Pieces of Broken Time (28 page)

Blake thrust deep, testing her tight walls that wrapped around him like his very own glove. He pounded harder, loving the little moans escaping her lips.

“More . . .”

Jennifer came after a few moments. Her fulfilled cries swept across the silent room while Blake continued his vigorous thrusting.

He held his breath as he felt the release edging closer. He drove into her harder, and his body burned with lust . . . damning lust that needed release.

Blake’s shouts of jubilation still echoed in his ears as he surfaced from the dream. The rude awakening felt hard and sweltering like the wildfire that was still raging inside him.

This is a fuckin’ nightmare!

He jumped out of bed, ignoring the pain in his legs, and ran to the bathroom. He removed the eye patch and splashed cold water on his face, not stopping until he felt nothing.

He had let the woman go, and he deserved to be haunted by the same dreams over and over so he could dwell on the lifetime of regret for his idiocy.

“You’re a fuckin’ moron, Connor.” Blake glared and hated the man staring back at him. The cold water on his face wasn’t enough because his dick was still throbbing like hell.

Blake walked to the shower and, without bothering to remove his shorts, let the running water drown the remnant of his stunted dream.

Damn you to high heavens.

Unlike the happy-ever-after one expected from a romantic novel, his story was on its way to being a horror depiction of a man too dumb to admit that certain things happened for a reason. A dumbass too proud to accept the fact he had to fight for the love of his life.

Sam’s words continued to torture him.

“The fight is very much alive.”

Do I have a fight left in me . . . for Jennifer?

He knew the answer, but the first thing he had to address was his right to love her. She had given him enough reason, yet he had continued to trust his blind belief that she only felt pity. The rest had blurred along the way.

The days followed by weeks that turned into months had been terrifying. Not having her around had been the worst realization for him. Living with his scarred body was nothing compared to the reality that he’d driven Jennifer away.

Aside from his habitual drive-by, misery, self-loathing, and a bottle had been the only constants in his life. Blake still drove by Jennifer’s house on a daily basis. Although he didn’t expect to see her, he had taken comfort in doing what he had promised his friend in the first place.

Today, like the day before, he parked in front of her house. He pulled his cell phone out and dialed Sam. His friend was the person who’d give it to him straight up. No frills and no icing on the top.

“What’s up, my man?” Sam asked.

“Meet me at Waterhole in fifteen minutes.”

There was a brief silence on the phone before Sam answered. “See you there.”

Exactly fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Sam stepped inside.

Once a soldier, always a soldier.

Blake was already on his second beer when Sam sat down in the booth across from him.

His first order of business was summoning the waitress for a ginger ale. “So what’s up?”

“Pretty much everything,” Blake answered, hating the tightness sweeping around the general area known as his heart.

Sam snorted before he brought his hands together and cracked his knuckles. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table and gave Blake his full attention. “Tell me about it.”

“I miss her so damned much.”

“And? You didn’t see this one coming?”

“It seemed like the best thing to do, bro.”

“Well, I knew it was just a matter of time ’til you realized you acted like an ass.”

“I know.” It was tough to admit that he had screwed up so thoroughly. But he was an unemployed veteran who was disfigured inside as well as out.

“So why am I here? To tell you what you already know?” Sam drummed his fingers on the table.

Blake pounded his fist in response, rattling the bottles and spilling some of the beer on the table. “Fine, I guess I screwed up big time. But why can’t I get her out of my mind?”

His lamentation was met with sympathetic eyes. “Let me ask you this. What do you intend to do for the rest of your life? And don’t lie to me, because I know you well enough.”

The waitress approached their table with Sam’s drink.

Blake waited for her to walk away before he answered. “I don’t know. I guess continue living. Find a job somewhere.”

The future sounded bleak without a concrete plan, but it was all he had. He took a swig of his beer and watched as the bubbles settled inside the bottle.

“Do you see Jennifer in your future at all?” Sam took a long sip from his glass.

“What kind of a question is that?”

His friend chuckled. “Just answer it.”

“Sometimes . . .”

“If you could have her back in your life, would it make a difference?”

Blake stared at Sam and had no idea how to answer, especially since he had avoided the thought. Or maybe it was the fear of hope.

“Of course it would, but look at me. I’m full of self-doubt, I look like a drunken sailor all the time, and I’m fuckin’ hideous.”

“Would you, for one second, admit that you’ll do whatever it takes to get her back?” Sam took another long pull on his ale, downing half its contents in a single gulp.

“I guess I will . . . but I’m so fucked up. Why would she want me?” he asked.

“You’re still fucked up.” Sam laughed, adding to Blake’s annoyance. “Here’s what I think you can do. Get out of the hole you dug for yourself and stop dwelling on the things you can’t change. Call your superior officer and ask for a desk job, or anything that would put you back in the workforce. Then, see a shrink. I doubt I’m much help to you.” Sam winked. “Attend your therapies and try to smile a bit more. You’re not carrying the weight of the world, you know.”

“As easy as that?” He wished things were as simple as his friend made it sound.

“No. It won’t be easy. First, get that damn chip off your shoulder and take all the help you can get. Next, understand it’s going to take a lot of perseverance and patience on your part, but it can be done. I have faith in you.”

“What if I fall flat on my face?” Blake could barely swallow around the lump in his throat, but if he was going to start anywhere, he may as well start with his worst fear.

“Stop screwing around. Go get her if you want her, instead of hiding inside your house like a hermit waiting for Armageddon.”

“Screw you.” Although Sam was right, he hated hearing it.

“Sure, Blake, go right ahead. Don’t you think I don’t feel your pain, bro? We’ve been together for a long time, and I know you as well as I know my dick.”

Blake grimaced at the mental picture while Sam smiled.

“Stop being a pussy and pursue the woman. If she is the one who can ring your bell, just do us all a favor and snap out of that asshole act.”

“You make it sound so easy. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“The ball’s in your court. It’s time to go out and play.” Sam looked pretty pleased with himself.

“I don’t think I can handle a rejection.” Blake sighed.

“If she rejects you, you’re better off than where you are now. It’s better than not trying at all. When you’re all straightened out, let me know and I’ll tell you where to find her.”

Chapter 24

Blake left the bar after two beers, with a whole new perspective. The talk with Sam had given him a direction that had been too blurry for him to see at first, but with his friend showing the map and a few coordinates, he knew what he had to do. If he could break away from the uncertainties that plagued him, it wouldn’t be difficult. He simply had to look at this with an open mind—as a challenge— to better himself and reach a level where he could offer himself to the woman he loved. There were many things he needed to do and one person to talk to so he could start clearing the air once and for all.

Baby steps.

When Blake turned onto his street, he noticed a black Crown Victoria parked in front of his house. As he rolled closer, he saw the official government license plate and his heart skipped.

He parked and jumped out, feeling light on his feet. It looked like one of his baby steps might have come to him instead.

The familiar face of Colonel Norwalk greeted him as Blake approached the front door. Blake stopped short, snapping into the familiar and surprisingly comfortable greeting. “Sir!”

Colonel Norwalk returned the salute and gave him a broad smile. “Connor, it’s been a while. How have you been?” The man who had been like a father during his military career regarded him with probing pale blue eyes, and Blake felt something coming.

“I’m fine, sir.” He opened the front door, and Drew came scuttling out to greet him and then approached his visitor with caution. “Easy, boy,” he said to the dog, and then turned to the colonel. “Make yourself comfortable while I let this one out.”

He led Drew to the back and opened the slider then returned. “This is a pleasant surprise, sir. What can I do for you?”

Colonel Norwalk was lounging comfortably with his legs crossed when Blake walked in. He uncrossed them and leaned forward as Blake sat down. “We’re not active, so please, call me Lance.”

It felt awkward to call someone he’d respected all his service life by his first name, but this sounded like an order, so he nodded.

“I’m here on official and unofficial business. Let me start with the unofficial.” Lance produced a legal-sized white envelope from the breast pocket of his uniform and handed it to him.

“What is this?” Blake took the envelope, noticed his name on it, and immediately recognized Trent’s penmanship.

“It was among the things sent to Trent’s parents. It landed on my desk last week. Since I was paying you a visit, I decided to bring it with me.” Lance leaned back and seemed to be giving Blake a moment to check the contents first.

He placed the envelope on the coffee table and looked up. “I think I’m ready for the official business.”

“All right. I’m here to offer you a job. Again . . .”

Blake stared at the older man, stunned and unable to form a coherent answer. Just when he thought he’d lost his chance. He coughed and then cleared his throat. “A job?”

“I received word that you have taken steps to rejoin the living.” Lance laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“I keep tabs on my men. I want to see which among them, after life-altering changes, would bounce back fast. I heard from your eye doctor and received the full report from Sam Sweeney.”

Blake clenched his jaw and held his breath as his head spun out of control with all the what ifs.

“The job deals with training new recruits. I’ll give you six months to get back in shape. When I say shape, I mean tip-top, and I want you tight up here.” Lance pointed to his temple. “After that, I want you to report for briefing before you’re given the exact nature of your assignment.”

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Blake remained silent while he tried to digest the information. This was the first step he needed to take charge, instead of playing victim all the time.

“This doesn’t put you on active duty, considering the beating you received out there, but it’s just as good as. Unless you wanted a desk job instead?” The man waggled his bushy eyebrows.

“No, sir,” he replied. In truth, this went beyond anything he’d expected after all that had happened. He had been longing for the familiar scent of exhilaration, the prospect of planning, and an active role in getting things done.

Lance’s eyes softened. “Is that a yes?”

Blake nodded several times, not trusting himself to say the words right away. His eyes began to moisten and that was the last thing he wanted his superior to see.

Lance stood up and walked over to place a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Then we got ourselves a deal. Remember, six months. No more, no less. I want you to show the eager boys what we’re all about.”

Blake stood up and offered his hand. “Thank you for the opportunity to serve again.” His voice was raw with emotions he couldn’t seem to control.

“No thanks necessary.” The colonel shook his hand. “I’ll stay in touch.”

After Lance had left, Blake hurried to let Drew in. “Good news, boy. It looks like I have a job again.”

Drew wagged his tail as if he understood Blake’s happiness.

He patted the dog’s head and gave him his favorite pig ear treat, then he returned to the living room.

Not knowing what to expect, he opened the envelope and unfolded the letter on the familiar yellow-lined notepaper that his friend had used whenever he wrote his letters to Jennifer.

December 10, 2001

Bro,

I have no idea why I’m writing this, but I’ve had a bad feeling lately. I hate to sound morbid, but it feels like something’s coming, and I want to take this time to clear the air between us concerning the last conversation we had about Jennifer.