Page 55 of Defending What is Mine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jack:Present—Early May

Staring out at the endless sea of clouds, I watch them quietly disappear beneath the wing while the reality of coming home has me doing mental gymnastics in my head. Is this the last time? Or will my path end up like Frank’s, moving away to forge a completely different life with the woman I love? Almost as soon as the thought materializes, I know the answer. For Sam, yes, yes, and yes again. I’d happily follow that woman to the ends of the earth—probably staring at her ass the entire way. But, in my defense, she really knows how to wear a pair of jeans.

I glimpse a swath of green through a break in the canopy and realize that somewhere below us right now are countless acres of farmland. I mourn the homes destroyed by the insane weather that spring brought with it. I wonder if the ground has dried enough that farmers still have hope of planting spring crops. I worry for all the families who are struggling and for the relationships stretched to their limits. Their mettle tested by nature’s inexorable push forward.

How many hearts have broken? Will break? How many good relationships have faltered? And all because of forces beyond our control. I recognize the parallels to my own situation. No matter how much I wanted things to be different, life had other plans. Sometimes that’s the way of it. I feel physically sick to my stomach to think that Sam and I almost fell victim to it too. That I almost let the best thing that’s ever happened to me slip right through my fingers.

How many other loving relationships could have endured, if only they’d realized that, in each other, they had the only things that truly matter?

* * *

The nose of the plane dips as we begin our descent into Denver International and I wonder if there’s any snow left at the ranch, or if it’s melted and left the pastures their usual, muddy mess. The wheels contact the runway, jolting everyone upright, and I wonder if my outpatient therapist will be as big a pain in the ass as Derek. And I wonder if they’ll even be half as effective.

* * *

The plane bumps and bobs as it taxis toward the terminal. When the structure comes into view, I’m reminded of the day I left, and the realization strikes me as funny. The last time I looked at this building was through the eyes of a soldier heading off to war, at odds with how to fit together two of the most important—if not diametrically opposed—aspects of his life.

Now, coming home I have the benefit of perspective. Now I understand how life made that decision for me. And I’m surprisingly alright with it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this is exactly the same path I would have chosen for myself, but…hey, at least I still get the girl.

After the plane parks and the flight crew rattles off their goodbye spiel, everyone around me rushes to stand so they can dig their bags out from under seats or overhead bins. Having done this enough to know the initial stampede never really gets you off the plane any faster, I patiently remain in my seat, pull out my phone, and power it back on so I can text Sam and let her know I’ve landed. Before I have the chance to unlock it, I find she’s beaten me to the punch.

Sam: Hey handsome, I’m really wishing I could be there to greet you. But thanks for understanding about Nessa’s play.

Sam: I’ll be sure and snap a pic for you while she’s still in costume.

Sam: P.S. Sorry, can’t stop giggling remembering her calling your uniform a costume.

Something about hearing from her, even through text, sets my heart free.

Me: Plane just landed. Can’t wait to see you tonight.

Me: Please wish Nessa best of luck for me.

When there’s finally enough room for me to stand, I angle toward the aisle to stretch my aching back and feel an oddly familiar anxiety rising in the pit of my stomach. It’s nothing to do with Sam, or life after the military. Truly. I made my peace with all that back in Baltimore. Seeing the love in Sam’s eyes, after everything I put her through…well, if that can’t bring purpose back to a man, I can’t imagine what could. No, it’s because it just hit me that Gabe is the one picking me up today and, for the first time since my accident I’m realizing that he and Hank are going to have the time of their lives searching out ways to give me shit about my prosthetic. God, why are so many men still such little boys?

As I make my way through the terminal, my duffel slung over my shoulder, I look around and smile, thinking about how coming home has always been such a special feeling. That is, until my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I stop to check the message.

Gabe: Can’t believe Mom guilted me into driving all the way down here to pick you up

Gabe: I’m waiting at security so try and hurry up!

Gabe: P.S. In case it isn’t clear…I’m in a shitty mood

Gabe: P.P.S. Also, shitty mood or not, I’m really glad you’re home

Something about this is giving me the strangest sense of déjà vu. I shake my head, shove my phone into my jeans, then hoist the duffel back over my shoulder and double time it toward security. Looking forward to seeing you too, big brother.

I spot Gabe in the crowd a good fifty yards before I reach him and his body language says he wasn’t joking in his text. He looks like he’s in more than just a shitty mood. He looks downright pissed off.

Not the warm, loving reception one hopes for, but alright.

When Gabe notices me, though, his demeanor changes instantly, his scowl shifting into a smile as his eyes soften. I cautiously raise a hand and nod, and he’s talking to me before I’m close enough to hear what he’s saying.

“Hey, brother. Sorry to put you out by having to come get me.”

Gabe dismisses the statement with a wave of his hand then takes the duffel off my shoulder and wraps his free arm around my neck, pulling me into him. “Don’t be an idiot. It’s an honor to be the one coming to get you.”

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