Help Our Heroes: A Military Charity Anthology

by T. L. Wainwright

  Tucker: Sleep sweet, gorgeous. See you this afternoon.

  Tucker: Good Morning, my plans for the day got sideswiped. I missed a few important emails and messages yesterday. I’ll see you at Ben’s swearing in.

  Me: I hope everything is okay. See you in a few hours

  I quickly open my group snapchat and laugh loudly when I see Bella eat mat after a tumbling pass goes bad at last night’s optional late open gym. The girl tried to pull a Biles, two back flips followed by a half twist. Except she had a faulty take off and didn’t make it out of the second flip. We can’t all be Olympians.

  ***

  “Hey mom, sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?” I ask breathlessly.

  “Oh sweetheart, you look beautiful this afternoon. Ben is in the second group.”

  “Don’t I always look beautiful?” I implore then ask my actual question before she gets on to me about my sarcasm, like usual. “You’re sure there isn’t any bailing out, right?”

  “No Teagan, he knew what he was doing when he signed that contract.” My mother’s answer is firm and her tone tells me there’s no room for my childish inquisition today, but I usually always push the envelope. Challenges that are spoken, written, or assumed, I jump at them.

  “Actually, I read that there are a few options.”

  “Teagan Marie Finley, hush. I will blister that bottom.” She threatens. “Now, here comes Benjamin. Support him Teagan, be proud of him.”

  “I’m sorry, and I will,” I whisper and lean back into my seat.

  I feel Tucker’s presence before I his greeting tickles my ears. It’s mind boggling how aware my body is to his.

  I smile and look him over. He fills out a suit way to well. Should I have dressed up more? I look from him to my mom who is wearing something similar to me, and shrug. Guess not.

  “Hi,” I smile as I look him over again. “Nice suit, handsome.”

  Tucker shrugs and links our pinkies as the officer begins addressing the fifteen enlistees.

  “Recruits, remember both groups today are bussing out at thirteen thirty. That gives you about an hour or so to eat and get back to the main lot. Immediate family only to see the recruits off.”

  “Yes, Sir,” they all respond in unison.

  “Dismissed.” And just like that we all file out of the room and head to lunch. Ben was initially supposed to bus out to basic training in January. After my birthday. After my graduation. But he got an email Saturday afternoon that revised his orders for departure to Fort Campbell.

  Once back on the location of the recruiting office, we all make our way to the lot surrounded with families, some laughing, a lot crying. I hear a familiar laugh and my heart nearly pole vaults from my chest.

  Why is Tucker here? And his family? Didn’t the guy say immediate family only?

  “Ten minutes,” a man standing near the massive bus commands.

  “That’s our cue,” Ben announces and starts his hugs, first to the Hoyt family skipping Tucker then to me. I fight back the tears when his arms loosen around me. “Hey, no tears. You’ve got quite the undertaking to go She-Hulk. I mean, I’m good with you doing my laundry too.” Ben’s words cause me to burst into laughter, sadness aside.

  “In your dreams, Benny,” I laugh as he pushes me back and moves on to mom and dad. I watch as Marilyn hugs Tucker tight but not until I hear my dad tell the boys to behave does it all click. My hand clutches my chest as my body is crashed against the one person who calms my world. Except he’s the reason that I’m going into a tailspin.

  “Tucker,” I cry, “tell me you’re kidding. Don’t do this to me. To us. I just got you!”

  “What’s going on? What’s she talking about?” I hear Ben growl just before mom tells him to hush.

  “Teagan. You and me? We are stronger than a choice I made three months ago. I know I should have told you, but I didn’t want to lose you before I could get you to see that we’re meant to be. To try.” Tucker’s voice soothes me about as much as rubbing alcohol poured into a freshly opened wound.

  “No,” I sob, holding on as tight as I can, clinging to him in hopes that he changes his mind.

  “Ten weeks, Teag. I’ll see you in ten weeks.” He promises.

  “Why?”

  “Because I needed to do this. Positive note,” he chuckles, “Ben won’t be left alone.”

  “You all lied to me, to my face.” I conclude stepping out of Tucker’s arms. I stand defensively as the man near the bus shouts a five-minute warning. It feels like we’ve been standing here for hours, yet seconds as I watch Tucker observe me. Hot streams of tears pour down my face as I look at my parents, Marilyn, The Hoyts, and my brother who looks as if he’s about to murder Tucker. I guess that’s one way to avoid enlistment.

  “No,” my mother rushes to try and fix this mess imploding in my chest.

  “Round up. Let’s go!”

  “Teagan Marie Finley, I love you. I hope you know that and remember it often.” Tucker’s lips tentatively grace mine. “Ten weeks,” he murmurs, “I’m betting on you. On us.” His smile, while still beautiful, isn’t as easy going as it usually is as he walks backward, keeping his eyes locked on mine

  “Dude, what in the actual fuck!” I hear Ben roar as his closed fist collides with Tucker’s face.

  “Ben!” we all gasp in shock, all but Tucker. He shoots me a wink with his good eye, his right eye is already swelling, and shouts, “I love you Teag. Ten weeks and I’m coming home. I sure as hell hope you’ll be there.”

  We all know he isn’t literally coming home in ten weeks. Basic graduation then Advanced Individual Training commences. But it is in that exact moment that I truly understood Tucker’s words from the night before when he said no matter where we were, no matter what we were doing, I was his home. I get it now, because he’s mine.

  The end!

  … just kidding it’s only the beginning!

  About The Author

  BIO

  Alyvia Paige lives a double life in central Illinois. Outside of working full time and writing happily ever afters, you can find Alyvia binge watching Grey's Anatomy, lounging at home with her pups, or cheering away at sporting events. Alyvia is turning her scars into stories, literally.

  Social Media/Book Links

  Amazon: www.amazon.com/Alyvia-Paige/e/B00Z53FQZG

  Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/Alyvia-Paige-560844384017436/

  Website: www.alyviapaigeauthor.com

  Twitter: @APaigeAuthor

  Instagram: @alyviapaigeauthor

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14008155.Alyvia_Paige

  Never Forget Him, Never Forget #1

  by

  Tracy Lorraine

  Blurb

  I only knew him two weeks.

  It was the best two weeks of my life.

  He was the one.

  He showed me what love was.

  He taught me the pain of heartbreak.

  He left something behind for me to keep forever.

  Never Forget Him is the first instalment of Tracy Lorraine’s steamy military duo, Never Forget.

  Dedication

  Andy and Amelia

  Prologue

  “Once upon a time there was a handsome soldier. He was strong and brave, and whisked the princess off her feet.

  “The solider was a hero, fighting all the bad guys and giving people their lives back.

  “He was more than that, though. He wasn’t just the brave soldier, he was thoughtful and caring, funny, and a little bit of an idiot.” I smile to myself as memories start playing out in my mind of his slightly wonky smile when he was winding me up, and the infectious sound of his laugh.

  “One day, I’m going to be just like Daddy. I’m going be big and brave and rescue people,” Denny says sleepily.

  I stay where I am, sat on the edge of his bed, and watch as he loses the fight against sleep. Denny looks just like him. Most days I find it comforting, but there are times, like right now, after
he’s made me recite his nightly story, that it’s painful. The memories of him threaten to rip me apart.

  I gently sweep his hair from his forehead once I know he’s fast asleep. “You already do that, baby boy. You rescue me every day,” I whisper as I take one last look at his gorgeous, peaceful face.

  Chapter One

  Five Years Ago…

  “Erin, come on, at least look a little excited about this. It’s your twentieth birthday, for fuck’s sake,” Frankie, my best friend, complains when I sit on her bed, looking less than enthusiastic about our night out.

  “I’m good, Ki. I am looking forward to it,” I lie. “It’s just I’m—”

  “Worried about your mum.” Her words come out softer, showing she does understand. They still make me feel guilty, maybe I’m being a little too self-involved.

  “I’m sorry. I’m going to forget all that and we’re going to have an amazing night,” I announce, summoning up as much excitement as I can muster.

  Frankie is the ultimate party girl. She loves nothing more than spending all weekend either getting ready to go out, or being out and getting very drunk. That whole scene isn’t really me; I much prefer to spend my Saturday night at home, in my den, working, but I don’t have a chance in hell of getting away without going tonight, seeing as it’s my birthday.

  “Here, get this down your neck. It’ll help chill you the fuck out,” she says, thrusting a glass of vodka Red Bull at me.

  “Haven’t you got anything else?”

  “Nope, suck it up. We’re gonna get ourselves nice and drunk before heading out. Seeing as we’re two weeks away from our next loan payments coming in, I’m fucking skint. We don’t all have a cushy job like you,” she says before necking her drink in one go. I, on the other hand, sip at the vile liquid before putting it down behind me. If I never taste vodka Red Bull again I’d be happy. “Although,” she adds, with a wiggle of her eyebrows, “a little birdie told me there’re some hot soldiers in town tonight. Maybe they’ll buy us some drinks.”

  I can’t help but groan at her mention of soldiers. Frankie makes no secret of her desire to bed a hot army guy. She has some obsession with being the one to make a soldier’s leave the best he’s ever had, to let him use her to blow off steam before sending him packing to wherever it is he’s based with some amazing memories and no intention of ever seeing him again.

  “Oh, don’t give me that, E. You know you’d want it if you had the chance.”

  I don’t respond other than to lift my eyebrow at her. She knows exactly what I’d say, anyway. My dad was in the army and I watched what it did to Mum every time he left to go on tour. I vividly remember the day she answered the door and collapsed to the ground wailing before the men the other side had even spoken. From as early as I can remember, I’ve said I’d never touch a man in the army. Dad broke my mum—totally shattered her. I never want to experience anything like that. Ever.

  “Anyway, what do you think?” Frankie asks as she holds a small piece of silver glitzy fabric in front of her.

  “I think it looks about the right size to be a dishcloth, Ki.”

  “I don’t know why I bother,” she complains, throwing the dress on the bed.

  Frankie and I are complete opposites. She’s tall, I’m short. She’s blonde, I’m some boring shade of brown—to say brunette would probably make it sound too good. She’s outgoing and adventurous, and I’m shy and reserved. Our choice of clothing is also at different ends of the scale. Frankie follows fashion and must be seen wearing what the celebs are. I, on the other hand, love the 1950’s look, so when I’m not in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt you can find me in something like the high-waist pencil skirt, white shirt, thick red belt with matching court shoes I’m about to change into. It’s not exactly a look most of our fellow students rock on a night out, but it’s what I love, so I go with it. I wouldn’t be seen dead in the tiny scraps of fabric Frankie steps out of her flat in.

  “Who told you that, anyway?”

  “Lisa rang me this afternoon from a bar in town. Apparently, they came in all boisterous and sexy and offered to buy her and Tara a drink. Once they found out their plans for the night, they excused themselves to ring me. I can’t fucking wait, E. Soldiers! Actual soldiers!”

  “Yay,” I say, feigning excitement.

  Frankie throws her lip gloss at me. “If you’re not excited for yourself then at least be excited for me,” she says, before stripping off her robe and reaching for her dress.

  “Ready?” she asks excitedly as she finishes off the drink I abandoned some time ago.

  I take one last look at myself in the mirror and run my hand down the fabric of my skirt. My hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail with my fringe swept to the side and pinned behind my ear. My eyes are lined perfectly and my lips are fire engine red thanks to Frankie’s skills—I could never achieve this look on my own. I may be good with my hands but it doesn’t seem to translate to putting make up on.

  “I guess,” I mutter as I grab my bag.

  Frankie ignores my less than enthusiastic response and takes my hand to pull me through her flat to the awaiting taxi. She can barely sit still during the short ride to the city centre, and I hate to admit it, but her excitement is a little infectious. This may not be my kind of thing, but seeing my best friend this happy does make me feel better about everything.

  “We’re here,” Frankie exclaims, throwing money onto the passenger seat and practically bouncing from the taxi.

  I thank the driver and get out in a slightly more composed manner. I wasn’t paying much attention to where we were going, but I groan when I see which club we’ve just pulled up outside.

  “Smoke? Really?”

  “Yes. This is where Lisa and Tara said the soldiers were heading.”

  I’m not a fan of nightclubs in general, but I have a particular hatred of Smoke and Frankie knows it, which is probably why she didn’t tell me.

  “We’re meant to be out celebrating my birthday. Shouldn’t I have the final say?” I ask, refusing to move from the curb.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Frankie says, thinking about more than her sexy soldiers for a second. “Where do you want to go?”

  I desperately want to say home, but I know that isn’t going to go down well. I also don’t know if it’s actually the truth. The place I love being isn’t the same now I’m watching Mum fight this losing battle with her business. I think where I want to be is anywhere but here. I don’t want to be stood outside this club I hate, and for the first time ever, I don’t want to be in Bristol. I need to get away from it all, from the stress and the pressure. Being in uni should be pressure enough, but that’s not even half of it. Even my love of jewellery making has been tainted by it.

  Frankie stands in front of me. I can see how torn she now is about tonight. She’s a good friend, and I know that if I were to say I didn’t want to go in there, she wouldn’t. As much as she wants those soldiers, I know she’d choose me over them. I’m just not sure I can do it to her.

  “It’s fine, let’s go.”

  “Really?” she asks, all hopeful.

  “Really. But if one sleezeball tries touching me up on the dance floor again, I’m leaving right after kicking him in the bollocks.”

  “Fair enough. Just let me know which one it was and I’ll kick him too.”

  I reach forward and grab her hand, and then together, we walk towards the end of the queue.

  “It’s fucking freezing,” Frankie complains after a couple of minutes waiting in line.

  I look over at her in the flimsy bit of fabric she calls a dress and raise my eyebrow.

  “Oh sssh,” she sulks.

  “ID please,” the bouncer demands when we eventually get to the front.

  I can’t lie, even I’m cold now it’s taken us so damn long to get here. Frankie had a text from Tara ages ago to let us know they were inside, but there was no sign of any soldiers yet. That news didn’t help Frankie’s quickly depletin
g excitement.

  “Thank fuck for that,” she grumbles when we begin walking up the stairs. “I swear my tits were about three minutes from freezing the fuck off.”

  “Let’s go and get a drink,” I suggest, hoping some more alcohol will put the spring back in her step. For my own sake, I really hope these soldiers are real and actually turn up. I don’t think I’m ever going to hear the end of her disappointment otherwise.

  “Oh there they are,” Frankie points to the other end of the bar when we get through the crowd.

  We do the usual shouted greeting that always has to happen when in a club; we all nod and smile at each other like we have a clue what the other is talking about, but in reality, the music is so bloody loud I can barely hear my own thoughts, let alone someone talking to me.

  When Lisa begins pulling something from her bag, I immediately want to run, but instead I’m forced to smile and look happy about the fact they’ve got me a happy birthday sash and flashing badge.

  Brilliant. Now I really will attract unwanted attention. It’s like they don’t know me at all, or more so that they do and they’re all finding this hilarious.

  Tara hands me a drink and I stupidly take a sip assuming it’s my usual Malibu and Coke. Huge mistake. “What the fuck is that?” I shout as I try to scrape the taste off my tongue with my teeth.

  “Jagerbomb,” Frankie announces proudly as she knocks hers back.

  “That’s disgusting, Kiki.” And to think I was under the impression vodka Red Bull was the worst mix of drinks in the world!