Back to You

by Jessica Scott

  He paused on Animal Planet as her phone vibrated on the coffee table. He frowned. “Who on earth is calling at this hour?” he asked quietly.

  Before he’d deployed, he’d been in command and his phone rang at all hours of the night from soldiers getting arrested and in trouble. He was no longer a commander but apparently his wife’s phone was now filling the role of Annoying Electronic.

  She offered an apologetic shrug but her eyes were wary. “Work, most likely.” She flipped the phone open. “This is Laura.”

  Her expression shuttered closed. She pushed away from the couch and rushed into the kitchen, writing furiously on the back of an envelope. “Got it. I’ll—” she glanced at Trent. “I’ll be right in.”

  She flipped the phone closed. “We have a casualty. I have to go to work.”

  He opened his mouth then snapped it closed. They weren’t deployed. What the hell had happened that they’d lost a soldier during their time at home station? Soldiers weren’t supposed to die in the States. They were supposed be safe here. A thousand questions raced through his mind, but instead he simply asked, “What happened?”

  “Fatality at NTC. Kid got hurt on the railhead from someone doing something stupid. And now his nineteen-year-old wife is a widow.”

  “Hey.” The bitterness in her voice surprised him, so much so that he reached for her hand. “Are you okay?”

  She looked away, tense beneath his touch. But she didn’t retrieve her hand from beneath his, a tacit acknowledgement of this temporary truce between them.

  She breathed out quietly. “It’s just hard when we lose a soldier to something stupid.” She paused. “This whole war is stupid. What’s the damn point?”

  She pulled her hand away and stood up, her back rigid, her movements stiff. He wanted to comfort her. To pull her against him and tell her that he agreed with her. That the war wasn’t worth it.

  But admitting what he’d taken too long to realize would mean he’d ruined their marriage for nothing. And he treasured this peace between them far too much to ruin it all over again tonight.

  He didn’t want to argue with her. And he wasn’t ready yet to face the harsh reality of everything he’d done to drive her away.

  So instead, he stood with her and watched her write down more information—notes about what she had to do. She rested her head in one hand, her fingers threaded through her hair.

  “What do you do with the kids when this happens?” he asked.

  Her pen froze in her hand. She turned slowly, her expression telling him that she’d just now realized that for once, she might not have to drag the kids out of bed and to the sitter’s house in the middle of the night. But then her eyes flickered with uncertainty. Her doubt in him cut him, harsh and ragged across the already raised scar over his heart, but he said nothing. He deserved her doubt. He’d done nothing to earn her trust.

  Maybe that could change. Starting now.

  “They can stay with me tonight. You won’t be all night, right?”

  She tipped her head and studied him quietly. The uncertainty in her eyes shamed him. “Are you up for that?”

  “Tonight wasn’t too bad.” He shrugged and wished he could figure out what to do with his hands. “I mean, I didn’t run screaming from the house like a Muppet on acid or anything so we can take that as a win, right?”

  She laughed quietly and the sound of her laugh did something warm and fuzzy to his insides. “I shouldn’t be gone all night. Couple of hours, tops.”

  She took a step toward him, until he could see the concern written in her eyes, the worry in the lines around her mouth. Lines he badly wanted to smooth away.

  “I can handle it, Laura,” he said softly. “They’re asleep, right? Easy.”

  Her lips twitched from that strange smile to something warmer.

  Because he couldn’t help himself, because the urge was too strong, he reached up and stroked a stray strand of hair from her eyes. “Go. We’ll be here when you get home. And I promise I won’t catch the house on fire, either.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. Then she did something completely unexpected. She leaned up and kissed him. A soft, gentle kiss, her lips moist against his. “Thank you.”

  Her phone started buzzing again and then she was gone, leaving him alone and unafraid in their quiet house.

  * * *

  There was a strange silence around him without her in the house. The kids were asleep and the silence surrounded him. He could feel the house sleeping, which was weird because in Iraq, there was never real silence. There was always a hum of a generator or an air conditioner or worse, incoming rounds exploding too close for comfort.

  This silence was strange. Not oppressive and heavy. Just… there. Something he noticed. He wondered if he would ever get to the point where the quiet didn’t bother him anymore.

  He wandered through the house, unable to sit on the couch now that Laura wasn’t there with him, and looked at the pictures in the dim light. He’d missed so much. His choice.

  His fault.

  He rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses then looked up. He was standing in the hall between the kids’ rooms. He hesitated; then, because it would have been cowardice to turn away, he quietly opened Ethan’s door.

  His room was filled with the chaos of six-year-old boy. Toys were scattered across every available space and he was pretty sure that was a pair of blue undies sticking out from beneath the bed. But it was his son that drew his gaze.

  Ethan was sprawled out across the bed. One leg dangled over the edge, his toes brushing the carpet. His son’s hair was sticking out everywhere and Trent had the sudden uncomfortable urge to never see his son with a military regulation haircut.

  He leaned down, brushing his hair from his face. Ethan’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Hi Daddy,” he whispered. He rolled over and Trent pulled the blanket over his tiny shoulders, his throat tight.

  He managed to make it out of the room without tripping over any toys, a fact that was actually quite amazing. He stood outside his son’s room for a moment and just… stood. He let the stillness wash over him. Fought the tightness in his chest that for the first time wasn’t from anxiety or stress, but simply from too much emotion too fast.

  It was like everything inside him had been locked at the bottom of a well and was now geysering through him. So much emotion. So raw. So potent.

  It was addictive. Actually feeling again, feeling like he was going to really be able to stay home and be a dad. Yeah, this he could get used to.

  He pushed open the door to Emma’s room, curious to see how his little girl slept. He smiled when he saw her. She wasn’t some neat little princess. She was sprawled across the bed like her brother had been, only flat on her back, her arms cast out to the sides. A stuffed bunny lay near the edge of her bed, hanging on for dear life by an ear tucked beneath her shoulder. Her mouth was open and she was breathing in slow, quiet huffs. He stood there for a minute, taking her in. Absorbing the clean, warm smell in her room.

  He tried to cover her up but the blanket was stuck beneath her butt. So he pulled an extra one from the foot of her bed and tucked it around her. She made a sleepy sound and rolled toward the bunny, grabbing it and pulling it close.

  He took a deep breath and closed the door, then settled on the couch. He set his glasses on the table and closed his eyes, wondering if maybe he’d be able to get some sleep tonight without resorting to the little white pills that Emily had prescribed.

  For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt sleep pulling at him—and for once, he didn’t fight it.

  Chapter Ten

  “Daddy.”

  Trent heard a little voice from very far away. Then he felt something sharp poke him in the chest, right over the scar on his heart. He frowned and tried to ignore it.

  “Daddy!”

  He blinked and opened his eyes. Emma stood near his shoulder, her little face bunched up in the shadows, her bottom lip quivering. “Daddy, I
peed.”

  He frowned. If there was a significance to this, he was missing it. “Okay, so wash your hands and go back to bed.”

  “I can’t, Daddy. I peed in my bed.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  He sat up, reaching for his glasses. “You peed the bed?” he asked.

  “Yeah, Daddy.” She sounded so sad.

  “Okay, so what does Mommy usually do when this happens?” he asked.

  “You have to change the sheets. And I have to take a bath.”

  He glanced at his watch. Just what he wanted to do at four-thirty in the morning: bathe a child.

  But okay, he could do this.

  It dawned on him that if Emma was coming to get him, Laura must not be home. He wanted to know if she was okay but decided not to bother her at work. He could do something simple like this, right?

  “Okay, honey, let’s get you in the tub while I take care of the bed. Deal?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Deal.”

  She padded toward the bathroom and Trent made a mental note to check on her in a few minutes. She was big enough to wash herself up but he didn’t want her unsupervised for long in the bathroom by herself.

  He walked into her bedroom, hit immediately by the strong scent of pee. Holding his breath, he stripped off the sheets, balling them up and carrying them directly to the laundry room and dumping them on the floor next to the washer. He managed to find clean sheets then went back into Emma’s bedroom to discover that his wife was a genius. There was a thin sheet of plastic on top of the mattress. It looked like a shower curtain liner but whatever it was, it had saved the mattress that night.

  He sprayed it down with bleach cleaner then let it air dry before he went to check on Emma.

  She was standing in the middle of the tub, both the shower and the bath water running. Soap coursed down her back and over her cute little butt as she attempted to wash her own hair.

  “Want some help?” he asked.

  She’d scrunched up her eyes to keep from getting soap in them so all she did was nod vigorously. He eased her backward under the shower water and rinsed the soap from her hair then pulled her out of the tub. He wrapped her little body in a massive light blue fuzzy towel then wiped her face gently. She beamed up at him. “Thanks Daddy.”

  In that moment, he knew how a superhero felt. He brushed the towel over the tip of her nose then urged her toward her bedroom. “Get some clothes on.”

  It might be a small victory, something Laura might do on any random night, but hey, it was still a victory. Child bathed? Check. Back to bed?

  Yeah, not so much. Because Ethan woke up just as he was tucking Emma back to bed and that’s when all hell broke loose.

  Two hours later, Trent’s patience snapped at the end of its leash.

  “Mommy doesn’t let us have cereal on school days.”

  Trent looked down at his daughter, the tiny reflection of his wife down to the disapproving glint in her dark eyes, and counted to ten. Then twenty while grinding his teeth and trying to keep his emotions from spiraling out of control.

  But nothing eased the tension in his chest.

  He slapped the cereal box on the counter hard enough that a spray of Kix burst out of the top. He gripped the edge of the counter and tried to keep his voice neutral. “Mommy isn’t here, honey. It’s okay to have cereal.”

  Ethan’s eyes got wide and he covered his mouth. Trent wasn’t sure if his son was laughing at him or upset that he’d spilled the cereal.

  Trent wasn’t actually sure he cared either way.

  Fresh panic gripped his lungs, tearing at his insides, keeping him from taking a proper breath.

  Keeping him from thinking clearly. His thoughts raced as he tried to figure out how to get them dressed and ready to go without having the slightest idea what ready actually looked like.

  He could handle things blowing up around him. He could handle soldiers completely losing their shit.

  But he apparently could not handle two small children.

  “Ethan! I thought I asked you to get dressed.”

  His son lifted his chin and stomped his foot. “I want to wear my Spiderman t-shirt.”

  “I don’t know where it is. You’ll wear the green frog t-shirt that Mommy laid out for you.”

  “I don’t wanna!”

  Trent’s temper snapped its lead. He slammed his palm down on the counter top, hard enough that the shock reverberated up his arm and into his shoulder. “Ethan!”

  But that was nothing compared to the shock on his children’s faces.

  * * *

  It was past seven a.m. and Laura had been up all night. She was dead on her feet and she had never seen a casualty notification go more wrong. The soldier who had died had been living with a girlfriend and trying to get divorced from his wife. The girlfriend was listed on the official paperwork but the platoon sergeant had contact information for the wife. They’d tried to figure out who to contact and what to do and the parents got into the mix around midnight.

  She felt terrible for all of them but at about two a.m., she’d gotten pissed at the company commander for not having his paperwork together and screwing this up in an epic and unforgettable way.

  She opened the front door in time to hear Trent shout from somewhere near Ethan’s bedroom. It was already seven o’clock and the kids were well on their way to being late for school.

  She rushed into the kitchen, expecting to see the kids finishing their breakfast. Instead, Emma was crawling on the counter top, reaching for a cup in the cabinet and Ethan streaked through the living room like he’d just injected a gallon of fruit punch.

  She heard Trent shouting for Ethan from the bedroom.

  Then everything exploded in slow motion.

  The door to the bedroom slammed violently against the wall. Ethan’s red backpack flew across the living room, knocking a picture of Laura and Trent from its nail. Glass shattered across the living room floor.

  Ethan dove to the fireplace, picking up the pieces of a now broken dinosaur. Tears ran down his face as he held the shattered remains of his favorite dinosaur from his backpack. His cry rose through the entire house, a slow wail.

  Silence crashed over the house. Laura’s heart slammed against her ribs. Emma crouched on the counter, her hands over her ears.

  Trent stormed into the living room. “Ethan!”

  She stepped in front of Trent, pulling his attention away from their crying son. Hands up, fear clutched at her throat. “Whoa! That is enough!”

  But she’d be damned if whatever started this was going to continue.

  Her husband stood in front of her, his fists bunched at his sides, his chest heaving. His eyes were dark and filled with a thousand angry emotions. Behind her, Ethan’s wails dragged down her frayed nerves. “Ethan. Go to your room. Now.”

  “But Mommy—”

  “Now, Ethan.” She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t take her eyes off her husband. Ethan threw the ruined dinosaur on the floor and stormed out of the living room, his bedroom door slamming behind him like a gunshot.

  Laura took a deep, shaking breath, her mind racing over how to calm everything down. “Trent,” she whispered. Took a tentative step toward him. Placed her hands on his chest and forced him to meet her gaze. He opened his mouth. Snapped it closed. And then a deep shame filled his eyes as the anger rolled back beneath an onslaught of remorse.

  He took a single step backward. And disappeared into their bedroom.

  She sucked in a trembling breath and looked into the kitchen, where Emma sat at the table now, focused intently on her cereal. Torn between her husband and her son, Laura turned toward Ethan’s bedroom.

  He was facedown on the bed. She pushed the door open a little farther and moved to sit on his bed. She stroked his back gently and felt his little body shake beneath her touch. “I want Daddy to leave,” he said into the pillow.

  “Don’t say that, honey.”

  “Why not? It’s true
.”

  “No it’s not. You’re just mad because he threw your backpack.”

  “Parents aren’t supposed to yell,” he said, rolling over and sitting up. He crossed his arms angrily over his chest with a huff, a sulk furrowing in his brow.

  Laura brushed his hair out of his face, glad to see the anger retreating from his eyes. “Since when?”

  He shot her a wry look that looked so much like Trent. Then his expression fell and his bottom lip quivered. “Mommy, he scared me,” he whispered.

  Laura pulled him into her arms and felt his tears, hot and wet on her blouse. Frustrated tears fell down her cheeks but she didn’t care. She simply held on to her son and wished she knew how to hold on to his father. She held him until his little body stopped shaking. But he didn’t pull away. He just needed to hold on for a little bit. She knew the feeling.

  Too bad there was no one there to hold her right then. She was ragged and raw from the all-nighter and now as the adrenaline washed away, it took with it the strength that was keeping her upright.

  So Laura sat there and held him. Because that’s what mommies did when the world went to shit around them. Guilt clawed at her. She never should have left him with the kids. Not so soon. Not when he was still unfamiliar with the things that they did to work her nerves and push her buttons. She knew how to navigate around them. He didn’t. She’d known leaving Trent with the kids was a bad idea. They weren’t bad kids but they were kids, which by definition meant a lot to handle.

  And as much as it pained her to realize it, they were a handful he had not been prepared to handle.

  But Ethan didn’t need to hear any of that. She smoothed his hair down as he leaned back, his eyes already clearing up. “I’m sorry I made Daddy yell, Mommy,” he said in a small voice.

  Laura kissed the top of his head then smoothed his hair out of his face once more. “Tell you what, kiddo. Finish getting dressed and go eat your breakfast with your sister. I’m going to go check on Daddy.”