Dear B,
Shame is a crazy thing. I did something today that I’m embarrassed to even tell you about, but I’m going to anyway because the guilt eats at me like a virus. I failed one of the simplest exercises today. I thought I would be discharged from the program it was that bad. There was no way I could come home and face Mom and Dad. I’ll save you from the worst of it, but later that evening after the major did barrack checks, I slipped into the jon, took my razor blade, and sliced open a vein on my wrist. As the blood pooled in the sink, I panicked. I couldn’t leave you alone with our parents. I instantly regretted my decision and tried to stop the bleeding when someone banged on the door. I knew I would be out of the program once they found me like this with a blade in my hand. When I didn’t answer the knock, the door flew open and Major Jameson stood there, nostrils flaring, looking very pissed off. He snatched my wrist, held pressure with his hand, and pulled me out of the bathroom. We went to his private quarters where he stayed silent, fury being the only emotion radiating from his person. He told me I better not make a fucking sound, and then doused my wrist in something that felt like liquid fire. I felt like I was burning from the inside out but I held it in. He wrapped my wrist and then sat across from me and said, “Even when you die you don’t leave this brotherhood.” I didn’t know what he meant until he kept on, “My blood is your blood. In your darkest hour, call on me, and we’ll fight together. Semper Fi, brother.” It finally hit me that I didn’t just take a job in the military. I entered a family. A family is only as strong as its weakest link. Major made me swear to never do this again, which is against protocol, and then every night, he showed up after everyone was asleep, and we trained. I’m so sorry, B. I never wanted to leave you. Please know that. I’m just so scared of being a failure to you.
I need to go.
Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I finally feel like I’ve found my place.
I’m finally home, B.
#iwishiwasastrongasyou #wonderwomandoesnthaveshitonyou #youstillsuckthough
Private Bennett Brannon
“Even in death you don’t leave this brotherhood. In your darkest hour you can call on me and we’ll fight together. My blood is your blood.” I stare at one of Bennett’s first letters to me.
I’d like to think the reason I packed up everything to come for Cade was because Bennett would have wanted me to. Because even in death, he couldn’t leave the brotherhood. The duty passed to me, and in Cade’s darkest hour, he needed someone to fight with him. But after crying over all Bennett’s old letters, I realized that the reason I felt so compelled to come here was not because I owed it to Bennett, or owed Cade a debt. It’s because each letter my brother sent made me fall in love with this hero. This man he respected. The man who saved his life and was there for him when no one else was.
His brotherhood.
I loved Cade Jameson before I ever laid eyes on him that day on Skype. I missed the letters my brother sent, giving me a glimpse into Cade’s life. I had to see him. I had to make sure he was okay. My heart hurt knowing he was alone and had no one to fight alongside him. He needed an ally, and although grief and sadness were mixed in with my initial reasons to set out on this journey, my intent was solid.
He needed the brotherhood, and I would be it.
But that was wrong.
Cade had a brotherhood. He found a family. What he needed was something else entirely. He needed a partner.
And I blew it.
“Breck? Darling?” The sound of Sue’s muffled voice carries through the door, drying up a few tears that have been steadily falling down my face for almost an hour now. Cade hasn’t responded to any of my messages. I stayed with Anniston for the first two days he was gone, but then I thought he may come home if I wasn’t there. It wasn’t fair to the guys—or Anniston—for him not to return home because of me. Jess begged me to come home, and my suitcase is out and ready to go.
But I need closure before I can leave. If Cade Jameson wants nothing to do with me then I want to hear it from his mouth.
“Breck?” Sue calls again. I tuck Ben’s letter away in the shoebox I keep them in and go to the door, sucking in a deep breath before I open it to find a frowning Sue. “You have a visitor,” she says, her cheeks puffy like she, too, has been crying. I rush her, hugging her closely. This woman has been my rock, my family for the past year when I came to Madison. I can’t imagine not having her in my life.
“Are you okay?” I hug her, feeling like a shitty friend for not spending time with her lately. She strokes my hair, before pulling back. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just miss you is all.”
What? I haven’t decided if I’m going back home to New York. Like I said, I need closure before I can leave. “I’m not going anywhere,” I answer her. Not yet, anyway.
She gives me a knowing smile and pulls me from my room, pushing me down the hall. “Your guest is waiting.”
Right. My guest.
It’s probably Hayes or Anniston. They’ve come to check on me a few times since my blowout with Cade a week ago. I know he’s come home. Anniston texted me when he returned. To say my feelings weren’t hurt is an understatement, but I guess I deserve his silence.
I trudge down the hall, my bare feet slapping against the wood. Then I come to a halt.
“What are you doing here?” I ask from my position in the hall.
Cade turns around at my question, his jaw hard and stubborn as he looks me over. “I came to offer you a ride home.”
Fuuuck. Why, God? Why does his voice have to sound so damn sexy? Why couldn’t he have a laugh that sounded like a chipmunk and annoyed me to the point of packing my shit and heading home? Why does it hit me right in the nipple?
I cock a hip out and narrow my eyes. Oh no, Mr. Jameson, I’m not going that easily.
“I am home.” I state the obvious.
His steps are predatory when he eats up the space between us, a cocky grin tugging at his mouth. “I beg to differ,” he says, snatching the hand off my hip, and turning me upside down on his shoulder. I make a sound that I will never own up to. It’s loud. And between a squeal and a moan.
“You see, Brecklyn, I’ve been doing some soul searching this past week.” He opens the front door, stepping outside before demanding, “Close the door. Sue doesn’t appreciate bugs coming in.” I make a face behind his back, pulling the door shut behind us, and then I smack his ass.
I’ve been waiting to do that for a long time now. Someone had to do it with this new, devil-may-care attitude he’s rocking, and that someone was going to be me. He owes me after everything I’ve been through this week.
My hand stings after slapping the literal buns of steel, and he laughs, continuing his pace like he didn’t feel it at all. He opens the passenger side of his truck and deposits me onto the seat like I’m a bag of groceries. The seatbelt comes next before he shuts the door and saunters off to the driver’s side.
When he shuts the door behind him, sliding the key into the ignition, he looks at me and lets out a sigh that sounds exhausted. I wonder if he’s been sleeping.
“I’m an asshole.”
My forehead wrinkles. “And?”
He chuckles, turning sideways, placing his hand along my cheek. “And I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for the awful way I behaved toward you, but I hope it’s a start.” He blows out a breath, his emerald eyes serious as they bore into mine. “I was so angry about you keeping who you were from me.”
I cut him off. “I know. Understand that I never meant to hurt you. I just …” For the millionth time this week, my eyes well with tears. It’s miraculous that I’m not dehydrated. “I wanted to be there for you like you were for Bennett. It was wrong to not tell you who I really was.”
Cade’s head nods once in understanding. “You were right, though. I would have never given you a chance knowing you were his sister.” His hand strokes down my face. “For so long, I blamed myself for his death. For all of their deaths. It’s not something I can easily let go of.” My heart plummets like maybe this is a goodbye speech and not a Pretty Woman moment. “But I’m trying. I’ve made weekly appointments with my therapist and have agreed to take the PTSD meds when I need them.”
Are you there, heart? I can’t feel you beating. Did he say he’s trying?
Don’t get excited. He may not be willing to try with you.
“That’s great, Cade. I’m so proud of you.”
And I mean it.
Cade flashes me an annoyed look, his frown looking extremely kissable. “Be quiet and listen,” he scolds me. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m asking for a do-over. A clean slate. I’ll be real with you and you be real with me. No more lying. No more hiding.”
I swallow, blinking back at the face that has come to mean so much to me.
“Are you saying you forgive me? For not being honest with you about Bennett?”
Cade unbuckles my seatbelt and slides me to him. “I’m saying I love you, Brecklyn Brannon, and I’m asking if you can give me another chance to be the man your brother knew.”
I kiss his lips, the wetness of my tears smearing his face. “I don’t want the man my brother knew. I want the man who brushes marshmallows out of my hair. The man who walks on the outside of me so I don’t get hit by oncoming traffic. I want the stubborn pain in the ass that asks me to talk dirty to him.” I push at his chest, wanting him to lay back. I’m about to blow this man in Sue’s driveway. Yeah, shit is about to get classy in here. But Cade hisses as if he’s in pain, and I stop my near assault. “Oh my gosh. Did I hurt you?”
Cade grimaces, tugging his shirt up for me to see. Half of his chest is covered in a tattoo, covering his scars. The other half is bare, his scars evident in the sunlight. I trace the angry skin, irritated by the new ink.
“I didn’t want to look like the old Cade,” he mumbles, watching my face for a reaction. Gently, my fingertips graze his skin, over the burning tree, tracing the wings of the fleeing birds.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him before placing a kiss on the bare scars on his chest, making sure this side of him doesn’t get forgotten in the newness of the ink. He is who he is because of what he endured.
“Let me take you home, B.” His question is hesitant like he’s scared I might turn him down. I drag his shirt back down, kissing him lightly along his stubbled jaw.
“Okay, Major Jameson. Let’s go home.”
This isn’t a movie and therefore we didn’t drive off with the wind in our hair and smiles on our faces. I went back inside and cried and snotted in Sue’s shirt while Cade stood awkwardly off to the side. He then had the pleasure of mercilessly teasing me while he helped me pack up my room.
Everyone has period panties, okay? Do not lie and say you don’t.
“Those are Sue’s. Put them down,” I say flatly.
Cade laughs, holding the worst pair of panties up for me to see. “These are not Sue’s,” the idiot argues.
I snatch them from his shaking hands and shove him toward the closet. “How about you carry the boxes out to the truck so I can give these panties back to Sue?”
He doesn’t buy it, but he picks up two boxes and carries them outside, his laughter carrying down the hallway.
Men.
A few hours later, all I could pack up is loaded in the back of Cade’s truck. I kiss Sue goodbye and tell her I’ll be back Monday morning.
Homegirl still needs a day job.
And besides, Sue is like family, and baking with her has become a constant in my life. Cade said Anniston offered me a job at the Foundation, cooking for the house since they anticipate more veterans, but I told her I would do that for free. Cooking is something I enjoy doing for my family.
Twenty minutes later, as the truck pulls into the driveway, all five guys and their commander stand on the porch holding Welcome Home signs and smiles.
It’s then that I know exactly what Bennett was feeling in his letter to me.
I’ve finally found my place.
I’m finally home.