Here And Now (American Valor 2) (6 page)

“I’ve asked myself the same thing thousands of times since Ethan died. Honestly, I don’t know why.” One corner of her mouth lifted as she pointed at his stack of textbooks on the coffee table. “You’re the one taking psychology, you tell me.”

“Nope. No way, gorgeous. You won’t get me to touch that with a ten-foot pole.”

She threw her head back and laughed, at what he said, at him.

As much as he hated to admit it, for the first time since he’d left regiment, he found something that gave him far more purpose, more fulfillment, than he could ever get from being a college student or ER tech. And that something was putting a smile on Rachel Dellinger’s face.

Chapter Six

O
NE THING
L
U
CKY
had learned all those years in regiment was that moving always took far longer and required more help than most were willing to admit. What didn’t look like much at the start often turned into a full day’s work with several trips that in the end could have been reduced to one, if only they’d rented the largest U-Haul truck available.

Since time was of the essence and Rachel needed to have her things completely cleared out of the place before her ex arrived home from work, he’d traded vehicles with his dad for the day. That way they’d have two pickup trucks at their disposal.

He followed her through town, down University Boulevard to a newer complex on the west side. With most of the parking lot empty, she was able to back into a spot along the curb with him parking alongside her. And when she stopped in front of her apartment door that was not only downstairs but on the side closest to the parking lot, he fell to his knees in mock gratitude. “Thank God.”

“Were you that worried I might live upstairs?”

“Absolutely I was,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back at him, then turned the key in the dead bolt. “Here goes nothing.”

The smell of stale smoke hit him the moment she opened the door. Pizza boxes, food wrappers, and empty beer cans littered the living room. On the floor next to the sofa was a cereal dish filled with cigarette butts and, next to it, a small burn in the carpet.

“Well, it looks like he didn’t starve to death after all.” She turned to hide her embarrassment, but not before he saw tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry about this. Usually it doesn’t look or smell this bad. But since I started in the ER . . .”

Lucky took hold of her shoulders and made her face him, bending his knees just enough to bring his face down to her level. “Do not apologize for this. Do not. He’s a grown-ass man and you are not his maid. It is not your job to clean up after him.” He stared into those crystal blue eyes and waited for his pep talk to take hold. She could do this. She could leave him. She just needed a little boost of confidence, a little extra push to find her inner strength. After a few deep breaths, Rachel straightened her spine, the threat of tears now passed.

“Let’s just get you out of here. Okay?”

She nodded in agreement, ready to get to work.

With the apartment having only one bed and one bath, it didn’t look like she’d underestimated things. Now he just needed to figure out what she was leaving behind and what she wanted to take with. In the living room, there was a small sectional sofa, a rickety old coffee table, and a flat-screen television on top of a glass stand. “Which big items are yours?”

“The television I bought for his birthday, so I’ll leave it. Especially since he hates that I didn’t buy him the one he wanted. And since he ruined the sofa, there’s no point in taking it.”

He headed for the bedroom next. “What about in here?” he asked.

“Just the dresser, nightstand, the floor mirror, and lamp. Then all of my clothes and stuff.”

“What about the bed?”

“The mattresses, sheets, pillows, all of it he can keep.”

Surprised, Lucky turned to face her. “Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want to sleep in that . . . that . . .” Rachel waved her hand in the bed’s general direction. “Cesspool.”

He chuckled at that. Couldn’t help himself. Then he saw the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Seeing a lighter on the nightstand, she picked it up and flicked it, a four-inch blue flame shooting up from between her fingers. “Maybe I should burn them?”

He shrugged. “If you don’t mind going to prison for arson, sure thing. Let’s fire it up.”

“On second thought.” She dropped the lighter on the floor.

“Probably the smart decision,” he said, following her into the kitchen. “But what are you going to do about a bed in the meantime?”

“Rough it, I guess. I can sleep on the floor.”

“You could, but I don’t recommend it.”

She folded her arms across her chest and cocked one hip. “Because I’m a girl?”

“No.” He laughed. “Because it sucks.”

They made quick work of the kitchen, packing things haphazardly in a short-ride-across-town fashion as opposed to the professional-move-cross-country style. A dozen black garbage bags were filled with clothes and shoes. Her bathroom items were tossed into a large box and quickly taped shut. Thankfully, she wanted to keep her womanly secrets secret and packed that box herself.

Within a matter of hours, they’d packed, loaded, and hauled her things across town. Getting her dresser up the steep steps and through her front door was a bit of a challenge, but they got it done. Of course, he practically carried it on his back up the stairs all by himself, but he wasn’t keeping score. If it hadn’t been for her repeated cheers of “You can do it! Almost there!” he’d likely never have reached the top step.

By late afternoon, they were starving, so she ran to pick up a pizza while he finished unloading.

Lucky was standing in the bed of the truck unloading the last two boxes when an older gentleman walking down the lane called out to him.

“Hello, there!”

Lucky waved in return and jumped down from the tailgate, dust pluming around his feet when they hit the ground. “Lucky James,” he said, extending his hand.

“Walter Culpepper.” For an older man, he had a firm grip and shook his hand vigorously. “Are you related to Ms. Dellinger?”

“No, sir. We work together at the hospital. I’m just helping her move.”

“How many more trips do you have? I only saw you come past the house once.”

That made him feel a bit better, knowing that Rachel’s landlord paid attention and knew who was coming and going from his property.

“That’s it. She doesn’t have much stuff. Left most of it behind, if you know what I mean.”

Walter nodded. “I was afraid of that. She seemed like she was in a pretty big hurry to move in.”

As if on cue, Rachel returned, and as they both turned to watch her come up the drive, he patted Lucky’s shoulder. “Not to worry. I’ll keep an eye out for her.”

She hopped out of her truck, pizza in one hand, six-pack in the other, and a huge smile on her face. “Hello, Mr. Culpepper. Would you care to join us?”

“No, but thank you. Just wanted to stop by, see if you were all settled.”

“Almost there,” she answered with a big smile on her face. “I just have a few things I need to buy.”

Hearing Lucky chuckle at the understatement, she cut her eyes at him, before turning back to Culpepper.

“Sounds good.” The old man gave a short wave and ambled off down the lane back to his place.

Lucky grabbed the last two boxes from the truck and followed her inside. Foregoing bar stools for fresh air, they headed out to the large back deck, where they sat on the steps facing the open fields, the pizza and beer between them.

She tore a paper towel from the roll and handed him one. “Who needs plates or furniture when you have a view like this?”

He couldn’t help but to smile back at her. She didn’t have anything to sleep on, anything to sit on, and most of her possessions were crammed into garbage bags, but she was happy and relaxed. At least for the moment.

And she wasn’t wrong about the view. Low rolling pastures dotted with the occasional elm or maple tree, cattle grazing in the distance, and about a hundred yards off the deck a good-size pond.

“Did your landlord say whether or not that thing is stocked?”

“The pond?” she asked around a bite of pizza. “You wouldn’t really eat something out of there, would you?”

“Depends on what’s in there.”

She wrinkled her nose and did a full body shiver, mumbling something under her breath along the lines of how gross fish were.

“I think you should get a dog.” He pulled a second slice of pepperoni from the box. “A really big one. Maybe even two dogs.”

“I’ve thought about it. But I’d hate they’d be locked up for so long on the weekends.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a few more nights at my place? At least until you have a bed?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll make a run to Walmart and grab one of those big air mattresses and a few pillows. That will work until I can buy something else.” She studied him while taking a drink of her beer and he knew those little wheels in her head were turning. “Where’s the worst place you ever slept?”

“That’s easy. New Orleans.”

“That’s your worst?”

“Were you expecting me to say Iraq or Afghanistan?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I sure wouldn’t have guessed New Orleans. Was it for work or for fun?”

“Oh, definitely fun. I’d turned twenty-one a few months before and a bunch of us decided to spend part of our block leave there. The problem was there weren’t many rooms available and the rooms we could find were expensive. We wanted to spend most of our money on booze, not a place to sleep. So we got one double room and crammed nine guys into it. Guys slept on the floor, in the chairs. One slept in the bathtub. We drew straws for the beds.”

“Where did you end up?”

“I got a bed.”

“How is that your worst if you got a bed?”

“Nine guys who’d been drinking heavily and eating nothing but Cajun sausage and fried food all day sharing a confined space with no air circulation? Yeah, it was pretty awful. Give me the desert any day.”

Their shared laughter gave way to the peace and quiet of the country. Once again, they sat in comfortable silence, drinking their beer as the sun sunk below the horizon, setting the clouds afire against the dark blue sky.

“Do you miss the army?”

“Way more than I thought I would.” He finished the remainder of his beer and tossed it in the empty pizza box. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised though. It was my life for twelve years.”

“What do you miss most?”

“The guys. The camaraderie. Being surrounded by people who’ve got your back no matter what.”

“Sounds nice.” She wrapped her arms around legs, resting her chin on her knees. “I don’t know that I’ve ever had anyone in my life like that.”

“Well, now you do.” He leaned over, bumping her shoulder with his. “If you need someone, I’ve got your back. No matter what.”

L
UCK, IN ADDITION
to a man named Lucky, was on her side that afternoon. The fact she got all of her things out of the apartment before Curtis came home from work, thus avoiding a face-to-face confrontation, was nothing short of a miracle.

Now she stood in her own place, as empty as it was, and felt like she could breathe for the first time in months. It didn’t matter she didn’t have a sofa or a bed or a television. She could eat her meals at the breakfast bar since there were two bar stools. She didn’t have to haul her clothes to the laundromat since the trailer came with a washer and dryer. And if the weather stayed nice and she felt like cooking out, there was a small gas grill on the back deck, along with one helluva view. It was more than a lot of people had and it wasn’t as if she would be without the other things for very long.

Since Mr. Culpepper didn’t make her pay the last month’s rent or deposits on the utilities, she’d be able to buy new furniture come payday. Nothing fancy. Certainly nothing custom ordered. But she’d have enough to buy new instead of scouring the ads on Craigslist. Heck, she might even find a furniture store that would deliver it for her. Of course, if they didn’t deliver she knew exactly who to call.

In high school, Lucky James was one of the nice guys. The teachers liked him because he was smart. The coaches liked him because he was a team player. The guys wanted to be friends with him and the girls wanted to date him.

And much to her surprise, he hadn’t changed one bit. He was still smart. Still nice. A real white knight kind of guy she could fall for so easily if she weren’t careful. But she would be careful because she’d learned her lesson this time. Especially since once upon a time Curtis had been a nice guy, too.

They’d met at a Super Bowl party thrown by mutual friends. At the time, she was sleeping on her friend’s sofa, having moved in only weeks before after she found out her previous boyfriend was stealing money from her. But Curtis was different than other men she’d dated. He had recently moved to Durant, working as security at the casino. He had never been married, didn’t have any kids. Their friends said he was a great catch who’d never found the right girl.

In the beginning, he brought little things each time he saw her—a single rose, her favorite kind of candy. Each gesture practically sweeping her off her feet. He was straightforward with his feelings, told her he wanted to be with her, only her, for the rest of their lives because from the moment he laid eyes on her he knew she was “the one.” Within a matter of weeks she moved in with him and by the month’s end he began to change. He wanted to know everywhere she went, who she was going to be with, and how long she’d be gone. If a trip to the grocery store ended up taking longer than he determined to be an appropriate length of time, he’d call her.

For too long she ignored her gut feelings. It didn’t help that her friends were convinced he was just a romantic. They thought his possessiveness showed how much he cared and they often wished their boyfriends and husbands bothered half as much as Curtis did. But as time went on, he became more controlling than caring, more manipulative than romantic.

Then, as if she conjured him by merely thinking his name, her phone chimed with a new text message.

You stupid bitch.

Who the hell do you think you are?

I should have you arrested for theft.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the messages came fast and furious to her phone. But she swallowed down her fear, determined to stand up to him one last time. With trembling fingers she texted her reply.

I didn’t take anything of yours.

I’m sorry but it’s over.

Please stop texting me.

Even as she hit send she knew it wouldn’t be as easy as asking him to leave her alone.

I’m sorry for calling you a bitch.