“At ease, corporal,” Nolan said, his pen dancing across the sheet of paper in front of him as he worked.
I watched the man work for another few minutes, admiring how easy it was for him to simply forget everyone around him and focus on one task after the other. I'd never come across Nolan and found him sitting around gazing at the sky, lost in his thoughts, pondering the meaning of the universe. If there was one man on earth who could pound a soldier into the ground with assignments, it was Nolan, and his ruthlessness matched his work ethics.
He reminded me of my dad.
“I hear you had a small run-in this afternoon,” Nolan said as he sat back in his seat, his blue eyes boring into mine.
“We ran across some militia,” I explained. “Nothing serious.”
“I heard Rogers got shot,” Nolan said. “You too. That seems pretty serious to me.”
I hesitated, wondering just how much the captain had already heard, and how much he expected me to tell him. Wilkins had gone off route, and that wouldn’t be easy to explain. I was stuck between not wanting to sell out Wilkins, and needing to tell my captain the truth.
Loyalty seemed like a simple enough concept until things went sideways.
“Mine was only a graze, and Rogers is patched up, ready to go, sir,” I said, choosing to go with Nolan's most recent comment rather than what I knew he wanted to hear.
I let out a slow breath and eased when the captain nodded and sat up straight in his chair, his hands fluttering through pages on his desk as he looked for something. I waited, wondering if that would be all when he held up a paper and handed it to me.
“You’re going home, corporal,” he said as I reached out and took the order. “The entire unit, two weeks. Let them know.”
I nodded, trying my best to hide my smile and saluted again. I turned to leave when he spoke. “Tell Wilkins to get some good rest on leave, Daviot. We don’t want him stressed and incapable of following orders.”
“Will do, sir,” I answered before walking out.
“So, will Bruce be waiting at the airport for you?” Rogers asked. He wagged his eyebrows. “Gonna get him some lovin'...”
I smacked him, then immediately regretted it when he groaned in pain.
“Sorry,” I chuckled. “Are you alright?”
“You’re not sorry,” Rogers said, laughing as he pushed me away. He got up and stretched, feeling at his stitches as I went back to packing my bags.
Wilkins threw me a look. “You didn't answer his question.”
“I left Bruce a message,” I said, trying to hide the fact that my fiancé’s inability to answer his cell phone was starting to get on my nerves. It wasn't like we had that much free time out here that we could pick and choose when we wanted to chat.
“A message,” Wilkins repeated, glancing at Rogers. “Do you hear that, Rogers? She left lover boy a message.”
I shot Wilkins a dangerous look. He laughed and raised his hands in surrender.
“Hey, don’t get me wrong, but if it was my fiancée calling after months apart, I'd as sure as hell answer that call on the first ring,” he said, laughing.
“Mind your own business,” I shot back, a half-smile creeping onto my face. “At least he’s not trying to get me killed.”
Wilkins had the decency to look embarrassed.
Rogers sat down on my bed and stretched his legs in front of him. He seemed quite spry, despite the fact that he had just been shot and had a big ass bullet yanked out. It always impressed me how much of a beating he could take and still keep going.
“I’m looking forward to steak dinners,” he said, changing the subject as he looked up at the ceiling with a smile.
“A good old Mickey D’s burger, that’s what I want,” Wilkins chimed in. “I don’t care what poison they’ve got in that thing, I’m going to eat enough of them to last through my next deployment.”
I thought back to my mom’s roast, the dinner table set up so the entire family could enjoy the meal. Being away made the little things more precious, made me realize how much I'd taken for granted growing up.
“How about you, Daviot? What's the first thing you want to eat when you get home?”
I thought about it for a minute and couldn’t really narrow things down to one preference. I just wanted to get home. I had two months left before I had to decide whether or not I planned to re-enlist, and I'd been debating about it for the past couple weeks. I wanted to get married, finish my degree, open my own pediatric practice and leave the war behind me. I was done fighting, or at least I thought I was, the uncertainty in my mind like a dark cloud of what-ifs and maybes. No matter how many times I tried to make a decision, I was always overwhelmed with the responsibility of making the right choice.
My mother had started a tradition when I was in the seventh grade. After dinner, we’d all share our problems, dilemmas, basically anything that bothered us. We talked things over, weighed pros and cons, asked for advice. Granted, we didn't always share things we considered embarrassing, but we'd always done our best to try to help with whatever issue was presented.
Going home might actually make things easier, even if I had a feeling my father would want me to stay in the army.
“Not sure,” I finally said. “A good drink, maybe?”
Wilkins smiled. “Ah, girls' night out. Maybe I should come to Boston with you.”
“Well, it wouldn't be a girls' night without you, would it?” I shot at him.
“There will come a day, Daviot, when you’ll realize that I’m the only man in the world for you,” Wilkins teased.
I gave him the finger and then smiled as Rogers fell back and laughed, each one punctuated with winces of pain.
“I never really understood long distance relationships,” Wilkins went on. “Why not just have an open thing so you could hook up with whoever you wanted. Come to think of it, I should get one of those. Maybe even two or three.”
“You’re disgusting, you know that?” I shot at him, smiling despite myself.
“Come on, Daviot, you know I’m right.” Wilkins shrugged. “Long distance relationships never work out.”
I glared at him as I zipped my carry-on shut. We had an early flight out, so I wanted to get some shut eye. If I could.
Turns out, I could. I slept that night, and I dreamed.
I hadn’t dreamed in years, or at least none that I could remember. I was usually too tired that when I finally did sleep, my body shut completely down when it couldn’t take being awake any longer. Insomnia trumped all. There was rarely time for dreams.
Tonight was different though. I was in a field, a large one, somewhere I didn't recognize, dressed in clothes I'd never worn, running between men with muskets as mounds of earth blew up into the air. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me, the urgency in my step.
I glanced back at the men running behind me, each muddy and clearly tired, though pushing on with dogged ferocity. My entire body shivered with excitement, and I pressed on with them.
In my dream, something exploded beside me, throwing me to the ground even as it woke me.
I looked around, sweating, shivering, and squinting as I tried to calm the pounding in my chest, the breaths that were coming in gasps. I barely registered the sleeping bodies of my unit, squinting in the darkness as I tried to wrap my head around what I'd just experienced. It had been so vivid, so real.
I laid back down and covered my eyes with my arm. I needed sleep, but I wasn't sure if I'd get anymore tonight.
Chapter Two
I touched down at Logan Airport with a genuine smile on my face. The idea of finally being home had truly hit me when we'd crossed into Massachusetts. I was home. As the captain announced our descent, he added that it was a beautiful June afternoon, and then thanked the service men and women who were on board. The heat was still in my cheeks as I exited the plane. I liked knowing that my service was appreciated, but I'd never really liked being put on the spot.
I was loo
king forward to seeing my parents and brother, but at the moment, just being on home soil was enough. It'd been almost a year since the last time I was stateside, and if I decided not to re-enlist, I'd most likely never experience this again.
One of the best things about being part of a military family was that I knew they understood how I felt. I called my brother to tell him the good news, and it was nice not to have to try to explain things like I would have if Bruce had picked up his phone.
Ennis also never edged around the tough questions, but rather asked flat-out if I'd made a decision about joining civilian life. He also understood how difficult the decision was. Two years older than me, he'd taken the plunge first, deciding to pursue his doctorate in education with a focus in American history. Our dad had taken it better than Ennis and I thought he would. Now, it was my turn, and I was glad to know that my brother had my back.
I just wished my fiancé was as understanding.
I called Bruce two more times, both times leaving a voice message about my leave because he hadn’t picked up. It was hurtful, I had to admit, that he didn’t go out of his way to answer my calls. We’d known each other for so long, had dated on and off since junior high. We’d been friends even before that. It was hard enough that he never supported my tours without him completely ignoring my calls.
Wilkins had told me more than once that Bruce was a lost cause, and lately, I'd begun to believe it. We'd been exclusive to each other since we were sixteen, engaged by nineteen. He’d been the only one for me, but since I'd enlisted, I had a feeling that things were one-sided on that account. I'd never confronted him about it, but recently, I had to admit that part of the reason I'd stayed quiet was because I didn’t want to hear the answer. I just couldn’t deal with that kind of a discussion and still function optimally in battle.
I could almost hear the excuses he'd make if I did ask. He made them about other things often enough.
You’re never around. You’re off playing hero. I have my needs.
It always made my blood boil to hear him talk like that, but I couldn't deny that strengthening my relationship with Bruce was one of the reasons I was thinking of not re-enlisting. I kept telling myself that things would be better when I was home full time.
My seatmate kept up a steady stream of chatter as we stepped out into the main concourse where she was smothered by a man double my size. I smiled at them, watching various other passengers share welcomes with those waiting for them. I looked around for Bruce but couldn’t find him in the crowd.
I frowned as I looked at my phone again, wondering if I’d missed his call. Nope. Nothing there. I double-checked to make sure I'd turned off airplane mode, then scowled as I wondered if he’d forgotten about the flight, even though I'd sent him a text message to remind him of the time and gate number. What was the point of having a cell phone if he didn’t answer?
When it came to being there for me, Bruce needed to step up his game. I didn’t really feel like spending the rest of my life with someone who could so easily forget that I even existed. Not showing up at the airport was just one more time he'd let me down.
I decided to step back a bit, giving him the benefit of the doubt, already feeling the fatigue setting in. At some point, I’d have to trust that he would come through. I was just waiting for the day for that to actually happen.
By the time Bruce finally answered my call, I was sitting in the airport coffee shop with my bags and a hot cup of cappuccino in front of me, regretting not taking up my brother's offer to have him skip his classes and pick me up.
When I heard Bruce slur his greeting, as if he was just now waking up, I forced myself to swallow my anger.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Honor?”
“Yeah,” I said, taking a sip from my coffee, savoring the flavor. “Where are you?”
“I’m in bed,” Bruce coughed. “Why?”
Annoyance flared. What the hell? It was the middle of the afternoon. “You didn’t get my messages? Any of them?”
“What messages?”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m at the airport, Bruce, waiting for you to pick me up.”
“You’re what?” He suddenly seemed wide awake. “When did you get there?”
“There?” I asked, ignoring the question. “What do you mean by there? Where are you?”
He hesitated before answering, “I’m in Vegas, Honor. I took some vacation time and flew out yesterday. I'm sure I told you.”
It took every ounce of energy and willpower to keep my voice level. “You can’t be serious?! I have leave for two weeks, and you're in Vegas? I called you three times in the past two days. Why didn’t you pick up?”
“Damn, take it easy, babe. I didn’t see them.” He sounded more annoyed than I thought he had the right to be. “But, hey, since you’re still in the airport, just hop on a plane and come here. You’d love the room.”
I sighed heavily, trying to calm myself down. “I just got in, Bruce. I’m not about to jump on another plane.”
“Why not? You’re already jet lagged. You could catch a few hours of sleep on the trip.”
I closed my eyes. I shouldn't have to explain this to him. “I’ve already been in the air for more than twelve hours. I’m not getting on a six-hour flight to Vegas just because you forgot about me.”
Hot tears pricked at my eyelids, and I took a shaking breath in an effort to keep them back. Fatigue and frustration were doing a number on my usual composure.
“Listen, I’m sorry, I really am,” he said, his voice turning sexy and low. “I had no idea. Please, just get on a plane and come here. Spend your leave with me. We can get married in Vegas, baby. Isn’t that what you always wanted? An exotic wedding?”
“Having Elvis marry us isn’t my idea of exotic, Bruce.” My head was starting to pound.
There were times when arguing with Bruce was completely useless. I blamed it on the fact that, for the past seven years, we'd spent ninety percent of our time together in different states. Sometimes different continents.
I remember Rogers once telling me that he admired how well we were keeping a long distance relationship going. It was times like this that I wondered how functional that relationship even was.
“Okay, seriously, give me a break already.” Bruce broke into my thoughts. “I thought you wanted to get married. Isn’t that why we’re engaged in the first place?”
I bristled. “We’re getting married because we want to, not because you’re trying to make it up to me.”
“Make what up to you?” Bruce shot back. “I had no idea you were coming back today, Honor. Let it go.”
“I called you three times!” My frayed temper boiled over, and I knew I was talking too loud. “Left three messages and half a dozen texts. You couldn’t bother to check your phone?”
“I was busy,” he argued, his voice full of anger.
“You’re in Vegas! What the hell is keeping you busy?”
“Stop shouting,” he snapped. “I don’t need this right now.”
He didn't need this?
“I just got back from Iraq, Bruce. Iraq. You’re an investment banker in Boston who's on vacation in Vegas. I’m the one who doesn’t need this. All I wanted was to come home to my family and spend some quality time with my fiancé before I had to hop on a plane back to hell!”
“You’re going back?”
I was suddenly glad that he wasn't here, because if he'd said that to my face, I probably would have hit him. I struggled to lower my voice. “Have you not listened to a single word I’ve said?”
There was an awkward silence that lasted forever as each one of us waited for the other to speak. When it was apparent that neither of us would break the silence, I hung up before I would say something I regretted.
For the first time since I'd known him, I hated Bruce.
My hands shook as I stared into my coffee and tried to get my temper under control. I had no idea how much more of this I was willing to take. Long
distance relationships were hard enough, and I didn’t need the extra stress of a fiancé who couldn’t care enough to work at it.
The phone in my hand rang, and I didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know it was Bruce. He'd probably come up with a dozen other ways of how this was my fault. Enlisting when he'd made it clear that wasn't what he wanted made everything since that moment my fault. I let it go to voicemail and tried my best to compose myself. I didn’t want to break down completely. Not here. I needed to pull my shit together myself enough to decide if I wanted to wait for Ennis to be done with his classes, call my parents, or rent a car. Right now though, I couldn't think.
The third time he called, I answered just so he wouldn't keep calling.
“Come to Vegas,” he said without any preamble. “Come to Vegas and let’s get married.”
He really didn't get it. He thought asking me to fly out to see him and change our status from engaged to married would fix what was broken between us.
“I can’t, Bruce.” The fatigue I felt before settled even deeper into my bones. “I need to think about a lot of things. I need to rest. I need to go home and see my family. Talk to them about what I want to do.”
I didn't mention talking to him about decisions influencing my future. My future. I sighed. I didn't even think of it as our future.
“Just get on a plane, babe,” he said. “I’ll pay for it.”
“It’s not the mon–” I started but realized that whatever I said right now, it would just go right over his head. I sighed. “I’ll try and book a flight out on Saturday.”
“Why wait until Saturday?” He sounded petulant, like a child rather than a twenty-five-year-old man. “You said it yourself. You could be here in six hours, not two days.”
Ennis once said that Bruce was one of those people who thought the world revolved around them and didn't understand why anyone would want to do anything other than what he wanted. Over the past couple years, I'd seen that side of Bruce more than I cared to admit.
“I’ll call you later tonight.” I hung up before we started shouting at each other again.