Page 10 of Forever My Soldier

Time was passing me by and I still couldn’t bring myself to ring it. I was just about to take my finger off of it when, instead, I clicked it. I didn’t know if it was a conscious decision, but I did it, nevertheless. It was too late to turn back now.

Or was it?

I considered leaving, even turned around, hoping to get back to my car and drive off before anyone answered, but was stopped from taking another step when I heard Deacon’s deep, sexy voice. “Hello?”

I was frozen, stuck in place, unmoving, but ready to bolt. If only my feet didn’t suddenly feel like they were filled with lead.

“Wait,” he said.

Don’t turn around. Just keep walking.

“You dropped something.”

I could sense him approaching, coming closer. I was certain of it, my body just knew, even without turning around. It was as if my whole being was so completely tuned into him, I just knew. Yet, I couldn’t turn around.

I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder and my body quivered at his touch.

Don’t do it.

I took a deep, steadying breath and let my eyes zero in on his hand. So close, he was so close.

Don’t turn around.

His warmth spread through me like wildfire, and it felt amazing, even in the boiling heat of this Florida day. Just one look, that was all I needed.

It’s going to lead to nothing but heartache for you.

But there was no stopping me. Not anymore. I had to see him, touch him, talk to him. It was too late because next thing I knew I was turning around to see him clutching a tube of lipstick that must’ve fallen out of my purse when I checked my phone. I didn’t care about the damn lipstick, though. I was completely taken by the look of complete surprise on his battered and bruised face.

Everything else paled in comparison to this moment—getting to see my Deacon after all this time.

Chapter Four

Deacon

In the Armythings changed in a matter of seconds and I’d learned early on to roll with the punches. For the most part. It was when my chopper went down that I really failed at it. All I could think about was my family. I hated thinking about them worrying, especially when I was so damn lucky.

When the chopper went down we lost three of our men on impact and while there were so many bigger concerns that we had to deal with at the time, my heart still ached for those men and their families. Strong, noble, courageous men, friends, that fought to save our country, dead. They would forever be remembered for their bravery, but was that enough? It felt like cold comfort sometimes.

The rest of us survivors went into hiding for a few days. We had to and were fortunate to not have sustained any major injuries so we could without concern. It was safer for us to find a place to go off to than risk enemy fire.

For me, the whole objective suddenly became about surviving, getting home safely. I was so close and so ready to be home, I didn’t want to jeopardize any of that. This time things were different. I was different.

The first time was the most difficult. I ended up in a PTSD program at a short-term residential treatment center. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was what I needed. And I knew it as well as my family did. My father didn’t like it, though, said it was a sign of weakness that his boy shouldn’t have. But I wasn’t going to let my pride, or his, get in the way of getting the help I needed. And because I did get the help I needed, and no longer displayed signs, I was deemed capable to return to duty.

This time, things were better, I was better. I was ready to be a civilian again. For good. I wasn’t getting any more wild ideas about re-enlisting. It was time for me to be home.

I felt a punch on the back of my arm and turned around to see my youngest brother, Colton, watching me stare at an old family portrait that hung on the wall in our parents’ house.

“It’s been a while, right?”

I shook my head and turned to look back at the picture. “Since we’ve all been together? Yeah, I’d say so.”

He smiled. “Maybe we should get a new family photo one of these days, what with our new additions and all.”

“When Wyatt’s back,” I said, thinking about our brother who was still serving.

“Definitely. Mom might want us all to match, though,” Colton said, cringing.

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