Page 33 of Embattled Return

They hung in the bookstore for almost an hour and a half, settling at the coffee shop to peruse what they might buy. Marigold had picked up a new Ilona Andrews book. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes when she saw the book on genealogy. “John will find your family,” she promised. “Save your money.”

Giving her a crooked smile, he set the book aside and pulled a different one from the stack in front of him. “Do you know if this is a good one?”

It was a book on the Denver art scene. “It is, but I suggest you get a second one, as well. Or I can loan you mine.”

“If you don’t mind,” he murmured, lifting his coffee cup and looking at the rest of the stack.

She nodded mutely, wondering if he considered a book loan a commitment.

Don’t stir the pot, Marigold!

The thick, dark hair at his ears flipped out a little, like the band of the hat was constricting them. If she had even the slightest encouragement she would run her fingers through it, putting the waves in order. That was way too familiar, though. Glancing down, she watched his hands flip through the books. They were broad and obviously strong, though looked like they’d been through hell, just like the rest of him.

They each left with a bag of reading material. When they got back to the car, he let her take his bag of books so that he could get in the car. He braced the door when she would have shut it and looked up at her. Even in the dimness of the evening his eyes were beautiful. “Thank you for dragging the bear out of the cave. Honestly, I was going a little stir crazy.”

“No problem,” she murmured, doing everything she could to hide her joy at his words. With a trembling breath, she circled the car and settled in behind the wheel. “It’s going on seven. Are you getting hungry?”

“Not too bad. Maybe we can drive around a little more?”

“Absolutely.”

They left the parking space and she turned right, then another right. “This is Coors Field, where the Colorado Rockies play.” She drove for a few blocks. “And this is the Central Market, a trendy shopping area. The Denver Zoo is that way,” she pointed, “and it’s fantastic.”

Marigold drove him around for almost an hour, showing him landmarks and highlights of the city she’d grown to love in the few months she’d been here. “The snow is pretty epic. I will say that. But there are as many winter festivals and excursions as summer. Bike paths criss-cross the city.”

“I won’t be using those in the near future,” he said shortly.

“Well, you might,” she said carefully. “There are a lot of trikes and even hand bikes out there as well as regular bikes. There’s no reason for you to be trapped in your room, or in a city you know nothing about.”

His jaw tightened at her gently chiding words. “Let me tell you something, Marigold. You may be a little older than I am, but you’re very young and idealistic. After you have to hear a child cry out because your face scared them, or have a guy ask you if it was worth the damage, being over there in the war he didn’t agree with, only then can you tell me how I should live my life. If I want to stay in my hotel room the entire time I’m here, it’s my choice. If I decide I don’t want to deal with the bullshit anymore and put a bullet in my brain, it’s my choice,” he gritted, eyes narrowed in anger. “There’s no walking in my boots. They were blown off me in Afghanistan. Stick to your lane.”

Marigold blinked rapidly, not used to anyone barking at her that way. It hurt her heart, the things that he’d said, because they were surely something he had experienced. “You’re right,” she said eventually, breathing through her watering eyes. “It’s not my place to tell you how to live. I can encourage you to live the life you’ve been given, though.”

Then the bullet-in-the-brain bit sank in, and she turned to glare at him. “And don’t joke about shooting yourself. It’s not even funny.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. And he left it at that. Which scared her even more.

Marigold was a bundle of nerves when they finally pulled into Frog Dog. The parking lot was somewhat crowded, so she had no doubt she would recognize a bunch of the people here. How would Logan react, coming to a place so densely packed with other disabled veterans? She hoped he didn’t think she was messing with him after he’d snapped at her.

“This is a popular little spot for LNF, and they have fantastic food.”

They left the car and headed for the heavy oak front doors of the bar and grill. She held the door open for him and stayed behind, determined to let him choose where they sat. He hesitated, and she could tell he was scoping out the room. For those uninitiated to the Frog Dog, it could be a bit shocking, seeing the obvious veterans crowding the room. There was an older crowd that were regulars, with their black memorial Vietnam Veteran or Korean War hats and even a few old uniform jackets on display. The younger crowd was more dispersed, and there were a few hats, but not a lot.

Logan picked a direction and she followed, not surprised when they ended up in the farthest, darkest corner, out of the line of sight of the many TVs broadcasting sports. Logan took the seat against the wall, leaving her with her back to the room. Marigold knew that was a coping mechanism to deal with unfamiliar surroundings, so she didn’t say anything. Within just a few seconds a waitress approached them, handing them menus.

“Hi guys. Welcome to the Frog Dog.”

It was Ember, Zeke’s fiancée. “Hi, Ember.”

“Oh, hey, Marigold, right?” Ember’s face lit with a smile. “What a unique name. My mom used to love Marigolds. I’m glad to see you again. What can I get you guys to drink?”

“I’ll just do a diet-Coke for now.”

She watched as Ember turned her bright expression to Logan. She was a knockout, with long dark hair and dark, seductive eyes, and an amazing empathy. The woman didn’t even blink at the scars on his face, and Logan seemed a little shocked. “Uh, something draft.”

“IPA or domestic,” she asked.

He frowned, considering. “Something IPA. Light.”

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