This Is Why (A Brookside Romance Book 3)

by Abby Brooks

  “I don’t know.” My voice is so thick with tears, I barely recognize it. “I don’t think so. I was on a call with Ty and there was an explosion or something and the call froze and then dropped and now I can’t get a hold of him.”

  “Oh shit, Lexi. I am so sorry.” I wait for her to tell me she’s sure he’s fine, or any other number of useless platitudes, but she doesn’t. She knows just as well as I do that they’re worthless and quite possibly not true.

  “What do I do?” I ask. Tara’s been through this before. She lost contact with Jack for weeks. She’ll have the answers I need, the action that will keep me from falling apart under the weight of helplessness.

  “You wait.” Tara’s voice is stern. “You wait and you pray and you do everything you can to stay sane.”

  Tears brim in my eyes and my emotions tighten their hold on my throat. “But how? How do I stay sane? I’m a nervous wreck.”

  “You just do. You don’t have any other option. All you can do is wait for him to call you,” Tara says. “Stay busy. Keep your phone close. Surround yourself with people. I wish you were still here in Hawaii. I’d be at your door in five minutes.”

  “Oh, Tara, I wish I was there, too. I thought coming home would make me feel better while he was overseas, but it doesn’t. This isn’t home anymore.” I swallow hard. “What if he’s…”

  My jaw clenches tight against the thought.

  I can’t bring myself to say the word.

  I can’t.

  “You can’t think that way,” Tara says, her voice soft. “Was he hurt when you last saw him?”

  I shake my head. “No. Whatever the explosion was happened somewhere behind him. He stood up, but wasn’t hurt. He was leaning down to say something to me when the camera froze and I could see fear in his eyes. Tara, Ty was afraid and I’ve never seen him afraid. Not once.”

  “He’s strong, but he’s human, Lex. Fear is a natural response. Don’t read too much into it or you’ll drive yourself crazy.” She pauses. “I’m here for you. If you need anything, just call. I can’t be there in person, but I’ll do everything I can from here. Promise me. If you need anything, anything at all, you call, no matter what time it is, you understand?”

  I nod even though she can’t see me. “I promise. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  We say our goodbyes and I end the call. I’m not a religious person, but I close my eyes and lower my head and send a silent prayer out to anyone who’s listening.

  Please God. Please let whatever happened be minor. Please grant strength to Ty and the men and women with him. Please let them be okay. Please let Ty know that I love him, that I need him, that I’m dying here, worrying about him. Let me be strong enough to get through this. Let him be strong enough to get through this. Whatever it is.

  I take a long breath and wait for some sense of divine intervention. My phone doesn’t ring and Ty doesn’t miraculously show up in my driveway, but a breeze rustles past me, whispering in the leaves of the tree at the edge of my yard. For whatever reason, that settles me enough to feel capable of making a plan.

  Tara’s right. I need to surround myself with people because staying alone is a terrible idea. I need action to keep my head straight and the last thing I want to do is lose my head and worry Gabe. He needs me to act like this is just a normal Saturday. I swipe open my phone again and call Bailey.

  “What’s up, Sexy Lexi?” she asks when she answers, her happy voice out of place in my upside-down world.

  I explain what happened as quickly as I can. “I was wondering if maybe Gabe and I could come crash your Saturday? To distract me until I hear from Ty?”

  “Of course, love. No doubt about it. You get your ass over here pronto,” Bailey says. “He’s going to be okay, you know that, right?”

  “I don’t know that. I’m in the middle of a giant freak out because the man I love is over in a war zone and it sounds like a bomb went off and now I can’t reach him. I want things to be okay, I desperately need things to be okay, but I have no reason to believe they are okay and I’m scared as hell right now.”

  “I get it. Get in the car and get here. If you need to talk, we’ll do that. If you need to ignore it until you know more, we’ll do that. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

  I gather up Gabe and make the quick drive out to Bailey’s. I spend the day with my phone in my hand and a massive fake smile on my face. Liam plays with Gabe while Bailey and I busy ourselves by baking brownies. And then cookies. And then, when Ty still hasn’t called and I’m still not ready to talk about it, we plan a full-on dinner and invite Michelle and her family over to share it. While the kids are busy playing outside, I explain what happened to Michelle, David, and Liam and then wait quietly while everyone tries to figure out what to say.

  They sit in silence, mouths open, jaws slack. They fidget or look at their hands. Start to say something only to close their mouths and shake their heads.

  I understand. What is there to say? What words will make this better other than Ty’s voice in my ear? I thought the last month was hard because I couldn’t touch him, but now that I don’t know even know if he’s alive? Now that I don’t know if I’ll ever hear his voice or look into those eyes, or lose myself in that magnificent smile?

  This is the hardest thing I’ve ever lived through.

  We keep the conversation light over dinner while my friends digest the information, but after we eat and the kids have gobbled up too many brownies and cookies and have left the table, the conversation turns more serious.

  “You still haven’t heard from him?” Bailey’s mouth forms a grim line.

  I shake my head and check my phone for the millionth time, just in case.

  “And there’s no one you can call to find out more?” Liam asks.

  “Nope. All I can do is wait for him to call me.” I check my phone again. “Here’s the worst thing.” I swallow hard and gather the strength to voice my fears. “Apparently, when things go bad, when someone dies, the military cuts off access to the internet. I can’t stop thinking…” Tears choke off the rest of my words. The fear I’ve been holding back all day spirals out of control and a sob tears through my throat. “What if he’s hurt? What if…” I choke on the word and then lift my gaze. “What if he’s dead?” The words are harsh, a whisper made of a thousand knives that slice open my heart and soul.

  Bailey and Michelle are out of their chairs in a heartbeat, wrapping me up in tight hugs. Michelle runs her hand through my hair and shushes me. “Everything is going to be okay,” she says.

  “But what if it’s not?”

  Bailey crouches in front of me to meet my gaze. “You’ve got us,” she says. “We will hold your hand through this every step of the way. You are not alone.”

  Bailey puts a hand on my knees while Michelle crosses the kitchen to pour me a glass of water. My friends continue talking—Bailey and Michelle offer reassurances while Liam and David brainstorm solutions—but I tune them out. What can they say that will change anything?

  It’s like I’m treading water, doing everything I can just to keep myself from sinking, exhausting myself with effort just to stay in one place. How long can I live like this? How long until I fall apart completely, my nerves frayed, anxiety twisting my stomach into knots?

  “Do you and Gabe want to spend the night here?” Bailey asks. “So you don’t have to be alone?”

  I shake my head. “I think I’ll go home. I don’t think I’ll do much sleeping and might do better if I’m alone.”

  I’m too tired to smile my way through any more conversation filled with meaningless words. My friends mean well, and I love them all for it, but the reality is that I might not get my happy ending after all. Not every story ends with all the messy parts tied together in perfect little bows.

  Sometimes, hearts break.

  Sometimes, the worst happens.

  Sometimes, life is downright cruel.

  LEXI

  I lay awake all night with my phone
in my hand, staring at the ceiling while I wait, frozen and numb. The litany of worry has faded away until there’s a whole lot of nothing in my head, just an empty buzzing that leaves me feeling constantly on the verge of tears. I keep holding my breath. I remind myself to breathe from time to time, but the deep cleansing breaths wake the tears, so I find a balance that leaves my jaw clenched so tight my head aches. When I realize I’m fading in and out of consciousness and that my phone needs charged, I plug the thing in, turn the ringtone volume all the way up, and turn on the flashing LED light alert. If I happen to doze off and Ty reaches out, I have a whole lot of chaotic light and sound to ensure I wake up.

  A lifetime passes while I lay there until the soft light of dawn filters through the window and I roll over to check my phone. It’s almost seven in the morning and I have no idea if I slept at all. There’s still nothing from Ty, even after I open up all the apps and check for new texts, calls, or emails in case all the information is waiting for me and I didn’t get a notification.

  I don’t want to be awake. The deep darkness of unconsciousness would be a welcome respite from the waiting. But I’m up, caught in a loop of fear and worry. Wishing for sleep isn’t going to solve anything.

  I slide out of bed and shuffle through my morning. Judging by the heavy clouds gathering outside, it’s going to be a rainy Sunday and that suits me just fine. I’m not in the mood for sunshine and blue skies. I make Gabe breakfast and then he disappears into his room, somehow aware of the fact that I need space. He reappears right around eleven.

  “Has Dad called?” he asks. He doesn’t know how much that question has rattled around in my head.

  I shrug, doing my best to look like nothing is wrong. “Not yet.”

  “Do you think he’s going to be able to today?” Disappointment crinkles his brow.

  I swallow back the tears and force a smile. There’s no reason for me to tell Gabe what’s happening. Not yet. Not when I don’t have anything to tell him other than the fact that I don’t know what happened.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’ll make sure you get a chance to talk to him if he does, though.”

  Gabe nods but steps towards me instead of heading back to his room. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “Nothing at all, bud. I’m fine.” My boy knows me too well to fall for the light tone and forced smile I’m trying to pull off and I know it, but I can’t put this weight on his shoulders. I just can’t. He’s not old enough to understand. He just got a dad. I’m not ready to make him worry that he’s lost him already.

  “You sure? You look like something’s wrong.”

  “I’m okay. Promise.” It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told my son. I am so not okay. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been this far from okay. “I didn’t sleep very well and I’m super tired.” I force a smile but drop my gaze so he can’t see how much I’m struggling.

  Gabe gives me a look that lets me know he’s not buying it but doesn’t push the issue. If Ty doesn’t reach out in the next couple days, I’ll have to tell Gabe what happened. I don’t know how I’ll find the strength to help him through his own shock and fear, but I’ll find a way. With my thoughts twisting and turning down terrible paths, I go back to staring off into space, holding my phone, and hoping to hear something from Ty soon.

  Monday comes and I consider calling into work and saying I’m sick, but since I used up all of my vacation and then some, I don’t feel right about it. I drag myself through a shower—the first one I’ve had in days—and manage to pull my hair into a messy bun, but putting on makeup feels like one step too much. I go through the day like a zombie, my phone in my pocket taking up more of my attention than any of my patients.

  Every time I find a quiet moment, I pull up of all the news sites and pour through them, looking for something, anything, that might give me an idea of what happened. I even search the foreign news networks and when I find nothing there, resort to YouTube and the plethora of alternative news sources and conspiracy theorists out there. I find nothing. Not one shred of information to help me piece together what happened to Ty. The more I look, the more desperation twists inside me until I can barely think over the buzzing in my brain. By the time I get home, I’m a nervous wreck. I thaw one of the dinners Ty made us and eat it silently while Gabe chatters away about his day.

  Tuesday is a repeat of Monday, and Wednesday is even worse than that. I’m so anxious, I can barely function at work and can hardly manage to chew as Gabe and I work through yet another one of Ty’s dinners.

  “Did Dad call today?” Gabe asks around a mouthful of food.

  “Not today.” I clench my jaw tight and grip my fork in my fist.

  “Do you think something’s wrong?”

  Yes. Yes, I think something is terribly wrong. I’m afraid he’s hurt or worse and that I’ll never find out because the military doesn’t even know I exist.

  “I don’t know,” I say and then put my fork down and fold my hands in my lap.

  “What’s wrong, Mom? You keep saying it’s nothing but I don’t believe you.”

  I take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “I haven’t heard from Ty in a couple days. When we talked on Saturday, it sounded like something went wrong and then our call dropped. I keep waiting to hear from him but…” I look at my son and shrug. “I’m really worried.”

  I hang my head and Gabe sits up even taller. “He’s okay.” He smiles at me, so very sure of himself. “He just got busy, that’s all.”

  “You think so?” I ask, as the few bites of dinner I’ve taken lurch in my stomach. “How do you know?”

  Gabe nods once, looking so much like Ty that my heart shatters into bits and pieces of worthless dust. “I just know,” he says.

  After Gabe goes to bed, I spend the night rereading all the letters Ty sent me. And when I’ve gone through those, I open up his emails. And then our texts. I listen to voicemails I’ve saved. I immerse myself in his words and thoughts, wrap myself up in him and imagine he’s here next to me.

  As I read, I cry. I let the tears run down my cheeks, laughing through them when his words touch me, and sobbing deeply when they make me miss him even more than I thought humanly possible. A part of me realizes I’m grieving, but I lock that thought up tight and refuse to listen to it. I’m not grieving because he’s not dead.

  He’s not.

  He can’t be.

  Because I don’t know how to live without him anymore.

  My grief gives way to rage and I pace my bedroom, my hands clenched in fists. When that’s not enough, I punch a pillow, and when that’s still not enough, I throw the damn thing across the room. It hits the wall with a thud and then drops uselessly to the floor. A scream builds up inside of me, but I can’t give in to it because Gabe’s asleep. Instead, I let out a deep growl that sears through my throat.

  “Why?” I ask no one, my voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “Why is this happening? Why is there absolutely nothing I can do to make things any better?”

  I don’t get an answer, of course. I didn’t really expect one. Frustration wells up inside me. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for an answer that just keeps not coming. I have to find a way to get through this because the waiting, the not knowing is going to kill me.

  Desperate for action, for a task to give me direction and meaning, I sit down at my desk, open up my laptop, and pour my heart out to Ty in an email he might never get.

  TY

  Pain. That’s all I know. The world swims in and out of focus and my surroundings change every time I open my eyes. People come and go. Strange faces lean over me, voices distort as I fall down a long hallway and then disappear into darkness so complete it blots out the world. And amongst it all, pain is my constant companion.

  People yell and shout with so much urgency. I try to tell them not to worry, to tell them everything will be fine, but I can’t remember how to speak.

  “Captain Reed?” A strange voice attached to a st
range face filters down to me and then a light shines in my eyes, so bright, it pierces my skull. “We’re going to fly you out of here. Hang on, man. You’re going to be okay.” The voice warps and distorts. Hands slide under me and then pain sears through my body.

  My eyes shoot open as I scream. The whir of a helicopter grows ever closer and then I sink into oblivion and know nothing.

  The next time I regain consciousness, my eyes are open before I realize I’m awake. My throat is dry. So dry. I lick my chapped lips and try to swallow. A constant, rhythmic beeping scrapes against one hell of a headache. When I shift, pain sears through my entire right side. My eyes fly open and I moan as I fight into a sitting position. A man in a doctor’s coat comes into the room, his wide face etched with concern.

  “Easy now,” he says in thickly accented English. He places a meaty palm on my shoulder and pushes me back into the bed.

  “Where am I?” I ask as the world spins and twists around me. The sound of my own voice tangles up in my head and makes it ache. My stomach lurches and I swallow back a wave of nausea.

  “You’re in Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany. You were airlifted out of Afghanistan two days ago.” The doctor removes his hand from my shoulder and scrolls through something on his tablet.

  “Two days?” I try to sit up again and collapse back on the bed. “How long have I been out?”

  The doctor glances at me. “You’ve sustained a significant injury, Captain Reed. You must lie still.”

  I blink at the man and my eyelids weigh a thousand pounds. They slide closed and I drag them open again. “What happened?”

  I sift through my muddled memory. I remember talking to Lexi. There was an explosion. I ran outside to help. People were screaming and then…

  …another explosion?

  It’s all so murky. The memories are broken and wrong. I remember pain and heat. I remember the world lurching crazily to one side. I remember people hovering over me, concern smeared across their soot-covered faces.