“You sound like hell,” his brother said bluntly. “Are you drunk?”
“Nah.” He measured kibble into Molly’s bowl, wincing as even the sound of the dry food dropping into the metal container hurt his head. “Just hung over.”
His brother let out a heavy sigh. “I should have been with you yesterday. You shouldn’t have been alone.”
“I don’t need a babysitter. And... I wasn’t alone,” he admitted.
“Getting up close and personal with Jack Daniels doesn’t really count as having company.”
“Ha ha,” he said. But then, because he understood that his brother was sincerely worried, he added, “A real live person was with me last night, along with JD.”
“Have you been making friends out there in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada?”
“I’ve gotten to know some people,” he said vaguely, opening the door again to let Molly in. She raced over to her bowl, skidded to a stop and plopped her butt down, waiting for his signal.
He gestured a wave and she immediately dug in.
“Well, that’s good then,” Luke said, though his tone was dubious. “Any idea when you’re coming home?”
“No.”
“Benjamin’s been asking about you.”
“Me or Molly?”
The dog lifted her head up momentarily, then resumed eating.
“Well, the two of you are a package deal,” Luke said.
Jake managed a chuckle. “Tell him I’ll bring her for a visit soon.”
“It’s Dad’s birthday next month. Why don’t you come home then?”
“Because the last family get-together didn’t end so well,” he reminded his brother.
“That wasn’t your fault,” Luke said.
“No one else freaked out over the sound of firecrackers.”
“Maybe you just have faster reflexes than me and Dad.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Jake said dryly.
“Well, if you don’t have any plans to come home in the near future, maybe I’ll come out to see you,” his brother suggested.
“That’s really not necessary, Luke.”
“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to come.”
“Why?” Jake asked, equal parts curious and wary.
“Because you’re my brother and I haven’t seen you in a long while.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I overindulged a little last night,” Jake acknowledged. “It’s something I do once a year.”
“It’s been three years.”
“I know how long it’s been,” he snapped back.
“Of course, you do,” Luke agreed. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I’m hungover and short-tempered.”
“How about the weekend after next?” his brother suggested.
“Would it matter if I said no?”
“Not likely.”
After he’d disconnected the call, Jake wandered back to the living room and dropped down onto the sofa.
He noticed the glass of water on the side table then, and a bottle of Tylenol beside it.
Sky, of course. Always taking care of other people.
He wrestled with the childproof cap, swallowed a couple of pills, then stumbled to the kitchen again to put on a pot of coffee.
While the coffee was brewing, he let the hot water of the shower pound on his shoulders as memories of the previous evening slowly came together in his mind.
Mostly he remembered Sky. She’d been there and taken care of him. He’d bared his soul to her, sharing all of his deepest and darkest secrets. And he’d cried. And while she hadn’t run screaming into the night, he had to wonder if—in the light of day—it would prove to be too much for her.
After he was showered and dressed and starting to feel at least a little bit better, he carried his cell phone with him into the kitchen. She hadn’t called or texted yet, but he didn’t want to miss it when she did.
If she did.
Molly was dancing by the door when he opened the cupboard for a mug to pour his first desperately needed cup of coffee. “You already went outside and I’m going to need a couple more hours and gallons of coffee before I even think about going for a R-U-N,” he said, just as a soft knock sounded.
“You were telling me that we had company,” he realized, as he opened the door to Sky.
“Did I knock too loudly?” she asked in lieu of a more traditional greeting. “I didn’t want to make too much noise, in case your head was hurting this morning.”
He stepped back to allow her entry. “In case?”
She winced in sympathy. “How bad’s the hangover?”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Maybe this will help.” She handed him a travel mug.
“I’ve got coffee on in the kitchen.”
“It’s not coffee,” she said. “It’s the tried-and-true Gilmore secret hangover cure.”
He looked wary. “What’s in it?”
“It’s a secret hangover cure,” she said again.
He looked dubious as he lifted the lid to examine and sniff the contents. “It doesn’t smell too bad,” he allowed.
“Try it,” she urged.
He took a tentative sip, then another.
She set a grocery bag on the counter, then picked up the mug of coffee he’d poured and lifted it to her lips.
“That was my coffee,” he said.
“Coffee’s a diuretic and you need to hydrate,” she pointed out.
“Still taking care of me, huh?”
“Hangover Basics One-Oh-One.”
“Thanks. And for everything you did last night, too.”
“I didn’t really do anything,” she denied.
“You were here for me.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone. And the fact that you came into Diggers’ instead of buying a bottle and bringing it back here suggested to me that you didn’t really want to be alone, either,” she said.
“I don’t keep alcohol in the house,” he confided, as she began to unpack the grocery bag. “What’s all that?”
“I wasn’t sure what you had in your fridge, so I brought a few things over to make breakfast—unless you’ve eaten already.”
He shook his head and eyed the ingredients: eggs, ham, ricotta, red pepper, spinach.
“Are you going to make omelets?”
“A frittata.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Isn’t that just another word for quiche?”
“No, a quiche has a crust.” She set a pan on the stove and began prepping the ingredients. “You don’t have to give up your ‘real man’ card today.”
“Didn’t I forfeit that last night?”
“No.” She met and held his gaze. “Real men aren’t afraid to show emotion.”
“Speaking of,” he said, though it wasn’t a very smooth segue, “my brother called this morning. He’s planning to come to Haven for a visit.”
“You don’t sound happy about that,” she noted.
“I’d be happy to see him if he didn’t have an agenda,” Jake told her.
“What’s his agenda?” she asked curiously.
“To check up on me.”
“That’s not an agenda—it’s the job of big brothers,” she said, as she dumped the spinach and peppers into the pan. “When is he coming?”
“The weekend after next, apparently.” He finished the secret hangover cure and grabbed another mug from the cupboard.
“Two more glasses of water before coffee.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”
“All the time,” she said unapologetically.
He reached for a glass and filled it with water. “Anyway, I was wondering if
I could ask a favor.”
“Of course,” she replied without hesitation.
“Would you...when Luke is here...would you...pretend to be my girlfriend?”
Pretend?
It required a concerted effort for Sky to keep the smile on her face so that Jake wouldn’t know how much his offhand request had both disappointed and hurt her. Because although they hadn’t defined their relationship—beyond a vague “friends...and maybe working toward something more”—she’d started to think that hanging out and having off-the-charts sex together meant that she actually was his girlfriend, no pretending required.
Obviously that was her mistake.
She poured the egg-and-cheese mixture into the pan. “Why do you think you need a pretend girlfriend?”
“So he’ll stop worrying that I’m isolated and alone in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada.”
“He’s your brother—why can’t you just tell him the truth?”
“And what do you think the truth is?” Jake wondered.
“That you’re making progress toward getting your life back on track,” she said.
“Is that really how you see it?” he asked her.
“Of course it is. And I would think, if anyone could understand what you’ve been through, it would be your brother, who’s spent fifteen years in the military,” she pointed out.
“That’s exactly why I can’t tell him,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” she admitted.
“Luke is doing what we were both supposed to do—but he’s a success and... I’m a failure.”
She immediately shook her head. “You’re not a failure. You’re a hero.”
He scoffed at the notion. “My brother has a wife and three kids, and I’m afraid to even let you spend the night in my bed.”
“You’re just afraid that I’ll steal the covers,” she teased.
He managed a smile at that, but it quickly faded. “I’m broken, Sky.”
“That happens sometimes when people have to endure too much,” she acknowledged. “And then sometimes they need some help putting the pieces back together.”
“What if the pieces won’t fit back together?” he wondered aloud.
“They might not fit in quite the same way, but they’re all part of the whole. Although, if you’re really concerned, you might want to look into something more focused than a once-a-week meeting at the community center,” she ventured. “There are residential PTSD treatment programs available at private facilities in Nevada and California and lots of other places.”
“You’ve been doing research again,” he guessed.
“I’m trying to help.”
“I already told you how you can help when Luke comes to town.”
Despite the pang of disappointment in her heart, she couldn’t refuse his request—or resist the opportunity. “Okay, I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend when your brother comes to visit if you agree to be my date for my brother’s wedding next weekend.” She made the offer hopeful that the outing would help Jake realize that though he’d always carry the scars of his former life, he’d already started to make a new one in Haven—with her.
“How many brothers do you have?” he asked.
“Two.”
“Aren’t they both married already?”
“They are,” she confirmed. “But Caleb and Brielle eloped in Vegas eight years ago, with no one there to celebrate with them, so they’re having a belated reception next Saturday.”
He hesitated.
“I promise I won’t leave your side for a single minute.”
“You know I’m not good with crowds,” he said. “I barely managed to stay at the bar the night the baseball team was there.”
“But since then, you’ve actually been out to watch some of the games.”
He didn’t sit on the bleachers, with the other spectators, but she knew that his willingness to even venture into the park was a step in the right direction.
“That’s just because I like the way you look in the uniform,” he told her.
“Apparently you like the way I look in short skirts, too,” she reminded him.
“Will you be wearing a short skirt to this wedding?”
“Is your willingness to accept the invitation contingent on the length of my hem?”
“Maybe.” He grinned. “I do like your legs.”
“And I did buy a new dress for the occasion when I was shopping with Ashley the other day, and the skirt falls to about here—” She touched her thigh, a couple of inches above her knee.
“Then my answer is yes,” he said. “I just hope you don’t regret asking.”
* * *
“How much longer are we gonna be stuck in this godforsaken dust bowl?” Tex asked.
“Nine weeks and six days,” Merlin told him.
“But who’s counting?” Jake asked dryly.
“Merlin’s counting the days to his wedding.” Ditto followed up the remark by humming a few bars of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March—horribly off-key.
“More like his funeral,” Big Red said.
Because ribbing one another was how they passed the time, and joking about death helped lighten the mood when they were living and working in hostile territory.
Jake tuned them out, mostly, and let his thoughts drift.
Nine weeks and six days.
That didn’t seem so long now. Not after almost ten months had already passed.
He could understand why Merlin was eager to get home and celebrate with a wedding. They missed so much when they were gone. Not just important dates and special occasions, but everyday stuff, too.
Maybe he’d talk to Margot about setting a date for their wedding. They’d been together for less than six months before his first deployment, but even then he’d known that he wanted to spend his life with her. So when she’d hinted that a ring on her finger would reassure her that he loved her as much as she loved him, he hadn’t hesitated to put one there.
She’d been happy enough with the ring that she hadn’t pressed him to set a date. The subject did come up every once in a while, but their timelines were always vague... “sometime in the next couple of years” or “maybe next summer.”
He knew he was lucky to have her. It wasn’t easy for a woman to stick with a man who could be gone for months at a time, maybe even longer, and she always seemed happy enough to talk to him when he was able to call. She didn’t nag at him or get all weepy like he’d heard other guys grumble that their girlfriends, fiancées, wives or lovers did. Margot was always proud and supportive, thrilled to be able to tell everyone she met that her fiancé was a Marine.
Maybe it was time to change that status to husband and start the rest of their lives together, Jake mused.
Maybe—
He was flying through the air even before he heard the boom of the explosion.
Did his life flash in front of his eyes?
He didn’t think so, though there had been flashes of moments and memories as he seemed to fall in slow motion—right up until he slammed into the ground.
He woke up in a cold sweat, trembling from head to toe, his hip throbbing, his ribs burning. He scrubbed a hand down his side to reassure himself there was nothing broken, no blood spilling onto the packed earth.
“Deep breaths. In and out through your mouth.”
He wasn’t on the ground. He was in his bed.
He wasn’t in Iraq. He was in Haven, Nevada.
“Let the air fill your chest...hold it there...then slowly let it out again.”
Molly pressed closer to his side, her chin propped on his chest, her presence calming him as nothing else could.
He lifted a shaky hand to stroke it down her back.
“Deep breaths. In and out through your mouth.”
He closed his e
yes and concentrated on his breathing, though he knew he wouldn’t get any more sleep that night.
* * *
Another Wednesday. Another meeting.
Tonight Bill Seward was telling the group about his most recent communication with Lan Nguyen, a woman he’d known back in Vietnam and with whom he’d recently reconnected through social media. She’d invited him to come for a visit and Bill was intrigued by the idea of seeing her again, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to face all the memories that a return to the country would inevitably dredge up.
The group wasn’t much help. Some were encouraging him to take the trip, to take a chance, others were cautioning him against making any hasty decisions, and a few—like Jake—were keeping their thoughts and opinions to themselves.
“Let us know what you decide to do,” Nat said, ready to move on.
“I will,” Bill promised.
“Anyone else want to share anything?” she asked, her gaze moving around the circle.
Jake was sweating through his shirt, but his throat was as dry as the desert. He shifted in his chair, the movement causing one of the metal legs to scrape against the floor.
Nat looked at him, silently encouraging.
“My name is Jake Kelly,” he began, then had to pause to clear his throat. “I was a staff sergeant in the Marine Corps before I was sent home with my brain scrambled...
He didn’t talk for very long. He wasn’t ready to tell this group of not-quite-strangers his deepest and darkest secrets, but it was a start. An important start, he acknowledged to himself. And hopefully the beginning of some real healing.
When the meeting was finally over, he was more than ready to head to Diggers’ for a drink—and to see Sky.
“Jake—”
He paused at the door when Nat called out to him.
“—can you hang on for just a sec?”
“Sure,” he agreed, remaining where he was until she’d finished chatting with Geena Perrault.
“Do you need a ride home?” he asked when the other woman had gone, guessing that was why Nat had asked him to wait.
“Thanks, but Kevin’s coming to get me.” She glanced at her watch. “Very soon, in fact, so I’ll make this quick.”
He held out his hand, palm open and facing up.
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