Home.
Peace.
Safety.
Love.
My arms slipped up under his, hooking beneath them like I needed to find a good hold so I didn’t slip away. I hadn’t meant for my head to loll onto his shoulder, but it became too heavy to hold up. His head stacked beside mine, his chin tucking behind the side of my neck. Behind us, I heard more clapping, some cheering, and what I guessed were probably some hushed whispers shared over raised brows. Plenty of people in town knew about Brecken’s and my past, but everyone knew I was married to Crew Graves, police detective and all-around upstanding guy.
I might have been able to hug the returning hero, my old boyfriend, this once, but it wouldn’t be deemed so acceptable again. I’d have to be careful hugging, touching, even talking to Brecken. Crew wouldn’t like it. The town would gossip about it.
This embrace would have to be it. A hello and a good-bye. A greeting and a farewell. My life didn’t have the luxury of choice or room for mistakes. I’d made enough of those already in my twenty-four years of life.
When my arms tightened around him, sensing the end, his mouth moved outside of my ear as his fingers splayed across my back, pulling me closer. “Hey, Blue Bird.” His voice was lower, his words raspier than before. “Sorry it took me so long to make it back.”
My back shook from the sob I kept buried inside. I’d experienced pain and I knew peace, but I’d never experienced them together before. At the same time. Like they were bound to one another. Connected by some invisible force.
The pain was staggering, having Brecken in my arms but out of my grasp. The peace was staggering, having Brecken back when I’d accepted his loss years ago.
Crew’s hand dropped to my shoulder. He wasn’t pulling me away, but his grip was tight enough to give the hint. Inhaling Brecken one last time, I slowly stepped back. His arms didn’t let me go at first, but then all at once, they gave up, falling away.
“God, this is unreal. You here. A damn Lazarus.” Crew slung his arm behind my neck when I fell back beside him.
Brecken stood there, finally looking at Crew. His expression was vacant. His eyes void.
“What do you say, Connolly? You and me. Case of beer. Shooting the shit?” Crew lifted his chin toward our front porch. “Planning our revenge on those SOBs who had you the past six years?”
Brecken didn’t seem to hear him, or chose not to. Instead his focus stayed on me, appraising me like he was staring at an apparition. As if he couldn’t tell if I was real or not.
“Sound like a plan, man?” Crew continued.
Brecken nodded, still staring at me in a way that was starting to make me uncomfortable. If only because I could tell it was making Crew uncomfortable.
“I’m staring. Sorry.” Brecken swallowed, shifting in place. He didn’t stop staring though. “You’re still the most beautiful thing around, Camryn Gardner.”
The corners of my mouth lifted, trying to decide if a blush or a bow was more fitting for that compliment. No one had ever looked at me the way he did—like I really was the most beautiful thing in creation. Brecken’s eyes matched his words, instead of contradicting them like other guys I’d encountered.
Crew stepped a bit in front of me. “Graves. It’s Camryn Graves now.”
Crew’s statement, his verbal and non-verbal one, didn’t diffuse Brecken’s stare. “Of course it is. Sorry,” he added, like the apology was trained in him.
“You’ll get used to it,” Crew said, slipping the bend of his arm around my neck a little harder.
“Maybe.” Brecken glanced at the ring circling my ring finger.
My fingers curled into my palm. A different ring had occupied that finger when he’d seen me last.
Only a moment of awkward silence had a chance to take root before an eruption of noise came from one of the yards. One of the neighbor moms came marching straight for us, a small someone in tow behind her. What was it this time?
“Keenan just pushed another little boy down for no reason,” Gina announced when she was in front of us, waiting like she was expecting a drawn-out explanation and apology from me. She clearly didn’t realize or care that the hometown hero was two feet away.
Instinctively, I took Keenan’s hand from Gina, pulling him away from her. Gina and her husband had a few kids and parented like they were running a reform school. Kneeling so I was at eye level with him, I didn’t miss the way Brecken was looking between the little boy and me.
“Why did you push that boy down?” I asked.
He was only five—or five and one quarter if you asked him—but he knew to look someone in the eye when he answered them. “He pushed down Maddie.” His voice was more matter-of-fact than defensive, his eyes darting over to the yard where some other little boy was wailing like he’d just had his arm broken.
Crew stepped in, looking down at Keenan with raised brows. “You don’t push people down because they pushed someone else.”
Keenan’s forehead creased. “But he pushed her down. For no reason. Because he’s a big bully.”
“Keenan”—Crew crossed his arms, looking the picture of stern—“you can’t hurt a person for hurting another person.”
Keenan was about to respond, strong-willed to the end, when someone else beat him to it. “Sure, you can.” Brecken moved up behind me, studying Keenan. “I don’t care how old he is. If a boy pushes down a girl, he deserves it right back.”
Keenan blinked at Brecken, taking him in. Gina, who was still lingering like she was waiting to make sure a suitable punishment was dished out, finally realized who was here with us. I went with keeping my mouth closed, since I wouldn’t contradict Brecken. I felt the same way.
“Not exactly what they teach in those parenting books,” Crew said, as if he’d read any of them.
“They should.” Brecken lifted his shoulders. “I don’t want my sons thinking it’s okay to watch a girl be mistreated and do nothing about it. You see something that isn’t right, you step in. He did the right thing.”
Keenan was now gaping at Brecken like he was some brand of Marvel superhero. I stayed where I was, crouching in front of him, waiting.
Crew thanked Gina for bringing “the situation” to our attention, gave her arm a quick squeeze, then stepped closer to Brecken. “Look at that, stating your opinions and shit, you still have that mind everyone’s been speculating you lost in captivity.”
My breath caught. I’d guessed things would get messy between the three of us eventually. Just not ten minutes into our reunion.
Brecken tapped his temple a few times, not blinking as he returned Crew’s stare. “Don’t let me fool you.”
Silence.
Silence.
Then a chuckle. Forced. I had plenty of experience with Crew’s artificial emotions.
“Hi. I’m Keenan.” He stepped around me, moving toward Brecken like he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “You’re the one we’re having the party for? The soldier everyone’s calling a hero?”
I glanced behind me, focusing on keeping my expression flat.
Brecken stared at Keenan and was quiet for a moment. “To be a hero, you need to do something heroic. All I did was survive.” He glanced at the ground, the skin between his brows creasing. “I’m a survivor. Not a hero.”
Keenan’s head tipped. “But they said you helped that soldier escape. That girl soldier.”
My eyebrows came together. I’d stayed away from the news as much as possible since Brecken’s return. Clearly, someone else had not.
“That makes me human, not a hero.” Brecken’s hands balled as he swallowed. “And she didn’t escape. None of them did.”
Keenan slid a step closer. “Only you?”
Brecken’s head nodded mechanically. “The last marine standing.”
“Keenan, that’s enough questions.” Crew put his hands on his shoulders, pulling him back.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve been answering questions for days now. I don’t mind.”
Crew held Keenan against him. “Well, I do mind. I’ll decide what’s best for my son. Whether that comes to pushing others down or asking questions that aren’t age appropriate.”
Brecken didn’t hear Crew past the first half of his reply. He was looking at Keenan with new eyes as the reality of who this child really was sank in.
I rose up, trying to stand as tall as I could stretch myself. “Our son,” I said, glancing at Crew before ending on Brecken.
“Your son?” It was a whisper, but loud enough for all of us to hear as he stared between the three of us.
“Who did you think I was, silly?” Keenan giggled, reaching for my hand.
The creases in Brecken’s forehead went deeper. “I don’t know.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Crew reached out to pat Brecken’s arm, but Brecken went rigid and stepped away before he could. Crew exchanged a look with me, one that wasn’t subtle—one that read, how messed up is this guy? “You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself some time to adjust back into society.”
Brecken’s eyes moved between the three of us. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Did I wait just long enough?” I asked, creeping behind the rusted chain-link fence overgrown with weeds and just about every variety of creeping plant imaginable.
Rolling to a pause, I waited for his answer. He’d clearly come here because he wanted to be alone, but people at the party were starting to wonder where he was. Crew had left for work and Keenan was playing with Julie’s grandsons at her place. After that mess of a reunion, I needed to speak to Brecken alone. To explain. To at least try to explain.
Brecken glanced up from where he was sitting on the same alley curb the two of us had spent countless hours on in another life. “You waited long enough. Sorry I disappeared on you.” Something flashed in his eyes, something that implied he was talking about more than our present situation.
“I saved you some food. It was going fast.” Ducking the rest of the way beneath the curled chain link, I angled the weighed down plate so he could see.
“Thanks.” He scooted over, patting the curb beside him. “And I saved you a seat.”
As I walked toward him, he met me with that same stare from back on the street. That same unblinking, reverent look, like he was trying to distinguish between reality and a dream.
“Staring again.” He sighed, his eyes shifting in another direction. “Sorry. Again.”
My footsteps seemed muffled as I walked. Almost like I didn’t exist here in this small corner of the world. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
He huffed. “Why would you mind some guy you haven’t seen in years gaping at you, right?” His eyes narrowed on the crumbling brick wall behind me.
A few more steps put me in front of him. “Actually, it’s kind of nice to be gaped at every once in a while.”
When he noticed my smile, his formed as well. Brecken had all kinds of smiles, one for every emotion, ones for different occasions. This one took me back to the first summer we were a couple, the nights he’d lure me down to the river to skinny-dip or make out or whatever else he had in mind.
“I’ll work on it,” he said eventually, “but I won’t beat myself up if it takes me a while to get it under check.”
“Works for me.”
“Wait. Switch.” Brecken rose when I started to take a seat beside him. “My hearing’s better on this side” Half a smile formed as he settled on my other side, keeping some space between us. But not much. When he saw the look on my face, he tapped his other ear. “Perforated eardrum. Years ago.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. How did a person have a conversation about torture on a concrete curb while holding a plate of barbecued chicken?
“I brought you your favorites,” I said eventually, holding out the plate I’d made for him.
He took the plate, staring at the heaps of food. “I don’t remember what my favorites used to be. At least food-related favorites.” He glanced at me from the side, another hidden message in his voice.
“Barbecued chicken—wings and legs—baked beans, potato salad, sweet rolls.” My hand swept across his plate. “Those used to be your favorites anyway. I’m not sure if they still are, but only one way to find out.”
After staring at the plate for another minute, he picked up a leg, turned it over a few times, then tore off a bite. As he chewed, he dug his fork into a couple of the salads and added that into the mix. His brows lifted as he finished chewing.
“Well, damn,” he said, tearing off a chunk of a roll. “My favorites.”
“Some things never change.” As I went to nudge him, I stopped short. From the way he’d flinched away from Crew earlier, I guessed he wasn’t quite ready for that kind of human interaction—the taps and touches he wasn’t expecting. Not that anyone could blame him.
“Most things do though.” Brecken took another bite of chicken then set down his plate.
My hands came together as I stared at the brick wall with him. He was right. Most things changed. Nothing could stay the same forever.
“This is so …” His eyes narrowed.
“Strange?” I suggested immediately. “Awkward? Surreal?”
He seemed to consider those before shaking his head. “Nice.”
“Nice?”
“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again. And now I have.” His head turned toward me. “There’s nothing strange or awkward about being with you. Even after everything.”
My eyes darted toward the opening in the chain-link fence. It was practically invisible to someone who wasn’t looking for it, but still, I didn’t want anyone to find Brecken and me out here, alone. People were already talking after our public reunion on the street.
“So you’re a mom? A wife?” He clasped his hands in front of him, his voice level.
“I am,” I answered, making myself look away from the fence. It was fine. No one was going to find us here.
“How’s that?”
“Harder than I thought it would be.”
“Well, you married Crew Graves. What were you expecting?” He smiled as he said it, his tone teasing.
Still, tears started to fall. That was the moment they decided they were done being dammed up. That was when I finally felt safe enough to let myself show what I was feeling. My head fell into the cradle of my hands, and I let myself cry. I let myself exorcise the emotions I’d been tormented by over the past two weeks. The past six years.
“Oh, shit.” Brecken scooted closer. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. To make you cry.” His arm came around my back, seeming to thaw into me as he tucked my body closer to his. For whatever reason, he didn’t seem to have any problem touching me. Being touched was different, but giving it seemed okay. “Just don’t pay any attention to anything I say. I’ve spent years being screamed at in a language I didn’t understand, or in solitary confinement. I’m inept in all forms of communication at the present moment.”
“I’m sorry, Brecken,” I sobbed, sounding like I was choking on a watermelon. “I’m sorry for what happened. You must hate me. I’m sorry I’m not … I didn’t …”
When I was lost for words, he found some for me. “That you’re not in love with me anymore? That you didn’t wait for me?” He spoke slowly, clearly. Instead of loosening, his arm cinched a bit tighter. “Blue Bird, please. I died. You had every right to move on with your life. To live it. I asked you to wait for a year, not into our next lives.”
My head was shaking, tears still streaming.
“I died,” he said, a finality in his voice.
“You’re right here,” I squeaked.
“The whole world believed I was dead. You had to move on. You had every right to. I could never be angry at you for that. I could never hate you for living your life.”
My head just kept shaking. He was trying to make me feel better, which only made me feel worse. I was guilty of so much more than moving on with my life.
“I’m happy you’re happy. Whether tha
t’s with me or him or whoever.” His other hand slid my hair behind my ear, not letting me hide my tears from him. “That’s what I wanted for you. Happiness. However you found it.”
Happiness. I’d had glimpses of it, moments I felt it stir when Keenan was tucked in at night, safe and serene, but the concept was a prank to me. The dangled carrot. The smoke and mirror. It wasn’t real. A person might be fooled into believing otherwise for a while, but it didn’t last.
Happiness was for fools. Survival was for the rest of us.
I took a breath, calming myself. “What about you? Are you happy?”
Once he saw the worst of the tears were over, his arm returned to his side, his eyes to the brick wall. “I don’t think I remember what happy feels like.”
I found myself staring at his hands. Like the rest of him, they looked the same, but at the same time, they were entirely different. Fingers that had once been straight appeared crooked, almost bony-looking. His fingernails were dull, a few of them bruised, a couple missing. That those small parts of his body looked like they’d been through so much sent a tremble down my back as I tried to wrap my mind around what he’d endured.
“I’m so sorry.” My words came out all broken, but I kept going. “For what happened. For what you must have gone through. I can’t imagine …”
“Don’t try.” His voice pierced the air, his eyes losing focus. “Don’t try to imagine. And don’t feel sorry for me. I made it back. I survived.”
I shifted when I found my hand reaching for him. There were more than a million reasons to not touch him. “Were there times you ever just wanted to give up?”
“Never.” His jaw worked.
“Not once?”
“Not once. I knew I had to get back. To get back to you.” His eyes slid toward me. “I made you a promise.”
My hand smoothed my dress across my knees. “Thank you for keeping it.”
“I always will,” he said with a shrug, like it was a curse and, at the same time, all he knew. He picked up his fork again, stabbing at the plate he’d barely touched. “Catch me up on six years. You’re married and have a son. What else have I missed?”