Divine (12 page)

“Dad would have been bragging about you,
too.” He diverted his attention to his knee, rubbed it right above
the prosthesis to ward off the moan he wanted to release for
missing his parents.

Travis coughed. “Does um…” He coughed again.
“Does your leg hurt?”

“I have phantom twinges once in a while,
nothing more.”

“And you don’t need help?”

He liked this type of conversation better. No
feelings to force him to weep like a kid. “Jeez, Grandma, I
don’t.”

Travis considered him and nodded.
“Ready?”

All the emotional talk coiled him in knots.
“I need fresh air. I’m gonna take a walk.” He patted his right
thigh “Exercise is good for my leg.”

“All right.”

He rose, tossed their trash in the bin, and
followed his big brother to the parking lot. “See you later.”

“I’m not heading out for a couple of days.”
Travis bumped knuckles with him. “Keep your phone close.”

“Got it, Grandma.”

Travis chuckled, slid into his truck, and
drove away, throwing up a hand to him on the way by.

He walked toward his parents’ home, the one
he and Travis refused to leave after their premature deaths, not
intending to go there. No, a certain spot along the river, the
place where he’d found home, beckoned him.

Chapter
Six

“Stupid to think Trina would answer,” Matt
mumbled and disconnected his cell. He shoved the phone in his
pocket and snatched a beer from a neighborhood grocery store bag he
carried. Twisting the top with his teeth, he spit the cap into the
brown bag and moved through the woods to the bridge.

By the time he’d stepped onto the footbridge,
he’d finished the beer. Holding onto the railing, he slid to the
splintery wood floor and opened another, this time with his hand.
The hoppiness tasted good, but it didn’t come close to what he
sought—eliminating the grief. He rested his forearms on a railing
and rotated until his legs hung over the side.

The day he ran to the river like a maniac
came to him as if he lived the agony of Mom’s death again. The sad
part was all these years later, the ache hadn’t diminished, not as
he’d thought and hoped. Losing contact with Trina exacerbated the
issue. In her company, the pain lessened.

He tilted the bottle and didn’t stop drinking
until he sucked out the last drop.

Fuzziness messed with his vision. He really
should stop drinking and stop thinking about her. Being a glutton
for punishment, he didn’t take a break from doing either.

He glanced at the bank where they had met,
then at the spot in the river where he’d jumped in to save her.

Coldness seeped into his chest and limbs.

“Fuck a duck!” He grabbed another beer and
knocked it back. Tomorrow promised to be a better day. Right?

His rigid muscles relaxed. He reclined on the
bridge and stared at the twilight sky. “What did I do to deserve
this?” The haunting image of her followed him wherever he went. No
phone calls, no emails, nothing from her! “What the fuck gives?” he
shouted at the cardinals flying overhead.

The setting sun warmed his face and the
flowing river lulled him. He sucked in a deep breath of damp
mustiness and pines. The scents usually carried him to fond
memories near the river and eased his mind, but not today.

Nope, the area lacked its secret ingredient.
Trina.

With the exception of being a sniper, she
fueled everything he did, everything he had done, everything he
wanted to do. Pathetic to let another person have such control of
your life, a person who brought him, a hardened Marine, to his
knees. Hell, he’d fought in the war, seen the worst of humanity,
and had kept a positive attitude. Now he struggled to keep his
wits.

How weak to drown his sorrows in beer. Such a
fucking cliché. He rose, opened another bottle, and downed more
alcohol. Tonight, he’d give into this vice. Tomorrow, he’d try to
figure out a way to survive.

Travis’ idea of moving might be the best
thing. He’d love to start fresh. Here, bittersweet memories plagued
him everywhere. She had been a distraction after he lost his
parents. What could possibly distract him from missing her?

Each time his phone rang, his insides jolted
with anticipation and hope. Disappointment followed when he didn’t
hear her voice on the other end.

Bradley called a couple of times right after
his last visit, but the suck-ass reception distorted his words.
Even though he and Bradley had become somewhat friends, he wouldn’t
talk about her and put either of them in an awkward position.
Besides, the loyalty between brother and sister outdid their
friendship. Nope, Bradley’s allegiance went to her first, as it
should.

Travis move to Montana sounded more
appealing. It was a safe bet.

The beer empty, he stretched out flat on the
bridge, draped an arm across his forehead, and closed his eyes.
From this day forward, he’d work toward the future—a new home, a
new life in Montana—and forget his past.

“If only.”

“
Get up!” a uniformed Marine yelled. Chaos
and destruction reined the area. Men flew. Pieces of equipment
whipped past as if a tornado had slung them. Metal impaled Matt’s
leg. He jerked one way then the other, trying to see what happened.
Did someone get hurt? Where were his fellow Marines?

“Matt!”

He didn’t call him sergeant. He moved his
head and saw darkness. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Bradley. Wake up! You’re having a
nightmare.”

Cold water splashed his face and a hand
patted his cheek. “Come on, Squirt! Wake up!”

“Travis!” He focused through the jackhammer
pounding his head, to his brother and Bradley’s pitiful faces, and
rose to a sitting position. He wanted to puke.

The sun shone its early morning rays on the
rippling river and the empty bottles lying around him.

“You have a death wish?” Travis asked,
emptying the contents of the bag on the bridge. “You drank all
twelve or did elves join you?”

“I don’t need your shit.” He braced his hands
behind him and shoved backwards. “What the—”

“You’re missing a leg,” Bradley said, the
pitch in his voice rising with shock.

Not having seen him since he returned,
Bradley wouldn’t know about his leg. “Damn thing was a nuisance. I
got rid of it.” He teased, wanting to get him with the fuck-you
factor for not telling him about Trina dating someone.

Bradley’s mouth dropped open.

Travis braced his hands on the top railing.
The corners of his mouth twitched.

“An amputee joke, a poor one.” He leaned
forward and peered below.

On the edge of the rocks along the bank
rested his shining leg. “There it is,” he said.

Bradley followed his finger. “Wow, I’m sorry.
I heard you underwent rehab, but I had no idea.” His words drifted
off.

“How would ya?” he scoffed. “What I can’t
believe is that your sister hasn’t tried to contact me. What the
hell? Her and I were friends—”

“Matt,” Travis said, his voice stern.

He was pissed. Last night, he’d lost his
feelings in alcohol, but today he needed to unload. “We had
something special and she… screws the first guy she comes across.
Hell—” He shuffled and stood with the aid of the railings. “Travis,
get me my damn leg. I’m getting out of here, away from this area,
and everything reminding me of her. Montana here I come.” He was
being a jerk. Seeing Bradley, despite understanding his actions,
brought out his anger two-fold.

“You want to hear what Bradley has to say,”
Travis warned.

“The hell I do!” He wanted to hit something.
It might as well be Bradley. After all, he’d already practiced on
him at the bar a few months ago. He lunged, fell, and rolled onto
his back.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Travis
knelt beside him and touched his chin, turning his face one way
then the other. “Did you run into someone’s fist?”

He sucked in a deep breath and lifted his
chin toward the light blue sky with faint billowy clouds. The
promise of a pain-free day shot to hell. “Not a fist. A tree.” On
the way to relieve himself, he’d tripped on a root and brushed the
bark. “It’s a scrape.”

Travis’ eyebrows narrowed to slits.
Here
comes judgement, the lecture
.

Bradley scratched the side of his face and
darted his attention away from him and Travis.

“You’ve been busy,” Travis said. The judgment
he expected to hear in his tone didn’t come.

He tilted his head. “I was.”

“Feel better?”

What the hell? A pissed, lecturing Travis
would give him a reason to fight, not this compassionate guy.

“Matt.” Travis’ tone put him on hyper-alert.
“Bradley has something to tell you that I should have mentioned
when I found out, but with your,” he hesitated before continuing,
“injury.” He spoke as if saying the word hurt to speak as much as
it had Matt. “I kept quiet, I wanted you to heal, not just
physically but mentally.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m gonna go get your leg.” Travis stepped
off the bridge and stopped. “Listen to what Bradley has to
say.”

He growled and redirected his frustration
toward Bradley. “What?”

Bradley plopped onto the bridge beside him,
rested his elbows on the middle railing, and held his head. “Bad
news.”

Matt’s heart clenched. Tears stung his eyes.
His sullen tone knocked the fight out of him. Wanting to tell him
to hurry, yet too afraid of what he’d say, he sat idle and
waited.

Bradley raised his chin, swallowed, but his
head fell forward again.

Being patient ate him alive. “Tell me!”

“The day you left—” An odd noise escaped him.
“Trina was in an accident.”

Blood pounded in his ears. A sob snorted out
of him. “No. No! Not possible.” As if Bradley could change the
universe on command, he yelled louder. “No! Tell me, Bradley.
Fucking tell me, she’s okay. Tell me, she’s alive!”

Peering at the sky, Bradley wiped his face.
“She’s alive.”

He let out a shaky breath. His pulse didn’t
stop pounding, but it slowed to a manageable level. “Then
what?”

“She’s in a coma. No life support. I talk to
her every day. I think she can hear me, but I’m not sure. The
doctor told my parents to abandon hope. They said she’d been out
too long. Her brain wouldn’t function right. I think the human body
is too much of a mystery for a doctor to predict her outcome.”
Bradley’s tone turned foreign, like a reporter’s.

Intense emotions barreled into him like a
tank crushing a car, demolishing everything in its path. His organs
seemed to flatten, to feel nonexistent.

Then something odd happened. He wasn’t lost.
The sweet comfort she had bestowed on him returned. Once again,
because of her, he’d found his inner-strength and what he needed to
do. “Give me my leg,” he said to Travis, resolute, and eyed Bradley
after he snapped it in place. “Let’s go.”

Trina tried to open her eyes. She
concentrated and thought hard, even pictured them opening.

They didn’t.

“Hi, Miss Katrina,” a too-happy nurse said.
“We need to shift you around so you don’t get bedsores.”

Previously, Bradley said if her skin hurt to
let him know by squeezing his hand so he could reposition her. She
didn’t feel any sting, but she desperately wanted to squeeze his
hand. She’d give about anything to see him smile.

The nurse moved her body. A second later, she
sensed she fell back in the exact same spot she started in. The
same impression occurred each time a nurse said they would
reposition her. If only she could open her eyes and let them
know.

That would give them a start. She laughed.
Even if she couldn’t share her joke, she got a kick out of it.

“Oh, excuse me, sir,” a deep voice said in
the distance “Are you family?”