It was the true, paralyzing fear that I’d never get that chance again. Had I said everything right? Kissed him long enough? Showed him how much I loved him?
Music. That would help. I turned on Josh’s radio, and immediately shut if off. Elton John’s “Rocket Man” was definitely not what I needed to hear right now.
I rode home in complete silence, the only noise the hum of the engine and the tires on the highway. It was almost five-thirty by the time I pulled into our driveway and set the parking brake. My hands fumbled with the key, but I got the door open.
I stumbled up the steps to our bedroom, where I saw a single white sheet of paper on my pillow with a Hershey’s Kiss.
Dear December,
I’m so sorry you’ll be sleeping here alone for the next nine months. I’m so sorry that I can’t kiss you when you need it, or hold you when you sleep. But know that the miles that separate us are only in distance, never heart. When I lay my head down, no matter how far away I am, I’m always there with you. Love like ours can stretch across the entire universe, so a few thousand miles is the least of our worries.
You own my soul,
Josh
I put the Kiss on my nightstand and sat down on the edge of our bed, which he’d already made up. His clothes were on the floor near the hamper, and his Av’s beanie hung precariously on the doorknob. It looked like he could walk in at any moment.
But he wouldn’t.
Not for another nine long months.
I pulled his hoodie closer and buried my nose in the neckline, breathing in Josh’s scent. Then I laid down on his pillow and let the tears come.
I cried for love, for the pause our life was going to undergo. I cried for the choices I’d made that brought me here again, watching another man I loved going off to war. I cried because I was deathly afraid—afraid that I wasn’t strong enough, capable enough, that all my bravado was just that, and I’d crumble under the strain.
I cried because the deepest, darkest parts of me wondered if that was the last time I’d ever feel his skin under my fingertips or taste his kiss.
I cried until my eyes ached and the sobs stopped shaking my body—until exhaustion lulled me to sleep on a tear-soaked pillow.
I let myself sleep for a few hours, let it take away the misery while my body recovered.
When I woke up, I got into the shower and washed the morning off me. Then I got dressed, went downstairs, and poured a cup of coffee. I’d missed one class, but if I left now, I could catch the last two.
It was what Josh wanted, and it was what I needed.
Deployment or not, the sun still shone, the earth still turned, and I had a life to live.
It just felt a lot emptier without Josh.
Chapter Nine
Josh
The halls of the combat support hospital in Kandahar were unusually quiet as I walked back from my flight physical. Then again, at eight a.m., the day was just getting started.
One month. I’d been in Kandahar one month, and even though it had been years since my first deployment, it somehow felt like I’d never left. In a gross, unexplainable way, it seemed like this was where I lived, and I’d simply been away for a few days.
There were some improvements, of course. Now, I slept in a concrete bunker, spoiled with my own room instead of a giant tent with fifty other guys—on a good night—which meant I had some semblance of privacy when I Skyped Ember.
It was only nine-thirty at home, and if I hurried back, I might be able to get a call in to say good night before I was due on the flight line.
Two hundred and forty more days to go.
I turned the corner, walking past the surgical wing, and managed to glance through the glass of the swinging doors. My body jolted to a stop.
My hands pushed open the door before I knew what I was doing, and my feet followed suit, walking a few steps down the hallway before stopping in front of the picture I’d glimpsed from the window.
Dr. Howard stared back at me, his face as austere as only a government photo could be.
In Memory of LTC Justin Howard.
The picture didn’t show the concern that had always radiated from his eyes, or the quick, no-nonsense advice he’d doled out like medication. It didn’t show the look on his face when he’d recognized me, or the proud nod of his head when he’d gotten me back on the ice.
It was just a photo. It wasn’t him.
But damn if it didn’t feel like he was staring back at me. What the hell would he think of everything that had gone down in the last two years? Would he have welcomed that diamond ring on Ember’s finger? Or would he have told me to leave her the fuck alone?
“I’m sorry.” I whispered so the nearby staff didn’t send me to psych. “It was impossible not to love her. Maybe a better man could have walked away and spared her this, but you and I both know I was never the better man. And yeah, you used to joke about me taking her out, but I know if you had known what would happen to you—what she’d have to endure—well, you would never have wanted me with her. I knew it, and I still couldn’t help myself. I knew we’d end up here, knew what she’d have to go through, and like a selfish fuck, I kept pushing, kept showing up. She pulled me in with nothing more than one look, and whether or not she’d chosen to be mine, I just knew that I’d always be hers. And I know you’re probably pissed, but I swear, I’m doing everything I can to make her happy.”
Everything but be there.
I quieted as a soldier came closer.
“Do you know that story?” the young PFC asked, nodding toward LTC Howard.
“Yeah, a little,” I answered softly.
“He died in this hallway. Stepped in front of a nurse so she wasn’t shot, and he was killed instead.”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. I’d read every report Ember’s mom had been given. “Yeah, sounds like him.”
The kid’s eyes widened. “You knew him? He’s kind of a legend.”
My eyes drifted to the expanse of floor that ran to the operating bays as if his blood hadn’t been washed away…as if it still mingled with mine, spilled in the same hallway. But I was alive and he wasn’t for one simple reason—I’d had him.
Life was anything but fair.
“Yeah,” I answered. “I knew him. He saved my life.”
In every way possible.
Two hundred and twenty-three days to go and I was finally ready to fly missions. Funny how I’d thought that I’d be ready to go as soon as I left flight school. No. Students left Rucker at RL3, and had to make it to RL1 before they could do any flying without an instructor pilot. I’d thought those had stayed in flight school, too. Not so much.
But today I was ready.
Today nothing was happening.
“Is it the slowest day in existence?” I mumbled, tossing a tennis ball against the wall, my boots propped up on the desk.
“Don’t curse us. No work is a good day,” Captain Trivette said as she took the seat next to me and caught the ball on return. I liked her. She was level-headed, quick, and damn good on the stick. She also didn’t take shit as a pilot-in-command.
“Good point,” I acquiesced. It wasn’t that I was itching for action as much as I was ready to give back, to start paying the debt I owed.
An hour later, I got my chance.
“We’ve got a call!” Captain Trivette shouted into the bathroom. “One Bravo, one Charlie. Let’s go.” Bravo, urgent. Charlie, priority. Of course my first call would come while I was taking a leak. I shook it out and tucked it in and then ran for the door, squirting hand-sanitizer on the way out.
I grabbed my gear and sprinted, thankful that I’d kept up on PT since getting here. Seven minutes call-to-air—that was our average. Fastening my vest over my flight suit and moving my weapon from my thigh holster to the vest, I was ready to roll.
A strange mix of anxiety and excitement coursed through me in a way I’d forgotten and yet instantly remembered all too well. Helmet bag in
hand, I met Captain Trivette on our way to the aircraft. Sergeant Rizzo climbed into the back as our medic, sliding the door shut after Specialist Frank got in.
I strapped on my helmet and kneeboard, and then we finished the run-up that had already been started. “We get the full nine-line yet?” I asked through the coms, knowing we needed the complete details before we could launch the aircraft.
“No,” Captain Trivette answered with a shake of her head. “I’m pretty sure the LZ isn’t secure.”
Not secure. They’re still taking fire, and you’re stuck at the fucking FOB. “This is bullshit.”
“Roger,” she said through gritted teeth.
Every second that passed grated each of my nerves, scraping them raw until I was ready to claw out of my skin to fly. I knew how it felt to be pinned down, under fire, with wounded…or to be the one wounded, praying for medevac. Those soldiers were out there waiting on us, depending on us, and we were still sitting here waiting on the fucking nine-line medevac request.
Just when I thought I was about to lose my shit, the details came in, and we launched. Two definite wounded. One walking. One litter. Unsecured landing zone. The ground fell away as I took us to the sky, heading toward the coordinates we’d been given. The Apaches would meet us there to provide security.
If those pilots were anything like Jagger, we were in good hands, but he was up at TK. We kept missing each other on the small opportunities we had to meet up.
Thirteen minutes in the air, and we approached the LZ.
“Gunman one-three, this is Dustoff one-two. Three minutes out,” I radioed the Apaches.
“Dustoff one-two, this is Gun one-three. LZ is not secure,” one of the Apache pilots called over the radio.
“Roger that. Two minutes out, pop smoke,” Captain Trivette answered.
Streams of white trailed from the ground, marking the LZ. From the air, I made out several soldiers taking cover behind a small wall, returning fire. This wasn’t unsecured, this was still a damn firefight.
“Ma’am?”
“Gunman one-three, how hot are we talking about?” Her head swiveled as she took in every detail of the ground that she could make out.
“Cherry red,” came the reply.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
She arched an eyebrow at me and took the controls. “Are we all in?”
“Fuck yes!” Rizzo called over coms.
“All in,” Frank added in.
I brushed my thumb over the picture of Ember I kept taped to my kneeboard. “I’m in.”
Adrenaline rushed into my system, flooding my veins. This feeling…this terrifying rush was only found in one place, and as much as I hated combat, I also craved it with a part of me that was surprisingly outspoken. Hell, it was screaming, let’s do this.
For a millisecond, my memory flashed to the building we’d cleared when I’d been shot, the wry smile Sgt. Green had given me, and his words flew from my mouth.
“Seems like a good day to die.”
Time to pay back what I’d been given.
“Mail the application,” I told Ember on Skype a few days later.
“Hello to you, too.” She laughed, tucking her auburn hair behind her ears as she sat back on our bed at home, unfolding the Hershey’s Kiss I’d left for her in the back of my T-shirt drawer. I missed that hair, the way it ran through my fingers like silk, the contrast of its fire against the pale skin of her naked breasts, the way it smelled. Everything. “How many of these did you hide for me, anyway?” She popped the Kiss into her mouth.
“Enough to send you searching on every bad day you could have while I’m gone. Now, I’m serious, December. Spring break is next week, which means the applications are due. Turn it in.”
She grimaced, wrinkling her nose in a way that was cuter than she intended. “I haven’t decided. You’re gone, and Paisley’s pregnant, and the timing is just all sorts of off.”
“Paisley has a mom and Morgan. This is something you need to do.” I unzipped my top and didn’t miss the way her eyes widened when my shirt came untucked just enough for her to see my abs. Good to know the extra gym time hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Huh?” she asked, her head cocked to the side and her soft lips parted.
“December. Pay attention,” I chastised, and then took my shirt off just for the hell of it. Okay, maybe I wanted to see her drool a little. Besides, the way that little white tank top hugged her perfect breasts, well, I was ready to climb through the screen to get my hands on her.
“You could put on some clothes.” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout that my soul echoed. Skype was great because I could see her in real-time, but it made the ache to hold her that much sharper.
“It’s hot,” I said with a smile.
“Yes, it is,” she said with a slow nod of her head.
“You could always join me.”
“I’m not nearly desperate enough to start forniskyping with you,” she said with her mouth, but her gaze said something very different as she eye-fucked me.
“You will be.”
God, how the hell could she do that? Turn me on from eight thousand miles away with nothing but a look?
“It’s not exactly private over there,” she argued.
“I’d never let anyone see you naked,” I promised. “That delectable little body is all mine, and I don’t share.” I adjusted in my seat as the door burst open.
“Dude!” Rizzo called out in a rush. “If you want in on the— Oh, sorry!”
“Fucking seriously?” I yelled at him.
“Playing through?” she asked with a laugh, reminding me of another time we’d been walked in on.
I swiveled back to her and pointed at her gorgeous face. “Not funny.”
“Yet the point is so eloquently made. How’s it going, Rizzo?” she asked.
The kid raked his hand over his buzzed head. “Sorry for barging in, Ember. Walker, it can wait until later.”
“How’s my guy doing over there?” she asked him.
“I’m fine,” I answered.
She clucked her tongue at me. “Not asking you. You lie. Rizzo?”
He put his giant head in front of mine and blocked the screen so I couldn’t even see her. “You have no need to worry, this guy is already a legend.”
“Oh? Tell me about this legend,” she said with a giggle. I could imagine the smile that would accompany it and nearly shoved his head out of the way to see.
“He’s seriously a badass. Fucking phenomenal pilot, and he’s got it, that one percent everyone else is missing.” Jesus, Rizzo sounded like I was running for office or something.
“One percent?” she asked.
I swiveled my head to see her, but he still blocked the view. Two more seconds and I was going to boot his ass.
“Yeah. You know, everyone has that last percent of self-preservation, that part that kicks in and pulls you back?”
Fuck. This was not going well. “Rizzo,” I warned.
“Yeah?” Ember’s voice dropped.
“Walker’s missing it. His sense of imminent death kicks in like one percent later than everyone else, so he’ll go for it. Hot LZ or not, man, he’s in it to get those guys out. It makes him pretty much the most badass pilot we’ve got here.”
I shoved his head out of my way. “Out. Now.”
“See ya, Ember!” Rizzo called. “Walker, we’ll start without you?”
I nodded and surveyed the damage once Rizzo shut my door behind him. Ember sat crisscross on our bed, her chin held between her hands as she braced her elbows on her bare knees. The smile had vanished from her face, leaving blinking, wide eyes.
“One percent, huh?” she asked, trying to force a smile, which was all the sadder for the attempt. “You might need to tell me where another Kiss is.”
“December.” I breathed her name like it could soothe her soul as it did mine. “It’s not as badass as he makes it sound.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes anywhere but
on the screen. “I get it. I do.”
“I’m perfectly safe,” I lied. He was right. I pushed the envelope to where it needed to be, or rather where I felt it needed to be. “I never do anything that I think might get me, or the crew, killed.” That part was true. I was well aware that it wasn’t only me in that aircraft, that I was responsible for more than just the lives on the ground.
She transformed before my eyes, sucking in a breath and sitting straighter, tucking away the fear into a place that I prayed she wouldn’t really examine until she was physically in my arms again.
Seven more months.
“So, I still can’t seem to get the office to fix the disposal,” she said in a smooth, let’s-change-the-subject move.
“What did you stick down it this time?” My memory flashed to the time she set a West Point shirt on fire in the kitchen sink.
“I may have accidentally not seen a fondue stick in there when I started it last week.”
Her face was too damn cute, and I burst into laughter. “Of course you did. Was it at least good?”
She nodded. “Paisley wanted it, so of course I hooked her up. She’s all southern and sweet, but man, there’s a little dragon underneath there, too.”
Ember had climbed up to get the fondue pot she had to have. Maybe it was small, but she’d asked me not to put it where she couldn’t reach, and I’d done it anyway. I’d made this just a tiny bit harder on her, figuring that I’d be there if she ever needed to get it down. But she’d done it without me.
Everything was stationary here, like our life was on pause, but back there, hers was still turning.
“Call Will,” I said, clearing my throat and my asinine thoughts. Like a stupid fondue pot meant anything in the scheme of things.
“I don’t want to bug him. He’s getting ready to leave.”
“Yeah, well, tell him that I said to get his ass over there and fix it. You’re still feeding him every Sunday?” My heart sank a millimeter at the thought that Will was having dinner with Ember and Paisley, and while I was immeasurably thankful that he was there, helping, checking on the girls, fixing stuff they broke…well, I kind of hated him a tiny bit for it, too.
“Sunday night family dinners.” She gave a sad smile. “Just sans most of the family.”
Hallowed Ground (Flight & Glory #4) Page 8