by Xavier Neal
There's another hard pull at my heart. I hold my voice as steady as I can. “Alpha, Haven.” After a long exhale trying to believe it myself, I say, “I'm home, angel. I'm home.”
Pulling her face up to look at mine, I brush away the tears and continue stroking her cheek. A soft sigh of relief leaves her and I place a soft kiss on her forehead.
“So...” Mindy calls out her nails clinking against her dark brown coffee mug.
I divert my eyes over to her as Haven's head falls on my chest again. She has on no makeup. No curls on the ends of her hair. No “presentable” outfit to the public. All signs Mindy is not in her right mind. Distraught. Upset. The smell of tomato tingles my nose again. Another sign. She only makes it when she feels the worse is headed her way and she can't do anything to stop it. When I started dating Leighyani. When I signed up for the Marines. When I was leaving for boot camp. It's her go to recipe for a crisis. I'm thankful for that smell.
“I know that smell...” I poke at the subject fishing for a smile. Normality is what I need now. I need to put all thoughts of Old Man Banks and his murder behind me. I need to put them behind one titanium wall to never be penetrated. I need Mindy to smile and fuss at me. I need Haven to smile and kiss me. I need to go for a jog. Hit the gym. I need to get back into my life because it's mine. Because it hasn't been sacrificed just for someone else to live. I get to live too.
Sensing my needs as she always has, she picks up her cup trying to hide her trembles. “And?”
“And how much is coming home with us?”
“None with that attitude.” her eyebrows rise as she crosses her legs.
“She made enough to feed an entire base of Marines,” Haven speaks up from my chest, wiping away any remaining tears, humor clearly trying to creep into her voice.
“Damn. That's a lot of soup.”
Her lips scrunch up as humor attacks her as well. “I had some time.”
I shake my head. “Maybe we can take some to Glove and Lordy later.”
“I do like the one with the accent.” Mindy leans back, relaxation hitting her with each passing breath. Good. I need her back to normal. God, it’s hard to be away from her for a day. “Which one was he?”
Haven turns her body around, so her back is resting against me, my arms snaked around her stomach, nestling her the way we both need. “That's Lordy. He's from Georgia.”
“He's adorable,” she giggles. “And the one with enough arrogance to fill an ocean. That's Glove?”
“Right,” I concur from behind her.
“He's got a couple lessons to learn like you did, Slugger.”
Our eyes meet and I see an obvious remark in them. Slugger. I'm still her boy. I'm still her unbloodied son. And like any good mother, she wants to know about her son's friends. Who he's influencing and who is influencing him. I love her. I really do.
“Mind if I take my girl home?”
“Please do.” The corner of her lip twists up. “I need to put my face on. You can see the wrinkles lines you give me from space.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Oh it's my fault you have wrinkles?”
“Of course.” she takes another sip of her coffee. “You're not an easy kid to raise Slugger.”
And that's the truth. In a very serious tone, after all a Marine—no a Walker, a Walker is only as good as his word. I've never been prouder to be one. “I'll try to do better.”
A tear looks like it's trying to weasel itself onto her face, so quickly she says, “Go, go home you two. I'll bring you some soup and homemade bread later.”
“Yes ma'am,” I politely nod and wrap an arm around Haven's shoulder leading her back towards our home. Our home.
3 days Til Deployment (Thanksgiving)
Gathered around the formal dining room table of our home, I listen to the sound of laughter filling the room. While most dinners and social functions are at Mindy's since she does the majority of the cooking, we all agreed that since this is Haven's first Thanksgiving, our first Thanksgiving as a family, that it would be best to do it at our home. We haven't had people over like this since before mom died. Sitting around this table still gives me an eerie feeling, like any moment mom is going to appear over my shoulder and pop me for not tucking my dress shirt in. Or forgetting to button the last button. But I know she's not. That's a pain I can't just shake. But like everyone else, I have to move forward.
Mindy places bowls of mash potatoes, sliced red potatoes, and even brown sugared sweet potatoes in front of us.
I lean back, my arm on the back of Haven's chair. Continuing to argue with Doug who is leaned against the back of our couch with a beer gripped in his hand, I shake my head. “No way they're gonna win this season.”
“Have you seen them play? What do you think, Whiskey?” his rebuttal is followed by another batch of testosterone added to the mix.
“I agree with the Slugger on this one.” he places the turkey on the table, close to the potatoes.
“I'm with Doug,” Felix chimes in sucking on his own beer.
“Lordy? Glove?” I invite them to the conversation.
The two of them are grinning across the table from me. At first, when Haven suggested we invite them, I hit the roof. What the fuck would we need them here for? I'm about to spend several months with them away from her. As usual, my brown eyed angel had a point. Even if I have to admit. They are my family. On and off duty. They're the brothers mom never gave birth to. They deserve to be around on this day as much as the rest of us. Besides, when Lordy told me the two of them would probably just do beer and burgers for the holiday, I knew I'd never hear the end of it if they weren't invited.
“I think Doug's got a point,” Lordy shrugs.
“No way,” Glove shakes his head quickly, his own beer shifting in his grip. “They may have been playing better than last year, but don't buy into that meaning anything more. There's no hope for a Superbowl this year.”
“None.” I toss my face back at Doug with a smug grin still on my face.
“Boys, boys,” Anna tries to hush us while assisting Mindy, Leighyani, and Lexi in the relocating of more dishes like rolls, green beans, and zucchini. One of the beautiful things about holidays is as far as food goes, when it rains it pours. Most of the cooking consisted at various households and just congregated here, with the exception of the turkey, ham, and few desserts Haven insisted making without my help. I didn't mind watching her. I never do. Why would I complain about having to watch my girlfriend lick powdered sugar off her hand? Just the thought of that is forcing me to readjust in my jeans.
“So cocky, Slugger,” Doug shakes his head at me.
“Always.” My chuckle is followed by me leaning over, planting my face beside Havens, my hand stroking her delicate face that she fussed over for hours. She spent an eternity deciding what to wear: a thin flowing brown off the shoulder dress which has my mind constantly picturing my hands just sliding easily under it. She then fussed over how to wear her hair, pinned up in one of those meant look messy bun chicks wear. And then she added just the right amount of make up after much contemplation. I wouldn't trade her fuss for anything. There's just something about her not knowing what to wear being our biggest problem I can't take for granted ever again. For a moment our eyes linger together, a well-known desire bouncing around them. Fuck. I love that look. I nudge her nose with mine, until our lips meet. We lollygag in the moment as if we're the only ones around. As far as I'm concerned we are.
“Do you have to do that at the table?” Leighyani sneers. I pull away slowly, eyes still lost in Haven's.
“I'm curious as to what they're doing under the table.” Glove's remark is followed by a devious chuckle and a gulp from his beer.
“Do you have an off switch?” Her response finally grabs my attention their direction.
In a lower volume he remarks, “I'd have to be turned on first...”
Looking flustered and more annoyed than usual, she grumbles something and folds her arms across her chest. That doesn't
make any sense to me since just a couple weeks ago he asked did I mind if he boned her. Pleased with himself, Glove chuckles loudly as he leans back.
“You'd think you were married newlyweds already,” Mindy coos, half annoyed, half awed.
“I bet they already do something like newlyweds,” Glove says.
Before I can put him in his place, Haven shoots him an innocent look. “Jealous?”
Damn. That's my girl. Over the past couple of weeks, she's started to hold her own when Glove gets mouthy. It makes me proud. It's usually impressive. Another reason to love her.
Completely unaware of the banter between my best friend and my girlfriend, Mindy stops mid clearing of empty beer bottles. “Speaking of, any idea when that's happening?”
I turn so my face towards Haven's again. “I'd marry her right now.”
I am married to her. I don't need paper or a judge to declare what I already know. This girl. This woman right here, born Haven Davenport, reinvented Haven Cartwright is it for me. And when she's ready she will become Haven Walker.
“No one is getting married or even talking about marriage until you get back,” a strong fatherly tone cuts through.
I stroke her face again this time with the back of my hand. “I know, but if I could--”
He clears his throat, “I know.”
“We all know.” Lordy shoots me an approving smile.
“I don't wanna know.” Glove pulls on the collar of his white dress shirt, beer pressed once more to his lips.
“Don't be such a downer, Michael,” Mindy sighs, a glass of wine in her hands as she places the bottle on the table sitting down at her seat on the other side of Haven.
“Sorry, ma'am,” he mumbles like a child who was caught talking out of turn.
Giving the red wine a small swirl in the glass, she sighs, “Love is something to be treasured. Never taken for granted. After all...life is short and at times much shorter than we anticipate. It's wise to remember to make those moments you're given count.”
Glove stares at her for a moment before he nods. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was taking that to heart. Glove in love some day? He's got a better chance at beating me in a shooting contest than giving up his selfish bastard ways and taking “the dive” as he calls it. Ha. Not happening.
“Father of the pencil stabbed victim that we reported on just a few weeks ago has been found dead in his home.” The anchor woman from the T.V. in the living room grabs all of our attention.
Instantly, Haven's body tenses next to mine. A picture of Left Arm pops on the screen. There's a light foot twitch beside me.
“According to the authorities, a house fire took place. It is being reported the fire was not accidental, but being ruled in the favor of a suicide.” A younger photo of the man whose throat I slit pops on the screen. He's standing beside a man that looks vaguely familiar. I know those eyes. I know those features. My eyes sneak a peak of Haven who is doing her best to pretend that's not who I think it is on the screen standing next to that sadistic bastard. Her father.
The T.V. is suddenly shut off and Striker remarks, “That's enough T.V. don't you think?”
For a moment everyone is silent. We've never spoken about the events of that dreadful morning he came for Haven. We've never talked about how I slit his throat. How the
three of us watched him die. We've never talked about what happened to his body or how we disappeared for an unannounced camping trip that day. Up until this moment, I had no more an idea to what happened to that bastard's body than Haven. No need. Didn't matter. What mattered was I wasn't going to jail. Haven was safe. And there was peace. Actual peace. Deep peace. An almost indescribable serenity. Weeks later, it's still here. That's what matters.
Doug breaks the silence approaching the table. “Thank you sweetie for making such a delicious Thanksgiving meal.”
“You're welcome.” Once he's seated she gives his lap a soft pat and looks at me.
Mindy never asked either. I waited days after that trip for her to ponder out loud, casually slip it into a conversation, but she never did. And neither did my girl. She merely accepted life for what it was at that point and the fact I was back in her arms. I think Mindy and she saw eye to eye on that.
Once everyone is settled around the table, Striker raises to his feet clearly for a toast. Glasses are raised. “Thanks to our family. Thanks to the blessing we've encountered and the people we've been blessed with. Thanks to the old family we have and the new members who have joined...” Eyes shift around between Haven, Glove, and Lordy. “And may we be blessed to have Clint, Michael, and Jody return to us safely after they once again embark on the journey to keep our country safe.”
“Here, here,” Felix cheers on.
The rest of us follow in their footsteps, repeating, and then drinking. Haven and I are both enjoying water in glasses, me because I refuse to drink before returning to duty, her because wine causes her face to scrunch. Hilarious to watch. Well, until she glares about it.
Food begins making its way around the table, small talk with it. I lean back for a moment to observe. The chatter to most would see pointless, just ways to fill the empty space, but to me, it's vital. It's like the veins in my body. I need the chatter to stay connected to all of them. To have their lives in my mine may not what be what I live for, but nonetheless it's something that matters a helluva lot.
A bass voice cuts through the hamster wheel of thoughts. “Slugger, can you pass me the mash potatoes, please?”
“Sure, dad.” the word rolls off my tongue as I reach across from me and hand them over.
“Thanks, son.”
With a nod, I pick up my fork, slide a hand into Haven's lap to fold with hers and take my first bite of the meal. Chewing the bite of red potatoes I do my best not to look at Mindy who is looking at me with awe. She's waited years to hear that word come out of my mouth. Instead I look back up at him as he is doing his best not to stare at me in return. Looks like there's pride on his face. Excitement. Maybe even relief or maybe that's gratitude. Honestly, if there's anyone who should be grateful, it's me.
After a delicious meal and dessert, Leighyani makes an immediate exit claiming she has friends she's meeting up with, Striker bails because he's on call, Felix has to pack for work, and Sir—er—dad's shift starts at 8. Mindy divides the leftovers up and sends everyone on their way, leaving a few dishes to be done. She enjoys cleaning as she cooks, so the mess isn't tremendous but it's still there. Glove and Lordy agree to stick around to help clean and enjoy an extra beer before splitting.
“What can we do to help?” Lordy leans on the bar between two empty dishes that held potatoes.
“Clint and I will do the washing if you and Glove don't mind drying?” Haven sweetly says rolling up her sleeves in front of the sink.
“Personally, I prefer to make things wet,” Glove's comment gets him an immediate glare from me. How many times have I told him about talking like that in front of my girlfriend? Disrespect is one thing to ignore when it's just between us. If he keeps this up in front of her, I'll be disrespecting his face.
“And I'm sure you will just as soon as you leave, after you're done drying the dishes.” she tosses dish rags at him and Lordy.
“I swear he's had his shots.” My dog reference gets a giggle out of her as she starts running the hot water.
“Hey every dog needs to get a bone, especially when we aren't getting fed on the regular, feel me?” Glove shrugs smugly.
“It'd be easier to be fed on a regular if you'd stop wandering around like a stray and find a home,” Haven hums matter-of-factly, the first clean dish stacked on the counter, quickly picked up by Lordy.
Girl has a point. A valid point. Another win for her. Damn.
“Is it just me or did you used to be more quiet?” He grumbles as he picks up his first dish to dry.
“Watch it,” I growl. He may not like the shit she says but no one has the right to talk to her that way. Especially not after t
he shit she's had to go through in her life. Especially not after spending years captive. “Speak to her like that again and being an unwanted flea bitten mutt will be the least of your problems.”
He nods without retort. His mood is more foul than normal. A giddy Glove I'm used to. A grumpy Glove I get. But this. This is beyond any mood I've ever seen. Something is eating at him, and he doesn't wanna talk about it. I know what the signs are to recognize them. My guess? Deployment Depression. Leaving behind the carefree ways to return to orders and risking our goddamn lives. At least I have something to come home to. What do Lordy and Glove have besides each other? Neither talks to their families or about them. Another reason we all related so well in the beginning.
Haven rinses another dish off as do I. “I just meant--”
“I know what you meant,” Glove's green eyes flare but he attempts to calm his temper down.
My angel tries again, “Glove, you know the right girl--”
“Doesn't exist for everyone, Haven.” His cold tone gets him another disapproving look from me, this time, I stop my actions.
“That's where you're wrong.” she stands her ground, but continues her movements. “Take it from someone who once didn't believe it either.”
After finishing the dish he was drying, he gives his dirty blond hair a rub, and turns his back so his frame is leaning against the counter. Pouting. Like the small child he is. I prepare to scold him when Haven lays a head on mine as gentle warning, I'm assuming to leave it alone. Fine. For now.
“The peach cobbler was amazing,” Lordy enters the conversation neatly stacking the dishes together.
“Thank you.”
“Grim wasn't kidding. You bake like the Goddess of Dessert, Heaven.”
Haven giggles and kisses me on the cheek. Now that's better. That's the reaction she should be having.
She looks over at him, blushing. “Thank you, Lordy.”
“Did you do anything different to it? Tasted just a little sweeter than I remember. Not at all a bad thing,” he quickly inserts.