Steel Rain: A Military Romance Collection

by A. Gorman

  Built in the late 70s, the two-room stilted structures were a haven for tourists. But times changed. The 90s brought larger places closer to the water, and the less-than-privileged moved into the crumbling cabins.

  Gravel pops up behind me, crackling against the truck’s metal frame. I slow and roll to a stop out front of the last bungalow in a line of ten, dwarfed by a row of overgrown cedars in the rear. Gus pops up as do his ears. His expectant dark eyes watch me as he pants through whatever happy thought his puppy brain conjures.

  “Come on, buddy. You ready for this?”

  I take his muffled bark as a yes and scratch his neck while sliding from the cab. Sometime between birth and when I found him withering on the side of Highway 10, Gus lost most of his vocal cords. I’d kill the bastards that let him loose if I ever found them, but instead I found a twenty-four-hour vet that treated the mites in his ears and pumped him full of fluids. A diet of the best pup food has beefed him up over the last few days, but he’s got a way to go to catch up to the growth chart for an eight-week-old puppy.

  As I stretch through stiffness and the annoying ache in my thigh, a moment ticks away and I feel something akin to disgust. No one should live here. Salt corrodes the metal rail. Buckled at the bottom, it barely connects with stairs that need more than a new coat of stain. I catalog the repairs and the time it’ll take before I’m comfortable with Piper calling this place home.

  Grabbing my rucksack from the truck bed, I watch Gus take a running start. He makes it up the steps and to the porch with enough force that he skids to a stop by the yellow knotted pine facade. I follow, stealing myself for whatever comes next.

  Anger assaults me before my knuckles lift off the wooden slats of her door. It’s wrenched open and on the other side of the threshold is my new future. One I never wanted. And by the looks of it, the blond pixie is not inclined to welcome me home. Dark daggers shoot from her eyes as they narrow in recognition.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she grounds through her teeth.

  The next wave of violence echoes in my mind as the sting of her palm connects with my cheek. I blink back my surprise, pinching my lips together to hide my amusement.

  “Nice to see you too, Piper,” I murmur, watching her full lips fall open. When her bare foot slams down in a huff, I let my smile spread. She’s a spitfire—or Rainbow Brite. With her platinum hair tipped in pink and blue and every other color, her animated rage is more cartoon than nightmare. But I won’t ruin her moment by pointing that out.

  “How…why…you bastard.”

  I nod in agreement. “But I know your mother taught you better manners than to greet a friend with a fist.”

  “Screw you and my mother.” Her sputtered words increase in volume until ending with a roar to the ceiling.

  Justin was my best friend. I’d known him since before I have memories, but I only met his girl once. And that was just in passing. Theirs was a quick and fierce connection that found them holed away for a month while we were on leave. When we left, she had a ring on her finger and six weeks past deployment he learned of his impending fatherhood. I’d never seen him happier.

  A baby. Hot damn, Lawless, I made a baby with the most beautiful woman in the universe. Fuck the words in my head. I grab my hair, wishing I could yank them out, along with his face when he told me the news. I feel them now rattling in my chest, and my breath falters somewhere between my diaphragm and throat. I’ve been here before. It’s not always Justin talking; it’s sometimes the crack of a bullet, the thud of knees hitting dirt, and the weight of his body falling close behind in a sick slow-motion replay.

  “I didn’t ask you to come here, Caden Lawless. And if my hand didn’t make it clear, you’re not a welcome guest.”

  Piper’s voice propels me past the noise, and I take a quick assessment. Her belly swells with the evidence of impending delivery, but pregnancy only adds to her appeal. What I remember as the angular lines of her face are softened at her cheek bones and jaw. Covered only by a short cotton sundress, the lean shape of her body has fleshed into soft curves with a bump in the middle. Piper is more than sexy. She’s light and dark at the same time, bright hair and eyes the color of eternity. This woman is not just a moment in time, but all of them brought together. The kind you give your soul to and then rest your head at ease. She’s endless, and most certainly my undoing.

  Understanding comes in another flash. I told you the fuck so. Take care of her, you selfish son-of-a-bitch. The words—goddamn Justin and his never-ending monologue.

  I wipe my mouth to snap the fuck out of whatever thought that just was. Thinking about my best friend, the guys, noises, and smells—the whole gamut always leaves me with something similar to the flu. My chest hurts, constricted by ribs that are suddenly too small. A headache pounds at my temples. Symptoms that won’t disappear no matter how many miles I run on the beach in the morning. It just is.

  Gus makes his presence known, circling and sniffing Piper’s legs. His interference allows me to slide past Piper and into the shithole she calls home. The desert provided better accommodation than this, and I had to piss in a bucket.

  The uneven floor creaks under my feet as I set my bag down. A mixing bowl in the far corner suggests the roof is just as unstable. I glance from the paneled walls to the slip-covered couch to the white boxes stacked on her kitchen counter, a sparkling stove and then to Piper when the weight of her stare hits me on the back. Her eyes churn with questions and turmoil so great it overflows into unspoken anger. But I feel it as surely as if the words were in the air between us.

  A vow I had no right to make.

  A promise broken.

  A life lost.

  I blink against her animosity and accept the accusation. I can’t speak as to what happened. Putting a voice to it will bring it to life, and I won’t have her carry that burden. It belongs solely to me.

  “Why are you here?” she asks again.

  I shrug. “Felt like the only place I should be.” My gaze has been on hers, but it flicks to her swollen stomach.

  Piper wraps her arms under the baby, holding him up and blowing out a breath at the same time. “I don’t need you, Caden Lawless. We’re doing just fine on our own.”

  I’d like to disagree but the house does it for me. And if I’m anything other than an asshole, I am a fixer. In the field, my need manifests in me putting the guys back together, stabilizing for the tougher leg work that happens in the hospital. It’s not much different here. Twenty miles from New Castle, Colorado, I ran into a guy who’d flipped his truck and severed four fingers. I stopped the bleeding, found the lost digits, and got him and them in a medivac I called in.

  Fight and fix all in the name of God, the United States of America, and to save Justin. It seemed like the only way after he ran in to some tough times post high school. And for a while we were on top of the world, elite fighting machines with a purpose. It just happened that the last mission didn’t have a clean break.

  “Close the door, Piper. Temperature drops fast around here. You’ll catch your death, and I’ve seen enough of it to last a lifetime.”

  She leaves it ajar, gripping the edge until her knuckles whiten under the strain. “Thank you, but no. My house, remember? So turn your ass around and get back in that deathtrap of yours. I hear your sister has an open room. Enjoy the fresh linen.”

  “My life, remember?” I mock and enjoy the new bout of rage that rolls off her. “I like it here. The cabin may look like shit, but it smells amazing. What’re you cooking?”

  She raises a brow and angles the door open wider with a nod in its direction, implying I should use it.

  “Close it, woman. And tell me what’s for dinner.” I use the tone that has men pull their rifles, but she just stares me down. Something tells me she gets her way. The refined elegance of her posture speaks to an upbringing far greater than the dregs of small-time, small-town Oregon, and I don’t suppose her approach fails to do her bidding when she a
sserts herself. Piper may be small, but she’s fierce. The sly tilt of her head and the way she looks down her nose could be intimidating for some. Not to me.

  I sigh and face her with hands on my hips, staring into eyes of black magic. “I’ve had a long day, a longer month, and to date, the worst year of my life. Something we have in common. I don’t want to fight. I want to eat and then sleep for as long as my brain will stay still. Can we do that, or should we hash some shit out before morning comes?”

  “You’re not listening. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want you here. Not today or tomorrow or next year. I’m not even really mad at you in particular; I’m pissed at the universe for a long list of reasons that can’t be voiced in ten minutes. Cute dog, though—he can stay if you’re looking to pawn him off.”

  “Not a chance,” I say, peeking at the pup who’s keeping my sanity intact. He settles by her feet, a guard in the making. “Gus is my responsibility, as are you.”

  She heaves out a breath and slams the fragile door. I expect the dull thud is a prelude to a fiercer attack by the little sprite, with her finger drawn like a weapon. “Let’s get something straight, Caden Lawless. I am no one’s responsibility, especially yours. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

  The smile that breaks on my face is easy, surprising me, and if her wide eyes are an indication, it appears to catch her off-guard as well. “Sunshine, you keep calling me by my full name and I’m going to get a god complex. Like Jesus Christ, I change lives, but it’s just Caden. Or sir, if you’re so inclined. Now about dinner?”

  Her mouth tugs at the corner in the first hint of a grin I’ve seen, but it falls before materializing. She stands frozen for a moment before bursting past me to a makeshift kitchen island big enough that it juts into the living room. “What’s for dinner? I’ll give you food, you towering mountain of stubborn man. Here.” Piper grabs a bowl, tucking it under her arm and snatching a fist full of ammunition.

  The first muffin catches me off-guard, and is a direct hit to my chest. I duck as the next whizzes so close to my cheek it stirs up air in a rush. Good arm. I catch number three and take a bite. Apple cinnamon. It’s fucking delicious and such a waste to have them land in a heap on the cracked floor. Gus rasps out a bark and scurries after what’s become a convenient snack, but I have no time to stop him from indulging as Piper grunts through another throw.

  “Give it to me, sunshine. I want your truth.”

  “Truth.” The word cracks and my heart lurches against my ribs. “I didn’t think it would happen. You told me it wouldn’t. You said he’d be back, and I believed you because I needed to.”

  She’s right, I did, and my once ravenous appetite retreats. I swallow past the bile in my throat and knock away the next muffin thrown with more vehemence than the last. “I needed to believe he’d walk through that door again, but instead it’s you.”

  I stop blocking. Her aim is true, hitting me in the thigh and sternum, close to the places the sniper found as I carried what was left of Justin away from the field. Pain returns, just as if I were there in the heat with his added weight over my shoulder. I wouldn’t leave him. The first bullet had tugged at my leg and I’d stumbled enough that the second missed its mark to my jugular. I hide behind my palms, digging into my eyes to suppress the memory even as it’s brought to the forefront with so much vibrancy it plays out as a movie in my mind.

  “It’s just you,” she says barely louder than a whisper. “Truth—you make me remember. When I look at you, I see Justin. I wish I was blind. I don’t want to see because it makes me wish he was here and you were up on the hill in the ground. And just thinking that makes me a monster.”

  Her unsteady breath reaches into me and strikes from head to toes and back up again in a startling chill. “I do too. More than you will ever know.”

  I pull my hands to my temples, rubbing as she walks to stand in front of me. Muffins tumble on the floor when she drops the bowl. It clatters at our feet as she grabs my shirt and tips her head back so I have no choice but to look into her pooling eyes. I have never seen pain like this before, but if that word could manifest itself into a picture it would be Piper in this moment.

  “I felt it,” she whispers. “I knew before the knock on the door, Caden. I couldn’t sleep that night—something in my stomach hurt and I thought it was the baby, blamed it on indigestion. And then my heart fluttered like a goddamn butterfly and it flew out of my chest, and the pain was gone.” She grabs it now, rubbing as if the ache is still there. “The feeling was so free. This sense of peace washed over me and I knew. Goddamn it, I felt the moment Justin left this world. The second he died is tattooed on every part of me. I can’t let it go, I never will because I touched the beautiful freedom he’s experiencing. His suffering was over and that little flutter was him telling me he was good. He’s good. But I’m not.” She gasps and holds her shaking hand to her mouth, her eyes widening even as the water blurs the inky depths. “But I’m not. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him; instead, I felt him leave me. I’ll never have that kind of love again.”

  I nod my understanding, unwilling to lay out useless platitudes that so many feel necessary to soften loss. The only thing I can do is offer myself as paltry consolation. “You’re not alone. I won’t let that happen.”

  She shakes her head, and the tears disappear as she does. “My truth is that hope died with Justin in the desert. My truth is that I’m not your responsibility. I’ve got this. Go live your life the way you intended. That’s what Justin would want you to do.”

  Stepping back, she smoothes her hands over the baby and composes herself into the spirited woman who opened the door.

  Until this moment, I didn’t know how much I’d needed her to need me, but it unravels as a heavy ball in my stomach. I spent my whole life watching over Justin because he didn’t have a family, not a real one anyway. I failed him. But I can make up for it with Piper. I may have thought of her and the baby as a promise made, one I had every intention of keeping only because it was Justin’s dying wish, but maybe this is my redemption. Maybe taking care of them will silence the voices, the noise, the memories that won’t let me sleep at night. I can be a friend, their provider, her chance at living somewhere better than in a dilapidated cabin on the edge of town. I’ll be Piper’s promise for brighter days until she finds a permanent person to fill the void.

  “Everyone gets to hope. It’s a free gift you can open every morning and fall asleep holding onto at night. It doesn’t end,” I say. “We can hope together. Do you trust me?”

  August 29th

  Dear Justin.

  I never knew the meaning of I miss you until you walked out the door. The dark silence of night is the worst, and I’ve found I hate my bed because you’re no longer in it. Then I look out the window at the stars and I remember just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean you’re not still with me.

  x Piper

  Chapter Two

  Universal Truths

  Piper

  ECHOES OF a lost heart beat inside my mind. Trust? Caden’s question is a mirror of one asked of me ten months ago.

  I’d jumped at the chance then. I’d never met a man like Justin Weber. He was a jumble of tattoos and muscle, a temptation for the good girl to want the bad boy with a wild abandon. I fell head over heels with a breathless yes, take me, marry me, give me a baby and come back when you can.

  In hindsight, Justin was never really mine. He was a hurricane that materialized out of nowhere. Being zipped into his whirlwind had been so crazy and unsteady and perfectly right all at the same time. Yet I knew deep down as fast as he swept me off my feet, his storm would move on. I felt it. I knew he wouldn’t return. Some sick feeling in the pit of my stomach had said so, but I’d listened to Caden and his promise he’d bring him home.

  It didn’t happen. But Justin had loved me hard, and I don’t regret one minute. He was my salvation. I’d never belonged anywhere or to anyone. When I’d needed a drastic change
after an ultimatum from my mother, I chose Oregon. And Justin. He’d been home for a four-week leave and I fell for him with the same speed of his storm. Then he left. And then he died. I miss him like he took my heart and my lungs, and there are times I can't breathe.

  I just lived through one of those moments with Caden. I hadn’t confessed to feeling Justin die before now. It seems impossible, but I know it’s true. He was halfway around the world but he was here in Lilyfalls with me that night, and I’m pretty sure he’s still around checking on me as the days click by.

  The thought is a pang in my heart, and I rub my chest and then our baby. He kicks so hard my stomach distends with his foot. The confines are getting too small for him and as much as he’s ready for some added leg room, I am too.

  Caden’s eyes snap down to my burgeoning belly. He’s a mess of a man, everything thrown together as if God couldn’t decide if he should have brown hair or red. Blue eyes or green, slim or bulging with muscles, and maybe even alive or dead, based on his near-miss from the same firefight that took Justin away. Anger vibrates through him in one breath and his shoulders relax in the next. The ingredients whip together to make for one hot and sexy cupcake.

  That thought confuses me, or maybe it doesn’t. I’ve been dazed for so many months—men are the last thing on my radar. Not to say Caden is on mine. But for the first time in a long while, I can appreciate beauty for what it is.