Jagger laughed. “He would have shit bricks. Can you imagine trying to get him to sneak someone on board? His little rule-loving heart would have imploded.”
“Burgers in five!” Javier yelled.
“Did you char this batch?” Sawyer called back.
Javier responded with a middle finger.
“So, Will was a by-the-book kind of guy?” I didn’t want to ask, but I wanted to know the answer. It was one thing to compete with a ghost, but a fucking saint? That was impossible.
“Will wrote the fucking book.” Jagger kept his eyes on his wife and son. “He saw everything in black and white. There was no middle ground. No room for compromise.”
“Even for Morgan,” Josh remarked with a little headshake. “Hell, especially in the case of Morgan.” His voice dropped again. “You can’t wear that out in public, Morgan. What will people think?”
“Watch your tongue, Morgan,” Jagger chimed in.
Her tongue? “So you’re saying he wasn’t perfect.”
“Carter? Fuck, no. He was a ring-knocker with a chip the size of Alabama on his shoulder.” Jagger scoffed. “Always had to come in first. Always had to be right.” He swallowed. “Always had to do the right thing, no matter what it cost him.”
Josh dropped his head briefly.
“She loved him. Hell, she still loves him.” The confession was in the air before I could watch my tongue.
“Yeah, she sure did. But those two…” Jagger whistled. “I can’t think of a time when they were in the same room where they weren’t bickering.”
Damn, I wished this bottle of water in my hand was something stronger.
Josh studied me carefully. “Why did you put her on that bird?”
“Because I wanted her to feel that rush at takeoff. I wanted her to experience what I do—what we do—every time we fly. My hope was that she’d see the beauty of it, and it would help conquer her fear that I’d go down like the three of you did.” I kicked off my flip-flops and dug my feet into the sand.
“Will wouldn’t have done it.” Josh smiled to himself. “He would have told her that she was safer on the ground, and then he would have kept her there. He would have told her that her fear was unfounded because he was infallible in an aircraft.”
“Will was born with this unconquerable urge to protect, and Morgan has never needed anyone’s protection.” Jagger twisted his ball cap backward. “Morgan needed someone capable of loving her and then getting the fuck out of her way.”
I watched her bounce Peyton lightly and introduce him to Christina as the girls headed back toward us.
“Bottom line, the guy was our friend. Fuck, I miss the asshole every day,” Jagger continued. “But he sure as hell wasn’t perfect, and the biggest thing he got wrong is something you’ve already gotten right.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You chose Morgan. He never did. He chose Peyton. He chose Paisley. When push came to shove, he even chose Josh and me. But he never chose Morgan. You did.” His voice quieted as the girls reached us.
Hell yes, I chose Morgan, and I always would. The fact that someone hadn’t was mind-boggling.
“You done flirting with Auntie Morgan, little man?” Jagger stood and took his son from Morgan’s arms.
She smiled, but it was tinged with sadness, and a corresponding ache flared in my chest. This scene was only possible because Will had given his life for them. Hell, I only had a shot with Morgan for the same reason.
“Oh! I brought something for you!” Paisley exclaimed, dropping to her knees and digging something out of their diaper bag before standing again. “We just sent them out last week, but I wanted to give it to you in person.” She handed Morgan an envelope.
“Thank you,” Morgan said as she took it. She slid a card from the ivory casing, and her entire posture changed as she read it.
“Burgers!” Javier yelled.
I held up my finger in the universal symbol for wait a fucking minute.
“What?” Morgan whispered as her brow scrunched and her shoulders drew inward. Devastated. She looked completely and utterly devastated. What the fuck was on that card?
I rose to my feet.
“I thought you might want to come…you know. If you’re feeling up to it.” Paisley’s smile trembled.
“Kitty?” I questioned softly, coming to her side. I wasn’t going to look over her shoulder or pry into anything she wasn’t ready to welcome me into.
Morgan shoved the card at my chest and stared at the sand a few feet away.
On behalf of the President of the United States, the secretary of the Army requests the pleasure of your company at the awarding of the Medal of Honor to William Carter—
I stopped reading. Holy. Shit. Will was getting the Medal of Honor.
“He would have wanted you there, Morgan,” Paisley said softly.
Morgan shifted, and I forgot the card in my hand. My girl didn’t have an ounce of that devastation on her face now. Oh no, it was all anger and indignation.
The storm she’d fought so long and hard to keep off her coastline was here.
“Little Bird,” Jagger said softly, touching his wife’s elbow as he took in the same signs I did.
“Morgan?” Paisley stepped forward, oblivious to the danger.
“I might want to come?” Morgan’s voice was so quiet the breeze off the ocean nearly carried it away.
“Well…don’t you?” Paisley took another step with obvious, honest concern.
Ember and Sam positioned themselves so the group made a square, both watching the other women with all of the caution Paisley should have shown.
“Honey,” Jagger tried again, reaching for his wife’s elbow. She shook him off.
He looked my way beseechingly, but I took one look at Morgan’s rigid muscles, the fire in her eyes, and remembered that this was the stage in her therapy where she was supposed to confront the people who triggered her, and Paisley was the biggest trigger she had.
I slowly shook my head at Jagger and stepped to the side, effectively getting the hell out of Morgan’s way.
“I might want to come?” Morgan shouted. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Chapter Eighteen
Morgan
I’m showing up empty-handed to this party, and the most amazing thing about you is that you don’t care. You just want me, and I can’t figure out why, but I’m done fighting it. You want this mess? It’s yours. Just enjoy your last nine months of freedom—I mean, hopefully not too much or anything—because once I get home, we’re doing this thing.
Paisley drew back like I’d slapped her. Her shock and hurt were obvious, and I just didn’t care. I was beyond caring.
“You don’t want to come?” Her brow puckered.
“You sent the invitations last week? You, Paisley, were given the invitations, and then you chose not to mail one to me? Not to let me know that Will—my Will—was getting the Medal of Honor?” My voice didn’t even sound like mine anymore.
She blinked. “I told you, I wanted to give it to you in person. You said you were struggling—”
“I hadn’t even invited you here when you mailed them out! What were you going to do? Wait until the week before the ceremony, just hoping that I’d be up for talking then?”
“I’d…I hoped that you’d call. And you did. Well, you texted, which isn’t really the same, but—”
“Who the hell gave you the right to keep information about Will from me?”
Paisley’s gaze darted to Ember, then Sam. Sam took a step closer. To support or restrain me? I didn’t know, and I didn’t give a shit.
“You said you were in therapy. That you couldn’t talk about him. That you needed space! I was just trying to give you that space! I figured that when you were ready, you’d call and I’d tell you.” Sweet mercy, the woman
had the audacity to look hurt.
“God, I’m trying so hard!” I screamed at the sky. “I thought I was ready for this, but maybe I’m not.”
“Don’t walk away,” she begged when I retreated a step. “Morgan, you’ve been my best friend all my life, and the silent treatment is killing me!”
“Killing you?” I fumbled for words as my soul scraped over a cheese grater, cut to tiny, shredded pieces by the blades of my anger and my own guilt for feeling it. “It’s killing you?”
“Please talk to me! If it’s the invitation, then you don’t have to come, and I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, I swear. I was just trying to protect you like you’ve protected me our entire lives.” Her hands rose beseechingly, as if she could tug me back to emotionally stable ground.
Spoiler alert—there wasn’t any emotionally stable ground. There hadn’t been in years. I was more combustible than the unlit bonfire next to us.
“It’s a little late to start protecting me, Paisley Lynn.”
All the color drained from her face, and her hand rose to her chest, a nervous tell from when her heart hadn’t been healthy. “Morgan…you have to talk to me.”
Raw, ugly emotion bubbled in that little container I kept it locked up in. I was a shaken soda, and Paisley was twisting my top.
“I can’t!” My anger would eat her alive, and that was something she didn’t deserve.
“You can!” she urged.
Those hideous feelings started to hiss as she cracked my seal.
“How long have you known he was getting the medal?” I questioned, looking for any reason to hold on to my composure. “Was it last week when the invitations came?”
Regret slackened her shoulders. “No. Daddy told me six weeks ago. Right before you told me you needed space.”
I exploded.
“Six weeks? You’ve known for six weeks?”
She pressed her lips in a thin line and nodded. “I’m so sorry—”
“Did you know?” I pivoted my rage at Ember.
She glanced between Paisley and me, then nodded. “Yeah, but we live right next—”
“You?” I faced Sam.
She put her hands up. “Don’t look at me. I had no clue.” She pinned a look on Josh and Jagger. “And neither does Grayson.”
“He’s got bigger things on his mind,” Josh muttered but dropped his gaze. “And mail takes longer to get there. Plus, we knew you were taking care of Morgan, and Paisley said she’s been…delicate.”
“Unbelievable,” Sam snapped.
“I should have told you.” Paisley’s voice dripped with regret.
“You should have told me he was dead!”
The whole world stilled.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Sawyer sneak away, motioning to Christina and her husband to do the same. It was just us—the Sunday dinner crew—and Jackson, who was silent and strong at my side.
“I don’t understand,” Paisley said softly.
“You never did,” I spat, shaking my head. “How did you find out Will was dead?”
Her lips parted. “The officers came to the door. I was with Ember, and they told us Will had been killed. Then they gave us the news that Jagger and Josh were both seriously injured.”
I nodded, processing the information. “I was in the jam aisle at Publix when Sam called.” I tried to swallow the lump of anxiety that formed in my throat, but it wouldn’t move. I arched my neck, but no matter how many times I worked my throat, it stuck there like a damned rock.
“What’s wrong?” Paisley asked, moving forward.
“Give her a second.” Sam stepped between us.
“Kitty,” Jackson whispered, pressing an opened bottle of water into my hand.
I chugged half the bottle, then took deep breaths and visualized the muscles relaxing. I’d told this story in Dr. Circe’s office for the last six weeks and listened to myself tell it every single morning. I could do this.
“Thank you.” I handed Jackson the bottle and threw him a fragile smile.
He winked and squeezed my hand as he took it back.
“I was in the jam aisle at Publix, and Sam called. That jar of jam slipped from my hands and shattered all over that tacky linoleum, red like blood as it splattered my feet. And she didn’t have the details. That was something only you got, since you were listed as his next of kin.”
Paisley’s hands fell to her sides.
“I don’t remember much about leaving the store, but slowly it’s coming back to me the more I hear myself tell the story. I left the buggy in the middle of the aisle, didn’t even tell the workers that I’d made a mess, and I stumbled to my car as Sam told me she was on her way to me. She was getting on a plane from Colorado. I sat in that parking lot for two hours, just staring out the windshield, and when I tried to call my very best friend, she didn’t answer.” I wrapped my arms around myself.
“I must have been on the plane already.” Her voice was soft. “Jagger’s father flew us straight to Germany.”
“And you didn’t pick up the phone. Not once.”
“Shit,” Ember muttered.
“It’s okay, Ember,” I assured her. “You told Sam to check on me. God knows how long I would have gone without knowing if you hadn’t, so thank you.”
“Oh God.” Paisley’s mouth opened and shut a few times as she looked at Ember, then back at Jagger. “Morgan, I wasn’t thinking clearly! My husband was injured!”
“The man I loved was dead!” My hands flew into fists. “You don’t think I made your excuses time and again? I knew you were under water. God knows I prayed for Josh and Jagger to heal quickly, and I’m honestly so grateful for their lives, but you abandoned me until the day of the funeral, and then you invited me to sit in the front pew like it was yours. Like he was yours!”
Paisley’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“At what point did you remember that I loved him, Paisley? Was it when your daddy made his funeral all about Will’s love for you? His sacrifice so your husband could live? Was it when I held you up at the gravesite as they buried the only man I’ve ever loved?” My voice cracked.
“Morgan,” she whispered.
“You want to know why I can’t bear to be around you? It’s because every time I see your face and hear you gush about how damned happy you are, all I can think is how fucking unfair everything is!” Tears stung my eyes. “You got Jagger back. Ember got Josh. Sam has Grayson, and I have a fucking truck that I can’t sit in without having an anxiety attack!”
She reached for me, and I stepped back. It wasn’t in her nature to watch suffering and do nothing about it, but in this case, there was nothing she could do.
“Do you know what causes complicated grief?”
“It’s a breakdown in the grieving process,” Paisley answered, letting her hand fall back to her side. “Usually caused by an overwhelming guilt that you could have stopped the death from happening or the inability to accept the injustice of it. I read up when you told me why Sam was here. I would have come if you’d let me. I would have stayed with you.”
I ignored her last two statements. “Your happily-ever-after came at the expense of mine. That’s why I can’t be around you. That’s why I’m still crippled by a grief that you all think about from time to time. And I would never want you to feel this! Not in a million years would I ever wish this kind of debilitating pain on you. I wouldn’t trade Jagger’s life for Will’s. How many times have I told you how grateful I am that you still have Jagger?”
“I’ve lost count.” A tear streaked down her face.
“And how many times have you considered what life would be like if the tables had been turned? If Jagger had died for Will? If my happiness had cost yours?”
She startled. “I… We have Peyton.”
“You’re right.
You have your gorgeous son, and he has Will’s name. And I…” I shrugged. “I don’t even have the right to grieve him or to be told that he’s getting the Medal of Honor for choosing to die for you instead of living for me.”
“That’s not what I meant. Of course you do! And I know that what you had with Will was complicated, but it breaks my heart for you to think that he was your happily-ever-after when everything was so up in the air with you two, and what you have here—”
“Up in the air? We were finally on the damned ground!”
“What?”
“Paisley, why do you think he left me a secondary life insurance policy? Left me his truck? Left me his wings and his dog tags? It’s because he left me with a promise, too. He drove down to see me before he deployed, and he told me we’d be together when he got home.”
Paisley’s breath rushed out. “I didn’t know.”
Ember’s face twisted, and she blinked back tears.
“You didn’t know a lot. I was the one who held him together after you dumped him. I was the one who had his wings engraved and then pinned them on his chest. I was the one he kissed the night of the flight school graduation ball, the one he gave a silver wings necklace to, and the one he kissed for the last time days before he died. I was the last phone call he made before that goddamned flight, Paisley, so don’t you sit there and tell me that I didn’t lose my chance. You were so lost in your own happiness that you didn’t even know I had it to begin with.”
My stomach turned at the realization that this rift had started way before Will’s death. It had been growing since she’d moved up to Fort Campbell. Funny, how I’d always stayed behind for her, but she’d left at the first opportunity.
“Oh God, Morgan,” she whispered.
“I was shattered and barely breathing, but I held it together during that funeral, and then I kept breathing when you shit all over my dream and pulverized my feelings between your sweet little fingers when you said he was never meant to be mine anyway.”
“Wait. What?” She moved forward again, and I retreated, keeping our little dance. “Morgan, I never said he wasn’t meant to be yours. I would never discourage your dream. God, we all saw the way he looked at you, the way you drove him crazy. I knew that if anyone could break through that shell he kept around his soul, it would be you. It would have been you.”
The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory) Page 26