Randall’s lips turned down. “And your college debt?”
“I didn’t serve long enough to meet the conditions for its discharge. I came out of my service with as much debt as I went into it with, and then added medical debt onto that. I figure I’ll climb out of that hole three lifetimes from now.” Another grin to give permission for tension release.
My father-in-law didn’t bite. “That’s a bunch of bullshit, son. They should have at least paid off the debt like they said they would.”
“I get the idea the person who handled my paperwork was a Neil Derlega supporter. I’m probably lucky they didn’t charge me for the backboard in the Jeep.”
Jackson flexed his hand on mine to catch my attention. When I turned to him, I could see mischief in his eyes. “You said they promoted you. What rank did you discharge at?”
“Corporal,” I said, confused but happy to answer. If he wanted to play rank games later and give me orders naked, I’d bust myself all the way down to private.
The smirk that lit his face turned my Jackson into the Devil himself, and did funny things to the fit of my pants. “Hear that, Laramie? He not only served, heoutranks you.”
At that, Randall burst into laughter. “He does, at that! All this time, you’ve been disrespecting a superior officer!”
That’s not how that works. I’d been discharged, Laramie was still active. He had a long career ahead of him, if he kept his head down when the lead started flying. Still, that washilarious.
Right up until I saw the look on Laramie’s face. His expression had hardened to the point where I worried about laser eyebeams shooting out to fry me. Before, I’d wondered about if he’d turn family reunions into ordeals. Now, I pondered if I’d need to hire a taster to check all future Thanksgiving dinner plates for poison.
No, Laramie would never like me. He would never respect me. If I were very lucky, he wouldn’t make my life a living Hell – and you’ve seen how my luck runs.
13AND GIVE ME TWENTY
Jackson’s parentshad an adorable guest house on the property for when relatives came to stay. They’d get an aunt from out-of-state sometimes, or one of their adult children would bring a date home and refuse to stay in the main house. Sexy time in your childhood bed loses its appeal when you know your father could hear a gnat belch in Butte, Montana from his en suite bathroom.
My husband remained attentive and solicitous as we carried our bags out to the miniature cabin where we’d sleep. Rather, ashecarried the bags out. I picked mine up, and he took it off my shoulder to cart it away, leaving me with a laptop bag and a heap of amusement.
Brenda had gone out to ready the place while we talked. Don’t mistake that for her avoiding a “men’s talk” conversation. My mother-in-law has the uncanny ability to catch everything while she takes care of other tasks, which I suspect she does to keep herself busy in the face of upset. As I followed Jackson off the porch, she caught my hand, then gave me a tight hug.
“I’m proud of you,” she murmured, and then disappeared into the house before either of us could get mushy at each other. I went inside with eyes full of tears and an unfamiliar emotion brewing in my chest. Parental pride had not been on the menu during my childhood.
Two lamps shed warm light on the two-room guest cabin. A general room held the big bed, the small kitchenette, and a pair of comfy chairs near a tiny desk perfect for my laptop bag. Off to one side, a bathroom of surprisingly generous size offered a full shower, fluffy towels, and enough room to dress without smacking your arms against the walls. I loved the place immediately.
Jackson set our bags down on an engraved wooden trunk at the end of the bed. By now, the first emotional high had worn down and left a pensive residue behind. We’d agreed to keep our secrets when we met, yet I could sense this might have been one secret too far.
That scared me. I’d failed to take care of whole platoons of soldiers because I couldn’t remain unhurt in training. Failing to take care ofthissoldier,mysoldier, would do damage I didn’t know if I could heal.
I opened my mouth to apologize, but he held up a finger and set it against my lips. Tenderly, he unbuttoned my shirt so he could shove the fabric aside, then sat on the bed so he was level with the wound on my side. Gentle fingers ran over the scars again, with context this time, to sketch the incident in keloid tissue and the precise strokes of surgical scars.
At last, he pulled me down next to him on the bed. One strong hand cupped my cheek. “I wish you’d told me,” he said, voice hoarse. “This ishuge, Bastian. This is- This is a thing youleadwith when you’re meeting someone, not a thing youhide.”
“Why?” I found my voice had roughened, too. “So I could get respect from your family? So your brother wouldn’t glare at me all through dinner? Because I thought those were things every person should have from the start.”
Jackson sighed. “Wouldn’t have mattered, with Laramie. When Owen cheated on me with his ex, he didn’t just hurt me. The entire family turned protective against anyone I brought home. Laramie was always going to give you shit. It’s how he is.”
I hate that excuse, for the record.It’s just how he is.As if that absolves anything. Except I expected it would for this family, and I could already see problems on the horizon neatly lettered withit’s just how he is.I made a noncommittal noise.
“The reason I wish you’d led with that,” Jackson continued, “is because we share this. No, it’s not bad to be a civvie. No, I wouldn’t think less of you if you’d never put on fatigues. But this? Itconnectsus. It gives us a bond of understanding between us. It’scommonality, babe, and more than that? Itshapedyou. It’swho you are. And the more I learn about the man you are, the more I think, I don’t ever want to be without him.”
My heart ached. It felt full, packed until it had no room left for more emotion to strain at its seams. “I didn’t want it to be about me,” I said.
“Didn’t want what to be about you?” The pad of his thumb caressed my cheekbone.
“Your homecoming. Our match, when we met. I didn’t want it to be about me, because it wasn’t about me. Itisn’tabout me, or my failure to complete my training and save lives on Mars.” The last part rushed out, afraid to be pushed back into the dark corners of my mind. No one wants to hear about the poor soldier boy who couldn’t manage to become a soldier at all, another failure in a string of failures.
Jackson blinked and looked horrified. “Failure? You saved livesright hereand sacrificed yourself to do it. You’re a hero.”
“No.Youare a hero. You, and people like you. I couldn’t even get through training to support you, and I willalwaysfeel bad about it.” Those words bled with three years of guilt.