A Lover's Lament Page 18

  Always,

  Katie

  My mouse hovers over the ‘send’ button, and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I contemplate whether or not to mention the roadside bomb I heard about on the news. Is that something that I can just bring up? Because I really want to know …

  PS. I saw on the news that there were a few bombings, and I’m sure that’s an everyday thing for you, but I’ll be honest … it sort of freaked me out. I’ve never known someone at war, so when I heard about it, well, it scared me, and I thought of you. And I guess … I just want to know that you’re okay, and that your men are okay, and I want you to know I’m thinking about you and praying for you. Also, I’m not sure the whole phone situation over there, but I’m always available on my cell … you know, if you ever want to call me ... (533)-224-9892

  “The Fear In Love” – Don’t Look Down

  FUCK THESE MORNINGS. THE ONES where I wake up after a restless night of sleep about ten minutes before mission. The ones that limit personal hygiene and add unnecessary stress to an already long day. The ones were I barely have time to take a piss, let alone check my fucking email in the Comm Center.

  I rush to get into uniform, brush my teeth quickly, and meet my guys near the trucks. They laugh their asses off as I approach, my uniform half on and sweat already running down my cheeks. I pierce a hole through them with my eyes as I finish strapping on my gear and tightening my helmet.

  “You motherfuckers can’t wake a guy up?” I yell, slamming a fist into the hood of the Humvee. I make my way to the passenger seat and look over at headquarters just before climbing in. It’s like I have X-ray vision. I see straight through the walls into the communications center and to the computer that sits there, taunting me with an unread email from Katie. I huff and sink my ass into the seat, slipping my headset on and slamming the door shut.

  “Hey, what can I say, Sarge? You had one thumb in your mouth and the other one up your ass. It was just too cute to fuck with.” Navas cackles and nudges my elbow with his boot. “I swear we were coming to get you in five minutes.”

  “Five more minutes and I would’ve had to go out on mission without pants.” The Humvee pulls out of the spot and toward the gates as the other two vehicles follow behind. “Thomas, you’re the driver. It’s your job to wake up the boss.”

  Thomas waves to the two men guarding the front gate as we pass through it before glancing over at me with a smile. He’s looking a lot better since our talk.

  “It wasn’t my fault, Sarge. Navas said to leave you there. That you needed your beauty sleep.” He laughs and steers the Humvee onto the main road. While I’m okay with the extra sleep, I was hoping to at least be up in time to check my email before heading out on mission. Now, that’s all I’m going to be able to think about right now. Fuck, that’s all I’m going to be able to think about all day, for that matter. It’s going to make for a long twelve hours.

  The air conditioning pumps out lukewarm air, which does little to alleviate this early afternoon sun. The heavy armor on the Humvees and the heat of the engine make the vehicle like an oven during this time of day. I try my best to stay comfortable, setting each hand against the A/C vents, soaking up every bit I can get. Thomas is passed out—as usual—resting his helmeted head against the steering wheel. I wonder how he can even manage sleeping with how steamy it is right now. Then again, even though there are times I can’t sleep if my life depends on it, there are other times I can pass out in five seconds using my helmet as a pillow. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, really; it’s just the way of a soldier. You learn to adapt … eventually.

  But this heat is a different story. I’ll never get used to this.

  Navas is talking about some episode of The Office where Dwight sets the office on fire as a safety test for his co-workers, but I’m not really listening. He goes on these tangents about episodes of The Office as if they actually happened in his life—like he was telling me an old story of his or something. It’s funny as shit, but I could care less right now.

  My head is stuck on Katie and how much clearer my mind has been since we’ve started talking again. I can’t shake the feeling that this is something that was supposed to happen … that our paths have crossed once again for a reason. But why now? Why when I’m deployed thousands of miles away without the option of seeing her—or the assurance that I ever will again? For all I know, I’ll be one of a hundred flag-draped coffins lining the back of a C-130.

  That terrible thought is broken up by a loud “hey” that roars into the headset. It’s so loud it jolts Thomas from his sleep for a moment before he nuzzles back into the door panel.

  “Are you listening to me, asshole?” Navas grunts.

  “Yeah, yeah, man, The Office and Dwight, and all that.”

  “You’re a dick! You’re supposed to be my best friend, man. That means entertaining me on boring-ass missions,” Navas says, his voice purposely whiny, which makes me laugh because it seems so unnatural coming from a man his size.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that turret strap has cut off the circulation to your balls. You might want to think about standing for a while, bro. Maybe getting some blood back into those little guys.” I laugh, and so does he, but he stifles it quickly.

  “Don’t make me pull these bad boys out.” He tilts toward me and spreads his legs, gripping his crotch in his hand. “I wouldn’t want to give you a complex.” I reach a hand out before he can move away and slap the back of my fingers against his balls—hard. His knees jerk together, and he nearly falls out of the turret strap on top of our interpreter. Mike, being all of a hundred and twenty pounds, cowers against the side of the door, but Navas catches himself and then clutches his balls, howling in pain.

  “You… are such… a fuck,” he pants in between gasps.

  “Well, don’t put that shit in my face. I don’t want to catch anything.” I laugh loudly as he fidgets in the turret.

  “Just wait, you fuck, I’m not playing around. I’m getting you back tenfold.”

  “Don’t make me pull rank, specialist,” I joke, tilting my head back and shooting him a smile up the turret. “You owe me some fucking push-ups when we get back, bitch!”

  He smiles back, shooting me a middle finger salute. “Yeah, good luck enforcing that while you’re sittin’ in the Comm Center!”

  I relax into my seat and check my watch. Of all our missions, this has been by far the most boring, but I’m careful not to mention it … or even think about it. Not anymore. Not after the girl.

  “Since you don’t wanna listen to me, fucker, you get to talk,” Navas says. “So what’s up with Katie?” As soon as he asks it, her face teases my thoughts. I don’t want to talk to him about this. Hell, I don’t even know what’s going on myself. I take a moment to respond, but I guess it’s too long for Navas’s liking. “Hello … you either listen or talk, one or the other, but we aren’t just going to sit here in silence. I won’t allow it.”

  “Okay, then you talk,” I say.

  “No, no, no,” Navas says, “you lost that privilege. Now you get to tell me what’s going on with Miss Katie Devora. Or is it Mrs. Katie Devora?” He smirks at me, but just the thought of her being married to Wyatt makes me shudder. There would at least be wedding pictures up already, right?

  “Come on, man. Nothing’s going on. What could even happen anyway? I’m a million miles away and a decade too late.” I think back to her engagement photo with Wyatt, and I feel my fingernails dig into my palms. Yup, I totally stalked her MySpace page and there he was, front and center. I always hated that kid, but knowing he’s going to fucking marry my Katie makes me want to go crazy.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. I know you, man. You haven’t used the Comm Center this entire deployment, and all of a sudden you’re there, what, three times a day over the past week? That’s sayin’ something.” He stops, but before I can get a word in edgewise, he continues. “I’ve noticed a change in you, I’m not gonna lie. You’
re not so fucking mopey these days. I know I can be depressing sometimes, but you were starting to get like Sophie’s Choice level of depressing on me. I can’t be havin’ any of that.”

  I laugh and finally decide to let the words spill. What do I have to lose?

  “I don’t know. It’s just been nice having someone to talk to that doesn’t have a hand in any of this and can take my mind away from everything. Somebody I have a past with. I just wish I still had a chance…” I trail off, realizing I may not really want to share the next part with Navas, but he finishes it for me anyway.

  “You looked her up, didn’t you?” he asks, knowing full well I did, having figured out how to read me long ago.

  “It’s your fucking fault, man!” I say, convinced I never would have if it weren’t for him. Oh, how much easier this mission would be if I hadn’t.

  “She’s a fuckin’ knockout, isn’t she?” He stretches his head down the turret hatch and looks at me inquisitively. He has a ridiculous smirk on his face. “Isn’t she?”

  “Shit, she was a knockout when we were kids. Now it’s just unfair for every other woman on the planet.”

  “Sounds like a good thing to me.”

  “Well, I’m not with her, now am I?”

  “Is she seeing somebody?” he asks, and I have to fight my desire to elbow his face to shut him up.

  “You know I hate talking about this shit, right?”

  My words go unnoticed as novice keeps talking. “In the year that I’ve known you, you’ve talked about this girl relentlessly. For a while there, I knew more about her than I did about you. You may think you’re Mr. Independent, trying to act all tough and shit, but you’re just like me, a tough candy shell with a gooey caramel center.” Annoyed, I tilt my head back to look at him again. Catching his playful smile, I refrain from throwing my elbow into his face. “We’re lovers … it’s just how God made us.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m also a killer, so keep it up, dick!”

  “Okay, okay, come on, I’m just playing. Don’t be ashamed of who you are, man. Ladies don’t want some emotionless hard-ass. They want a man who can love them better than anyone else,” he says, likely hoping it’s enough to get me talking. It works.

  “She was the one that got away, man. And I don’t think anything or anyone will ever change that. She’s it for me ...” My voice trails off for a moment, and Navas takes it as his cue to chime in.

  “So, she’s seeing someone, huh?”

  “Yeah, man, she is. And of all people, she’s engaged to my childhood nemesis. The guy wanted her so bad when we were growing up, but she only had eyes for me. I should’ve known he’d swoop in the moment I left.”

  “Why did you two end anyway? You never did tell me that part of it.”

  “Conversation over, motherfucker.”

  I’m not about to tell him about my biggest mistake, because then I’d have to tell him that, for the first time in my military career, I want to tear this uniform off, burn up my enlistment papers, and hop on a plane back home. For the first time in my life, my world seems so much bigger, my options limitless, my chances of happiness now visible.

  And I know what he’d say. He’d tell me to go and get my girl. But I also know after seeing her picture with Wyatt that it would be nearly impossible.

  Slouching down in my seat, I close my eyes. I still want to read that email that I hope to hell is waiting for me because maybe then the fact that she’s getting married will be hammered into my head. Maybe then I’ll be able to accept it and take this for what it is … a fucking friendship. And as much as it’ll kill me, I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.

  “Fall” – Ed Sheeran

  “I THINK I’M READY.” MY eyes widen at my own admission and Dr. Perry raises an eyebrow, clearly unsure as to what I’m talking about. “Drexler,” I clarify, “I think I’m ready to deal with Andrew Drexler.”

  “What do you mean by deal with him?”

  Dropping my head back, I look up at the ceiling fan, watching the blades go around and around. Who the hell has a ceiling fan in their office? “Katie?”

  “I’m thinkin’,” I mumble. What exactly do I want? I’m not really sure. I just know that I’ve come so far and I’m starting to feel happy again. I’ve found the place I thought I’d lost forever, but one thing is still there in the back of my mind. “I need to read his letter, or maybe meet with him. I don’t really know.” Sitting up, I lock eyes with Dr. Perry. “I just know that I want to move past it once and for all, and he’s the one thing left standing in my way.”

  “Standing in your way of what?”

  “Life. Happiness. Forgiveness. You name it.”

  “Who do you want to forgive?” Her probing eyes see way too much, and even though I want nothing more than to look away, I don’t. “Him, or yourself?”

  I shrug. “Both, maybe. It’s hard to explain. It’s just …” My words trail off as I think of the best way to put it. “I want to move on. I’ve moved past so much of my anger and resentment, but I want to move past all of it. I want to…” I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face when my throat grows tight. “I want to be able to think of my dad without thinking about Drexler. I want peace.”

  The smile on Dr. Perry’s face widens and something inside of me relaxes. “I’m proud of you, Katie, and I think it’s a great idea.”

  “You do?”

  “Absolutely. I think you’re ready. But maybe just start by reading his letter, and then if you still feel unsettled, you can contemplate speaking with him.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” I smile and rub my hands along the front of my thighs, then push up from the couch.

  “Goodnight, Katie. I’ll see you next week.”

  With a small wave, I turn toward the door when Dr. Perry calls out to me. “Oh, by the way, how are things going with your pen pal?”

  “They’re going great.” Better than great, I think to myself as I leave Dr. Perry’s office, much lighter than ever before. And I know there is really only one person to thank for that—the same person who has somehow managed to hijack my head, considering I find myself thinking about him nearly twenty-four-seven.

  “Goodnight, Kelly!” I wave at Dr. Perry’s secretary on my way out, tugging my phone from my pocket the second I slide into my car. Three missed calls pop up on my phone, and I roll my eyes at the sight of Wyatt’s name. He’s really backed off lately; in fact, I haven’t heard from him in several days. So why is he calling me again all of a sudden?

  Just then, my phone vibrates in my hand, lighting up with Wyatt’s phone number. Curious as to why he’s rapid-fire calling me, I flip open my phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Katie, hey … I, uh … I didn’t expect you to answer.”

  “I was with Dr. Perry. I’m just heading home. What’s up?” Transferring my phone to speaker, I start my car and pull out of the parking lot. I hear the faint sound of a woman giggling in the background. “Is everything okay?”

  “Uh …” Wyatt grunts and then more giggling ensues. I cringe, wondering what in the hell is going on, and I’m seconds away from asking him just that when he says the last thing I expect to hear. “No, everything isn’t okay. I was calling because I have Bailey, and she’s”—Wyatt grunts—“shit, are you okay?” There’s another grunt followed by some rustling sounds, and now I’m wondering if Bailey really is okay and why in the hell Wyatt is with her.

  “Wyatt? What do you mean you have Bailey?”

  “She’s wasted,” he says, sighing. “She refuses to let me take her to your mom’s, and no way in hell am I bringing her to my place.”

  “Bring her to me.” I can’t help but laugh. Bailey is a funny drunk, although I can’t help but wonder why she’s drunk at six o’clock in the evening. “I’ll be home in two minutes.”

  “Thank God,” he says with an exaggerated groan. “We’re sitting in your driveway.”

  “Almost there.” I disconnect the call as I turn onto my street. Sure
enough, Wyatt’s truck is parked in the driveway and he’s standing outside, leaning against his sleek black Chevy. Pulling in, I throw my car in park and start laughing hysterically at the sight of Bailey’s face squished against the glass of the passenger-side window.

  Wyatt walks around the truck and opens the passenger door, sticking a hand out just in time to stop Bailey from toppling to the ground. Scooping her up, he tosses her over his shoulder and I shake my head, laughing.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Oh, but it is.” Unlocking my front door, I hold it open for Wyatt and he walks in and places Bailey on the couch. I reach down to tug Bailey’s heels off, causing her to stir and roll onto her side. Her eyelids bob heavily several times and she swallows hard.

  “Are you going to be sick?” I ask, pointing to the trashcan and motioning for Wyatt to bring it to me.

  “He cheated on me.” Her words are slurred as she clumsily reaches up to wipe away some tears that have gathered in her eyes. My heart clenches, and I kneel down on the floor next to the couch to run a soothing hand along her forehead. No wonder she’s hammered this early in the evening.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie.” Wyatt hands me the trashcan and I place it on the floor, just in case she feels the need to hurl later—which she most likely will. “He doesn’t deserve you, Bay. You’re too good for him.”

  “But I wanted him.” Her eyes drift shut and when she sighs, the smell of her breath nearly knocks me on my ass. Okay, so her drug of choice tonight was tequila. Nice. That should be a lovely smell in the morning when I’m cleaning up whatever mess she makes.

  “I know you wanted him, babe.” Brushing the hair out of her face, I lean down and kiss her forehead, glad that she’s too drunk to remember that she’s mad at me. “But sometimes what we want isn’t always what’s best for us.”

  A faint snore falls from Bailey’s mouth, and I pull an afghan off the back of the couch and tuck it in around her. Standing up from the floor, I come face-to-face with Wyatt. “Thanks for bringing her by.”