One Year Home

by Marie Force

  “From this day to the ending of the world,

  But we in it shall be remembered—

  We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

  For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

  Shall be my brother.”

  A hushed silence falls over the usually boisterous group. “I never had brothers of my own. I have all of you, and that’s a lifetime gig. As we go our separate ways, I hope you know you’re stuck with me, and I… I’m exceptionally thankful to be stuck with you, my band of brothers.” I raise my glass to them. “To us, to what we did. May it never be forgotten.”

  As I take my seat, Roland starts it with a single clap that quickly becomes a standing ovation that brings tears to my eyes. My emotions, as always these days, hover close to the surface, threatening to take me down at any second. Somehow I manage to hold it together, even as the applause goes on for quite a few minutes. It dies down only when the waitstaff come in with pizzas, burgers, more wings and refilled pitchers of beer.

  Muncie was right. I needed this. Seeing the guys fills a hole inside me that I didn’t know was there until I was with them again. As they dive into the food like the savages they are, I find my gaze drifting to the two empty seats, remembering the friends I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.

  I can’t think of them yet without the predictable blast of pain that could bring me to my knees if I were standing. The one benefit to having no family to call my own is that I’ve never had anyone I cared enough about to grieve their loss. There’ve been times in recent months when the grief of losing my two best friends and Ava has sucked me under to a dark place I’ve never been before.

  I’ve resisted the pull to the best of my ability, but it’s a daily struggle to keep my head above the riptide that continues to draw me toward the darkness. Sometimes I wonder if the darkness wouldn’t be a blessed relief, but fear of the unknown keeps me from giving in to that temptation. I have to believe that there’re still good days ahead for me, even if my definition of “good” has been altered irrevocably.

  The guys don’t let me stew in my own thoughts for long. They draw me out by busting my balls about the attention I’m getting, the media tour that starts soon, the endorsements I’ve been offered and the nonsense that surrounds me. Being in their presence, being part of them again, goes a long way toward fixing what’s broken inside me.

  They give me the strength to face the next part of my journey.

  Chapter Nine

  AVA

  Spain is incredible. The food, the people, the beaches, the architecture… It’s everything I hoped it would be and so much more. Being with Eric is the best part of an amazing experience. Having uninterrupted time together to do whatever we please is a gift after the insane few months we had leading up to our wedding.

  Everything in my life would be perfect except for the vivid, heartbreaking dreams I have about John that torture me with memories I thought I’d stored firmly in the past where they belong. I had the first one on our wedding night, and I’ve had another every night since. I wake in a cold sweat in the arms of my new husband after dreaming about the man I used to love. Unlike most of my dreams, I remember the ones about John in excruciating detail.

  During the long years of his deployment, I would occasionally dream about him, but not like this. Almost all of my post-wedding dreams include passionate encounters, some of which happened in our past life and others that are all new. I feel like I’m cheating on Eric by having dreams like that featuring another man, and I can’t understand why this is happening now.

  Because he’s so intuitive, Eric can tell that something is bothering me, but how do I talk to him about this without giving him reason to doubt whether I’m fully committed to our marriage? I am fully committed. I chose him. I married him. I love him. It would kill me to hurt him in any way, especially after everything he’s done to put my broken heart back together.

  This would hurt him deeply, so I keep it to myself while wishing I could contact my therapist to get her take on it. But that’s not possible when Eric and I are spending every second of every day together. I don’t know how I’ll survive two more weeks of this torture. The dreams are ruining the trip for me, and probably for Eric, too.

  My mouth is dry and my hands sweaty after another intense dream that has left other parts of me tingling in ways that are highly inappropriate while lying naked in the arms of my new husband. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beat of my heart and the panic that grips every fiber of my being.

  Eric’s hand slides down my arm, letting me know he’s awake.

  I’d hoped to get myself together before I had to face him.

  “I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.” His voice is as soft as the lips that slide over my cheek. “Otherwise, I’m going to think my wife is unhappy, and we can’t have that.”

  My panic quadruples. I can’t breathe or think or do anything other than blink back tears that suddenly flood my eyes. I can’t talk to him about this. I just can’t.

  “Ava, honey… Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  He sounds so sad, and that kills me.

  “Whatever it is, we can deal with it together, but you have to tell me. Otherwise, I’m going to think you regret marrying me.”

  “No,” I say on a sob that I can’t contain no matter how hard I try.

  Eric lifts himself up on one arm and turns me so I’m on my back.

  I put my arm over my eyes, trying to buy some time.

  “Baby, what is it?”

  I’m going to have to tell him, or he’ll think it’s him when that’s not it at all.

  “It’s going to upset you.” I wipe away tears that slide down my cheeks despite my fierce desire to hold it together for both our sakes.

  “I’m already upset knowing you are. We’re supposed to be celebrating and having the time of our lives, but I can tell something is bothering you and has been for days.”

  I take another deep breath, trying to find fortification and the courage to tell him the truth, even though it’ll hurt us both. “I’ve been having dreams.”

  “Look at me, honey.”

  I remove the arm that covers my eyes.

  He gasps at the sight of me, which must be worse than I thought. His hand cups my cheek, and his thumb brushes away my tears. “About what?”

  Closing my eyes, I take another deep breath, feeling sick and filled with despair, which I thought I’d put behind me. I should’ve known better. “John.”

  Eric goes perfectly still next to me. After a long moment, he says, “What about him?”

  “Everything about him.” My dreams are so vivid that I recall the scent and texture of his skin, a detail I choose not to disclose as it’s already bad enough that he knows I’m dreaming about my ex.

  Eric drops down onto his pillow, looking up at the ceiling fan. Another long pause ensues before he says, “Have you been thinking about him?”

  “No! I’m not thinking about him. I’m thinking about you and us and our honeymoon and our life. I have no idea why this is happening.” I choke on a sob that erupts from my chest.

  “Come here.” He gathers me into his embrace. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t. I did the right thing. I married you, and I want you.”

  “Wait… What? You ‘did the right thing’ by marrying me? Is that how you see it?”

  “Of course not! That’s not what I meant.”

  “But that’s what you said.”

  “Please don’t pick apart my words. I’m a freaking wreck over this as it is. I married the man I love, the man who loves me. That’s all there is to it.”

  “If only that were true,” he says on a long sigh.

  “What does that mean?”

  “We both know there’s a whole lot more to it than you and me. He’s part of this marriage, whether we want him to be or not.”

  I pull back from him, needing to see his eyes when I respond. “No, he isn’t.”
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  Eric looks over at me, his expression sad and resigned. “Isn’t he? Come on, Ava. It’s not like you suddenly decided you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Circumstances beyond your control took him away from you, and you don’t just stop loving someone under those conditions.”

  A feeling of desperation overtakes me. “I don’t love him anymore. I love you.”

  He links our fingers and brings my hand to his lips, brushing a gentle kiss over my skin. “Please don’t take this the wrong way—but I don’t believe you.”

  “How can you say that? I chose you. I married you.”

  “Yes, you did, and I’ll be thankful for both those things for the rest of my life, but just because you chose me and married me doesn’t mean you don’t love him anymore.”

  I’m stunned to hear him say that and desperately trying to process the possibility that he could be right. Do I still love John? I can’t love John. “I don’t want this to be happening. This is supposed to be our time. There’s no place for him here.”

  “Your heart and mind are saying otherwise.”

  “Eric, please. You have to listen to me.” I’m feeling more desperate by the second. “I don’t want to be having dreams about him. I don’t want to think about him or relive the hellish years I spent wondering what’d become of him. I don’t want that. I want you and us and this.” I gesture to the gorgeous hotel room in Sevilla.

  “You know what I want, but we can’t pretend this doesn’t mean something.” He glances over at me, looking as freaked out as I feel even if he sounds calm. “We should reach out to Jess,” he says, referring to my therapist in New York, “and set up a time for you to talk to her.”

  “Now? While we’re here?”

  “Right now.”

  I’m taken aback by his serious tone and the determined set of his jaw, but what strikes me most are his eyes, which reflect pain. I did that to him, and I can’t bear it. “Eric…”

  “What, honey?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Please don’t be. I knew we weren’t completely out of the woods where he was concerned.”

  “You did?”

  “Uh-huh. Something like that? It doesn’t get resolved overnight. You haven’t been yourself since you saw him in San Diego.”

  “What? Yes, I have.”

  “No, sweetheart, you haven’t. There’s a haunted look to you that wasn’t there before you saw him, before you had to tell him it was over between the two of you. I saw it even on our wedding day.”

  Shaking my head, I break down into helpless sobs. “That’s not true! That was the happiest day of my life!”

  “I believe you, Ava. I swear I do. I’m so fucking glad you picked me. I’m thankful for that every day. But that decision came at a terrible cost to you and someone you love. I never forget that.”

  I’m so upset, I can’t speak. I can barely breathe through the tears and sobs that keep coming. This can’t be happening. I made my decision. I put the past behind me and stepped into a future bright with promise when I married Eric. How can he think I want anyone but him?

  He holds me close, rubbing my back and running his fingers through my hair, until I calm somewhat. “Let’s reach out to Jess and go from there, okay?”

  I nod in response to his question, but inside, I’m broken, shattered once again by a situation I never had control over, even when I thought I did. I have good reason now to wonder if I ever will.

  Chapter Ten

  JULIANNE

  “What’re you talking about? I’m not dropping him as a client.” I toss my purse on the stiff, upholstered hotel chair and turn to face my sister. “Do you have any idea what it means to my career that I landed him in the first place. Everyone wanted him.”

  “Great, then let someone else have him.”

  “Where’s this coming from?” I’m truly baffled as to why she’d suggest dropping the biggest client I’ve ever had—possibly the biggest client I’ll ever have. “I’ve got every producer in the business beating down my door begging for five minutes with the man of the hour. Why would I walk away from that?”

  “Because you have feelings for him.”

  My mouth falls open and my eyes bug. “What?”

  Amy leans in closer to me and speaks slowly, as if she’s talking to someone who has trouble understanding basic English. “You. Have. Feelings. For. Him.”

  I lean in, too. “No. I. Don’t.”

  “Whatever. I saw the way you were looking at him over dinner, and I’ve only seen that look on you once before.”

  The reminder of the only time I thought I was in love is like a knife to the gut. “Don’t,” I whisper.

  “I’m not saying this to hurt you, Jules. I’m saying this to keep you from getting hurt. That guy is off-limits to you in every possible way. He may as well be radioactive.”

  “Do you think I need you to tell me that?” Now I’m mad. How old do I have to be before my older and wiser siblings realize I can think for myself? Soon, I’ll be thirty. Will that be old enough?

  “I think you need some perspective.”

  “Actually, I don’t. Today was the first time I’ve thought he was anything other than cranky and bitchy.”

  “Today you saw another side of him, and you liked what you saw.”

  “Yes, I did! But not for the reasons you think. Because I need him not to be cranky and bitchy on national TV. I needed a breakthrough, and today I got that. What you’re seeing is relief—and that’s all it is.”

  “If you say so.” She gets out her nail file and goes to work on an index finger.

  “I say so, and I swear to God, if you tell anyone that you think I like him as anything other than a client, I’ll murder you with my own hands, you got me?”

  “Don’t be dramatic.”

  “Right, because what would be dramatic about a bomb like that going off in our family?”

  “I’m glad you can see that it would be a bomb.”

  “Thank God you were here to tell me that. Otherwise, I never would’ve figured that out for myself.”

  “Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated.”

  “Neither is your assumption that just because I like him as a client that I must also like him as a man.” My entire system is agitated just thinking about what a shitstorm it would be if I liked him as more than a client. Amy is right about one thing—that cannot happen. Ever.

  “I can see why you’d like him. He’s incredibly gorgeous, wounded in more ways than one and a national hero. That’s a tough combination to resist. After spending the afternoon with him, I get why Ava waited so long for him.”

  “Let’s talk about you and Muncie.”

  She stops filing and looks up at me, brows knitted. “What?”

  “You’re not the only one who can see things.”

  “Not sure what you think you saw, but we had a few laughs when he got wet. Otherwise, nothing to see there.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Great.” I’m not used to being at odds with Amy. Not anymore. When we were kids, and especially when we were teens, we fought over everything. But when we were in our early twenties, that stopped all of a sudden, and we became best friends. Same with my brothers. Yes, we all have other friends who mean the world to us, but the four of us are tight. When our dad ran for governor of New York, we became even tighter, closing ranks around the family while on the campaign trail. And then, when my mom left my dad, my siblings were the only ones I wanted to talk to about it. With Rob running for Congress this fall, I expect to spend quite a lot of time with them, supporting his campaign. This is no time for a spat with Amy—or my brothers.

  “Look, I appreciate your concern, but when I tell you there’s really nothing to worry about where John is concerned, I mean it.”

  “I know you do.”

  Something about the way she says that has my hackles raised again. “But?”

  She shrugs. “I know what I saw, Jules, and I saw in
terest. And it went both ways.”

  That makes me laugh. “He can barely stand me.”

  “Not true. He was watching you the whole time, hanging on your every word.”

  I shake my head, because there’s no way that’s true. Or possible. “If anything, I’d say we sort of reached reluctant friendship status today, but beyond that… Just no.”

  “Watch yourself with him. I’m not trying to piss you off or win a fight. I swear to you that’s not what this is. I’m genuinely concerned.”

  “So noted, but no need for concern.” I’m eager to get past this unusual tension between us. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  “I’m in.”

  We head down to the hotel bar. I order bourbon while she gets a fruity rum concoction. While we enjoy our drinks, we talk about everything except the elephant standing squarely between us. I meant what I said to her earlier about not being interested in him that way. But I can’t stop thinking about what she said about him being interested in me.

  That can’t happen either.

  Everything is different the next morning. I can tell John is making an honest effort to work with me, to answer the questions, to prepare for next week. Muncie had a dentist appointment, so we’re alone in John’s apartment. I tell myself that’s no big deal, but all I can hear are the things Amy said last night. Her voice nearly drowns out his as we go through my list of questions.

  In addition to that concern, I’m startled by how awful he looks. There’re deep, dark circles under eyes rimmed with red, scruff on his jaw that’s unusual because he’s always clean-shaven, and his hair is standing on end.

  After half an hour of discussing his early years in the Navy, I decide to ask him the most important question. “Are you okay?”

  He gives me a blank stare that lasts until he blinks. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  I tip my head and study him, feeling as if I know him a little by now, and from what I see, he’s not fine. “Really?”

  Diverting his gaze downward, he says, “I didn’t sleep much last night.”