Soldier On (19 page)

Mom answers on the first ring. “So you are alive.”

“I am.”

We both sigh at the same time. It’s almost comical.

Almost.

“Stephanie—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

A few seconds pass before she answers.

“It wasn’t my place to tell you. Brandon had his reasons for keeping you in the dark. He was afraid of your reaction, and boy, did you prove him right.”

“Well, maybe if someone had told me the truth from the very begin—”

“Stephanie, it wouldn’t have mattered when you found out the truth. Your reaction would have been exactly like this. I knew that. Brandon knew it, too. Any sane person would have wanted to avoid this for as long as possible.”

“So you’re on his side.”

Mom sighs softly. “You are so much like your father.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t. His stubbornness was his least attractive quality.”

My mouth snaps shut. It’s the first time my mom has ever said anything remotely negative about my dad.

“Stephanie, you are an adult now. It’s time you learn that sometimes, there are no
sides
. Everything isn’t always black and white. Sometimes, there’s gray.”

“But I don’t like gray. I like knowing what’s right and wrong. I like knowing what’s real and what’s phony. And Brandon is—”

“Brandon is your gray,” Mom says softly. “The grays are the parts of your life that mold you into the woman you are meant to be. The little, unexpected surprises that catch you completely off guard. Your experiences, your reactions, your feelings . . . they’re all important because they shape you. For too long, you’ve lived on a very safe and secure course. You had a plan, and you’ve followed it to the letter. Now that something has come along to completely knock you off track, you’re handling it very immaturely. And that’s my fault.”

I choose to ignore that my mom just called me immature. I’m too devastated by the fact that she thinks she failed as a mother.

“You’re a great mom. The very best.”

“Not if this is the way you treat the people you love when they disappoint you. I thought I taught you to be compassionate. I can’t believe I raised a daughter who refuses to give someone she claims to love the benefit of the doubt.”

“
Claims
to love? You think I don’t love him?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

It’s a challenge. A gauntlet thrown.

“Stephanie, when you visited, you told me it wasn’t serious, but it
could
be. You said nothing about loving him.”

“Well, I do. I love him.”

“Hmm. So you weren’t completely honest with me?”

“I didn’t lie . . .”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Not to brag, but I’m a pretty smart girl. I can totally tell when my mom has just given me a taste of my own medicine. I’m about to protest that it’s not the same thing, but I don’t waste my breath, because I know in my heart that it is. Granted, I didn’t directly ask Brandon if he was in the military, just like Mom didn’t come right out and ask if I was in love with him. But in both situations, neither of us told the whole truth.

“Sweetheart, you’ve always been afraid to get close to anyone. The only positive, loving relationship you’ve ever really been around is Tessa and Xavier’s, for heaven’s sake. Maybe if I’d remarried . . .”

I’m stunned at the thought that maybe Mom had met someone she might have wanted to spend her life with. “Did you ever want to remarry?”

Mom laughs softly. “No. I’ve always believed you have one great love, and I’d had mine. And, if I’m being honest, I was afraid to love again. You know that quote, ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?’ ”

“Yeah. Alfred Lord Tennyson said that.”

“Well, that may be true, but I had already survived one heartbreak. I wasn’t about to risk it again.”

Sighing heavily, I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

“What do I do, Mom?”

“I can’t tell you what to do. But I can tell you what
not
to do. Don’t give up on him. You see, I didn’t need you tell me that you’re in love with him. He wouldn’t have been sitting in our house—on the anniversary of your father’s death—if you didn’t. I knew you’d tell me when you could find the words. Maybe that’s what Brandon was trying to do. Maybe he was just trying to find the words.”

“I wonder if he’s found them.”

“I don’t know. But if he has, I think you should listen to him.”

We hang up, and before I completely lose my nerve, I find my jacket and head to the living room. A smiling Tessa’s already standing at the door, with a plastic container in her hand.

“Take these with you. Trust me. Brandon will love them.”

I smirk and sneak a peek under the lid.

“When did you have time to bake?”

“Chocolate sandwich cookies are no-bake and take less than fifteen minutes. I
couldn’t
let you go over there empty-handed. It’s Valentine’s Day!”

Holy crap.
“And you’re
here
? Why aren’t you with Xavier?”

“He’s at a game. Besides, I’m with him every night. You needed me.”

I hug her tight. “You’re the best friend ever.”

“I know.”

“But
this
 . . .” I shake the container of cookies, “. . . doesn’t mean anything. I’m just going over there to listen to what he has to say.”

“Got it.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

Tessa gives me a wink, and I take a deep breath before taking my cookies and heading out into the chilly February night.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Brandon

I had no idea television could be so stupid, especially on a holiday. Every freaking channel is showing some puke-worthy romantic movie that reminds losers like me that it’s Valentine’s Day. Without a basketball game on anywhere, my choices are limited to hockey (which I hate) and European soccer (which I hate even more).

You should have gone to the game with Xavier.

Probably, but that would have required a shower and leaving this room—neither of which I’m interested in doing.

I settle on watching
Top Gun
and toss the remote aside. Unfortunately, it’s the scene in the bar when the guys are singing ‘You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling,’ which does nothing to improve my shitty mood.

I bet this is the one 80s movie I won’t find in Steph’s collection.

With a groan, I grab the remote and turn it off. The room is instantly filled with darkness, which is exactly how I like it. Tessa doesn’t, though, so out of respect for her and the fact that she’s allowed me to be an absolute bum for the past three days, I turn on the bedside lamp. The light is too bright, but she says sitting in the dark is sad and depressing.

Lord knows I wouldn’t want to be depressed.

After countless ignored texts and unanswered voice mails, I’m in that weird period in a break-up where you’re just pissed at everything. I don’t know that I can even call it a
break-up
. Were we even together? We’d never really discussed it. Steph and I had just fallen into this easy, comfortable dance. Stupidly, I thought the dance would end with me telling her the truth, and by then, she’d be so in love with me she wouldn’t care that I was a soldier.

It was a stupid plan. Idiotic, even.

For the first time in my life, I had allowed my heart to rule my head. Just like my sister feared, I’d lost my focus and let a girl become more important than everything else.

The best thing you can do for yourself and Steph is forget that she exists. You’ll just break her heart, and doing that will break yours.”

My sister’s words haunt me. Somehow, Christian knew how this would turn out. She realized what a mess I’d make.

Speaking of missed calls . . .

I scroll through my phone. Christian’s called several times today, but I’ve let them all go to voice mail. I can’t talk to her. Not yet. She’d hear my voice, and she’d know. And I’m just not in the mood to hear how she told me so.

I’ve got to get a grip. I know this. I’m skipping class and my early morning runs, and I’m dodging phone calls from Ms. Linda, which means I’ve probably lost my job at the coffee shop. I only go to PT because they’ll kick me out of the program if I don’t. Telling my family—and especially my father—that I’ve been dismissed from the ROTC program would be the ultimate disappointment, and I won’t do that to them.

They shouldn’t suffer just because I’m an idiot.

My stomach growls, reminding me it hasn’t seen food in three days. Knowing I have the apartment to myself and won’t have to deal with their pitiful looks, I finally emerge from the guest bedroom and head to the kitchen.

Xavier and Tessa are good friends. I’m thankful, because without them, I’d be back at my old apartment. The guys would ask too many questions. At least Xavier and Tessa already know the answers, so they didn’t give me any crap. Xavier simply offered me the guest room for as long as I wanted it and told me to make myself at home. And God bless Tessa. She’s tried everything in the world to convince me to eat. Last night, she’d even found a recipe for Kentucky barbeque chicken, hoping something that reminded me of home would actually give me an appetite.

It didn’t.

I’d spilled my guts, and while neither of them had seemed too surprised at Steph’s reaction, I could tell they felt sorry for me. Fewer things piss me off than someone’s pity, but in this case, it was warranted because I was, and still am, a mess.

I broke her heart, and in the process, I broke mine, too.

Just like my sister said I would.

After making myself a sandwich, I hunt in the fridge for a bottle of water before sitting down at the island. I’ve barely taken my first bite when I hear a knock at the door. I ignore it and force myself to take another bite. The knocking continues, and continues, until finally, I toss my sandwich in the trash and head to the living room.

I don’t even bother looking through the peephole.

“Who the—”

My mouth goes dry. Steph’s standing there with red cheeks and wind-blown hair. Breathless and beautiful.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi.”

We just stand there, staring at each other. She looks exhausted, and I wonder if she’s slept at all.

“You look tired.”

“So do you.”

I nod. I can’t imagine how scruffy I look. But I can’t think about that right now. All I can think about is that she’s here. Then I remember she hates me, and she’s just here to see her friend.

“Tessa’s not here. Xavier’s gone, too.”

Steph nods. “I know. She spent the day with me. She . . . forced me to take a shower and eat some soup. Oh, and call my mom. That was a fun conversation.”

I have no idea what to say.
Why is she here?

“Can I come in?” Her voice is soft and fragile, and that’s when I realize she’s nervous. Stunned, I step aside, and Steph walks into the living room. We follow each other over to the couch.

“I brought cookies,” she says as she sits down. “Tessa insisted. Something about it being Valentine’s Day and I couldn’t come over here empty-handed.”

I grin and sit down next to her. “Food is Tessa’s answer to everything.”

“Yeah.” She hands me the cookies, and I open the container. “I have no idea what they are. Chocolate Sandwich . . .
somethings
. I wasn’t really paying attention. I’m sure they’re delicious, though.”

I place the lid back on the plastic container and set it aside. “I’m sure they are.”

“Yeah.” Steph looks down at her hands. “Tessa said you haven’t been eating. Or sleeping. Or working out.”