Waiting for You (11 page)

She leaned back in her chair and slid her hands into her jeans pockets. “Of course my mom never came for me. I was always shy in school, and before I met Allison I didn’t have any good friends. I used to get so lonely…” She shook her head. “Back then, it was hard to believe the world was a good place. And when I grew up and started to look past my own experience, I saw plenty of evidence that it’s a terrible place. Disease and violence and poverty…and people out there much lonelier than I had ever been.”

His heart tightened in his chest. He’d met Erin’s dad a few times and he seemed like a taciturn man, but Erin had never talked about her home life and he hadn’t known what it was like.

“Was that why you used to come over so much? When we were kids?”

Erin nodded. “I loved your house. Meeting your family made me think there might be some good in the world, after all. You were all so good to me, so good to each other. So warm and kind and generous. I don’t know if you realize how lucky you are, having the family you do.”

“Yeah,” he said in sudden bitterness. “I’m real lucky.”

She stared at him, startled, and he took a deep breath. Erin didn’t know how much he hated that word, and he wasn’t about to explain it to her.

“Sorry,” he said. “What do you say we change the subject?” He checked his watch. “It’s almost six. Can I buy you a hamburger or something?”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m meeting someone for dinner.”

He struggled to keep his reaction from showing in his face. “Patrick?”

She shook her head again. “No, not Patrick. I probably won’t be seeing him again. This is someone else.”

He had no right to ask her who. He had no right to feel a wave of jealousy so powerful he could hardly breathe.

So he just thanked her again for the website and walked her out to her car, when what he wanted to do was take her in his arms and make her forget that any other man existed.

But that was something he couldn’t do.

***

His night at home was as bad as he’d expected, with images of Erin torturing him. One of these days, she’d go on a date with someone she liked. Someone she could fall in love with. Someone who could be all the things for her that he couldn’t.

It might even be the guy she was with tonight.

Erin deserved that. She deserved to fall in love, get married, have kids.

But until then…

Not that I wouldn’t consider having a one-night stand. I would, if it was the right one-night stand. If there was really great chemistry, and…all that.

He’d replayed those words in his head a hundred times since Erin had spoken them. He knew why, too. He was trying to convince himself that he could have what he wanted so much it was like a slow burn in his blood.

One night with Erin Shaw.

He might not have much to give emotionally, but he could give her something else. He could make sure that her first time was good—physically, anyway.

Better than good.

Of course he could never act on his desire. Even if she’d said she’d consider a one-night stand, Erin deserved a hell of a lot more than that.

And it would wreck their friendship. He’d already crossed the line with their conversation that night at O’Malley’s, after she’d made it clear she didn’t want to talk about her love life with him.

Losing Erin’s friendship wasn’t a sacrifice he was willing to make. Not for one night—even if he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about what that night might be like.

He’d gotten to that point in his thoughts when his phone rang. It wasn’t a number, or even an area code, that he recognized. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone so he let it go to voicemail, and when a beep indicated a message had been left he listened to it.

“Jake, this is Angie Fiorello. I—”

He snapped the phone shut before he could hear any more.

Erin was forgotten. Pictures came crowding into his head, pictures he’d learned to keep at bay during his waking hours but that still haunted him at night.

Dan in Tikrit, helping him pull bodies out of rubble. Dan fighting alongside him in an Afghan village. Dan laughing and cracking jokes back at the base, his face glowing whenever he showed him pictures of Angie and Paul. Dan refusing to leave him alone after they got the news about Hope.

And a year and a half after Hope died, Dan flipping a coin and watching it come down tails, never knowing he was signing his own death warrant.

Jake didn’t know how much time passed before he was finally able to listen to the rest of Angie’s message.

“I’m sorry to call you, but…it’s Paul. He’s been acting out, getting into trouble at school. I thought maybe if you had time…if you could come for a visit, or even just give him a call…get him to talk about Dan. It’s been six months, and he still refuses to go to grief counseling. This morning I got a call from school and he’s been suspended for fighting. Jake, I’m so sorry to bother you with this but I don’t know what else to do.”

For a long time after he listened to Angie’s message, Jake sat on the couch with his head in his hands.

It hurt to breathe. It felt like he was back in Afghanistan, the first few weeks after Dan’s death.

He would have traded his life for Dan’s in a heartbeat. He still would.

He felt the weightlessness again. Nothing held him to the earth, nothing held him to life. He was already a ghost, with nothing left to do but haunt the living.

Dan had had so much to live for. He’d been so much more than the Army, so much more than the mission. He was a fine soldier, one of the bravest and best Jake had ever served with, but he’d always said that being a husband and father was just as important…and just as tough.

And now Angie and Paul were alone.

After what felt like a long, long time, Jake remembered that he had a bottle of vodka in his freezer. He’d had a scary night a few months back when he’d drunk too much and woken up on his bathroom floor. After that, he never had more than one drink if he was home alone…and he was always home alone.

But now he went to the kitchen and got out the bottle. It was misted over with cold, so icy it numbed his fingers.

He didn’t bother with a glass.

***

“So, how long have you been volunteering at the clinic?”

Dr. Frank Ellison finished his bite of steak and washed it down with a sip of red wine. “Three years. It’s an excellent program. We’re affiliated with the local Veterans’ Center and the hospital.”

“And most of your patients are dealing with combat-related stress?”

“That’s right. I deal principally with cases of PTSD and TBI.”

Erin nodded. “Post traumatic stress disorder and…what’s the other one?”

“Traumatic brain injury.”

“And are you able to help them? Your patients?”

“Most of them, yes.” Frank smiled at her across the table. “I must say, it’s refreshing to be out with a woman who’s actually interested in what I do. Most of my dates couldn’t care less about the issues veterans have to cope with when they come home. It’s obvious that you have a great deal of compassion, as well as intellectual curiosity.”

Erin stared at him, confronted with a sudden realization.

She wasn’t intellectually curious about his work…or about him. She wasn’t interested in him at all, in fact. At least, not romantically.

She was interested in him because he counseled veterans. She was using this nice man…using him for information that might help her understand Jake.

“Frank.”

“Yes?”

“I have a confession to make. I’ve realized, just this moment, that I’m a terrible person.”

Her date looked indulgently amused. “I doubt that very much. What makes you think so?”

“My only excuse is that I didn’t realize it until now…at least not consciously. But the fact is…I have this friend. This friend who just got out of the Army a few months ago and has some…”

“Issues?” Frank finished for her, after a moment.

“Yes. Some issues. And when we started talking that day at the gym and I realized you have firsthand knowledge of this stuff…” she bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t set out to…to…”

“Pump me for information?”

“Well…yes. If you want to get up and leave right now I’ll completely understand. I—”

“Erin, don’t be silly. There’s no reason we can’t enjoy the rest of our dinner together. And I don’t mind answering any questions you have about combat-related stress. I had an ulterior motive in being here, too, you know. So we’ll call it even.”

“What ulterior motive?”

“Do you really have to ask? A woman as beautiful as you are?”

Erin blushed, and Frank laughed. “So, no harm done. Go ahead and tell me about your friend.”

***

On Friday night she was a few minutes early to meet Mark and Jake at the restaurant they’d chosen, but Mark was already there. He looked worried, and told her that Jake hadn’t come to work that day and hadn’t returned his calls.

They waited for half an hour, and then Erin tried Jake on her phone. The call went straight to voicemail.

“Maybe we should check on him,” she said to Mark.

Mark thought about it. “If both of us go to his place, it might seem like we’re ganging up. Jake doesn’t talk to me, anyway. But he might talk to you. I think you’d have better luck on your own. But if you want me to go with you, I will.”

“I don’t mind going alone.” She hesitated. “What do you think is going on? Has anything like this happened before?”

“A couple of times,” Mark said. “Back when he first got home, he went on a couple of…binges. He’ll do some heavy drinking and kind of…withdraw. But that hasn’t happened in a while. He’s been doing a lot better ever since…” he trailed off, looking at her. “He’s been doing better,” he finished. “So maybe he just has the flu, or something. Do you know where he lives?”

She didn’t, so Mark gave her the address.

“If he needs anything, give me a call. Okay?”

“Okay.”

As she drove to Jake’s apartment, she thought about what Frank had told her yesterday, what Allison had told her a few weeks ago. Would Jake ever consider seeing a counselor? Or would that seem like a weakness? He was such a strong, self-reliant man…could a man like that ever admit he might need help?

It almost seemed, sometimes, like Jake didn’t believe he deserved to be happy. And if that was the case, then he’d never ask for help. He’d just go on living in darkness.

The address Mark had given her was a large house that had been remodeled into apartments, one on each floor. She saw Jake’s truck and his Harley in the driveway.

He had the ground floor apartment, and she went to the door and knocked. She waited a minute and knocked again. She was about to knock a third time when the door opened.

Jake stared at her blankly. He wore a pair of jeans and no shirt, and there was a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw. His eyes were bloodshot.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice sounded rusty, like he hadn’t used it in a while.

Erin’s scalp prickled. “You were supposed to meet Mark and me for dinner.”

He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I was?”

“Yes. You were. When you didn’t show up or answer your phone, we got worried. So I came to check on you.”

His hand dropped to his side. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“You…” he shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to see all this.” He gestured vaguely at the apartment behind him, but when Erin looked, it wasn’t cluttered or messy—in fact, it seemed curiously empty, with very little furniture and nothing on the walls.

“All what? What shouldn’t I see?”

“Any of it.”

He didn’t invite her in but he didn’t seem in a hurry to send her away, either. When he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the doorjamb Erin stepped a little closer and took a breath.

Alcohol, definitely…along with the musty odor of stale sweat.

“Are you drunk?”

“I should be. I’ve been drinking for a while.”

He opened his eyes again and focused on her. Slowly, as if he couldn’t help himself, he reached up and touched the side of her face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

Her breath caught in her throat. “I’d be more flattered by that if you were sober,” she said, ducking under his arm to enter his apartment.

There wasn’t a lot to see. It really was empty in here, with nothing more than a couch and a TV, a table and a chair by the wall, and a bookcase holding technical manuals.

Other than that, nothing. No pictures on the walls, no knick knacks or mementos anywhere. Nothing personal; no sign that the person who lived here had friends or family. If Jake ever decided to pack up and move he could be out of here in less than an hour.

It was a warm May night, but Erin shivered. She wished she’d known he was living like this. But even if she had, what would she have done about it? Started decorating Jake’s apartment and bringing over family photos? That would have gone over big.

She turned to face him. “What happened, Jake?”

He didn’t answer her question. He reached out and closed his hand over her ponytail, and before she could stop him he’d pulled off the elastic so that her hair fell tumbling around her shoulders.

His fingers combed through it once, like the night of Allison’s wedding. A wave of sensation shivered her skin.

“Do you remember your sweet sixteen party?” he asked. His hand was still in her hair, and she stiffened to keep from trembling. “I’d come home on leave the week before. The first time I saw you, you and Allison were going swimming at the lake. You were wearing these cutoff shorts and a blue bikini top…” He closed his eyes. “I felt like such a jerk for noticing. You were only sixteen, and I was leaving in two weeks.”

She swallowed. “Jake—”

“And then at your party.” His eyes opened again. “You were Allison’s friend…and so innocent. I knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop me from kissing you.”

“Jake, you don’t—”

“You’re still innocent,” he said, his gaze tracing over her face. “And I still shouldn’t kiss you. But when I’m with you, it’s all I can think about.”

It was torture to listen to this. Her foolish heart was soaring, but she knew his defenses were only down because he was drunk. Once he was sober again, he’d regret saying all this to her.