Home Front, page 2
Kyle feared that he was looking at his future when he looked at them. The two were proof that it didn’t matter if you worked in the motor pool or elite special operations, the same fate could befall them all.
Sitting here, surrounded by these men, he felt like some modern-day military version of Ebenezer Scrooge being haunted by his ghosts.
Sebastian, the ghost of military past, reminded him of what his life in the teams had been like. What it would still be if that bone hadn’t snapped.
Cam, the ghost of military future, represented what Kyle’s retirement, ten years from now when he was older and ready, could look like.
And John and Jaxson were his ghosts of military present. Living proof of where he was now. Broken. Taken out of active service. His leg elevated as his ankle throbbed within the medical walking boot. His return to duty pending evaluation.
He’d be where they were—medically retired—if he didn’t heal up one hundred percent. Off the team. Lost.
Watching all the possible outcomes paraded in front of him by Blessing, the ever-helpful USO volunteer, wasn’t helping his mood.
He didn’t know which future to place his bets on in this twisted game of possibilities.
Did he put his money on the long shot? That he’d make a full recovery, go back to the team like Sebastian, and stay until the lure of retirement tempted him like Cameron?
Or did he face the reality—the most likely eventual outcome—that this injury would take him out of service just like Jaxson and John? A smart man would take that bet.
He couldn’t even begin to guess what his future held. Then again, he supposed it wasn’t up to him to guess. That decision would be made for him by the Navy doctors.
With that depressing thought, he picked up a magazine someone had left on a side table. It was one of those celebrity gossip rags.
Blessing, the front desk volunteer, had referred to this area as the library when she’d led him here. He wasn’t much in the mood to read but hours later, he was bored.
Desperate times…
On the cover of the glossy magazine was a picture of Luna Blue and her boyfriend Angel Leon.
Make that her fiancé.
Apparently, according to the tabloid’s headline splashed boldly across the cover, they’d just gotten engaged. Which would explain why she was drinking champagne right out of the bottle on some overpriced yacht.
She wore the tiniest bikini he’d ever seen. Hell, strippers wore more clothing on the pole than this chick had for this photo. Although he was pretty sure it was a private boat and she had no idea she was being photographed.
If she was going to be mostly naked, that yacht was probably the place for it. Unless there was crew on board.
What was he thinking? Of course, there would be crew. He couldn’t imagine either of these superstars knowing how to—or wanting to—do the work it took to run a boat that size for any length of time. The damn thing was huge.
Spoiled rotten child stars who’d grown up physically but not mentally could only supply so much distraction. He was already done with this story, and he hadn’t even read it yet.
Frustrated, he tossed the publication to the side just as his cell phone started to vibrate where it lay on the arm of the sofa.
He flipped it over, read the name on the Caller ID and immediately flipped it back. Gretchen. He wasn’t taking that call here and now. Maybe not ever.
“Fuck, no.” Glancing up he noticed the collective eyes of his companions were upon him and realized he’d spoken aloud. “Uh, telemarketer,” he explained quickly.
A few of the guys nodded in commiseration.
Even antsier than before, he unzipped his bag, tossed the cell inside and then reached for his crutches where they lay on the floor.
“Hang on. I got them for you. Here.” Cam smiled and handed him the crutches.
Any other time, Kyle would have been amused that an E-9 was jumping to help him, a Chief Petty Officer. Not today.
Today, he didn’t want help from anyone. He wanted to be able to help himself.
Feeling helpless, and therefore cranky, Kyle reached for the crutches and managed a civil, “Thanks.”
Struggling to his feet, he got his balance and worked his way around the seating group.
He was getting used to maneuvering on the crutches. He should be an expert by the time he could walk without them.
Great. Something to look forward to.
“We’ll save your seat while you’re gone,” John called after him.
“Thank you,” he returned and meant it.
It was a good seat and he didn’t want to lose it. That he was taking the chance that he would for no good reason other than that he needed to move proved how antsy he was feeling.
He wasn’t sure where he was going, just that he needed to get away by himself where it was quiet for a bit.
Blessing smiled wide when she spotted him. “Hello, Chief Jones. Can I direct you somewhere? Or I’m happy to go and get you whatever you need.”
Oh yeah? What if he needed to take a piss? Was she going to help him with that too?
Christ, he was a bastard for even thinking that. She was the sweetest woman on earth. He had no business being near anyone as nice as her right now.
Taking a beat to compose himself back into a decent human being, he finally said, “Thanks. I just needed to move around a bit.”
“I completely understand. But at least you don’t have too long a flight home to Albany once you’re in the air.”
This woman had one hell of a memory.
He nodded. “Not too long in the air. You’re right. But another hour and a half in the car to get home from the airport. I fly into Albany, but I live closer to the Binghamton and Oneonta area.”
She smiled. “State university towns. I know them well.”
“Do you?” He laughed, surprised.
She nodded. “My late husband and I used to travel a lot. Especially after he retired from service.”
A military widow. That explained her dedication to the USO.
“You know what? Let me give you this.” Her dark brown hair, cut to fall just above her shoulders, swung as she spun to reach into a drawer. She emerged holding a business card, which she handed to Kyle.
He glanced at it, skipping over the embossed logo and reading the text that said, GAPS, Guardian Angel Protection Services.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“It’s a security company run by a group of SEALs. They’re based out of Virginia, but I know they work all over the country. All over the world, actually.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “They were here once on their way to Djibouti.”
He nodded, as if impressed, but kept the information to himself that he’d spent more than a few days at the SEAL encampment in Djibouti himself. But he still wasn’t sure why she’d given him the card.
As if she could read the question in his gaze, she said, “Maybe they could be an option for you for after you leave the Navy.”
“I'm not—” he was about to tell her he had no intention, no plans, to leave the Navy anytime soon. Then he realized that, thanks to this ankle, he might not have a choice in the matter, whether he wanted to leave or not.
He begrudgingly shoved the card into his pocket. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure to help. Oh, and Chief Jones. Don’t worry. You’re going to meet the right one soon.”
His brow cocked up. “Excuse me?”
She smiled but didn’t elaborate.
Woo-woo bullshit. Wasn’t that what Sebastian called this woman’s uncanny ability to know things about all of them? Things they’d never told her.
Although, she was creepily on point.
Blessing’s whacky ramblings had somehow, accidentally he was sure, hit upon what still weighed on him. Other than his injury, of course. The one thing that during all the touchy-feely conversation he’d been having over the past hours with the guys, he’d kept to himself.
Nah. She wasn’t psychic any more than those fraud pay-by-the-minute phone fakes were.
Dismissing her and her prediction, and he used that term loosely, he said, “So uh, the restroom is…”
“Right over there.” She beamed as she indicated the proper direction.
“Thanks.”
He hit the head then, thoroughly depressed by the reality check Blessing had hammered home with that damn business card she’d given him, he made his way back to his seat.
His spot was still vacant and waiting for him, as promised, even though all of his companions seemed to be napping.
Maybe he could catch some shut eye himself. Sleep might be his only escape from his shitty current reality.
He moved his bag out of the way and laid the crutches on the ground, trying not to wake the other guys with his movements. He was just attempting to get his leg up on the table without the racket the big plastic boot usually caused when air-born motion caught his eye.
Wide-eyed, Kyle watched as the stink bug launched out of his open backpack and flew slowly across the room, landing on the wall nearby, where it hung tight.
Oh, shit.
He glanced around at his companions to see if anyone had seen.
Were stink bugs native to this region? If not, had he just single-handedly infested the entire state of Georgia with the invasive insect?
The way his luck had been running lately, there was a good chance he had.
Christ. Could things get any worse? He really couldn’t think of any way they could.
three
He put a ring on it! Pop stars and long-time sweethearts Luna Blue and Angel Leon make it official.
“Engaged?” Heart pounding, Luna raised a narrowed gaze to her cousin and manager. “Daniel. What the hell is this?”
“What?” He glanced at the magazine cover she held up, facing him. “Oh. The label thought it was time.”
“The record label? And what about me? Didn’t anyone think to ask me?” She was the one in this sham of a relationship.
And she was the one in the ridiculous photo taken four years ago that they’d dug out of the archives. The one of her drinking champagne out of the bottle while wearing a minuscule bikini while on the record company’s yacht.
In her defense, the trip was to celebrate her twenty-first birthday. It wasn’t supposed to be splashed on the cover of the country’s biggest celebrity magazine.
“As your manager, I assumed it was my job to take decisions like this off your plate and make them for you.” Daniel lifted one shoulder, making him look like half his current age. Like he had when he’d been sixteen and playing dumb rather than admit to something that would get him into trouble with his mother.
It didn’t work with Aunt Camila back then and it wasn’t going to work with Luna now.
“Daniel Joachim Diaz, don’t you play dumb with me. We were practically raised together. I know you too well. You knew I wanted to pull back from this stunt with Angel. But instead of working to get me out of it, you do this?”
Her heart was pounding so hard it stole her breath.
Daniel took a step closer and ran one suntanned hand down her arm. It stood out in stark contrast against her paler skin since she’d barely seen the sun this summer.
She hadn’t had more than a day or two off, never mind for a vacation, in close to a year. Not since this tour began.
Perform at night. Get on the tour bus. Travel to the next city. Sleep away half the day, wake up and do it all over again.
It had been months and months of what might as well have been the same day being lived over and over and over again. It was enough to make a person lose their sanity.
How did Daniel have time to be out in the sun and, she assumed, have fun, when she felt like she didn’t have time to do anything except work?
Although lack of time wasn’t her only issue, was it?
Lack of freedom was as well. Even a ponytail and baseball hat didn’t allow her to go out unrecognized anymore. She was a prisoner in a gilded cage of her own making.
Make that of Daniel and the record label’s making.
When she first started, she’d just wanted to sing and earn enough to help her mother pay for rent and food while doing it. She’d never asked for all the rest.
She’d certainly never asked for a fiancé.
And speaking of her new fiancé, what did Angel think of this new development in their relationship? Why hadn’t he texted or called as enraged as she was by the news?
Maybe he hadn’t seen it yet. Or, worse, maybe he was on board with the idea.
She was pretty tired of having other people tell her what to do. Being an adult should give her a certain amount of autonomy. She’d never imagined that signing one contract would give it all away.
Breathing in, she realized she’d have to fight this battle later.
The damage was already done anyway. How many millions in circulation did the magazine have? Whatever the number, those subscribers had all read that headline, seen her ass cheeks hanging out of that bathing suit, and believed the news about her engagement.
Pushing that horror away, she focused on what was really important. There was something far more pressing on today’s schedule.
“Remember, I have that doctor’s appointment today. You booked the town car, right?” she asked.
Daniel glanced up from his cell phone. “Uh, no. Not yet.”
Luna felt the deep frown form between her brows. “Not yet? Why not?”
“Because you really can’t afford to devote hours traveling to the city to see a doctor, and then hours back again. You have a show tonight.”
“That’s why I made the appointment early, so I’d be back in time.” She needed that car here in an hour. That was why she made sure he knew to book in advance.
Dammit.
Daniel watched as she strode toward the phone and shook his head. “Why do you insist on driving to Manhattan to see a doctor during your tour? It’s almost over. Wait until you get back to Miami. Don’t you want to go to your own doctor at home?”
She glared at him. “I can’t wait.”
“Why not?” he asked.
She hesitated, holding back the words on the tip of her tongue. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Damn Aunt Camila for insisting she not tell Daniel about her diagnosis until the tour was over and he was back in Florida near her.
Luna wouldn’t have even known about her aunt’s cancer herself if her aunt hadn’t been acting so weird on their last phone call.
She’d insisted her aunt tell her what was wrong. But once she knew, she wished she didn’t know.
Breast cancer. Two words that twisted her gut every single time she heard them.
It had been what had killed her mother when Luna had been only fifteen. And now, ten years later, her aunt had it too.
Two sisters with the same diagnosis—it was obvious. It ran in her family.
The doctors had caught her aunt’s cancer early. Much earlier than her mother’s. The prognosis was good. But it was proof that Luna needed to find out sooner rather than later. She had to know now if she had the gene mutation.
And if she was going to get the BRCA gene test and consider the worst-case scenario, she was going to do it at a world class medical facility. Tour or no tour.
If the record label was going to force her to perform at every one of the many, many colleges in New York State, she was going to take advantage of it and get the test done in Manhattan while she was here.
She wouldn’t let down her fans. She’d finish the tour. But she had to know if she had the gene. The sooner, the better. Her life could literally depend on it.
And in the midst of worrying about her aunt, and her own health, and maintaining this grueling schedule, and her “engagement” news, she had to deal with Daniel and his not understanding her need to see the doctor.
“Daniel, I love you, but this is not up for debate. I’m going.” She reached for the receiver on the desk phone and pressed the button for the hotel’s operator.
“Who are you calling?” he asked.
“The concierge to book me a car.”
“I can—”
“No.” She held up one hand to stop his protest. “I’ll do it.”
Sadly, she no longer trusted him to handle it.
Daniel was the one person in her professional life who was supposed to be completely on her side. He was blood. Family. The boy who’d been like a brother to her after her mother died and Aunt Camila had taken her in.
And now she couldn’t depend on him to do what was best for her. Even something as small as ordering a car. Never mind that he’d all but sold her into matrimony, like she was chattel in the medieval feudal days.
As the operator answered, she glanced at Daniel. He continued to look unhappy with her.
She ignored him and said, “Hi. I’m sorry this is so last minute, but I need to book a car to take me to Manhattan leaving in one hour. Is that something you can do for me?”
Luna might be able to survive the worst from her DNA test, but she wasn’t sure she could survive being completely alone in this world. A world where it was becoming apparent no one—no one—had her back.
She was on her own. That was fine. She could handle it.
“We can get you a car at eleven,” the person on the phone informed her.
Straightening her spine, she gripped the receiver tighter and answered, “No. I’m sorry. That’s too late. I need it here in an hour.”
“Hold, please.”
She sighed and waited. Finally, after another lengthy hold, the person came back on the line. “It will be here in an hour. Shall I ring your room when it arrives?”
“Yes. Please. Thank you.” Relieved, she felt like superwoman as she hung up the phone and shot Daniel a glare. “It will be here in an hour.”
Yup. She’d be fine. Even if she were all alone.
four
“Hey, we’ve got a couple of hours before dinner. You wanna stop at the Muddy River Inn for a cold one before heading home?” Kyle’s brother Kurt glanced over at him in the passenger seat of the truck before focusing back on the highway.
