One Year Home

by Marie Force

  Screwed up, right? Believe me, I know.

  I get out of the shower and fumble through the process of drying off and getting dressed, which I’ve had to relearn along with just about everything else since I lost my leg. Even with the prosthetic, my balance is precarious, and I still have a great deal of pain—real and phantom—from the loss of my leg.

  By the time I’m dressed in jeans and a button-down that’s come from a dry cleaner thanks to Muncie, I’m completely depleted and sweating. So much for the shower.

  I hear Muncie talking to someone in the next room, which means she’s here. Though it’s the last freaking thing I feel like doing, I drag myself up on the crutches and make my way to the door to meet this woman Ava swears is the best at dealing with the media and the staggering amount of bullshit that has become my life lately.

  I pull open the door, and the first thing I see is a pair of stunning legs. I may be heartbroken, but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice a great pair of legs when I see them. I let my gaze travel up the front of her until I connect with big, startled-doe eyes that scream prim and proper.

  I can’t believe Ava sent me Mary Fucking Poppins in black fuck-me heels and a killer red dress.

  Chapter Two

  JULIANNE

  He’s so scary looking that it’s all I can do not to shrivel up in a ball or bolt for the door to get away from him. If I’d run into him on the street, I would’ve moved out of his way so there’d be no chance of coming into contact with him. And that’s not like me at all. I talk to everyone I encounter, which drives my brothers crazy. They swear I’m going to end up dead one of these days because I’m too friendly to strangers.

  I can’t help it. That’s just how I am. But this stranger is different, and I quickly realize he’s not about to do anything to make this easier for me. He’s also incredibly handsome, but I barely notice that. The scary requires my full attention.

  Muncie breaks the uncomfortable silence by clearing his throat. “Captain John West, meet Julianne Tilden.”

  Mustering courage and determination to get through this with my professionalism intact, even if I’m quaking on the inside, I take several steps forward and extend my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain West. Thank you for your service.”

  He shakes my hand and offers a brusque nod as he lowers himself carefully onto a love seat. “Have a seat.”

  I take one of the straight-back chairs that face the loveseat.

  Muncie produces a takeout cup of coffee, cream containers, sugar and fake sugar. “Wasn’t sure if you drink coffee or how you take it.”

  He seems very sweet, and I offer him a warm smile, greatly relieved that he’s there in case the scary captain decides to go postal on me. “Thanks. I can’t function without it.”

  “You and the captain have that in common,” Muncie says with a pointed look for John as if to say, Get your head out of your ass and be nice.

  At least I hope that’s the message he’s sending, because it would be very nice if the captain would get his head out of his ass and be nice.

  I stir cream and sugar substitute into my coffee. “What can I do for you, Captain West?” He’s not going to make it easy for me? I can play that game, too.

  “Deal with the bullshit.”

  “You’re going to need to be more specific, I’m afraid.” I take a sip of the coffee and thank God once again for whoever thought it would be a good idea to dump hot water over ground coffee beans. Did they know at the time what a service they were doing for all of humanity?

  “I’m getting killed with calls from the media. Everyone wants interviews. They want me to write a book. One company asked me to model underwear for them. It’s nonstop and totally insane, and I can’t deal with it.”

  “How are they contacting you?”

  “Somehow, they got my personal cell number.” As he says those words, a phone on the coffee table vibrates with an incoming call. “That’ll be the first of at least a hundred calls today.”

  “Well, that won’t work. Do you mind if I take the phone and manage the calls for you?”

  He hesitates, glancing at the phone with such yearning that I feel my heart soften toward him.

  “I’ll get you a new one and make sure she has the new number,” Muncie says.

  That’s all the captain needs to hear. “Take it. It’s all yours.”

  I take the phone off the coffee table. “Does it have a code?”

  “Zero five twenty-five.”

  I write that down in the notebook that’s always with me. I sleep with it under my pillow. It has all the most important information about my clients in it. My siblings make fun of my notebook, but a lot of the details contained in there are ultrasensitive, and I’d never keep them on a smartphone that can easily be hacked. We had a seminar at work about that topic last year. It scared the crap out of me and everyone I work with. Quite a few of us have switched to paper and pen since then.

  Captain John West is my only client at the moment. The powers that be at the firm were so excited to land him that they bent over backward to get coverage for all my other clients so I can give the man of the moment my full attention. After ten minutes in his presence, I want to give him back.

  But I won’t do that for two reasons. One, everyone who is anyone in my business would literally kill to be me right now, and two, Ava asked me to take care of him, so I will. I adore Ava. She’s made my brother Eric happier than he’s ever been, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. This is a big deal to her—John is a big deal to her. She was in love with the guy for eight years, more than five of them spent wondering where he was while hoping he would return to her.

  By the time he did, she was in love with Eric and they were planning a life together. I know how hard it was for her to see John again after all that time. I can’t for the life of me imagine what it must’ve been like for him to hear she was engaged to be married.

  “Why are you staring at me?” he asks gruffly, startling me.

  I realize, to my horror, that I was in fact staring at him. “Sorry,” I mutter.

  He rubs his face. “Did I cut myself shaving again, Muncie?”

  “Not this time, sir.”

  “I, um, I apologize. I didn’t mean to stare.”

  “So you said.” He seems to return the rudeness by taking the opportunity to blatantly stare at me.

  I try not to wither under the glare of the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen, but I wilt a tiny bit, waiting to find out what fresh hell he has in store for me next. “You sure I didn’t cut myself shaving, Muncie?”

  The lieutenant commander laughs. “Nope. All good.”

  I glance at the captain and note that his scowl has softened somewhat, not into what anyone would call a smile, but perhaps the beginning of one.

  “Your brother married my Ava.”

  And there it is, the proverbial elephant in the room. “Yes, he did.”

  “What’s he like?”

  Oh, for God’s sake. I didn’t expect him to ask me that and have no idea what to say.

  “Is that a hard question? I take it you’ve known him awhile.”

  “All my life, in fact.”

  He leans forward, full of intensity and quiet rage. That’s the only way I can think of to describe the vibe coming from him.

  “Captain…” Muncie’s word of warning goes ignored.

  “He’s… He’s a good guy, one of the best guys I know. He’d do anything for anyone, give you the shirt off his back.” I hate the cliché, but it does the job—and it’s true. In a crisis, Eric would be the first person I’d call.

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “High-end investments.”

  “What the hell are high-end investments?”

  “Five million dollars or more.” At his look of distaste, I feel the need to say more. “He can spend a year fully investigating a potential investment, only to have the acquisition committee in his company turn it down. It’s very c
omplex work.”

  Judging by his expression, that doesn’t help with the distaste. “Sounds like a heck of a way to make a living.”

  “He likes it.” I take a deep breath and tell myself to get control of this meeting. “Back to the media inquiries.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Did you ask me here to discuss my brother, Captain West, or are you interested in my professional services?” I force myself to look him dead in the eye and not to let him see that he intimidates me.

  He stares back at me for a long moment before he blinks. “Both, I suppose.”

  “I’m only interested in the professional inquiries, if it’s just the same to you. While I empathize with your situation, I love my brother, and it doesn’t feel right for me to be discussing him with you.”

  He doesn’t like that, but too bad. I’m here to do a job, not defend my brother.

  “You empathize with my situation? Really?”

  “Captain…” The note of warning in Muncie’s tone isn’t lost on either of us.

  “Yes, I do empathize with your ordeal, and like the rest of America, I’m deeply grateful for the role you played in bringing a terrorist to justice at great personal and physical expense.”

  He begins to clap, slowly and dramatically.

  Heat creeps into my face, which is infuriating. The last thing I want him to see is that he gets to me.

  “Did you practice that little speech on the flight out here?”

  “No.” I wish I could punch him and still have a job afterward. The partners were thrilled when I told them who my potential client was. Land him, they said, and we’ll consider you for junior partner. “I made it up right here.”

  “Nice to see that you’re good on the fly.”

  “I’m outstanding on the fly, which is how I became one of the top young PR professionals in New York.”

  His cell phone rings, which is when I realize I’m gripping it tightly. With him watching me in that intense, intimidating way of his, I take the call. “Answering for Captain West.”

  It’s a producer for NBC Nightly News, wanting to book an interview. “Let me take down your contact information and get back to you.” The name and number go in my trusty notebook.

  “And you are?” the producer asks.

  “Julianne Tilden.”

  “Are you working for Captain West?”

  “Please hold for one moment.” I put my hand over the phone so I won’t be overheard. “It’s an NBC News producer. She wants to know if I work for you.”

  He holds my gaze for a long moment, during which I honestly have no idea what he’s thinking. He gives nothing away. “Tell her you do.”

  I offer him a brief nod and return to the call. “I’ll be representing Captain West for media inquiries going forward. May I give you my number so you can reach me directly?” I recite the number for my work phone and tell her again I’ll be back in touch. I end the call and glance at my new client.

  The first thing I do is slide my company’s retainer contract across the table. “Before we go any further, I need you to sign this.”

  He leans forward to retrieve the document, and after studying it, he says, “Two hundred dollars an hour?”

  “I assure you, I’ll earn every dime of it.”

  “Yes, you will,” Muncie mutters.

  I really like him.

  “Who’s paying for this?” Captain West asks Muncie.

  “We’ve got it covered. Sign the form.”

  He signs it and hands it over to me. “Now what?”

  “Now we need to talk about what you’re willing to do—and what you’re not willing to do.”

  “If he had his druthers, he wouldn’t do anything,” Muncie says.

  I never divert my gaze from the captain. “Why is that?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, but the Navy has decided to make me their new poster boy for recruitment. I just want to retire and ride off into the sunset, but they’re not going to let that happen.”

  “What’s the minimum that he can do?” I ask Muncie.

  “They haven’t given us a minimum. They want him to take full advantage of the opportunities he’s being offered, whatever that means.”

  I redirect my attention to the captain. “What’re your physical limitations?”

  If looks could kill, I’d be a goner. “I have no physical limitations.”

  “So you can travel?”

  “Yes,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “Here’s what I suggest… We book a New York media tour, including morning shows, nightly news, late night, and then we come back out here and do an LA leg.”

  As soon as I say the word leg, I wish I could take it back. Not that the word is incorrect, but I don’t want him to think I’m fixated on what he’s lost. And why would he think that exactly? Shut up, Julianne. I hate that inner voice that constantly critiques me. It’s my mother’s voice. She made a career out of critiquing my every move until the blessed day I left for college at Barnard and could breathe for the first time in my life.

  He doesn’t respond to my suggestion.

  I clear my throat. “Would that work for you?”

  “I guess.”

  I glance at Muncie, who shrugs as if to say, Damned if I know what to do with him. Great. He’s been dealing with him for months, and he has no clue. What chance do I have?

  I open my notebook and uncover my favorite gel pen. “Let’s cover what you will and won’t talk about.”

  “I won’t talk about the raid, the mission or anything to do with Al Khad.”

  “That’s what they’re going to want to know.”

  “Despite the fact that Al Khad’s camp released the video of the raid, the mission is still classified on our end. I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars, and even if I was, I wouldn’t.”

  “Can you talk about what it was like to be deployed for more than five years?”

  “Yeah. It sucked.”

  “You have to say more than that.”

  “What else should I say?”

  “What did you do for all that time?” The question is one that I’ve had since I first heard the story about him and how he deployed the day Al Khad’s organization took out a US-based cruise ship with suicide bombers, killing four thousand innocent people. My sister-in-law, Ava, who was John’s live-in girlfriend at the time, waited five years in San Diego for him to come back before returning home to New York to start over.

  “We looked for Al Khad.”

  “Where did you look for him?”

  He thinks about that, seeming to decide what he should say. “Our search spanned several countries that’re hostile to Americans, so we had to embed and blend in with the locals to get information. That took time and patience, among other things.”

  “When you joined the Navy, did you know you might have to deploy for so long without any word to your loved ones at home?”

  “Other than the girlfriend I wasn’t supposed to have, I didn’t have loved ones at home, which is why I was initially chosen for the unit. In an interview, I could only say that I didn’t have loved ones at home. I can’t say I had a girlfriend.”

  “What does it matter now?” I ask. “Cat’s out of the bag.”

  “It matters. I don’t want her dragged into this.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” I respect that he’s protecting her, even now. “I agree that we’re better off not arousing curiosity about her. The press would be relentless in their efforts to locate and interview her.”

  “Which would be inconvenient and disruptive to your brother.”

  Infuriated all over again, I stare him down. “It would be inconvenient, disruptive and intrusive for Ava. I’m sure you’ll agree she’s already been through enough.”

  Muncie makes a sound that might be laughter, but he quickly coughs to cover it up.

  “I agree,” John says. “Ava’s been through enough, and that’s entirely my fault.”

  My heart b
reaks a little for him, because even though he tries to hide it, the pain of losing her is as obvious as his blue eyes, prominent cheekbones and sexy lips.

  God help me, but the man is sexy—and completely off-limits to me for so many reasons, it would take me days to list them all in my notebook.

  Chapter Three

  JOHN

  She’s tougher than she looks. I like that she doesn’t take my shit without giving it right back to me. Muncie likes that, too. He thinks I don’t hear him laughing. As soon as I get the chance, I’ll remind him of what the word insubordination means.

  I won’t go too hard on him, though, because I’d be lost without him. Not that I can ever let him know that. He’s already unmanageable. How pathetic is it that the officer assigned by the Navy to tend to me has become my closest friend? Without him, I probably would’ve drunk myself to death after Ava told me we were done, that she was going to marry Eric.

  Is it possible to actually hate a guy you’ve never met? Because I hate him for taking her away from me. Yes, I know that’s irrational and unfair and ridiculous. And still… I hate him.

  Apparently, I’ve just hired his sister to represent me with the media.

  The absurdity isn’t lost on me.

  “So what’s the plan?” I ask her.

  “I’ll start returning some of the calls you’ve received, focusing first on the New York and Los Angeles markets. There’s a lot of interest, so I’ll focus on the top-rated shows.”

  “What about timing?” Muncie asks.

  “I’d expect to head to New York within two weeks.”

  New York. Ava lives in New York. The last time I talked to her was a couple of days before her wedding, but she promised to check in with me when she returns from her honeymoon. I’m not sure when that will be. I want to ask Julianne when they get back, but I’ve already asked too many questions about them.

  Will Ava see me while I’m in New York, or is that too much to hope for? I have no idea what the rules of our new “friendship” are. Am I allowed to reach out to her, tell her I’ll be in town and ask if she wants to get together? Or would that be out of bounds? I don’t know, and the not knowing makes me edgy and cranky.