True Beginnings (The Lost and Found Series Book 3)

by Amanda Mackey

  “Truth be told, I’m not sure.” Glancing down at my left leg and the way it jutted out from the seat left the chasm inside wider. I still needed to come to grips with my new look. Not seeing my calf and foot.

  After speaking with Zane for an hour or so in the hospital and him leaving me his number for when he returned to the States, I wasn’t feeling quite as sorry for myself. I’d make sure to call him. Keep in touch with someone who could relate.

  “I’m gonna stay with you for a bit. Until you feel more comfortable and can get around easier.”

  Feeling like a charity case, I gritted my teeth. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

  “Like fuck you will. I’m staying. End of story. You can bust my ass all you want, but you need someone with you. Stop being so damn stubborn and let me help.”

  His voice brooked no argument, even though I could push it. He’d do what he felt was right, regardless of my opinion.

  “Whatever, man.”

  “You’re not fighting me on this?”

  “What’s the point? You’re just as stubborn as me. Sounds like you’ve made your mind up.”

  “Good.”

  And that was that. Dec would be moving in.

  “Mac okay with it?”

  “She’s fine. In fact, she’s the one who suggested it?”

  “She did?”

  “Uh huh. She cares about you.”

  Blowing air between my compressed lips, I peered out the window. I needed to let more people in and accept their help. That included Red.

  I wouldn’t be able to hide from her. She’d be at the damn hospital every day, making sure I obeyed protocol and doctor’s orders.

  I remembered the horrified expression on her face when the nurse had thrown the bed covers down to reveal my injury. She’d schooled it well after a heartbeat, but I’d noticed. Deep down beneath the cool, professional façade I’d seen fear. Shock. Pity. All of it.

  I imagined her thoughts at that moment. Oh, my God. He’s lost some of his leg. He’ll never be the same again. What does his future hold now? He’ll have to quit the military. What will he do? How will he cope? Will he be able to have a relationship?

  They were the exact same questions I’d asked myself and I didn’t have answers to any of them.

  ***

  Stepping foot back in my house brought me to a complete stop. Someone had been here and redecorated. Not the furniture. In the living room against the wall above the couch hung a large, Welcome Home banner. On the coffee table below sat some fresh flowers in a vase, and above floated a sea of black and white balloons.

  What the actual fuck? My jaw hung slack. Dec smiled guiltily at my reaction, obviously having a hand in it. I didn’t know whether to be pissed that someone had been in my place while I’d been out of the country or happy that they’d gone to the effort. The balloons and banner signified a happy return as if a celebration should be occurring. Like it was my frigging birthday or something.

  I didn’t feel that at all. Coming home scared the crap out of me. It signaled the end of my career. The end of everything I’d known. Frowning, I threw a glare at Dec.

  “You did this?”

  “Well, not physically. It was Char’s idea. She thought it might cheer you up, so I agreed.”

  When he noticed my not so happy reaction, his smile dwindled.

  “You’re mad?”

  I went to shove a hand through my hair and a crutch fell to the floor, causing me to almost lose my balance. I had to hop on my right leg to stabilize. Dec grabbed my arm.

  “Easy, man. I got you.”

  He bent down and picked up the crutch after he was sure I wouldn’t topple.

  At that one simple moment, a flick switched in my head again. A surge of anger rose. I couldn’t even stand properly by myself. I was helpless. Useless.

  I rushed to the couch, throwing myself down, feeling a throb at my injury site. Throwing one of the crutches across the room, I let out a growl.

  Dec stood in place, quietly observing. I sucked in air. In. Out. In. Out. I needed to destroy something and I think he knew it.

  Gripping both sides of my scalp, I squeezed. “Fuck this shit! I can’t even stand on my own two Goddam feet! I need a babysitter!”

  My chest tightened. I’d never needed anyone, being independent from a young age. Even as a boy and an only child, I’d done things around the house. My parents had made sure I could cook, clean, and sew buttons on before I reached puberty.

  Suddenly the weight of everything came crashing through me. The reality of never being able to fight. I’d struggled to mesh with civilian life for years since joining the military, which was why I’d always accepted every mission offered to me. How in God’s name would I do it? I needed the thrill of battle as much as the beat of my heart.

  Pounding my fist into my right thigh, I let out a roar. It sounded more like a dying bear. I could relate. A part of me was dying. A slow, painful demise of who I’d always been and could never be again.

  A hand came to my shoulder. I hadn’t seen or felt Dec move to sit beside me.

  He didn’t speak. Simply squeezed and didn’t let go while I bled tears from my soul. Sobs of grief. Despair. My dark warrior beast wanted to jump out and kill. Maim. What would I do with him now? I’d have to tamp him down. I had no outlet. I couldn’t even stand on two feet, let alone tear anything to shreds.

  Dec’s cell rang. He rose and I vaguely heard him say, “Hey angel…” The pounding of blood in my ears drowned out the rest as he moved away, leaving me to teeter on the edge of hell.

  My mind felt like it was spiraling out of control as I grabbed a cushion and threw it across the room, a picture of my parents hitting the wooden floor and smashing.

  I didn’t care in that moment, my rage cresting into an entity of its own. I cursed multiple times, pushing myself off the couch, teetering. Lifting the one crutch I had, I thrust it under my arm and attempted to hobble into my room where my handgun rested, inside my bedside drawer. I needed the soothing feel of metal to help calm me. Even just to hold it.

  My shoulders banged on the hallway wall as I struggled to push on. Dec would be sure to hear me and cut his call short. I just needed to get a few more feet to my room so I could shut the door.

  I hadn’t even bothered to try picking up my other crutch. I was too high on adrenalin and sorrow to care. I braced a hand on the wall and used it as leverage to propel myself forward.

  “Viper?”

  Dec stood in the living room, phone still to his ear as his expression became one of intensity. As if he knew my plans. We stood for a long drawn out second. My brother. My family. I tried to relay how much he meant to me as a strange calm fell over me. I gave him a nod and with one final thrust forward, I turned and entered my room, closing the door and locking it.

  Dec cursed and followed down the hallway.

  “Viper? You okay? Talk to me. What are you doing?” His desperate plea failed to pull me from getting my weapon.

  As I overthought everything and the sorrow deepened, the idea flourished. Holding my gun wouldn’t be enough. It would signify further all I had lost. Suddenly the road ahead I had to travel seemed endless. I couldn’t do it. It was too hard. My feelings of doom in the hospital returned and all I wanted was peace. I needed the hurt to end.

  One jump. Two. Dropping the crutch and sitting on my bed, I pulled the bottom drawer open and threw out my neatly folded shorts. My breathing belied my inner calm when only moments ago chaos had nourished my veins.

  Eyeing my lifeline, I reached in and gripped the cold handle, peace reaching tentacles around my hand and up my arm.

  Pounding on the door. “Come on, brother. Open the door! Talk to me! What do you need?”

  What did I need? Funny thing about despair. It was a lonely street. Nothing anyone said could make it better. I needed the torture in my head to stop. I needed to feel whole again.

  My other hand came to caress the short barrel. My friend.
The only thing I knew could take the torment away.

  Cocking the chamber, I breathed out when I found it full. Not that I needed them all. One would do.

  They say in the moments before death, your life flashes before your eyes. The good parts and the bad. All on a continuous movie feed as you take your final breaths. I had nothing but numbness. Black.

  The door shook from Dec’s weight.

  “You better open this fucking door right now or I’m breaking it down!”

  A second ticked by. A second closer to ending the excruciating torment. Without my career I was nothing. I lived for the missions which continued to feed my sickness. When I fought and let the warrior take over, I was somebody. I was focused and complete. I’d never get to experience that ever again. I’d have to try and fit into a society that I’d long since stopped being a part of. Regular folk didn’t understand the struggles of trying to live back in normalcy after living off the grid in the desert with nothing but orders, chaos, and violence.

  More seconds ticked by. Red’s face flashed before me. She’d cry over my death. But she’d get over it. She’d survive. Life for her would go on the way it always had. I couldn’t give her what she wanted. What she needed. To think for even a second that I could be the man she deserved was simply wishful thinking. She didn’t know the true depths of my mental state. I would only hurt her more by living. She had feelings for me. I knew. And under the right circumstances, I’d probably grip on to that with both hands, but nothing about me was normal. Not now.

  The banging continued, and in another couple of pushes, Dec would be though.

  I eyed my trusty revolver. We’d been through a lot together so it proved fitting that it should be the weapon to put me out of my misery.

  Dec’s frantic screaming faded and a calm washed over me as I raised the gun to my temple. Soon. Mom and Dad. Soon.

  Closing my eyes and taking a couple of full deep breaths, the first I’d been able to since my injury, I squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Viper

  A click. Nothing. I pressed the trigger again. Same thing. What the fuck? Pulling my gun down to check it, a loud bang sounded as Dec finally managed to push the door in.

  It reverberated off the wall, causing me to pause and look up. That’s all the time took to gauge my friend’s horrified face.

  In an instant he ran across the room, a roar sounding from his thick throat. “Are you fucking insane?”

  He practically launched himself at me, snatching the gun away, not caring that it now pointed at him.

  Once it left my hands, everything slowed down. Dec’s words became vacant and slurred like I floated in a big bowl of soup. My torso began tingling and the room tilted.

  I felt two hands grip my shoulders seconds too late. The welcome darkness came.

  ***

  The darkness didn’t stay. Light seeped in. My eyelids fluttered. Shapes morphed. Sounds intensified. Brain fog held tight as I attempted to gain my bearings. Images flashed.

  Gun at my temple. Door thumping and bulging at the hinges.

  Am I dead? I don’t feel dead. Aren’t I meant to be floating? Weightless?

  My body feels…heavy.

  “He’s coming around.”

  That voice. Feminine. Captivating. Familiar.

  “Can I have a moment?”

  “Sure. I’ll be outside.”

  Feet padding away.

  Lifting my heavy lids, I focused on my surroundings. A room. Sterile. Similar to one I’d been in recently. Hospital.

  My neck pivoted to a shadow looming. Green, scorching eyes plummeted me into an emotional tangle.

  Burnished coppery strands of hair framed a heart-shaped face. Dotted freckles peppered an upturned nose which rested above sultry lips.

  Worry marked her brow with a heavy indent.

  “Hey.” A quiet caress dragged feathery fingers along my psyche. Soothing.

  “Hey.” My reply sounded cracked and raspy.

  “You scared the hell out of me. Not to mention Dec. He’s been frantic.”

  “What happened?” I needed to know how I still lived? My gun had been loaded. Safety off.

  Had Dec reached me in time?

  Her bottom lip quivered, eyes cast downward before rising to meet mine again. “The gun. It jammed.”

  It did? My trusty pistol had failed? It had never let me down. Why now?

  Too smart for her own good, she said, “You seem disappointed.”

  “I guess I am. It could have all been over. Now…I have to live with…this.” Pointing at my leg under the blankets, I then aimed a finger at my head. “And this.”

  Silence ensued while she processed my admission. Her pupils eclipsed those chartreuse irises I swam in. “You want to die?” A whisper. Nothing more.

  I watched on as her eyes welled but no liquid fell. Her strength wouldn’t let it fall and I admired her for it. She wouldn’t give me her tears. I didn’t deserve them.

  Unable to answer, I turned and stared at a curtained window.

  The nurse taking care of me returned, quietly stepping up to my bed, assessing the situation. Char was in her uniform, obviously working. She must have taken time out to come visit me when she heard the news I’d been brought in.

  “I’d better get back to my wing and do some more rounds. Look after him, Denise.”

  “I sure will. And I’ll also let you know if there’s any change.”

  Still, I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want her disappointment. I’d already had her pity.

  Now she truly might realize how screwed up and wrong for her I was. She needed to walk away.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Char

  God! I had been so close to bursting into tears back there. What had he been thinking? Did he feel so alone and beaten down that he wanted to kill himself? The image of him aiming the gun at his skull wouldn’t leave me. Dec hadn’t gone into too much detail but it had been enough to crack my heart in two. After having a barrel aimed at my skull, and the fear I’d felt, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d felt any of that same fear. Obviously not. Because to pull the trigger there had to be no fear.

  I understood his anger and bereavement after losing part of his leg. I’d seen the myriad of emotions play out in patients before, but to want to die over it? There had to be way more going on in his head that we weren’t aware of. PTSD was a silent killer in many cases. Most harbored their demons alone. Well, he wasn’t pulling that shit again. Not while I still had breath left in me. And I’m pretty sure Dec and Mac felt the same.

  Walking to the waiting area, I greeted my friends solemnly. Mac had been crying and Dec…he looked pissed. And defeated.

  Seeing his best friend in such a state would haunt him forever.

  Mac stood as I approached and Dec gripped the seat harder, muscles bunching everywhere.

  “How is he?” Mac choked.

  Hugging her, I answered, “He’s awake.”

  “And?” Dec stood and moved closer.

  I took pause not really knowing what to say to them. “I don’t know. He seems disappointed the gun jammed.”

  “Fuck!” Dec spit out a little too loudly for a hospital. A doctor and nurse walking by turned and stared before shuffling past. The three people waiting alongside them watched closely.

  Mac appeased him by rubbing his back. “Keep your voice down! Be mindful of where you are.”

  He gripped the back of his neck, searching the area for anyone else staring. “I’m just so angry with him right now. I knew he’d struggle with what happened, but I didn’t think…” Dragging in a breath, he pivoted and walked away, probably to get his head together.

  “Do you think he’ll try it again?” Mac asked, eyes glassy.

  “He’ll be on suicide watch for thirty-six hours. A psych will go in and evaluate him. Possibly change him to different anti-depressants. After that, we’re gonna have to watch him like a hawk. There’s only so long we can
keep him here. The rest will be up to him.”

  As if thinking as she stared through me and then focused, she said, “I know it’s horrible to say, but maybe it’s a good thing he can’t get around easily. It’ll be harder for him to try anything stupid. We’ll just have to make sure his weapons are locked away and anything he might be able to use instead. He can move in with us.”

  “No!” I shot out. “I’d like to help. I’ll stay with him.”

  Mac appeared surprised, her brows rising. “What about work?”

  “We’ll figure something out between the three of us. Maybe Dec can watch him during the day until I get home.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Char. I know how you feel about him. And I realize the state of his mind. Do you think Dec would be better at handling it?”

  Probably. But I wasn’t budging with this. I needed to show him I didn’t care about his injuries. I cared about him.

  If I moved back in for a bit, he wouldn’t be able to avoid me. He’d have to face the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Listen, I’ve got to get back to work. You back on the roster tomorrow?” I asked her, knowing she’d taken the day off to be with Dec.

  “Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  As I began stepping away, she touched my arm. “Thanks, Char. I mean it. You’re going over and above. He’ll realize it sooner or later.”

  She smiled. I walked away. I needed to focus on my work and not on the stupidly, frustratingly, beautiful soldier who lay in ruins not far away. How could I save him?

  Picking up a file from the nurse’s station, an idea came to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Viper

  Two days. Two fucking days of being cooped up again under constant surveillance. Talk about feeling like a prisoner. A psychologist had visited twice. After appeasing her that I wasn’t going to off myself again, she booked me for weekly sessions at her office and left. My head resembled a swirling eddy in constant motion. Doctors came. Nurses went. The cycle never stopped.