This time, instead of seeing Matt dead in my arms, I saw Dee.
What the fuck?
I scrub my face with my hands as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and my feet meet the cold wooden floor. I rest my elbows on my knees and my face in my palms.
All I have been dreaming about is her beautiful face, sparkling topaz eyes and her smile. The rays from the strobe lights illuminate her brown hair and the silhouette of her body as she leaves me in the dark. I hear her sultry voice with a bit of rasp to it and I can’t shake the thought there’s more.
But I will never know. I fucking lost her in the crowd and I’m afraid the worst of my nightmare may have come true. I lift my face from my hands and look around my room. It’s sparse. Just a bed and several boxes scatter the space.
The now empty whiskey bottle rests next to the digital clock on my dresser. It’s only ten-twenty. I must have dozed off after drinking the last of the whiskey while Avery gave me an earful for canceling our dinner plans.
I look out my window. The rain has stopped, and the stars peek out between scattered clouds.
Matt’s face ghosts my thoughts and how I let Laura and her sons down—leaving her a widow with two fatherless boys.
It was eight months ago.
We were in South Sudan. The protests were increasing in size and frequency and the militia had gotten violent. My team was sent in to rescue two journalists and their crew members hiding in an abandoned building. They had refused to follow evac orders just so they could get the story out to the world.
On our way out of the building, I lost sight of Matt when he slipped around a corner. I was his six, and he was supposed to wait, but he swore he heard another voice calling for help. That’s when the RPG blasted through the building, separating us.
After the team lifted the debris off my leg, they found Matt’s body. When we arrived back in Virginia Beach, I couldn’t carry my friend’s casket out of the C-17 due to my injury. I rolled out in a fucking wheelchair next to the flag-covered casket, holding Matt’s dog tags and the photo of his family he kept nestled in his helmet.
I remember that picture because I’m the one who took it. It was the twins’ seventh birthday, and the boys begged to have their party on the beach. A picture of that happy family now broken.
During the funeral, I watched silently as the honor guard folded the US flag thirteen times into its seamless triangle. With each powerful fold, I held back the sting of my tears that burned the back of my throat. It was difficult to keep it together when my commanding officer kneeled and placed the flag in Laura’s delicate hands.
I’ll never forget the look on her pale face. The tears that smudged her mascara under her red-rimmed brown eyes. Every time the gun salute fired a shot, she flinched while holding her boys in her arms.
That’s when one tear rolled down my face. I felt hollow inside already, but somehow the devil found a small piece of my soul, ripped it to shreds, and laughed while doing it.
I’m lost in my thoughts, teetering from my past to that fateful day back to Dee. The guilt consumes me. I didn’t save Matt, and I don’t know what happened to Dee.
I scrub my face with my hands. I need to get out of here and take a drive to clear my head. I throw on a sweatshirt and jeans, then slip on my boots and a cap before heading out to my car.
Driving around my hometown is not helping me get Dee out of my head.
Thoughts run through my mind as I wait for the light to turn green.
Her face haunts me. Her voice calls to me to help her.
There’s an ache in my chest and I don’t know why.
That night at the club, when she said my name, there was something soothing about it.
The car behind me honks, letting me know the light is green. I press on the gas and pull into a parking lot, turning off the engine a few minutes later. Facing the beach, listening to the crashing waves, feeling the California night breeze through the open window is all too nostalgic. I remember the times when Kyle and I surfed on the weekends or went mountain biking in the Malibu hills. I sit for a moment, debating if I should call him to meet me for drinks at Sharkie’s. I could use a fucking drink right about now.
“H-hello?” Kyle’s gruff voice fills the line, he coughs, then sniffles.
“You sound like shit, man.”
“Brody? Is that you?” He coughs again.
“Yeah, man. It’s me. I was going to see if you wanted to grab a beer, but it sounds like you need to stay quarantined for a while.”
“When did you get back?”
“A month ago,” I say.
“I’d love to, but this damn flu got me good.” A sniffle, then another cough sounds through the phone line. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m back up again.”
“Sure thing. Take it easy, Ky.”
I hang up and climb out of the truck. I’m staring at the entrance to Sharkie’s as hotties and knuckle heads come and go through the door. I want to go inside, toss back a few whiskey shots at the bar to take the edge off and find the numbness I seek. Instead, I turn on my heel and keep walking.
As I pass under each streetlamp spotlight, I peer in the familiar dark shop windows and see my reflection. A lonely man with guilt on his shoulders too heavy to carry.
Finally, I swing open a door and slide my burdened ass in a booth.
“What will it be, sugar?” the waitress asks.
I tip up the brim of my cap as I look at her comforting smile, one that is all too familiar.
“Hi, Tawney.”
“Brody?” She places her hand on her hip. “Now, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“It’s good to see you.” I stand and we hug.
She pulls away, smiles, and pinches my cheeks just like when we were kids. “Landon will be tickled pink you’re back in town.”
I turn to see Landon in the kitchen, then turn my eyes back to Tawney. “He’s busy. I’ll catch him later.”
She slides in the booth across from me. “Well, it will get even busier since I just lost one of my waitresses,” she says. “Anyway, tell me what brings you to this side of town. Are you here to stay for good?”
Chapter Five
Delilah
I shrug on my Chiefs sweatshirt and slip my purse over my shoulder, letting out a sad sigh. My bed is calling for me and all I want to do is sleep for the rest of the weekend. Tonight is my last shift at PB&J’s.
I remove the drawing taped on my locker door that Catrina, my niece, drew for me. It’s a picture of her holding Franny and Drake’s hands. She colored a star that represents his sheriff badge on his chest in bright yellow.
I giggle at the unequaled blue square and triangle on top of it and the lopsided flowers around it. It’s their house in Kansas and I miss them. And on the bottom, her penmanship in red:
We miss you, Auntie Lulu.
My finger glides over the nickname my family calls me. Just looking at the picture makes me feel homesick.
I grab the bouquet that Tawney gave me, close my eyes, and breathe them in.
“I will miss you.” Emily’s soft voice startles me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says.
I quickly regain my composure and turn to face her. I really need to stop being so jumpy all the time. “I’m not leaving the country,” I say, folding Catrina’s artwork and tucking it in my purse. “This place has my favorite dessert and I only live about five blocks away.”