by Jessica Ames
“You into the girl?” J-Dog’s words snap me from my voyeurism.
“What?”
“Well, you’ve been staring for the past thirty seconds, ignoring what I’m saying. I figure you either know her or want to know her.”
I return my attention to my drink as the man grabs April’s hand, swiping his thumb over the back it in a motion that seems intimate. She doesn’t push him off, so I assume they’re together.
I guess I missed that boat.
The realization makes my chest ache. I waited too long to make a move. Then again, I wouldn’t have made one anyway. I don’t deserve someone as good and pure as she is.
“She works at Luke’s care facility.”
J-Dog glances over his shoulder at her. “She someone to you?”
“A friend.” The word is so inadequate for what April is to me, but I don’t know how to explain that without sounding crazy. Besides, I don’t even know what April is to me. Thankfully, J lets it go.
“So, how’s the family?”
We continue to talk, but my eyes keep drifting in April’s direction. I want to know who that man is to her. She seems comfortable with him, but not entirely happy to be there. I can tell by the way she’s now sitting with her hands clasped together on the table, away from him.
I want to go over and ask who the guy is, if he’s bothering her, but given her reaction to my “white knighting” the other day, it might seem a little controlling and weird, so I keep my ass firmly planted in my seat.
J-Dog notices, though. “If you want to go talk to her, man, it’s fine.”
“No.”
“I see you’re still a stubborn bastard.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Life’s short. Live it to the max.”
Life is short. That’s one thing the Army taught me, but I’m still not going over and talking to her, not after last time. I’m keeping my nose firmly out of her damn business.
This becomes impossible when she gets to her feet abruptly. The guy she’s with stands more slowly, his hands held up in supplication. I watch as April shakes her head, her dark hair bouncing around her face. I want to go to her, to make sure she’s okay, but I stay seated—even when she slips out of the booth and starts toward the exit. The route is going to take her right past our table, and since I don’t have opportunity to duck out, I have to take it as her gaze spears me.
She stops at the edge of the table.
“Mr Bannerman. I didn’t realize you were here.”
J gives me a look, his brows cocking. He doesn’t need to tell me I’m firmly behind her walls. I already know it myself.
“April. I’m just having a beer with my buddy, J-Dog.”
Her forehead creases. “J, what?”
“The name’s Jared, but everyone calls me J-Dog or J— even my mom calls me the latter.”
She laughs, and I hate him for his ease with her. I wish I was the same.
“Chris tells me you work at the care center where our buddy Luke is.”
“You know Luke too?”
“Yeah, I try to get up and see him when I’m in town, but it’s not always possible.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “Actually, now you’ve said that, I think I do recognize you from previous visits.”
“I have a face that’s hard to forget, sweetheart.”
I’m going to punch him. What the fuck is he doing? Is he seriously flirting with April in front of me?
You don’t have any rights to her…
I don’t, but that doesn’t mean my jealousy isn’t in overdrive right now.
“Well, it was nice seeing you both.”
“April, wait!” The man she was sitting with approaches her from behind.
A blush that isn’t pretty creeps into her cheeks and makes my eyes harden. She seems upset with the guy.
“I need to go, Milo. I have to get back to work.”
“April—”
“Not now.” She turns back to us and gives us both a tight smile. “See you later.”
“Yeah,” I mutter before my eyes shift back to the guy, but his attention is locked on April.
He doesn’t make to follow after her but heads back to the table they were sitting at. Good thing, too. I’m not sure what I would have done if he had tried to follow her. I’m making it my mission, though, to find out who the fuck Milo is and who he is to April.
7
April
I head back to work after my lunch with Milo. The man is infuriating. He never wants to listen to reason. Then again, he never did when we were married. It’s part of the reason we’re now divorced. The other is he’s a cheating bastard.
“How did lunch go with ex-husbeast?” Nolan asks, sidling up next to me as I dump my stuff in my locker in the break room at the center.
“About how you’d expect. He still doesn’t want to sell the house. He’s convinced the money we make renting it out is more.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t care about the money, No,” I tell him, snagging my ID badge out of my locker. “I just want Milo out of my life. He’s always got something he needs to talk to me about with the house or something needs fixing, so we need to go down there together. I just want rid of him.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Keep pushing him to sell,” I say as I fix my lanyard around my neck, so my ID badge sits right. “I can’t afford a lawyer to do it for me, so what choice is there?”
“Bastard knows he’s got you over a barrel.”
“He does, and he uses it to his advantage all the time.” I sag back against the locker door. “I’m tired of fighting him.”
“Woman, you need to save your money and get a lawyer. Get that asshole out of your life.”
He’s right. I do. Milo controls me more now than he ever did when we were married.
“Was everything okay here while I was out?”
“Everything was fine. You worry too much, April.”
Sometimes, I think I don’t worry enough, but I keep this to myself. Nolan will only lecture me.
I throw myself into work, and I’m sitting at the desk when Chris and his friend eventually turn up to visit Luke.
The friend—J-Dog—gives me a beaming smile, but Chris is a little moody. Usually, he ignores me or barely speaks to me, so I’m used to this. I ignore him and focus on his friend, who is funny and pleasant.
As J-Dog starts to walk away, Chris lingers at the desk. When his friend looks at him questioningly, he gives him a lift of his chin. This seems to communicate something silently between them, because J-Dog tells me bye and walks off in the direction of Luke’s room alone.
I watch him before sliding my eyes to Chris, who is standing at the desk, his mouth pulled into a tight line.
I think he’s going to berate me for some supposed slight, but he says, “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” I ask, my words slow to come out.
“You looked upset at lunch.”
Oh. Fudge.
“I uh… yeah, I’m fine, but thank you for checking.”
I expect this to be the end of the matter, but he doesn’t let it go. “Who is the guy you were with?”
This question surprises me, and the urge to tell him it’s none of his business sits on my tongue, but what comes out of my mouth is not this.
“My ex-husband.”
At this, Chris’s shoulders visible relax. “Your ex-husband?”
“Yeah, Milo’s a laugh a minute, but unfortunately, I have to keep dealing with him.” My retort is a little sarcastic, and I expect him to be offended, but his lips pull into the start of a smile.
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Officially separated three years. The divorce was finalized eleven months ago, though. Milo wasn’t keen on the idea, but I was more than ready to get on with things.”
I have no idea why I’m spilling my private life to him, only that I want him to know the whole time I’ve been lusting after him, I was a fre
e agent. I have no idea why it’s important for him to know this, but suddenly it seems like the most pertinent information on the planet.
“So, why the meeting?”
“We still own a house together. He doesn’t want to sell it, I do. He thinks renting it is the more secure long-term option, but I don’t care about finances—I just want him out of my life.”
I clamp my mouth shut, mainly so I don’t keep talking. My face heats at my own motormouth, but also at the look he’s giving me. I’ve never seen it on him before, but he’s staring at me with molten eyes—eyes that want to devour me.
I swallow hard and glance down, just so I can tear my gaze from him.
“It’s fine, and it’s my problem. I’m sorry for telling you all that.”
“Don’t apologize for telling me about your life, April. I’m interested.”
He’s interested? This is a man who usually communicates to me via grunts and monosyllables.
The phone jangles on the desk, breaking through the moment. “I have to get this,” I tell him and pick up the phone.
I barely hear what is being said on the other end because he’s still standing at the desk, and he’s still watching me. I feel his eyes on me, and it’s making me squirm. I shift, rubbing my thighs together as I get hot between my legs. How can he affect me with just a look?
He’s not interested in me anyway. I don’t know why he said that. The man can barely be in the room with me for more than a minute.
But he still hasn’t moved…
I have no idea why he’s still here, but he’s just leaning against the desk, the muscles of his arms in my peripheral vision.
Somehow, I get through the call, probably talking nonsense, and by the time I hang up, I’m hot and bothered.
“Don’t let your ex dictate your life,” is all he says before he taps the desk twice and walks off in the same direction as his friend did.
I stare after him, unsure of what just happened, but feeling like a complete idiot for spilling all my private dealings to a man who barely tolerates being in my company.
8
Chris
When I step into the room, J is already sitting in the chair at the edge of the bed, staring at Luke. He’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his palms pressed together, his forefingers resting against his mouth. He almost looks like he’s praying.
I clear my throat before I move further into the room, garnering J-Dog’s attention.
“I never get over how he is when I come here,” J says quietly.
Guilt tears through me. He’s only like this because of my orders. I did this to him. “Yeah, I know.”
I don’t know how I manage to get the words out, but I do.
J must sense something in my tone, because he turns to me. “Please don’t tell me you’re still blaming yourself for this clusterfuck? It’s been eight goddamn years, Chris.”
“Yeah, eight years Luke’s been lying in this bed, not getting better. I put him there, J. No matter how you look at it, I put him there.”
“The fuck you did. The asshole who set that IED put him here. You didn’t do squat, and if you want to get really technical, the guy who stood on it and set it off put him here. Luke was hurt because of the blast, because he hit his head in the fall. How exactly are you to blame for that?”
“I gave the order—”
Jared gets to his feet. “You’re a fucking idiot. Would it make you feel better if you were the one lying there? Would it? Because that’s some fucked up thinking, Staff Sergeant.”
“Don’t call me that—”
“What happened was war, Chris. No one can say what’s going to happen, no one can predict how things will turn out. Hell, we could have all died a hundred times over if a bullet had been a couple of inches to the left or if someone hadn’t had our back. It’s how shit goes. Luke knew the risks before he signed up. He knew what he was getting into.” He shakes his head. “You’re not to blame, and you’ve got to stop blaming yourself.”
Easier said than done. His words do loosen some of the tension in my chest, but my guilt still sits there like a heavy weight.
“You know the greatest disservice you do to Luke is to continue on this journey of self-flagellation. If he could, he’d kick your ass for being such a pansy-assed baby—”
I grab him by the front of his shirt, stopping his tirade. His words are shredding me. I can’t listen to them any longer.
“Enough,” I order.
“Why?” he demands, peering into my eyes. “Because the truth hurts?”
It does hurt, and that’s exactly why I want him to stop. I let him go and stride away from him, raking a hand through my hair.
“This has to stop, Chris. You didn’t cause this. Unless you knew there were IEDs planted all over that strip where we were hunkered down. Did you know?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you aren’t responsible.” J sinks back into the chair. “We were under attack. Shit was crazy during that ambush. You did what you had to. Luke’s accident was just that—an accident, man. You have got to let it go.”
He stares at me for a moment, and I feel like he’s pulling all the thoughts from my brain. Finally, he says, “Is this why you’re hesitant to go there with the hot nurse?”
I wince internally at just how astute my friend is. Then again, he was always good at problem solving, and no doubt he sees me as a problem to solve.
“Who says I want to go there? And don’t call her that.” His lack of respect pisses me off.
“Anyone with eyes can see you want to go there. The question is why haven’t you? You’re clearly into her, Chris. She’s a free agent, right? Why don’t you just ask her out?”
My anger flares.
“Because I don’t deserve to have good in my life while Luke’s life is done.”
And April is good. She’s too good for me.
“And bing, bing, bing. Now we’re getting somewhere. Man, Luke’s life isn’t your life. You can’t punish yourself for what you think you did. You have to move on and give yourself the permission to be happy. Otherwise, we lost two men that day—you and him.”
“But Luke—”
“Is probably never going to recover from his brain injuries. I know that sucks to hear, but you have to hear it. His brain is too damaged by the blast, and the docs can’t do shit for him. You can’t live your life on pause, waiting for him to recover because it’s not going to happen. I’m sorry, but it’s not. Luke can’t be fixed, but you can live a happy life, Chris. You only get one chance at it. Don’t fuck it up by staying locked in the past.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I was there, Chris. Of everyone, I understand the most. Look, you need to work this shit out in your head, but I’m telling you—this wasn’t your fault. Luke was already in the blast zone before you gave the order for him to move out. This would have happened either way.”
I let this settle into my brain before replaying that day in my head. He’s right. Luke barely moved when the blast happened. I’d only just given the order. He didn’t have time to move.
“Get help, buddy. Talk to someone professional about what’s in your head, but most of all, go out there and ask that cute nurse out before someone else does.”
9
April
“Keys… Fudge. Bekah, have you seen my keys anywhere?”
I’m going to be late if I can’t find them in the next sixty seconds. I must have had them to get into the house, but I can’t see them in any of the usual places.
“Have you checked the bowl by the front door,” she asks, striding into the living room.
“Twice.” I push my hair out of my face, feeling frazzled. “I’m going to be late.”
“Girl, I’m off today, so I’ll be here tonight when you come home. Go to work, I’ll look for your damned keys.” She points at me. “But we’re getting a GPS tracker on them, I swear to God.”
I don’t blame her for saying t
his. I’m constantly misplacing things. I’m the worst roommate on the planet.
“Thanks, honey. I would seriously appreciate that.” I’m snagging my purse as I say this and rushing for the door. I’m definitely going to be late.
“Yeah, yeah, see you later.” She waves me out the house.
The weather is overcast today, and I would have driven in, but my car keys are on the same ring as my house ones, meaning I’m grounded.
As I start the short walk to work, my mind goes over all the places my keys could be. I swear I put them in the bowl by the door. That’s why it’s now there—it was an attempt by Bekah to help me keep track of them. I’ve been really good all week at putting them in there, so God knows what I did with them last night. Then again, I was a little frazzled after my run in with Chris yesterday. The man drives me crazy. I have no idea where he’s coming from or what he’s trying to achieve with this yo-yoing behavior. One moment, he’s all Mr. Dark and Brooding, the next, he’s acting like my best friend. He’s giving me whiplash.
Maybe I should just retain a professional approach to him in future and play him at his own game. I can do broody asshat.
I really can’t, but I’ll give it a try.
I’m starting to realize Chris will never notice me, so why am I killing myself, trying to gain some kind of validation from him? Screw him. I don’t fudging need him.
This thought is in the forefront of my mind as I walk through the front doors of the care center. Nolan is standing at the reception area, eyeballing a huge bouquet of flowers.
“Morning,” I say.
“Something you want to fess up about, woman?”
I blink at him. “I lost my keys. That’s why I’m late.”
He stares at me a second before he shakes himself. “I don’t even care that you’re late, April. I do care about the huge bouquet of flowers that got delivered this morning, though.”