Page 42 of Moonlight Feels Right
"That's great news. Want to grab a coffee?"
"Sure."
Several minutes later, they took their coffees to a table in the cafeteria. "Are you back with your unit?" he asked Mike.
Mike's expression shifted subtly. "I'm with the 463rd now. Good group, but different."
Hunter understood the sentiment. He knew he'd be reassigned as well. His team had a new leader now, and he would likely be assigned to a different unit. After years of forging unbreakable bonds through countless missions and shared dangers, he'd be starting over with people he didn't know and would have to learn how to trust.
Mike took a sip of his coffee, then added, "I couldn't wait to get back to duty, but when I did, it felt strange. Physically, I was fine. But I'm not the same person I was. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
Hunter was surprised by his admission. Most soldiers who returned to duty proclaimed to be even better than they were before.
"Don't get me wrong," Mike continued. "I'm very good at my job. I make mission decisions with no hesitation, no weakness. But my outlook is different than it was. I can't really explain it."
"You don't have to explain it. I get it. You can't go through what we've both gone through without being changed in some irrevocable way. But maybe we are better for having to fight for survival…not just our lives but also our careers."
"I'd like to think so." Mike paused. "It was even worse for you because you lost Gary. He was one of a kind, wasn't he? Courageous, sometimes reckless, always friendly, and man, could he talk about nothing and make it sound like something."
He smiled, thinking about Olivia. "His daughter is a lot like him."
"That's right. He had a kid. How's she doing?"
"She's hanging in there."
"And Gary's wife?"
"Bree is having a hard time," he said, not wanting to get into the particulars. Not that he knew the particulars since he hadn't spoken to Bree since she'd left. She'd refused to return any of his calls or answer his texts.
"That's rough. So, when's your medical evaluation?" Mike asked.
"Wednesday is the physical. Psych evaluation next Monday."
Mike nodded. "The physical part's easy. It's the head stuff that's tricky." He paused, taking another sip of coffee. "Have you ever considered not going back?"
"No. Did you?"
Mike shook his head. "I'm not trained for anything else."
"I feel the same way."
"I figured. We're cut from the same cloth, both lifers."
For some reason, the word lifers bothered him, even though he'd always thought of himself that way. He'd gone into the military with the idea that it would be his career, just like his dad and his brother. But it could be a rootless life and somewhat insular, and he was starting to realize how good it felt to have a group of friends from different walks of life.
This past weekend, he'd spent time with Liam, a former professional surfer. He'd talked to Paige about her nursing job and learned that Lexie had given up a high-powered attorney job to become a freelance photographer, something she loved doing even if it didn't make the same amount of money.
He'd also realized how often he judged people on one or two characteristics that didn't define them at all, like Emmalyn, who had so many layers underneath her sweet smile that he couldn't wait to keep unraveling them.
"Anyway," Mike said, interrupting his thoughts. "I gotta run. If you ever need to talk to someone who gets what you're going through, I'm around. Give me a call. We can get a real drink."
"Thanks," he said, but he knew he wouldn't call Mike. He needed to get through these challenges on his own, not because he was refusing help, although it was partly that. But it was because no one else could make him feel ready. He had to do that himself.
However, he could find comfort in the fact that Mike had returned to duty. It wasn't impossible, but Mike's injuries had not been as extensive as his, nor had the circumstances of his crash, which had occurred on a training exercise due to technical issues. His helicopter had been shot out of the sky and his best friend had died. He'd been lucky to survive. Now he had to make sure he didn't waste that luck.
Monday afternoon, Emmalyn drove to La Jolla after school got out. She'd texted with her aunt and knew her mother had gone to the medical appointment Linda had made for her and had done some tests, but she didn't know any of the results yet.
On the way to the house, she stopped to pick up flowers and a dark chocolate bar that she remembered being one of her mom's favorites. She had no idea if she even ate chocolate anymore because sweets had been restricted at the farm. But she wanted to do something to make her feel special. Her mom was in such a fragile state; it was hard to drum up the anger she'd once felt toward her. Now it was pity and sadness for so many wasted years.
