Which was another really good reason he needed to stop thinking about Tori Donovan and her pretty eyes in any way, shape, or form.
Pushing her from the forefront of his thoughts was easy enough. The skill was one he’d perfected in the Army. Learning to shut down parts of his brain was the only way he’d been able to survive as long as he had. Had he not, the screams alone—his and those of the men he’d failed—would have taken him over the edge.
Maybe that’s the way it should have been. The dark voice, the one that hid in the deepest recesses of his brain, whispered seductively. It spoke to him every day, sometimes every hour.
Brian clenched his jaw, silently answering his demon with a first-person version of the words Shane Callaghan had spoken to him on the trip back. If I wasn’t meant to be here, I wouldn’t be.
Brian had been in and out of consciousness at the time, but he remembered that much. He’d been in bad shape, and the doctor among them—Michael—had shot him up with enough liquid happiness to make the long trip home bearable. Shane had remained by his side the whole time, standing up and answering the demon when Brian hadn’t been able to do so himself. Somehow, Shane Callaghan had known.
He owed Shane and his six brothers his life. They had been the ones to do what the government couldn’t—or wouldn’t. Against all odds, the Callaghans had found him and what remained of his unit, freed them, and brought them home.
They were also the ones who had saved his sister Lacie from a deranged psychopath. Ironically, that deranged psychopath was also the one responsible for what had happened to his team in Afghanistan.
Craig Davidson. His friend. A man he had once thought of as a brother.
For the millionth time, Brian wondered where he’d gone wrong. What he might have done differently. The Army shrink told him it was a futile endeavor. That even if he was able to come up with an answer, it wouldn’t matter. The past was the past, what was done was done, and nothing good could come from torturing himself with things he couldn’t change.
Maybe the shrink was right. Maybe he should try harder to let it go. Move on.
There’s nowhere for you to go, the voice whispered.
That was his biggest fear: that he would never be able to move past it.
God knew it felt like that most days. What if this was all there was? Existing day to day, sometimes minute by minute, fighting the unseen demons that lived in his head and soul, pretending that everything was okay when it was anything but?
Oh, on the outside, he did the right things, said the words people wanted to hear. Physically, he was growing stronger every day. But on the inside, he felt as if he had been broken into a million tiny shards and would never be whole again.
He drove around for an hour, through the quiet streets and beyond the town limits. He spent many nights like this, walking a thin line between ending the torment and finding the courage to face another day. One quick jerk of the wheel was all it would take to carry him over the edge to the river coursing through the valley several hundred feet below and bam, no more voices.
He might have done it, too, if he believed with any certainty that it would give him the peace he craved. His Catholic upbringing cast too many doubts that it would, however, suggesting that he might end up in even more torment. More importantly, it would devastate his family, especially Lacie.
She was the one person who had never given up hope. The whole time he’d been held in that shit hole, she had never wavered in her belief that he was still alive. Shane told him how she had worked tirelessly on his behalf. A smile ghosted his lips when he imagined his kind, gentle-hearted sister taking on the US Army and the Federal government in her persistent search for answers. Offing himself in a moment of weakness would be a shitty way to thank her for that.
Decision made, Brian turned the Jeep around and made his way back down the mountain. Rather than heading toward his parents’ place and risk another pre-dawn kitchen encounter with one or both of them, he drove back to the Pub, letting himself in with the keys Jake had given him. He crashed there more often than not these days, liking the privacy and the space. Only the old man and Jake’s brood lived there now; the others had moved into places of their own, so there were plenty of empty rooms.
It wasn’t that Brian didn’t appreciate his parents’ concern; he did. But some nights, he didn’t feel strong enough to endure their scrutiny, or pretend he didn’t notice the worried glances they exchanged, or explain once again that no, there was nothing more they could do to help. The Callaghans, at least, understood that. Each of them had served and seen enough horror to know that sometimes a man had to find his own way through his darkness, no matter how many torches had been lit by those who had traveled that path before him.
They didn’t know all of it, though. They couldn’t, because none of them had been betrayed by those closest to them. They hadn’t failed their teams. They hadn’t gotten themselves and their men captured and forced to endure things no man should ever have to endure.
A small light was on over the sink, providing enough light to navigate to the stairs. The rest of the large kitchen was cast in shadow, but Brian didn’t make the mistake of thinking he was alone. The large, dark shape against the far wall shifted slightly and Brian took it for what it was – an announcement of presence.
“Hey, Jake. Thought you weren’t due back till tomorrow.”
“Didn’t take as long as we thought.”
“All good?”
“Yeah,” Jake confirmed, though he sounded weary. “It’s all good. Just getting my head in the right place before I head upstairs.”
Brian nodded. He was one of the privileged few who knew that there was a lot more to the Callaghans than met the eye. They had their families and businesses in Pine Ridge, but also did some covert, off the books work when official channels blocked sanctioned action. Mental adjustment—the same kind of compartmentalization he used to make it through the day—was necessary to transition between the hardcore, get-the-job-done badass and the small town business and family man.
“Anything I need to know about?” Jake asked.
“No,” Brian answered honestly. The things Jake needed to know about – his family, the bar—were doing well.
“And you? How are you doing?”
Well, wasn’t that a loaded question? He was there and still breathing, which was about the best he could do at that point. “I’m doing.”
“Just out driving around, clearing your head then?”
“Something like that.”
“You look into Sanctuary yet?”
“Not yet.” Shane had been the first to mention the place. Located in the mountains not too far from Pine Ridge, Sanctuary was a former vacation resort that had been converted into a place where vets returning from service could acclimate back into a civilian society. He’d gone up that way a hundred times with the intent of checking the place out, but he hadn’t been able to actually make the turnoff. Doing so meant admitting he needed more help, and that meant shattering this carefully crafted illusion he’d created.
“I will, though,” he told Jake. And he would. Someday. Maybe.
A few minutes ticked by in silence, then Jake stood, walked over to Brian, and placed a hand on his shoulder before heading over to the staircase. In that brotherly touch was understanding. Understanding and a silent vow of support.
“You tending later tonight?”
“Yeah. Six to close.”
“Then I’ll catch you later. I’m going to get some time in with Taryn before the kids get up.”
Brian got himself a glass of water, then followed. After a quick shower, he slipped between the sheets, glad to see the first glimmer of morning light. He’d made it to another sunrise. With any luck, he’d be able to catch a few hours of sleep before the vicious cycle started all over again.
Chapter Four
Cole still hadn’t responded by Monday morning, proving that unless he was in a horrible accident or something, he was every b
it the insensitive, self-absorbed jerk she’d come to think he was. Sure, he was nice to look at, and yes, he could be charming when he wanted to be, but beneath the surface, the guy was pretty shallow.
Unfortunately, that seemed to be par for the course. She was, and always had been, drawn to men with a strong, masculine presence. Confident men. Capable men. Men who made her feel feminine simply by being around them.
She couldn’t help that; it was just the way she was wired. She knew she shouldn’t allow others to affect how she felt about herself, but rationalized that a pair of stunning high heels or jeans that made her ass look good were basically the same thing: a self-confidence booster. As long as she didn’t depend on outside influences—people or objects—to define her self-worth, she was allowed to like what she liked.
She’d learned early on not to depend on anyone for anything. She’d survived a shitty childhood, put herself through school, and if her luck held out, she would soon have a place she could call her own. Regardless of what life threw her way, she could and would handle it, alone.
But it sure would be nice to be able to have someone else to fall into once in a while.
Deep down, that was what she really wanted: a soul mate. Someone she could care for, someone who would care for her in return. She believed everyone had one, that one person that would just “click”. Finding him, however, was the hard part. She hadn’t met hers yet, and most of the “manly men” she’d encountered didn’t seem capable of caring about anyone beyond themselves.
Not Brian McCain, that little voice whispered. He’s the real deal.
“Maybe,” she conceded. “But he’s off-limits.” She spoke into the empty space as she prepared for work.
Why off-limits?
“He’s got issues.”
So do you, the voice countered. Maybe you could help each other.
It was a nice thought, but one based more in wishful thinking than reality. Brian McCain was a local hero with deep roots in the community. He was good-looking and likeable with a haunting intensity that drew a lot of female attention. A single night of quiet observance as he tended bar had confirmed that. He could snap his fingers and have any woman he wanted.
“He’s not interested in me.”
He gave you a ride home.
“Because he’s a nice guy. Stop reading into it.”
Tori turned on her hair dryer, singing a catchy song in an attempt to put thoughts of Brian McCain out of her mind and silence her internal debate. Many people would think these discussions she had with herself were odd, but that was how she worked through things. It stemmed from being an only child and a lack of supportive authority figures (yet another unsolicited insight provided by her former college roommate).
Confiding in others was not something she was comfortable with, and even if she were, who would she talk to? Sure, she had people she was friendly with, but no one she considered a friend in the true sense of the word. Certainly no one with whom she wanted to discuss these intensely private inner musings.
She gave her hair a final brush and secured it in a ponytail, dressing in comfortable yoga pants and two tank tops, a loose one layered on top of a snug one. Her plan was to get in an early morning workout at BodyWorks, then head over to Birch Falls for a full day of working on others.
She frowned when she saw Cole’s Challenger already there, parked in the back, far away from the smattering of other vehicles. It was impossible to miss with its custom orange paint job and awkwardly angled park job, purposely taking up two spaces. He did that, she knew, because he didn’t want to chance anyone parking too close and putting a ding in his door.
For a moment – just a moment – Tori fantasized about walking over to the Challenger and “accidentally” spilling some of her coffee on the hood. She would never do that but thinking about it gave her a sense of satisfaction.
With that happy thought, she grabbed her bag, took a deep breath, and entered BodyWorks.
“Hey, Tori,” greeted the perky blonde behind the member desk. “How was the bachelorette party?”
Andi was a relatively new addition to the BodyWorks staff. Tori liked her. She was bright and friendly without being overbearing. In her second year of college, Andi was pursuing a major in kinesiology and was gaining valuable experience by working part time at the gym.
“It was fun.”
“I bet. I heard the entertainment was particularly... stimulating.” Andi waggled her eyebrows for effect.
Tori laughed, thinking of the provocative show. “Oh, it was that all right.”
“Chad and Max have been bragging about it all morning,” Andi said with a roll of her eyes, but she was smiling. “It’s a good thing they have the physiques to go with those oversized egos.”
Speaking of braggarts... “Did you happen to notice which way Cole went this morning?”
“He had an early morning appointment. He should be done in another half hour or so.”
“Thanks, Andi.”
Tori went to the women’s locker room first and stored her bag. She was torn between avoiding Cole completely and giving him a piece of her mind. In the end, she decided to play it by ear. If he had something to say to her—especially an apology—she’d listen. If not, well, then she’d be content to just let it go. Either way, they were done.
She grabbed a bottle of water and a towel and went to the cardio deck and started with a brisk walk on a treadmill. Once properly warmed up, Tori moved over to one of the spin bikes and selected a high-intensity interval program to make the most of her limited time. Music flowed through her earbuds, perfectly matched to the challenging digital course. She gave herself over to it, relishing the burn and the subsequent release of endorphins it provided. It wasn’t the same as pumping up a steep grade to a stunning vista, but it was the closest she could get on a Monday morning.
By the time she finished her cool down, Cole still hadn’t made an appearance. She exhaled and wiped her brow, taking it as a sign. That was just fine with her. Who wanted to start off the week with an awkward confrontation anyway?
Tori was on her way back to the locker room when she saw a couple of the regulars standing outside one of the equipment rooms. The guys were gym rats and part of Cole’s inner circle. One of them smirked when he spotted her. One coughed. Another averted his gaze.
Her first thought: Cole had told them about blowing her off. Her second: Cole was even more of a douche than she’d thought.
Determined not to sink to their level, Tori lifted her chin and kept walking. Rounding the corner, she ran face-first into the rock-hard chest of the owner. Big hands grasped her shoulders, keeping her from falling flat on her backside. “Whoa there!”
She looked up into the amused eyes of Kieran Callaghan as the heat of embarrassment returned with a vengeance. “Mr. Callaghan! I’m so sorry!”
“No damage done.” His eyes lifted to something over her shoulder. “Everything okay?”
“What? Yeah, of course. Everything’s fine. I’m just running a little late, that’s all.”
“Well, I’ll let you get to it, then.”
“Thanks. Have a good day!”
After a quick shower, Tori dressed for work. When she walked out of BodyWorks, it was with the idea that she might not be back for a while. The facility was great, but she could do without the extra snark and adolescent behavior of Cole and his buddies. If the weather cooperated, she could run outside or bike some of the local trails instead. Yeah, she thought as she climbed into her Jeep, she’d been meaning to do that anyway.
Chapter Five
Brian spotted the primer gray Jeep just as he was about to pull into the lot at BodyWorks. He raised his fingers in the standard wave Wrangler owners shared with one another. The other driver appeared to be in a hurry and didn’t return the gesture.
It was only as they passed each other that Brian realized the other driver was Tori. She had said she had a Jeep, too, he remembered. Hers was an older model than his, but that didn’t
mean anything. One of the many reasons people bought them was because they held up so long. Well, that and the ability to go anywhere and do anything, even in a typical northeastern PA winter.
He parked, wondering why Tori hadn’t reciprocated. She didn’t seem like the type to blow off a friendly Jeep wave. Maybe his remark about most women not driving Jeeps had offended her.
He hoped not, though he was the first to admit his social skills weren’t stellar. Inane bar banter was one thing, but talking to a pretty woman? He’d never been smooth, even before he’d gone into the Army. And now, well, the filter between his brain and mouth seemed to have been damaged along with the rest of him. If Tori had noticed, she’d been kind enough to pretend she hadn’t, which brought him back to his question: why hadn’t she waved?
He shook his head and told himself it didn’t matter. He was overanalyzing again. So Tori didn’t wave. So what? It meant nothing. There was no hidden meaning, no bad intent. She was probably just running late, or had other things on her mind, or any of a dozen other possible, plausible reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with him.
The Army shrink said the overthinking was his way of coping, as well as an attempt to atone for the past. To identify possible signs of trouble to prevent nightmarish things from happening in the future.
Brian didn’t know if that was true or not. He wasn’t the one with a fancy degree hanging on his wall. What he did know was, he wasn’t the same man he used to be, and that his blind faith that everything would always work out in the end had been summarily destroyed.
Everyone kept telling him that what happened in Afghanistan wasn’t his fault. The shrink. His parents. The Callaghans. They said he wasn’t to blame for what happened to his sister, either. That Craig Davidson was the one responsible, not him.
Not Quite Broken: A Callaghan Family & Friends Romance Page 3