Operation: Endurance (When the Mission Ends) (16 page)

“Hi. I heard you had a hot date. Has she already abandoned you?”

He laughed low. “No, she didn’t like Brian just standing around watching everyone, so she managed to pull him out onto the dance floor.” He gestured to where the two were dancing. He looked back at her. “You look beautiful tonight. Are you feeling any better?”

“I am. Thanks. Also, I really appreciate you covering classes for me this week.”

His dimples showed as he grinned at her. “You can show your appreciation by dancing with me.”

She didn’t really feel up for dancing, but he looked so hopeful, she hated to turn him down. She’d dance one dance and then turn him back over to Toni for the evening. Unfortunately, they were only halfway through their dance when her cough kicked back up. She felt like she was
going to hack up a lung before the spasms would stop. Pete looked concerned as she pulled him off to the side of the room while she continued to cough. She couldn’t catch her breath.

Suddenly a hand reached around her waist that she knew instinctively belonged to Chris. He leaned down to whisper into her ear, “Relax and concentrate on your breathing. Try to breathe lightly through it until the coughing subsides.”

It worked, but by that time, exhaustion swamped her again. She just wanted to go to bed.

Chris had been shielding her from the crowd with his bulk while she fought for control. “Come on. It’s time for you to find your bed.”

She looked around to apologize to Pete, but he’d disappeared.

Chris was quiet as he drove her home. When they’d walked outside, he’d settled his tuxedo jacket over her bare shoulders. Now she pulled it tighter around her, reveling in Chris’s masculine scent. It took her back to a time that she never allowed herself to think about. If she’d been truly aware, she would have given it back to him just to avoid these memories, but in her feverish mind, she settled into a time, a weekend when Chris had been hers. It was bittersweet and after the emotion of the wedding, it was especially difficult. The tears welled in her eyes, and she shut them as she turned toward the window. She knew her emotions were sitting just under the surface because of being sick, but that didn’t make sitting on the edge of shattering into a million pieces any easier.

She hated that Chris had left the wedding early to take care of her, but knew that it would be useless to argue with him. Exhaustion and weakness pulled at her and she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

She startled as Chris’s truck turned off. She must have dozed off on the way home. She looked over at him to find him frowning.

“I feel like I should be taking you directly to the hospital instead of home,” his voice whispered across the cab of the truck like a caress.

“It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine after a few days sleeping.”

“Have you already let the hospital know you aren’t coming into work tomorrow?”

“Yes, my boss said I could have off until Wednesday and that if I still need more, they can rearrange my schedule. I’ll be fine. Thanks for all of your help this week, though. I know I haven’t been very gracious about it, but I couldn’t have gotten through all this without you.”

He scrutinized her for a moment in the dark. “You know there’s no shame in asking for help when you need it, right? That’s what friends do. I’d like you to think you could count on me if you need it.”

“Thanks, Chris.” She reached for the handle. She could take care of herself, although this
friends
thing with him might just kill her. Actually, it left her feeling like curling up into a little ball and sobbing, but he wouldn’t understand or even want to know that. She had to get away from him as the tears threatened again. “I need to head inside and go to bed.”

Chris followed her to her door. “I don’t want to call you and wake you up tomorrow, but can you promise to text me when you wake up just to check in? Maybe if you’re feeling up for it, I could bring you some chicken noodle soup tomorrow night.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you and let you know.” She handed him his jacket as he turned to go into his townhouse. “Goodnight, Chris.”

“Goodnight, Julie.”

The next day as Chris left for work, he glanced over at Julie’s house. There didn’t appear to be any movement from within and he hoped she was getting some rest. When his nightmares had awoken him at 4:15, he’d checked and there weren’t any lights on at her place. He hoped that was a good sign. He would like to check on her, but he absolutely didn’t want to wake her up, so he’d try to be patient and wait to hear from her via text.

As it was, he had a full day ahead of him at Mad Rob. He and Colton were taking the De Havilland up today after having to reschedule last week. And then this afternoon, he had a follow-up appointment with his urologist where hopefully he would get some answers about his lingering health issues and the fact that he didn’t seem to get an erection anymore.

Chris had just gotten in from the flight with Colton when he finally got his first text from Julie.

It simply said, “Am sleeping. Don’t worry.”

He texted back, looking for more details about her fever and how she felt, but she didn’t respond. He tried not to let that worry him, hoping that she was simply sleeping the day away and recuperating.

By the time he got to his doctor’s office, he was feeling a little nauseous himself. Sometimes no news is better than bad news and he had a feeling that today was going to be nothing but bad news. He was right.

By the time he left, he was reeling from phrases like
decreased blood flow
,
prolonged impotence
, and
implants
. Surprisingly, the most devastating of all was
sterility
. The doctor continued to reassure him that nothing was set in stone and sometimes in cases like these miracles did occur. But after surviving six months of having his balls bashed in on an almost daily basis, he just didn’t think the likelihood of a miracle was going to happen.

He was supposed to head back into Mad Rob after he left the doctor’s office, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to have to face up to Colton or Mick and explain why there was this
horrible devastation gnawing in the middle of his gut, so instead he turned his truck toward home, stopping at the liquor store on the way. He needed something to numb him from the reality of his life tonight.

As he entered his house, he glanced back at Julie’s. He hadn’t heard from her in the last couple of hours, but it looked like everything was quiet. He stood there for a moment and debated knocking on her door rather than heading into his house to get rip-roaring drunk, but she was just another example of how off-kilter his life had become since he’d been taken hostage. Just another thing that he loved wrenched out of his life a year ago.

He let himself into his house, opening the cap of the Scotch bottle as he went. This afternoon’s diagnosis drove the fact home. He’d still had hopes for a future between him and Julie. Oh sure, he knew that right now she was devastated over Aaron’s death, but he’d still had that tiny hope in the back of his brain and heart that someday, they could make a go of it.

But that could never be now. She deserved a family and he wasn’t a guy that could give them to her. He would have to sit back and watch her fall in love with another guy. It had been bad enough watching her with Aaron, but the thought of watching her belly grow with some other guy’s baby was devastating. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t stay here and be friends with her through that. He just couldn’t.

He took a large swig of the potent alcohol directly from the bottle and told himself the tears in his eyes were from the fumes. What was one more little lie to himself? Just like all the other little lies. Like the fact that he could ever have a normal life again. Or the idea that Colton and Jake could count on him. That someday he’d be normal without the horrible, debilitating nightmares killing his peace every night. Or that someday he could be normal with a wife and kids. What a joke. It was all a huge joke played on him by Fate. That bitch hated him.

He finally made it to the kitchen where he grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and filled it. Oh God, he’d never have intercourse again. Never be able to enjoy a woman’s lush curves or her soft sighs as she came to climax. That single day with Julie had been the best day of his life. He’d just had no idea that day would be his last truly happy one. He slung back another burning swallow, stumbled back to his bedroom, and slumped down the wall, settling to the floor where he stared morosely at the bed while he drank.

The phone rang ten minutes later. Levering himself up off the floor, he stood, surprised at how unstable his balance already was. He looked down at the bottle. He’d already made a pretty good dent in it.

“Chris, are you there?” Cassie’s worry-filled voice floated across the apartment. “Pick up. What’s going on? I tried your cell, but you’re not
answ—”

Dammit
, of course Cassie would sense that he was upset. He stumbled toward the machine and turned the volume off. He should have been expecting it and hated that he could manage to screw up her honeymoon. After digging his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, he quickly texted Cassie. “Don’t worry, just jammed my thumb. Give Jake a kiss for me.”

She probably wouldn’t buy it, but his brain was already too fogged by alcohol to come up with anything better. At least she would know he was alive and not bleeding to death in an alley, although at this point, that might not be such a bad thing. Damn, he probably should slow it down on the Scotch, if he was having thoughts like that.

He left the Scotch on the counter and flung himself onto his couch, turning on the TV. The room spun as he tried to focus on it. He flipped through the channels and literally gasped when he came across the movie that he’d watched with Julie on Valentine’s Day. Sitting there watching it, he was completely transported to a day over a year ago, watching it with her in his arms, a fire roaring in the fireplace, snow falling outside. As he rubbed across his face, he was surprised to find it wet with tears. What had he done so wrong to the universe to deserve to lose everything?

He awoke to Colton’s voice. “I’m in his house now, Cass. Besides being drunker than a skunk and passed out, I think he’s okay.”

Chris could hear the sound of something being poured down the sink. That was probably the rest of his Scotch. He sat up and rubbed at his face. The room continued to spin and he fought back the nausea that came with it, swallowing hard.

Colton came and stood in front of him, scowling, with the cell phone to his ear. “Yeah, he’s waking up. I’ll stay here tonight. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him. Try to tune him out and enjoy your honeymoon, okay, sis?”

After hanging up the cell phone, Colton crossed his arms and continued to stare down at him. “Do you want to explain what happened?”

Chris laughed loud and bitter. “Nope.” He stood and then lurched a little, until Colton grabbed him to steady him. He headed toward the kitchen, hoping he was wrong about the demise of the Scotch. Colton dogged his steps, seemingly ready to catch him if he stumbled again. And wasn’t that always the way with Colton? He was always there to take care of them all. “I’m okay. Go home to Pen.” He looked in the trash can and pulled out the now empty bottle and scowled at his older brother.

“I don’t think so.”

Chris staggered to the refrigerator, opened it and grabbed a beer.

Colton immediately snatched it out of his hand. “I think you’ve had enough.”

Grabbing another, Chris replied, “I don’t really care what you think.” He shoved past Colton, not really caring how hard he hit him as he walked past into the living room.

He could feel Colton’s stare on the back of his head as he flopped back down on the couch. Damn, he really hated it when the room spun like this. He leaned his head back against the couch and started flipping channels.

“Something happened. You were fine when you left work this afternoon. Now it’s 7:30 at night and you’re falling down drunk. This isn’t you, Chris. Tell me what happened.”

Chris didn’t want to think about this afternoon. He didn’t want to think about the nightmares. His lost dreams. The mess his life had become. He just wanted to find oblivion, just for a few hours or days. Was that so much to ask? He took a long draw off his beer, ignoring the queasiness that ensued because of it.

Colton yanked the beer out of his hand.

“Hey!” Chris yelled as he tried to stand, but was less than successful. It just wasn’t worth the effort. He stumbled toward his bedroom. “Go home, Colt. I don’t want to talk. Just go home.” He slammed his bedroom door, unbuttoned the top of his jeans, flopped on his bed, and tried not to think about the last time he’d had sex. With Julie. On Valentine’s Day. Fifteen months ago.

* * *

Chris sat straight up in bed. Oh my God. What was that horrible noise and why were there little people in his head trying to drive pick-axes through his skull in time to it? He tried to groan, but it came out more as a whimper as his stomach suddenly lurched and he dove toward the bathroom and toilet. As he sat on the bathroom floor worshipping the porcelain god, it occurred to him that a few hours of oblivion weren’t worth this.