Gifts of Honor: Starting from Scratch\Hero's Homecoming (12 page)

Letting Lucy go hadn’t had the desired effect. Those transient panic attacks had solidified the day they signed the divorce papers. She hadn’t cried, had barely said a word, except to wish him well and that all she wanted was for him to be happy. And he’d almost demanded if she was the one who was happy now that she’d left him.

You’re leaving me.
Why do you keep leaving me?
Is it that you don’t love me?

You don’t love me
,
Sullivan.
You never did.

The two echoes melded, and he put a hand to his forehead to stop the pounding. Shit, he didn’t need one of these migraines now. Maybe if he got one of those hated painkillers down his gullet he could head it off at—

He almost killed himself on something right outside the door.

What the hell...?

With his eyes threatening to jettison out of their sockets, Sully struggled to get the door open and lights on. A showy bouquet of what seemed to be every red flower in creation was the culprit, along with a package wrapped in a familiar Red Cross care-package envelope. Scooping everything up, he deposited the flowers on the dining room table and cut open the package before the name on the front fully registered.

To:
Lucy Jax.

The handwriting was his. It had changed since he’d been wounded, as he’d had to relearn how to read and write. But that handwriting...Yeah. That was his. He’d recognize it anywhere.

With his head pounding so hard he thought he might lose consciousness, Sully dumped the contents of the envelope out onto the table...

And knew exactly what they were.

Chapter Eleven

“I can’t believe you’re going to let Sully run you out of town.”

Lucy had known the racket of dragging suitcases down the wooden stairs would bring Coe running. Though he didn’t live at the garage he often worked late, and she’d suspected that tonight of all nights, Christmas Eve, he was going to hang around in case she got lonely and needed someone to talk to. She wished he hadn’t bothered. The last thing she wanted to do now was talk.

“You know what they say—this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.” Unlocking her car, she hauled the trunk open and wrestled the heavy case in. Coe, damn him, refused to help, instead crossing his arms as if physically restraining himself from going to her. “I can’t stay here another day, Coe. It’s killing me.”

“I never thought I’d see you punk out.” His rough sigh left a vapor trail in the chilly winter night. “And on Christmas too. You’re not getting your presents of spark plugs and motor oil.”

“And I was really looking forward to them too.” After securing the second bag in the trunk, she slammed the lid shut. “I’ve got another bag and one box left. Want to help me?”

“No.”

“Gotcha.”

She left him standing there, and in another few minutes had the car loaded up. Coe’s hard face was downright mournful as she turned to face him.

“I hate goodbyes.” He glared at her. “You should probably just leave.”

Lord, she was going to miss him. “I’ll be back in a couple of days to clean out the rest of the non-mandatory stuff, so I’ll keep the key for now. Oh, and there’s a mostly undecorated tree up there as well. I promise, that’ll be the first thing I throw out.” Along with anything else that reminded her of Sully.

Coe shifted an awkward shoulder. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

“Right.” She hugged him, and had to smile at how his statue-stiffness melted into a bone-cracking hug. “Merry Christmas, Coe.”

“This is the suckiest Christmas present you’ve ever given me.”

“When the lightsaber pen comes in, that’ll make up for it.” Since he hated goodbyes, she didn’t say the actual phrase, instead giving him a forced smile before crawling behind the wheel. The first place she’d stop would be Pauline’s, she decided, starting the engine with a smooth purr. She’d slip her resignation into the letter slot and cut her ties there before heading into San Antonio. The job search would have to wait until the day after Christmas, but she had enough in savings to tide her over until she could—

The squeal of tires of the pickup truck stopping in the road in front of Lucky’s driveway had Lucy slamming her own brakes. For a startled moment she stared at the obstacle in disbelief. What were the odds of almost having an accident when the streets were ghost-town deserted?

Then the vehicle blocking her way registered, and she froze centimeter by centimeter. No doubt she’d be discovered as a block of ice sitting behind the wheel when all was said and done.

The sound of a door banging shut was the only warning she had before Sully rounded the truck’s hood, hands held up in a halting motion.

“Lucy! We need to talk.”

Talk?
Good God, the man had to be deranged. In fact, he did appear a little insane, with eyes so intense they could have shot lasers and his mouth held in a line so grim it would no doubt crack in two if he tried to smile.

“Please, Lucy.” He put his hands on the hood of the car, looking for all the world as if he wanted to push it back through brute strength alone. “Just shut the engine off and get out of the car, okay?” Then his head jerked up, a motion that made her glance into the side view mirror in time to see Coe approaching as if he had every intention of finding out what it felt like to rip someone apart limb from limb. She sucked in a breath, ready to step in, when Sully stepped forward, hand out.

“Thank you so much for being there for Lucy, Coe.” The heartfelt sincerity in Sully’s voice stopped Coe dead in his tracks, and her jaw unhinged when the men shook hands right outside her door. “I wasn’t there for her at the worst time in her life, but you were. I’ll always be in your debt for that.”

“Something’s...different.” Coe stared at him hard before glancing at her. “Lucy, he’s right. You guys need to talk, and I sure as hell don’t want you doing it in my driveway where every neighbor on the block can see and hear you.”

That made her crack the window. “Since when do you care about neighbors?”

“Since you guys decided to go all soap opera-y on my property. Get your drama behind closed doors where it belongs and iron out your shit so I can have some peace. Don’t worry about your vehicles, I’ll get them out of the way while you two take care of business.”

As Sully handed over the keys, Lucy considered ignoring them both, popping the high curb that could easily break an axle and getting heck out of Dodge. God knew she couldn’t handle another blow from Sully. Every part of her was an exposed nerve, and just one more jolt would send her right over the edge into screaming meemie land.

But if she broke her damn car, she’d really be stuck.

“Ten minutes.” As she climbed out of the car, the cold bit at her face that already felt like an icy mask. It hurt too much to look Sully’s way, so she tossed her keys at Coe and gave him an irritated glare. “Don’t lose those. I’ll be right back for them.”

“I had a feeling you were going to leave.” Once they’d made it inside the loft, Sully looked around the open space that had an abandoned feel to it now that she’d cleared out. “I’m so glad I followed my instincts and got over here as fast as possible.”

Lucy stuck her icy hands into her coat pockets, confused. She knew his memory sucked, but had he already forgotten he didn’t want to remember her? “What do you want?”

His eyes seemed to flinch at her deadened monotone. “Something came for you tonight, at the apartment where you stayed when we were married. Something from me.”

“From you?” Despite her best effort to not care, an inner alarm sounded. He knew she hadn’t lived there since summer. Why would he mail something for her to that location? “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a service offered to the troops through the Red Cross. There are times when a soldier is faced with a mission he’s not sure he’s going to get out of. To prepare for that worst-case scenario, he can send loved ones something special, like a note or a gift, and schedule when it should be delivered. I know of one guy who made sure flowers were delivered to his wife every birthday and Mother’s Day for the next ten years, even though he’s now gone.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a greeting card-sized envelope, then grimaced when she took a step back. “I sent this to you. I wanted this to be delivered to you immediately, but it apparently got mixed in with another surprise I had planned for you, an arrangement of red flowers to be delivered on Christmas Eve—the time when I was supposed to be returned to the States. Both the flowers and the package showed up tonight.”

The Christmas surprise he’d promised her during their final Skype. For a long moment she stared at the offered envelope—a beautiful, tempting echo that led to a past that was gone. Gone, but still had the power to kill her by inches.

Coe was right. Only she could make her suffering stop.

Slowly, she took another step back. “I’m sorry.”

“Lucy—”

“I told you. I’m done.”

“
Please
, Lucy.” Both hands now held up the envelope, his face tight with what looked like anguish as his eyes beseeched her. “I know anything I tell you now won’t reach you. My God, I can
see
you’re hopelessly out of my reach. But these words come from the man I was a year ago. The man you married, the man you loved. The man who loved you.”

“No.” She had no idea she could sound so flat. Lifeless. At least it matched how she felt. “I’ve had a whole year to come to terms with the fact that you never loved me, Sully. It hurt, but I’m over it now.” And she was the world’s biggest liar.

The color drained from his face. “Don’t call me Sully. God, please...don’t ever do that, Lucy. I know I’ve put you through more kinds of hell than I can even begin to imagine, and that if you’d known how we’d wind up—here, like this, so broken we don’t know how to pick up the pieces—you never would have married me. I
know
that. But I’m begging you, if you have any feeling left for the man I was a year ago—if I haven’t killed that off entirely—you’ll read what I needed to tell you when I feared these might be my last words to you.
Please
, Lucy.”

Last words. Damn, she wished he hadn’t said that. She knew of so many military wives—too many—who never knew what their husbands’ last words were. Last words were the most meaningful a soldier would ever speak. No one understood mortality better than someone in the service. Or their spouses.

His sigh of relief shook when she took the envelope from him.

My Lucy
,

There were so many things I wanted to say when our Skype signal got cut off
,
so I’m putting them down here as I’m polishing off your wonderful thirsty cookies.
As much as I love them
,
the note you tucked inside saying you still love me is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.
I
know not talking to you about doing a second tour is the worst fuck-up of my life
,
and though you just told me you’re okay
,
I
can’t get your grief out of my head.
Your voice is haunting me
,
Lucy.
I
keep hearing you ask why I’m always leaving you
,
and is it because I don’t love you.

I
need to answer you
,
if only to stop the tears I see every time I close my eyes.

As to why I keep leaving you
...
I
don’t want to leave you.
Ever.
I’m only at peace when I’m lying with you in my arms
,
feeling all of you with all of me.
Believe me
,
the thought of signing up for another tour didn’t even enter my head until my best friend got killed a week before I went on leave.
We’d been friends since Ranger School
,
and we’ve saved each other’s necks more than a few times.
In our downtime we talked about our wives
,
and he showed me pictures of his kids.
His one fear was that he wouldn’t be there for them
,
and though he had no regret in serving his country
,
he envied me because I didn’t have the added worry of leaving behind any children.
That’s when it hit me—every soldier with kids waiting for them at home has this fear.
Worse
,
there are countless kids who’ll be forced to grow up never knowing their fathers.
This was my single motivating factor when I re-upped
,
Luce.
Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight at the time
,
but in my grief I believed I could fill a space that might otherwise be taken by a family man.
I
did it in honor of my friend
,
and my country.

The one thing I forgot to do
,
though
,
was think about you.
And that’s unforgivable.

That leads me to the question of my loving you.
Lucy
...
My lover.
My partner.
My reason for being.
The only time I feel my heart beating is when I’m with you
,
so I think I must only be alive when we’re together.
Everywhere I look
,
I
see you.
The only dreams I remember are of you.
I
get a whiff of sweetness or spice
,
and I instantly crave you.
To hold you.
To taste you.
To look into your beautiful sky eyes and tell you that I love you.
Because I do
,
my sweet Lucy.
I’m sick at heart
,
knowing my actions made you feel unloved.
You’re not unloved
,
baby.
I’ve adored you since we were kids.
No man has ever loved a woman more than I love you.

I
want to prove that to you.
By now you’ve probably found the ring I sent along with this note.
It’s just a simple thing I picked up at the PX
,
but I wanted you to have something that showed you how serious I am.
The smartest thing I’ve ever done was marry you
,
and though I haven’t proven myself to be the best husband
,
you are without a doubt the best wife any man could wish for.
Should I be lucky enough to get through these next few missions that are now ahead of us
,
I
want to renew our vows when I get home.
I
need to promise to cherish you forever.
This time around
,
I
swear I’ll make damn sure I do a better job of it.

I
have to sign off for now
,
my love.
The next few weeks are going to be kind of bad
,
and I’m praying things go well.
You said you’d never forgive me if I get hurt
,
so I promise to be extra careful.
Being in the doghouse with you is bad enough without adding injury to it!
Just know that I’ll do my best to come back to you
,
and that no matter what happens
,
your loving me has made me the happiest man in the world.

Lucy had to blink the tears out of her eyes to read the last part, oblivious as they dripped off her cheeks. Every word was a balm to her wounds, and in relief she closed her eyes. She had been loved. It didn’t change anything, but at least she knew, finally. She had been loved.