Trusting a Warrior

by Melanie Hansen

  The truth of it was like a soccer ball to the face. “Not for a while,” he managed. “I’m gonna be home for a little while, you know? We could—would you like to talk now?”

  “Nah.” With her foot, she expertly flipped the ball up into her arms and, without another word, walked away.

  Geo struggled to his feet and trudged back toward the ladder, the knots in his stomach tightening.

  He wouldn’t be here. What the fuck was he thinking? He couldn’t be what she needed. He couldn’t be what anyone needed.

  “Geo?” Lani’s soft voice cut through the roaring in his ears, and before he knew it, she was in his arms. He clutched her tightly, her comforting warmth, the feel of her for some reason keeping him together, from splintering apart.

  Pulling her into the shadows next to the house, he threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back to kiss her, softly, gently.

  “Mmm.” Linking her arms around his neck, she relaxed against him. “This is nice.” With one last nip to his lower lip, she whispered, “You okay?”

  He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, her subtle perfume. “No,” he croaked. He told her about his conversation with Ari as she stroked his nape and listened quietly.

  “I’m not a trained therapist,” he fretted. “What was I thinking?”

  “Hmm. That you were someone who loved her dad, too. Maybe what she needed in that moment wasn’t necessarily a therapist, but a friend.”

  “Uncle Geo.” He let out a ragged sigh. “That’s what they called me, the girls. And all I’ve done is let them down.”

  He appreciated when Lani didn’t rush in with a bunch of empty reassurances that he probably wouldn’t believe anyway. All she said was, “Well, you’re here now.”

  For a while anyway. Not long enough.

  He could see the truth of it on her face reflected back at him, but she only cupped his cheek and gave him one more soft kiss. “You’re here now,” she repeated, then took his hand and led him back around the house. After letting go with a gentle squeeze, she headed toward the group on the porch, the skirt of her dress swishing around her thighs.

  With a lovesick sigh, Geo turned to climb the ladder and get to work cleaning out the rain gutters. Wrist deep in wet leaves and other trash, he was startled several minutes later when a frosty can of Coke landed on the roof not far from him. A tousled blond head popped up at the top of the ladder.

  “Thought you might be thirsty,” Ari said.

  “Um...” He craned his neck and desperately sought out Renae, who was watching them. She nodded imperceptibly at him from her seat on the porch.

  “You want it or not?” Ari’s voice now held a note of belligerence, so he hastily stripped off his work gloves and extended her a helping hand.

  “Of course I want it,” he said, hovering until she was safely seated on the sloping roof, her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them.

  He pried open the top of the can and got a spray of Coke in the face for his trouble, not even caring about the cold stickiness when he heard her give the faintest of giggles.

  “No, really, thanks,” he said drily, taking a huge swallow as her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  When the Coke was gone, Geo crumpled up the can, tossed it to the ground below, and waited.

  “Did you cry when my dad died?”

  Her abrupt question startled him, and for a long moment he was at a loss for words.

  Be honest. Just be honest. It’s what you wanted back then, remember?

  “No,” he said softly. “I didn’t. Did you?”

  She rested her forehead on her knees. “No.”

  “Why, sweetie?”

  Ari shrugged. “Dunno. How come you didn’t?”

  Pursing his lips, he leaned back on his hands. “I think it’s because I was afraid if I started, I’d never stop. I really miss your dad a lot.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Her voice quavered a bit as she toyed with one frayed shoelace. “My mom and sister cry all the time, too, so I thought maybe—”

  His heart ached. “You thought maybe you should try to be strong?”

  “Mm-hmm. My dad used to tell me that when he left. ‘Be strong for Mom and Ava. I’m counting on you, Love Bug.’”

  A sudden bolt of anger toward Cade made Geo clench his fists. How dare he put that burden on her shoulders and then check himself out?

  You bastard. You left such a fucking mess behind, you know that?

  Ari was looking at him anxiously, so he strove for calm. “It’s not a kid’s job to be strong,” he said evenly. “It’s a kid’s job to be sad if you want, to cry if you want, to scream into your pillow if you want, and know your mom’s gonna come hug you, take care of you.”

  She didn’t reply, her lips still tight, and suddenly, Geo couldn’t help but chuckle. “You look so much like your dad right now, you don’t even know.”

  Her eyes flew to his. “Really?”

  “Yep. And you’re stubborn like him, smart like him. He also played soccer like a badass.” Before he knew it, Geo was telling her about a game that’d sprung up on their outpost one night, SEALs against the Army. “Your dad was goalie, and he made all these awesome saves.” He pantomimed diving and twisting as best he could in a seated position.

  “Did he win?”

  “Yep. The Army guys had to give him a box of homemade cookies this one dude’s wife had sent him. That was the bet.”

  Bet.

  A pang went through him, but it was softer, muted, more nostalgia than sorrow. The realization loosened the knots in his chest a little.

  “You remind me a lot of him, in all the best ways,” he finished softly. “And, kiddo, he was so proud of you. So proud.”

  Ari’s shoulders slumped and she sighed, like a balloon letting out all its air. He waited, until at last she looked over at him. “Will you come watch me play sometime?”

  A huge lump in his throat, Geo reached out and tugged on her ponytail. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  After he’d helped her down the ladder, he leaned against the side of the house and watched her tuck her soccer ball under her arm and head for the porch. On the way, a couple of younger kids ran up and, with excited gestures and animated faces, asked if she wanted to play.

  Ari shrugged. “Sure.”

  Soon there was a small group of them kicking the ball about. She proved to be a patient and knowledgeable coach, and finally he turned away to climb to the roof once again, a cautious satisfaction swirling through him.

  Of course she still had a lifetime of grief work ahead of her, but Geo would always remember that first pressure-valve release of emotion that came from simply talking about it with someone who understood, who cared.

  And if what he’d gone through as a child would help her...

  Helplessly, his eyes sought out Lani, who was sitting in the sun laughing with Devon and Renae. She’d learned to take the things that hurt the most and use them to light the way for others walking in her shoes. What an amazing tribute to Tyler.

  He moved his gaze to Ari, who gave him a tiny smile when she saw him looking.

  And you’ve helped me give some much-needed relief to a devastated little girl.

  “How am I going to leave you, Lani?” he whispered.

  How the fuck was he ever gonna leave?

  * * *

  “Hey, can I say something real quick?”

  Someone turned the music down and all eyes settled on Renae, who’d stood and was nervously twisting her fingers together.

  Geo slung his arm along the back of Lani’s chair and kicked his legs out in front of him before doing a quick scan of the assembled group on the deck. Night had fallen, and full of beer and steak—courtesy of some of the SEALs’ wives who’d showed up—everyone was mellow, chill and enjo
ying each other’s company.

  Most of the kids were in the living room watching a movie, but since their talk on the roof, Ari had stuck close to Geo’s side. She’d been peppering him with questions about Bosch when Renae tapped her steak knife on a nearby beer bottle.

  “I just wanted to thank you all for coming,” she said. “Of course the yard looks absolutely beautiful, but more than that, it’s been so nice to feel a part of things again.” She hesitated. “Did any of you know Cade?”

  A few hands went up, and to Geo’s surprise, Rhys said, “I remember him from a few years ago when his platoon rotated through our outpost.” He grinned. “We were bored, and frustrated from planning missions only for the head shed not to approve them.”

  The SEALs grunted their understanding—they’d all been there. Most people pictured spec ops units as mavericks who got to do whatever they wanted, when in reality, missions were carefully planned based on gathered intelligence and then sent up the chain of command for approval.

  Most were denied, and even the approved ones tended to spin up and then spin right back down.

  “So anyway, Cade heard us bitching and organized a baseball game, but not just any baseball game.” Rhys paused. “An opposite-hand baseball game. Whatever your dominant hand was, you could only pitch, throw, bat, whatever, with the other one. That was some of the funniest shit I’ve ever seen, oh, my God. He really saved our sanity.”

  Several other guys chimed in with stories about running into Cade over the years, and almost all were about when he’d used humor to boost morale, to motivate or to encourage.

  The ever-present lump rose into Geo’s throat. Like that stupid bet. That stupid, wonderful bet.

  Miss you, Cade-Man.

  At the end of the impromptu memorial service, Renae wiped a few tears from her cheeks. “I loved hearing this. Thank you for letting me see my husband through your eyes.”

  Glasses were raised all around.

  “To Cade!”

  “’Til Valhalla, brother.”

  “Long live the brotherhood.”

  The toasts finished, someone turned the music back up and the SEALs settled in to party. Renae approached Geo and gave him a long, fervent hug. “I can’t tell you how much today has meant to me and the girls. You’ve helped us feel normal again, and I’ll never, ever forget it.”

  He hugged her back, then said tentatively, “Ari invited me to watch one of her games. Is that—”

  “Of course it’s fine with me, but Geo, it’s not your job to play dad, you know. If you don’t want to—”

  “I want to.” Taking a deep breath, he went on, “I lost my own father at about her age. Yeah, it’s different, but in some ways it’s the same. I know what it’s like to be a grieving little kid.”

  Standing on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’ll be a blessing to her, then, George. And to me. Thank you.”

  After she’d headed inside to check on the kids, Lani walked up and took his arm. “You okay?”

  He told her about his conversation with Ari on the roof. “I keep taking your advice to talk about the person Cade was. Hands down, it’s the best advice I’ve ever gotten.”

  She smiled, a warmth in her gold-flecked eyes that sent an answering quiver through him. “Every life has meaning, no matter how it ended. Focusing on that makes all the difference.”

  He couldn’t help but tilt her chin up to give her a gentle kiss. “You’ve made all the difference.”

  Her face softened. “Geo, I—”

  Whatever she was about to say was lost when Devon called out, “Hey, Lani, get over here! We have baby shower questions!”

  With an apologetic wrinkle of her nose, she squeezed his arm and headed over to the lively group of women. Not far away from them, Rhys leaned against the railing talking to Matt and Shane, who were standing arm in arm, Shane’s hand resting possessively on Matt’s hip.

  Something Rhys said made them burst into laughter, and Shane pulled Matt closer and kissed the top of his head.

  “That’s some fuckin’ next-level shit.”

  Turning, Geo saw Grizz sprawled out with a beer in hand, staring at Matt and Shane. He grunted. “Apparently everything is to you, man. What is it now?”

  “That.” Grizz lifted his chin toward the two men, in the next instant letting out a yelp when his wife leaned over and swatted him on the arm.

  “Are you serious? Two guys in love and showing affection? That’s surreal to you?”

  “What?” An expression of sincere confusion flitted across Grizz’s face. “No! What I mean is, look at him! Knytych’s smiling. Baby, he never smiles, not like that.”

  Geo had to agree. “It’s true.”

  Indeed, Matt’s happiness radiated from him, the kind of happiness that came from having found his place in the world, and from knowing that he was loved.

  “They’re some of my favorite dudes, you know,” Grizz went on indignantly. “I’d never hate on them.”

  His wife wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a repentant hug. “I misunderstood. I’m sorry.”

  “You should be,” he groused, even as he hugged her back. “They’re my friends, babe.”

  Geo left them nuzzling, and wandered closer to the group just as Rhys crouched behind both Lani’s and Devon’s chairs and whispered something that made them both look at Matt.

  “You can sing?” he heard Lani say. “Really?”

  “Like an angel,” Devon assured her as Matt rolled his eyes.

  “Arts and theater, not much else to do at a North Dakota high school,” he said jokingly. “I wanted to stay warm.”

  “Except he’s really, really good,” Devon said. “I’m the one who looked like a chump singing karaoke with him.”

  “Lani can sing.” Rhys squeezed her shoulder, laughing when she turned to swat at him. “Get her drunk enough and she’ll serenade you.”

  Hoots from around the group as she raised her voice to be heard over them. “Whoa, whoa! It’ll be a long time before I’m ever that drunk again.” She pointed to her baby bump. “So don’t hold your breath, people. I don’t sing sober.”

  “And I only sing when I’m trying to convince certain clowns I don’t care about the date he’s flaunting in my face,” Matt chimed in, yanking away from Shane in mock disgust. “I never asked, who was that guy anyway?”

  “Nobody, my love,” Shane said as he wrapped his arms around Matt’s waist and pulled him back against him. “Absolutely nobody.”

  Wistfulness and a feeling of disconnect drove Geo off the deck and out into the shadows of the backyard. After all, he didn’t really belong here. His time in this platoon was only temporary, and it’d be over soon enough.

  Then what?

  Then he’d focus on his career. He’d make Chief, and move into leadership, where he’d be able to mentor young SEALs. Yeah, it’d certainly be rewarding, to help usher the next generation of young men—and maybe soon young women—into the ranks.

  But what about when it was over? When he hit his twenty, twenty-five, maybe thirty-year mark? Eventually he’d have to retire, and what would he have to show for it? A rank on his sleeve, maybe a few medals, a trail of broken relationships scattered in his wake?

  He gazed up at the now-neatly trimmed tree in the moonlight, a sudden wave of loneliness, of sadness, crashing over him and nearly driving him to his knees.

  What if I’m alone?

  As he bent double, struggling for air, footsteps rushed through the grass and then an arm wrapped around his waist, anchoring him. “I’m here. I’m here, Geo.”

  At Lani’s whispered words, the last of the walls he’d built around his heart started to crumble into dust.

  “God, I just miss him so much,” he gasped. “I’m so fucking angry at him, and I love him, and I hate him.”

 
“I know,” she crooned, holding him tight. “I know.”

  “You had it all, Cade. A family,” he whispered brokenly. “You belonged. You were loved.”

  And suddenly, for the first time, Geo caught a glimpse of how deep, how pervasive, how black the hole of Cade’s pain must have been. It’d overshadowed everything, and stolen his hope for tomorrow. It’d rendered him unreachable, having grown too big, too vast, for him to climb out of.

  Or for anyone to simply stick their hand down and rescue him from it.

  The first sob that broke from his chest came out muffled, like a hiccup. The second was a ragged, gasping explosion that had Lani pulling him closer.

  Clutching onto her, he sank down into the grass. She never let go, and under the shadow of Cade’s tree, safe in Lani’s arms, Geo wept.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Will you go somewhere with me?”

  Geo’s voice was quiet, hoarse.

  Brushing her lips over his forehead, Lani whispered, “Anywhere.”

  They stumbled to their feet and lurched toward the car arm in arm. Once there, she slipped behind the wheel, Geo slumping in the passenger seat, head back, eyes closed. She couldn’t help but glance at him frequently as she drove, wondering if he was donning his armor again even as she watched.

  He didn’t speak except to mumble directions, and at last they pulled up in front of an unassuming tattoo studio named Scars & Ink. A short, barrel-chested white man met them right inside.

  As he and Geo clasped hands and then embraced, she heard Geo croak, “It’s time, Spike.”

  “I got you, brother,” Spike murmured back. “I got you.”

  He took them to a room at the rear of the shop, and as he got set up, Geo turned to her. “Spike’s a former team guy. We did one tour in Afghanistan together, the one where Cade—”

  When he couldn’t go on, Spike came over and squeezed his shoulder. “C’mon, buddy, let’s do this.”

  They didn’t discuss tattoo designs, and Geo didn’t look at any of the flash on the walls or page through a book. Instead, Spike asked one simple question: “Where d’ya want it?”