s bodies, Olivia looked stylish and effortlessly well put together.

  Melanie smiled back. “Life isn’t the same without you on the Council harassing the slum lords trying to screw over soldiers.”

  “It was one of life’s true pleasures,” Olivia said dryly.

  “There is no one to play the Faux Outrage Drinking Game with me anymore. The monthly meetings are epically more boring.” She sipped her tea, watching the room. “How’s life down in the new unit?”

  “It’s good. I have a sense of purpose again.” Olivia smiled warmly.

  Melanie set her tea on a nearby table. “So what are we doing here? And I’m not interested in the official bullshit line, either, so don’t waste your breath.”

  Olivia grinned wickedly and it was the smile that Mel remembered all too well. The smile the other woman used when she was about to rip someone a new one. “Well, since you put it that way.” She took a sip of coffee. “We’re trying to build relationships that will strengthen the community. We’ve got a massive problem with soldiers being involved in misconduct off post and we want to get civilian agencies involved before the police get involved.”

  And just like that, all the pieces clicked into place. “So you’re bribing the landlords with shitty coffee and donuts in the hope that we’ll call you guys instead of the cops?”

  “More or less.” Olivia set her coffee down and retrieved a folder from the table. “We’ve got this handy little quick reference guide with all the unit phone numbers. Kind of a cheat sheet of names and numbers to call. We even laminated it to make it durable. Isn’t it nice and shiny?”

  Mel shot her friend a wry look. “Is this even legal?”

  “I’m not going to offer an official opinion on what I think of this program.”

  “Why don’t you approve?” Mel asked, keeping her voice low.

  Olivia sighed. “Because it enables some people’s misconduct to be hidden away and covered up. I prefer we work things through official channels. Transparency and all that.” Olivia’s smile could have cracked glass. “Community outreach with the realtors keeps problems handled through informal networks instead of the Bell County legal system.”

  Melanie opened her mouth to speak but the words locked in her throat.

  The tea in her stomach turned bitter and cold as her guts twisted with recognition and surprise at the last person she’d expected to see here today.

  Gale.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs as anxiety and something else knotted in her belly. For a moment, she thought about turning away. About hiding from the man who’d just walked into the room like he owned it.

  But it was too late.

  Because across the conference room, near a tray of donuts and a box of coffee, her ex-husband’s eyes met hers.

  The world tilted beneath her feet. He was supposed to be stationed at Fort Lewis, halfway across the country. And instead he was here. In this room. At this moment. As a first sergeant?

  Closer than he’d been in over two years. His jaw was iron, his shoulders broad and strong. It was criminal how good that uniform looked on him. And damn it, she was not going to notice these things about him.

  But despite herself, she noticed everything about him. His dark brown eyes were hard and filled with shadows now. Colder than she remembered. A smarter woman might have been intimidated
by him. A younger woman might have already been wringing out her panties. But she remembered him for the boy he’d been. The boy she’d loved.

  The boy she’d left.

  He was not that boy anymore. And she was no longer the scared uncertain girl trying to find her way in the world.

  "Are you okay?" Olivia's voice came from very far away.

  "Yeah. Excuse me a sec?" She hated bailing on her friend but this was not a conversation she wanted to have with an audience.

  She offered a tense, flat line in place of a smile as he approached. Defenses up, that’s what she needed. She could not do this with him right now. “I’m not exactly sure what the correct greeting is,” she said, doing her damnedest to keep her voice level.

  As though they were perfect strangers, talking about unimportant things.

  The hush between them swelled into a living thing, pulsing with raw and ragged emotions.

  “I can explain.” His voice was rough and deep.

  “How long have you been here?” Her words were too sharp on her own ears. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to stave off the riot swirling in her belly. No matter how much time they spent apart, every single time they were around each other things went to shit in a rapid, predictable manner. She really wanted to avoid that at the present moment.

  “Long enough.” Gale cleared his throat and had the decency to look embarrassed. “I should have called you.”

  “And yet you didn’t, so there we are.” She turned, looking for her cup, needing space, needing distance between them before she broke apart into a million ugly pieces in front of her peers and coworkers and a half dozen random strangers.

  Gale’s hand was rough and strong on her shoulder. “Mel…”

  “Don’t.” She moved away from his touch, barely keeping her voice low. “You don’t have permission to touch me.” Mel bit her lips together, inhaling a deep, hard breath. Gale lowered his hand and they stood there at an impasse.

  A few months. No call. No note. Nothing. Hadn’t tried to see Jamie. Just move to town and don’t say a word.

  That told her all she needed to know about where she and Jamie stood in his priorities. Just like always, the Army won. She bit down harder, trying to divert the pain in her heart to the pain in her lip. “Jamie will be happy to see you,” she said finally.

  She didn’t mean to throw Jamie in the middle but that’s the way things were with them. It was the way it had been since…since always.

  He stiffened. His hands flexed by his sides. Like he needed to do something with them that hopefully didn't involve her.

  “I meant to call.” There was a rough edge to his voice. A blade, like cut steel, ragged and raw.

  “I’m sure you did.” Her words were brittle. She headed for the door in what she hoped was a relatively inconspicuous manner.

  She needed a few minutes to put everything back in the box she marked “Gale” and did her best to ignore.

  Because she’d be damned if she was going to cry over this man one more time.

  Want to read more? Order today.

  Also by Jessica Scott

  HOMEFRONT SERIES

  Homefront

  After the War

  Forged in Fire

  FALLING SERIES

  Before I Fall

  Break My Fall

  If I Fall

  NONFICTION

  To Iraq & Back: On War and Writing

  The Long Way Home: One Mom’s Journey Home From War

  COMING HOME SERIES

  Because of You

  I’ll Be Home for Christmas

  Anything for You: A Coming Home Short Story

  Back to You

  Until There Was You

  All for You

  It’s Always Been You

  All I Want For Christmas is You: A Coming Home Novella

  To my husband

  The love of my life

  I am so grateful every day that you made it home

  Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Scott

  All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing 2015

  ISBN: 978-1-942102-08-3

  Author photo courtesy of Buzz Covington Photography

  Cover design by Jessica Scott

  For more information please see www.jessicascott.net

  ISBN: 978-1-942102-08-3