Page 5 of Codename: Dustoff
CHAPTERTHREE
Iswear the entire earth conspired against me these days. First this forced daisy chain self-love fest I had to attend every Saturday. This was number two of my eight-week sentence in purgatory for not getting better fast enough. What irony. When you’re in the Army, you’re taught to take your fear, your anxiety, any normal and rational feeling you have and compartmentalize it. You’re supposed to shove it down to a place where it won’t become a distraction. Then you get home, and all those feelings you’ve been burying for years begin to surface. When their tests say you aren’t dealing with it properly, they say “Shame on you soldier! Why haven’t you learned how to cope yet?” All the while forgetting we’ve been conditioned to refute asking for help at the risk of appearing weak.
I’d joined the Army as a means to escape all of this claustrophobic existence. To go and be something other than married at sixteen with a brood of kids. Someone who struggled every month to try to feed everyone on miner’s wages. Yet here I was. Living at my parents’ house in Haven’s Cove, existing with the whole damn family again.
It figured that none of the towns around here had any access to good doctors or support programs. And naturally the closest V.A. was over three hours away. It was crap that Pam and my former C.O. conspired to make these visits part of my required regiment of care. He’d just called to “check in,” because as a friend, he was worried about me. What did he know about lost limbs? He still had all of his. And three tours of duty complete, a wedding to look forward to at the end of the month and a cushy fucking desk job waiting for him whenever he was ready to take it. That wedding. He’d mentioned on his call that I hadn’t RSVP’d. While he didn’t speak the words, he sounded, hurt. Which was a punch in the fucking gut. I hadn’t been part of his unit long enough for me to bond with the team like the rest of them. I’d barely been two months into my tour of duty when we’d hit that IED. Yet, he treated me as if I’d been under his command as long as the rest of the group. Even while still dealing with a mess in Afghanistan he would check in with my doctors in Germany to get regular status updates.
I owed him the respect of attending his wedding. The guilt ate away at me. There were so many reasons why I didn’t want to go. I could probably fill a whole notebook. When he’d offered to pay for my plane ticket just so I could go, I’d nearly drown in my own shame. I would never be anyone’s charity case. That just wasn’t happening. If I had to drive two days and sleep in my car to save some money I would before accepting a handout.
But that wasn’t why I refused. I didn’t want to be a distraction from his big day. And when a woman with one leg comes walking into a wedding—people will stare, and not in a “where did she get her dress, it’s so beautiful,” kind of way.
“It’s pretty isn’t it? With the snow coming down? As much as I hate the actual holidays—I’m a sucker for the whole winter wonderland thing.”
The guy with one arm—he’d introduced himself as Emmett—continued to linger despite the call to join the group. That smile. Jesus. He had a smile that could charm the skin off an alligator. It was all soft pliable lips, a hint of teeth, the barest lift of his eyebrow. I bet he got a lot of phone numbers with a smile like that.
“Unfortunately for me, all of that white stuff means slick sidewalks and roads, hidden tripping hazards, and as it begins to melt, ice. I honestly wish I could be as taken by the quiet magic like everyone else, but I’ve landed on my ass far too many times to count and trying to get back up is a bitch.”
Disarming. That’s what his whole sweet-lipped charm was. Who was he to me? Nobody. Just someone else who drew the short stick in the poor unfortunate souls lottery. He just wanted to make idle chit chat while we waited for our meeting, and I’d managed to take a grenade to his enjoyment of the season.
“It’s a shame actually. How an injury can suddenly make you hate things you used to love.”
He nodded, resting his head against the fogging glass. While he didn’t say anything, I could see a shadow in his eyes that told me he understood what I said. Maybe that look is what prompted me to be so revelatory.
“Haven’s Cove has a pond in the town center. As kids we’d check every day for the town council to raise the green ‘safe to skate’ flag. My sisters and brothers and I would pride ourselves on being the first ones out on that stupid pond.”
Funny how many things that used to be things I loved, now were things I loathed. As kids my two siblings closest to me in age and I would play synchronized skater on that pond. We would spend hours practicing made up routines, preparing for pretend competitions.
“We’re about to get started you two!”
Gemini called us into the meeting again just then, thankfully saving me from this unnecessary trip down memory lane.
* * *
“I’m pretty sure the hotel is solid.”
Emmett approached me where I stood off to the side of the room.
“The people who own the hotel,” he continued, pointing towards his friend giving me that soft lipped smile I’d admired earlier, “Gemini over there is friends with their family. Rich east coasters. Old money types. Anyhow, that doesn’t matter. The point being,” a pink blush crept around his ears while he continued to ramble, “There’s money in this hotel. Whomever constructed it, I’m sure they did a bang-up job.”
“I’m not following.” His sweet ear blush turned into a full on flush while he stood there. Maybe I’d been wrong about his smirky smile and his womanizer ways.
“The room will stay standing all on its own. You don’t need to hold up that beam. It’s cemented into the ground well and good.”
The joke was cheesy at best. But it did win him a chuckle. He took that as an invitation to continue.
“There’s plenty of room at the table. Why don’t you join us?”
“I’m fine where I am.”
He stood next to me, surveying the room. He ran his hand along his clean shaven jaw, considering something. That slight contact against his skin released the smallest hint of his aftershave, which was something woodsy and natural. His lips twitched while he looked around, as if words were forming there but he didn’t want to give voice to them.
“I’ll make you a deal.” He turned his focus toward me. Those green-gray eyes lit up like he’d just heard the most salacious piece of gossip. “If you come sit with, I’ll let you have my cobbler. People fight over Gemini’s cobbler when she sells it at the market. It’s a pretty big deal, me giving you my dessert.”
He extended his hand as if I’d take it and allow him to lead me to where the rest of the group gathered. Unfortunately for him, I’m not a follower, and don’t eat dessert.
“Unnecessary. Standing is perfectly fine, thank you.”
I thought he’d get the hint with that rebuff, but the set of his mouth told me I’d apparently thrown down a challenge he wouldn’t back down from.