Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two) (17 page)

The question causes me to reach for my towel
in order to distract from making eye contact. “She doesn't know
yet.”

“Oh?”

Quickly I respond, “She's just been so busy
trying to graduate, I didn't want anything to distract her or ruin
her big day.”

He nods. Skeptical. At this point I can't
blame him. She's the only who doesn't know. I tell myself it's to
protect her that I'm waiting for the right moment. Part of me knows
that's bullshit. I know when I tell her I have to see that
heartbroken look on her face. That my leaving again is real. That
the chance for Michele or some other douche to take my place is a
real threat I can't do anything about. That I can't control. Fuck,
I miss having all the control. I fucking need that control.

“How are things between you two?”

The fact she blew me off for the last two
days starts bouncing around in my head. I put on a cold face. Gotta
conceal the emotions that are demanding for just a fucking minute
to make an appearance. “Good.” Immediately I try to distract, “I
keep meaning to ask, how's Howard?”

“You must really not wanna talk about Haven
to bring him up,” Felix's jab causes us both to let out a low
chuckle. “He's...better. He's got about another week before he's
completed his program. Anna and I are gonna head up the day after
Haven's graduation to help him into his new place. He's got a job
lined up too.”

“Yeah?”

“I pulled a few strings. He's gonna transfer
to a university that way, but in the mean time he's got a low key
job. Should help him stay on the straight and narrow. Who knows
maybe this program really worked. Maybe he's done. Maybe he'll make
a new name for himself in Arizona. Meet a nice girl and settle
down.” I try not to squash his hope. I look away, the sarcasm
waiting to be read in my eyes. I highly doubt the borderline rapist
could make such a drastic change. But. If I can, hell if Haven can,
why can't he?

Cleaning water from my ears, I stare at the
pool; the waves very few. “Maybe.”

Felix clears his throat before he proceeds,
“You okay? You seem a little off.”

“I'm fine.” I rise to my feet and meet his
eyes. “I'm gonna head home. Haven should be headed this way
soon.”

He nods and watches me exit his backyard the
way I came. As soon as I'm home, I take a quick shower, and hustle
to our room to get dressed. I know Haven should be home soon and
don't wanna waste any possible minute with her.

The second my jeans are pulled up over my
boxer briefs, the sound of my cell phone buzzing across the dresser
catches my attention. I quickly retrieve it.

Haven: Gonna study for the final with
M&M. Be home late.

I stare at the two sentences in the text.
I've barely seen her since our night out together. She's never
home. And when she is, I feel like background noise or scenery most
of the time. Our relationship has become a series of passing
moments and texts. I miss the sound of her voice. I miss lying in
bed with her. I miss the days that start and end with her. Fuck, I
get it. School requires her time and attention. I keep telling
myself after she graduates things will get better. Fuck, I hope
they get better. I need them to.

Chucking the phone onto the bed, I march out
of my room, down the stairs, and head straight for the garage.
Frustration and sadness alike pumping through my veins.

My hand lands on the door knob as dad comes
walking through the front door, a small grocery bag in hands. “Hey,
Slugger.”

“Hey.”

A smile comes on his face and I find myself
wishing I had a reason to smile back. “You OK?”

God, I wish people would quit fucking asking
me that. “Yeah, I'm fine. What's in the bag?”

“Had planned on tossing a couple steaks on
the grill. Even got Haven the little one wrapped in bacon.”

Hearing her name causes me to grind my teeth.
Great. It's not just my life she's disappeared from. Refraining
from letting emotions seep to the top I sigh, “She's not gonna be
home for dinner. Studying. Late. Again.”

Dad nods and shrugs. “At least it's almost
graduation time.”

“Thank God for that,” I mutter. Moving his
direction, since he's relocated into the kitchen, curiously I ask,
“Was she this busy while I was away?”

The sound of the fridge door closing is
followed by his eyes meeting mine. His eyes flash away. He's torn.
Between telling me the truth and protecting me is my guess. Folding
his arms across his chest he clears his throat, “At times. It's
just this bad because graduation is right around the corner. I'm
sure things will smooth out once she's finished.”

He's probably right. But what if he's not?
What if this is just the way it's gonna be from now? Dating through
voice mails? Fuck. I just need a minute away from this chaos. Some
fresh air. Something. Anything. “Hey, what do you think about going
out and catching a game?”

Baffled is the immediate look on his face.
His mouth moves but manages not to say anything. Eventually he
croaks out, “Like a baseball game?”

“Yeah.”

After a moment of silence he shrugs. “Sure.
Just uh...give me a minute to change. And you may want to put a
shirt on.”

Looking down at my bare chest, I let the fact
that I'm not wearing a shirt sink it. Maybe that's why Glove is
always losing his shirt; His mind is always somewhere else. Or
maybe he's an idiot. That's probably my guess.

About an hour later, we're sitting in seats,
a beer in his hand and one in mine. I never imagined this would
happen between the two of us. Hell, I figured I would've died in
the field before I ever spent quality time with him let alone at a
baseball game.

I glance over to see him taking it all in. I
know he's watched games on TV since mom's death, but never asked
has been to a game since. I don't know that I want the answer. Part
of me is content in the notion that this is his first since
her.

“You ready to talk about it?”

Confused I tilt my cap up and look at him.
“About what?”

“About what's eating at you.”

“I'm--”

“Fine. I know. That's what you keep telling
everyone, but it's clear to us that weren't born under a rock, you
aren't fine.” My attention glances back to the game that's waiting
to start. “You don't wanna talk about it? Fine. I just need to know
if what's making you “fine” is something that happened while you
were deployed or something here.”

“What does it matter?”

“I remember what it was like on the field,
Slugger. There are some things you can't un-see. And I didn't want
those memories for myself and damn sure don't want them for you.
But if that's the case, I would rather know now so we can talk to
Striker about counseling or possibly--”

“It's not the field, Sir.” I cut him off and
slouch down in my seat.

“So are you gonna talk about it?”

I shrug. I really am fine. Everything will
get better once Haven has graduated and replaced me back to my
rightful spot as her boyfriend instead of this back burner bullshit
hell I feel I'm in.

“Alright.” he lifts his beer to his lips and
takes a long drink. “Then can I ask you something without you
biting my head off?”

To acknowledge him, I raise my eyebrows,
attention still on the game that's moments from starting.

“How are things with Haven?”

I grunt unconsciously annoyed. “Fine.”

“That's what I thought...”

Now becoming irritated with him since all I
wanted was a break away from the chaos romping around inside me, I
roll my head over to him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you’re my son because you
wear jealousy as well as I do.” The comment gets a small chuckle
out of me. So it's not just my hot tempered nature he gave me.
“Look, all I'm saying is if I came home from deployment, for only a
month no less, and my girlfriend was spending all her time with
some other guy, I might be a little agitated too.”

“It's not
just
that,” the words come
out of me before I can stop them. “I feel like I'm losing her and
nothing I do or say can stop it from happening.”

Dad nods, but doesn't say anything for a
while. We stand for the National Anthem. Pride soaring out of both
of us for the great nation we've both served. Once we're seated,
dad grabs another beer from the vendor.

“Have you tried talking to Haven about
it?”

“When? When she's leaving for class? When
she's texting Mandy? When she's focused on chopping up perfect
carrots for dinner? At night when she's barely awake enough to tell
me sweet dreams?”

He takes my outburst better than I imagined
he would. “Communication, Clint, is key. Sounds cliché but it is.
And that's something you have to really work at. And make time for.
Especially when there isn't any.” The advice forces me to rub my
forehead where a small line of sweat is forming from the hat. “You
have to
both
want things to get better. You
both
have
to want to make things work. Takes
two
people to be in a
relationship, Slugger. Don't forget that.”

Not really the lecture I was hoping for from
him. I was hoping for something with a little more...well hope.
Fucking poisonous emotion.

“Slugger, have you told Haven--”

“Not yet.”

Preparing to raise his beer he asks, “Has she
asked?”

Uncomfortable with the question I adjust
myself in my seat. “Asked what?”

“Has she stopped and asked when you're being
deployed again?”

I swallow the guilt. She's barely stopped and
asked me anything more than how is your day since I've been home.
And when she asks that it's more in passing. More like a bridge to
get from her arrival to whatever is she wants to say. When did she
become so self-centered? Can I blame her for it?

“No.”

He lets out a low clearly all-knowing growl.
I watch as he takes a long draw from his beer, whatever else he
wants to lecture right on the tip of his tongue. Damn it. I wish he
would just say what the fuck is on his mind. In fact--

“God, you're fucking annoying. It's just a
seat, not a prom dress!” a familiar voice shrieks loudly, forcing
my body to lean around Dad's.

“What the hell?” my voice mumbles at the
sight of Lordy and Glove stumbling down the steps looking for
somewhere to sit. With a shake of the head I call out,
“Jarheads!”

Lordy and Glove's attention shoots directly
at me, recognizing my voice as I did theirs. To no surprise, both
of their faces light up and they rearrange themselves to head
straight for us instead of wherever they were wondering around
to.

“Well fuck me silly; what the fuck are you
doing here?” Glove says. They approach the row in front of us
that's practically empty, except for the couple at the far end. The
couple I'm trying not to stare at. The couple who reminds me of me
when Haven and I were here. “Figured you be dick deep in--” Dad
clears his throat and grabs Glove's attention. He cringes and
offers him a hand up in apologetic fashion. “Sorry, sir. Didn't see
you there.”

“Its alright.” the corner of his mouth curves
upward.

“What Glove was trying to say...” Lordy
speaks up after giving dad a glance, “was we're surprised that
you're not spending all your time with Haven.”

Hard to spend time with someone who is never
around. Nonchalantly I shrug, “She's got school.”

“You two sitting with us or what?” Dad says
taking the focus off a subject I've had enough of.

“Yeah sure.” Glove plops down in the empty
seat in front of us Lordy beside him. Glancing over his shoulder he
says, “It's been a long time since I've been to a game.”

“I know the feeling.” |Dad glances at me
briefly. “You boys want a beer?”

“Hell yeah,” Glove enthusiastically answers
shoving his hand in his pocket to fish out cash.

“On me,” my dad's declaration is followed by
him flagging over the beer guy, requesting three more since I have
mine still basically full.

Lordy and Glove start spouting facts about
the teams at us, who’s new from last season, how well they've done.
To my surprise, dad chimes in too, making me full aware that he's
been keeping up even if he hasn't been attending.

The four of us enjoy the game, hot dogs, and
a couple of beers. Afterward, we decide to hit up a local sports
bar close by to keep the fun going.

It's close to 11:30 when I finally fall face
first into my pillow. Alone. With a heavy sigh I shake the disgust
I have growing deep in the pit of stomach for going to bed alone.
Again. This isn't a habit I'm sure I can handle much longer. It
kills me to be away from her this long, but I barely got a text in
time span, indicating she clearly doesn't miss me the way I do her.
She's adjusted really well to living without me, but not so much
living with me again. My eyelids fall putting away the chaos of the
questions that continue to tornado across my brain, determined to
destroy inside of me any peace that's left.

There's a bump against my back. I groan.
Another bump. A wriggle. And then stillness. My eyes peel
themselves awake as I glance at the clock beside my bed. 1:55. Are
you fucking kidding me? She's just now getting home? I roll myself
over to see her back facing me; sleep already wrapped her in its
clutches. My body re-positions itself on its side, glad she at
least came home. With my arm snaked tightly around her hip, I bury
my face in her neck, breathing her in. Breathing in these moments
that are so few and far between. And with the first gulp of her, I
smell something that strains my entire body. In jealousy. Hate.
Betrayal. Anger. Loathing. I smell a familiar men's cologne.
Michele's. Rolling away so I'm on my back, I fold my hands behind
my head trembling with resentment all too familiar feeling
streaking at the back of my mind that maybe this isn't
my
girl
any more, maybe it's his.