Page 8 of Bossy Hero

Leaning across the table, I study the marks closer. They’re in various stages of healing from what I can tell at this distance. Some are yellow and brown, while others are bright purple. It’s obvious the shiner isn’t the first time she’s been hurt in the last few days. I wish I could see her entire face, but she’s keeping one side fairly well hidden.

The waitress returns with my Coke, breaking my stare. “I’ll be back to take your order after I drop these off. The Reuben sandwich is delicious, by the way.”

She breezes over to the corner booth, setting down two colas.

As Leo’s mother glances up at the waitress for what appears to be an offered pleasantry, her hair falls back, revealing a slash across her lower cheek and several black stitches.

That’swhat she was hiding.

The air freezes in my lungs, and my hands ball into tight fists.

This womanneedsprotection.

My initial ire-based curiosity fizzles, leaving only a mournful sadness for the life she’s led. No one wouldchooseto face abuse like this day after day.

This isn’t a choice.

It doesn’t matter why she stayed with that monster all these years. Fuck it. She had her reasons. It’s not my place to judge her. What matters is that she gets away from her husband and stays safe.

And I desperately want to help her do just that.

Now that Leo has been trained by the US military and grown into his enormous body, he’s able to better protect her than he was as a child.

I wonder...

Over bites of corned beef, sauerkraut, and melted Swiss on buttery rye bread, a plan begins to form in my mind. For my future.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way I can help her. And other women like her.

As Mrs. Mason cries into her hands two booths away, I make a silent vow to myself. One way or another, when I leave the Army, I’ll find a way to make this happen. The planning begins now.

I dab at my mouth with a napkin, then ball it up and toss it on my empty plate. My server was right. That was a damn good Reuben.

A few minutes later, Lionheart helps his mother out of the booth and they head toward me. She stays tucked in close to him, her head on a swivel. She’s fucking petrified. Makes me want to beat the shit out of her husband.

I rise from the booth and plaster what I hope is a welcoming smile on my face.

Leo positions himself between us, his body at an angle for introductions. “Sarge, this is my mother, Madeline.” He faces her. “Ma, this is Big Al, my squad leader.”

Keeping the injured side of her face hidden behind her flowing brown locks, she nods and smiles as we shake hands gingerly. She’s timid. Jumpy. Makes sense, considering all she’s been through—whatever it was that sent her down the eastern seaboard seeking refuge.

As if I’m afraid to startle a wounded dove, I keep a gentle grip on her hand. Tender. Like her.

Despite the injuries to her face, she’s beautiful. Stunning. Though tired and puffy, her eyes are the most captivating shade of blue. There are echoes of her son’s gentleness in the set of her smile.

“Nice to meet you, Madeline.” I tip my head at her giant son. “You raised a great man. A damn fine soldier too.”

Leo towers over us both, which is a novelty for me. I’m not short, hence the nickname of Big Al. But he makes me look like a child. Most people are frightened of him at first glance. Until they get to know him. He’s a cream puff on the inside. And looking at this sweet soul in front of me, it’s crystal clear why. Compassion and kindness swirl around her.

How the fuck could someone hurt her? The brutality of man never ceases to amaze me in the worst of ways.

“Thank you for saying that,” she offers, voice meek and timid. A proud smile fastens itself to her face as she looks up at Leo. “I already knew that about him, but it’s always nice to hear.” Her focus falls from her son, and she stares at the floor again. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances. This is embarrassing.”

I wave my hand casually, hopefully reducing her worries. “No need to be embarrassed.”

When she faces me, I home in on her gaze and try to decode her. Looking below the surface comes naturally to me. It always has. And it’s so fucking easy to read this woman. She might as well be an open book.

Pain.

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