Here And Now (American Valor 2) (19 page)

By the time he climbed the front stairs of her deck, the tips of his fingers were good and numb. He rapped his knuckles against the glass storm door and waited. With no sign of movement, he knocked a little harder the second time, since the woman could sleep like the dead. Finally, he opened the storm door and tried the knob of her front door, and in true small-town fashion, the damn thing was unlocked.

“I swear, woman,” he mumbled under his breath.

Just inside the door, he slipped his shoes off on the tile and stripped out of his wet clothes. After throwing his clothes in the dryer, he grabbed a clean towel from the perpetual clean laundry pile waiting to be folded, and dried off as he made his way to her bedroom.

Sure enough, he found Rachel sound asleep in the middle of the bed, her arms wrapped around a pillow. Lucky dropped the towel, lifted the covers, and slid in behind her, already feeling at peace the moment he smelled her skin and felt the warmth radiating from her body. He snuggled up close behind her and she woke with a yelp as he slid his hands beneath her shirt and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Good gravy, your hands are cold.”

And she was unbelievably warm. He pressed a kiss to the tender spot beneath her ear, then trailed his nose along her neck.

“Your nose, too.” Rachel rolled over to face him, her hand smoothing over his beard, neck, and chest. “Why do you feel like a block of ice?”

“Because it’s cold outside—”

“I get that.”

“—and I’ve been running.”

“How far?”

“Not sure. A couple hours at least.”

She mumbled something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like “idiot” but didn’t move away from him. Instead, she snuggled closer, wrapping her flannel-clad body around his as if she was trying to warm him up. As they laid there in the dark, Lucky played with her hair, letting the long strands slide through his fingers over and over again.

“I tried calling you,” she said around a yawn. “It went straight to voice mail.”

“What time was that?”

“Eight o’clock. Eight-thirty, maybe?”

“That explains it. My phone suddenly stopped working around 0800.”

Rachel pressed one hand against his chest and sat up just enough that she could see his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to it than your phone died all of a sudden?”

“Probably because there is.”

She raised an eyebrow, making it clear she was waiting for further explanation.

“I got a phone call from Human Resources. They’ve scheduled a disciplinary review for Monday afternoon.”

She sat up completely now, crisscrossing her legs beneath her. “Do you want me to go with? I can speak on your behalf.”

Lucky shook his head. “I told them not to bother with a review.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because I quit.”

“Lucky. No.” Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand why you’d just quit. They weren’t going to fire you. They’d just slap your hand and write a strongly worded letter to be placed in your file. And then when the meeting was officially over, they’d thank you for saving that woman’s life.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to work with assholes like Doctor Dick.”

“But he’s just there for the interim! You’ve even said it yourself that he could be gone this time next month.”

“Or he might still be there this time next year. How many ER docs are looking for a career in a place like this?” He threw back the covers and sprung out of bed, grabbing the towel he’d discarded only a few minutes earlier and wrapping it around his waist. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with her and the pain in his chest led him to believe this might be a doozy. “That job was more frustration that it was worth. I spent most of my time collecting urine samples and cleaning hospital beds. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend that’s me.”

As he headed out the bedroom door, he heard her feet hit the floor as she followed him.

“So don’t go back. Maybe you can get a job with the fire department or an ambulance as a paramedic or something.”

Lucky reached the laundry room and popped open the dryer door. His clothes hadn’t been in there long enough and were still mostly damp.

“That kind of job would just be more of the same.”

“Okay, then. It’s not as if you needed that job while you were going to school anyway. So do nothing. Just be a student.”

Lucky pulled off the towel and stepped into his pants. “Do I seem like the ‘sit on my ass and do nothing’ type of guy?”

“Considering you like to run fifteen miles in the rain just for the hell of it? Not really. But you went straight from high school to the military to college. I don’t think anyone will think you’re lazy for taking a few weeks off. Just think about it. You’ve got a month before spring classes start up. Just relax.”

“No. I’ve decided to go visit Bull,” he said, pulling his shirt on over his head as he made his way to the front door.

“At Walter Reed?”

Rachel was right on his heels as he stepped into his wet shoes and laced them up.

“If you want, I can see about getting someone to cover my shifts, and I could go with you.”

Lucky shook his head as he opened the front door and twisted the thumb lock. “I think it’s better if I go alone,” he said, stepping back outside into the rain and pulling her door closed behind him.

Chapter Nineteen

D
ESP
ITE
R
ACHEL’S PROTEST
S,
Lucky stuck to his guns and said to hell with the disciplinary review. There was no way he could go back to that place and work with Doctor Dick, even if he only was there temporarily. Life was too short and he had better things to do with his time.

As a matter of fact, by the time his meeting rolled around Monday afternoon, he was sitting in an east Memphis barbecue joint not far off the interstate, bellied up to a full rack of baby back ribs. The only thing that would have made this day better would have been Rachel sitting beside him.

But this was his journey. His shit to straighten out.

He missed her so much that he did something he swore he’d never do. He took a selfie with his giant plate of barbecue and sent it to her with a message—
Nice rack.

About ten minutes later he received a simple smiley face in return.

Maybe he should have listened to the other guys in regiment and taken six months, a year, to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life when he separated from the military instead of rushing headfirst into school and work.

Even now, he couldn’t imagine doing that. He didn’t like being idle. He needed to be busy.

He stopped for the night in Knoxville and spoke with Rachel for about ten minutes before making an excuse to get off the phone. Something about a long day, needing rest, some other shit he couldn’t remember. Really, he couldn’t stand the guilt of not bringing her along, especially since weeks earlier he’d suggested this as a sightseeing trip to Maryland in the first place.

Lucky arrived in Bethesda the following day, checked in at his hotel, and immediately went for a run, needing to stretch his legs after two days of driving. By the time he showered and found something to eat, it was fairly late and he decided to wait until the following morning to go see Bull. Of course, when he called Rachel late that night, she questioned why he didn’t go straight to the hospital. Then she asked if he was scared to see his friend. He’d laughed when she suggested it, but as he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.

The following morning he made his way to Walter Reed, successfully negotiated the maze of facilities, and arrived at Bull’s room just as an orderly was helping him move from wheelchair to bed. Although he knew Bull had lost both legs and he’d tried to prepare himself for the sight, Lucky found it hard to breathe. The shock of seeing his friend, a man who had been undoubtedly one of the strongest, most powerful men the entire time he served in the 1st/75th, was almost too much.

Once settled in the bed, Bull looked up to see him standing stock-still in the doorway some twenty feet away. The guy women often compared to Thor stretched his massive arms out wide and bellowed, “Lucky James! It’s about time your ass showed up. I was about to send out a goddamn search party.”

Shock gave way to gratitude as Lucky walked to the bed Bull was sitting in and embraced his friend. They held each other tight, far longer than most men would. But having the lives they’d had and seeing the things they’d seen, they weren’t afraid to show their true feelings. They were, for all intents and purposes, brothers.

Bull thumped Lucky’s back with his fist one last time before wrapping his huge hands around Lucky’s arms and attempting to shake him like a rag doll. Lucky laughed as he shoved away from his grip and took a seat in the chair beside his bed.

His eyes scanned the room and for the first time he noticed nearly identical flower bouquets in blue vases at every bed. “Is this your mother’s doing?” Lucky asked, pointing to the one closest to him.

“How did you know?” Bull said with a laugh.

Sylvie Magnusson, called “Mom” by many of their friends, was known in 1st Batt for the many floral bouquets she sent to the barracks their early years in regiment. At first, only Bull received flowers on his birthday or other holidays. Then, after several of the guys teased her during one of her many visits to HAAF about their lack of flowers, she ended up getting a birthday list from someone and started sending flowers to everyone who lived on Bull’s floor.

“Where is Mom? I’m surprised she’s left your bedside.”

Bull shook his head. “God love her, but she’s making me crazy. I told her to go shopping, spend some money. Spend
my
money. Anything. Just get the hell out of here for a day. The woman needs to go back home, but that’s not happening.”

“Well, you can’t really blame her. You’re all she’s got anymore. And Christmas is just around the corner.”

“I get that. That’s why I’m going easy on her. Thankfully, one of the nurses recommended a hair salon, so she’s going to get her hair done, her nails done, all that crap.”

That explained where his mother was, but not his wife. Unless they went together. Which would be a miracle in itself because as far as he knew no one liked Bull’s wife.

“Where’s Charlene?”

“That’s over,” he said matter-of-factly.

Lucky gestured to his bandaged legs. “Because of . . .”

“No. She actually sent me a handwritten letter. Believe that shit?” Bull folded his arms over his broad chest. “Never sent one in the four deployments before but she mailed me a fucking Dear John letter. Said she was moving out and filing for a divorce. And you know how long it takes us to get stuff. Wouldn’t be surprised if she mailed it the day I left.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t apologize.” Bull leaned far enough to smack his hand on Lucky’s shoulder. “Get this, she’s pregnant.”

“Holy shit. I assume it’s not yours?”

“You would assume correctly.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I guess I am,” he said with a laugh. “Maybe it’s my fucked up sense of humor at this point, but if I hadn’t been distracted by that letter, I’d be dead. Because after we swept the compound and we were questioning the men, I wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit and the stuff they were telling us wasn’t making any sense. Schuler told me he had it under control, told me to take a walk, get my head on straight. Next thing I knew, I was facedown in a fucking ditch and they were all dead.” His expression turned solemn. “So in some roundabout, fucked up way, that letter saved me. If she hadn’t sent it, I’d likely be dead and she’d be collecting death benefits. Anyhow, Marie went to check out my place, said it looked like Charlene cleared out more than her fair share.”

“Are you gonna get it back?”

“She can have the piddly shit. All the furniture and electronics and stuff. What I’m most worried about are my investment accounts and our condo. My lawyer says she’ll likely make a play for it, but fucked up by moving out. He doesn’t think she knows anything about the other stuff.”

Lucky continued to be amazed by this guy. He was definitely one of the smartest men he knew. Before he joined regiment, Bull was a self-made hotshot with a finance degree and an MBA by twenty-three, working as a stockbroker on Wall Street easily making six figures a year. And when the towers came down, he gave it all up and enlisted at the age of twenty-six.

“You won’t have to give her half, will you?”

“Since she moved out, she’s lost any claim to the place. Truth be told, with the housing market the way it is right now, there’s no money to be made there. She was probably hoping to stick me with the loss instead.”

“And the other?”

“The way my lawyer sees it, it would look really bad for a judge to award her half when she’s moved out, admitted adultery, is pregnant with another man’s child,
and
I just had both of my legs blown off.” Bull looked down at his bandaged legs for a moment and then back at him, his expression one of sheer determination. “You know me, Lucky. I’m not one to play the sympathy card, but I’ll fucking play it all goddamn day to keep her from getting another dime of my money.”

A
FTER FIFT
EEN MINUTES
of fighting, Rachel finally made it up the steps and through the front door with her seven-foot fir tree, a trail of needles in its wake. If Lucky had been here, he’d have easily thrown it over one shoulder and taken the steps two at a time.

But he wasn’t here and she had no idea when he was coming back.

He’d been gone two days already. Her laundry was all caught up. Even folded and put away. Things even got a little crazy the night before when she took a page from Lucky’s book and broke out her iron and ironing board. While glomming
The Tudors
episodes on Netflix, she starched and ironed her way through the entire pile, impressing even herself.

Which meant when she woke up this morning she had absolutely nothing to do. In need of some festivity, she drove to the Rotary Club’s Christmas tree lot on the other side of town and bought the worst-looking tree they had. As she watched the sales guy recut the bottom, attach the tree stand, and load it in the back of the truck, she could practically hear Lucky’s voice rumbling in her ear.

“Why the worst-looking tree, Shortcake?”

“Because I want to fulfill its Christmas destiny.”

What could she say?
A Charlie Brown Christmas
had made a big impact when she was growing up.

But now that she had it in her living room, the tree wasn’t bad looking at all. One side was a little thin, but she just turned it toward the window since no one would see it from outside anyway. Then she spent the next three hours singing whichever Christmas carols came to mind and wrapping her tree in small twinkling lights and ornaments.

She’d considered buying stockings, although she didn’t have a fireplace. But as she stood in the middle of the aisle trying to choose the ones she liked best, she decided it was a tad presumptuous to buy him one. And hanging up only one stocking seemed a bit pathetic.

By dinner, the tree was decorated and her living room was wrapped in a soft, warm glow. She slumped into the giant-size bean bag she’d bought the week before and sat in the quiet. She snapped a picture of her tree, then spent the next few minutes debating whether or not she should send it. Was this what their relationship had been reduced to? A few words along with a picture attached?

He should be here with her. Or she should be there with him. She would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt, him going to Maryland without her. But she understood why he needed to go alone, why he needed time to figure things out.

Lucky didn’t deserve to be escorted out of that ER in front of everyone. He’d been amazing to watch. Calm. Focused. Not the slightest hint of panic. He was a man completely confident in his abilities. And it was very likely that woman wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for him. But they chased him out of there like he’d killed her, not saved her.

She stared at the screen of her phone and finally decided to send just the picture along with a smiley face. For now, this would have to be enough. She wouldn’t call him. Wouldn’t dare ask when he was coming home. Instead, she’d remind herself she was giving him the time and space he needed to figure things out, but really it felt like they were nearing the end.

Just a few weeks ago, she thought they’d have at least two years. Now it felt like they wouldn’t even last two months.

L
UCKY SPENT THE
next two days hanging out with Bull and his mom at Walter Reed. The three of them would have lunch and dinner together and he tagged along to Bull’s physical therapy sessions. But there were times when Bull needed a little space. So Sylvie would leave to do a little shopping and Lucky would explore the sprawling campus and check out the different facilities.

Over his dozen years in regiment, he’d helped numerous Rangers get to this place, but he’d never really thought much about it. When one of his guys lost one or two, even three, limbs due to an IED blast, Lucky knew their road to recovery would be long and arduous. But his thoughts never progressed past the point of getting them on that medevac or to the closest battalion aid station. He couldn’t. Because once that injured Ranger was taken to Landstuhl or Walter Reed or Brooks, he had to put them out of his mind and get back to work.

Not for self-preservation.

Not because his heart had become calloused after more than a dozen deployments.

He put them out of his mind because when one of his Ranger buddies was injured and shipped out, it wasn’t long before another took his place. He couldn’t spend his time and energy worrying about a guy half a world away. The guys fighting in front of him, alongside him, or watching his back—they were his responsibility. They were his focus. Keeping them alive was his job.

Or at least it used to be.

When Lucky arrived at Walter Reed on Friday morning, Bull’s attention was directed at the iPad sitting in his lap. “Are you ready to talk about it yet?” he asked without looking up as Lucky took a seat in the chair beside his bed.

“Talk about what?”

He lifted one shoulder as he continued to type on the touchscreen keyboard. “Whatever shit you came here to talk about.”

“I didn’t come all this way to talk about my shit.”

“Why the fuck not? Personally, I’d love to hear about your shit. Hell, I’d love to hear about anybody else’s shit if only to not have to talk about mine for a while.” Having finished with whatever he was working on, Bull powered off his iPad and tossed it to the foot of his bed. “So what happened? Girl problems? I should probably tell you Gibby showed everyone your girl, by the way. Very pretty.”

“How the hell did he do that?”

“He recorded your Skype conversation.”

Lucky felt his blood pressure spike. “He better not be using that video chat as inspiration, if you know what I’m saying.”

“You’re afraid Gib is jacking off to her face?” Bull laughed. “Sounds like something he’d threaten to do, not that he’d ever really do it.”

“Better not. I’ll castrate that fucker myself.”

Bull adjusted his pillows and reclined his bed a bit. “So is the redhead your problem?”

“Rachel? No.” Lucky kicked his feet up on the side of Bull’s bed. “She’s perfect. It’s everything else that’s fucked up right now. I quit my job at the hospital.” Bull shrugged. “About two seconds before they were going to fire me. Or reprimand me. Doesn’t matter.”