Chapter Fourteen
Ember
This wasn’t happening. Not again. Not Josh.
Paisley squeezed my fingers as the officers walked toward us. I fought my lungs to draw air, as if they’d given up the will to do so.
“What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?” Paisley chanted rhythmically in a whisper.
I drew my eyes away from the reapers at our door and turned to her. “We fill the holes.”
Her gaze flew to mine, wide and already shimmering with tears. She gave a series of tiny nods, and we stepped forward together to the edge of our porch.
He never called me when he got off mission. He never called. He always calls.
“Officers,” I said with a voice much stronger than I thought I was capable of.
The two captains stopped a few feet from us, their eyes darting back and forth between us. Time stopped when the taller of the two opened his mouth to speak.
I blinked, and in that second, I pictured Josh’s hands on my skin, his smile when he asked me to marry him. The way his hand had warmed me through the glass when he played hockey. Being held above his head after his game. Everything about him coursed through me, and I held my breath and that feeling as I opened my eyes again.
“Paisley Bateman?”
My breath left in a whimper that was part relief, but more grief. It’s not Josh. He’s okay. Not Josh. But Jagger. Oh, God. Jagger. Her knees buckled, and I caught her against me, holding her upright.
“I’m Paisley,” she said in a half whisper.
“I’m Captain Xavier, this is Captain Jones. Would you like to go inside?” The taller one stepped forward onto our front steps.
Paisley shook her head, but we backed up so they could meet us. “Tell me. Just say it.”
The shorter one swallowed. “The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that William Carter was killed in action in the Tor Ghar mountains, Afghanistan, late last night, the sixteenth of May. He was killed in a firefight that followed a helicopter crash, which is still under investigation. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss.”
What oxygen I’d managed to suck in left in a gush.
Will. No. No. No. He was just here. Two weeks. It’s only been two weeks.
“Will!” Paisley turned into my shoulder, her slight frame shaking in gut-wrenching sobs. I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight, knowing that the ripping my heart felt for the loss of my friend was nothing like what she was enduring.
She loved him.
A thousand words came to mind as tears flooded my eyes—the normal things people said when tragedy struck someone else. But I couldn’t lie and tell her it was okay. I couldn’t placate her and say that I was sorry. We’d both been here before and knew that the words we needed to hear might not even exist in human language, so I said the only thing I could. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
“Will!” His name was an anguished cry, and I felt the first of my tears slip down my face. “Oh, God, not him. His mama—” She sucked in her breath and stood, turning to the officers. “Have you told his mama?”
Their eyes met, and a darker feeling of unease settled over me.
“You’re listed as his primary next-of-kin, ma’am. His parents will be notified directly, but everything is in your name.”
She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and nodded, trembling. “Okay.”
The officers locked eyes again, and the tall one, Captain Xavier, swallowed.
I was going to be sick. I knew that look. I hated that look.
“They’re not done,” I whispered. “You’re not done.” Helicopter crash. There’s never just one casualty from a helicopter crash.
Captain Jones cleared his throat. “December Howard?”
Every cell in my body stopped functioning. My heart ceased its beat. Paisley took my hand again with a desperate grip. A roaring began in my head that I fought to ignore.
“I’m December.” My mother is June. Past and present warred for control of my brain.
“Maybe now we could step inside?” Captain Xavier said to Paisley.
“No, you tell us together,” I said. “No matter what it is.”
The two officers looked at each other. “I’ve never had this happen,” Jones whispered.
“Yeah, me, either,” Xavier replied.
“Tell us!” Paisley shouted, her usual sweet demeanor long since forgotten.
Captain Xavier swallowed. “We would normally make a phone call, first. Both Lieutenant Bateman and Lieutenant Walker have been seriously injured in helicopter crashes in the Tor Ghar mountains, Afghanistan. It was a combined incident.”
My heart dropped to the porch beneath me. “They’re not dead,” I whispered to Paisley. To myself. “Injured, not dead.” I could handle injured, any kind of injured, as long as Josh was coming home to me.
Paisley nodded.
I straightened my shoulders and tried to shove my grief over Will to the back of my mind. “Officers, if you’d like to come inside, we’d like to hear what you know.”
“I’m getting on a plane,” Sam said through the phone. As much as I wanted my best friend here, it just wasn’t possible.
“No, you’re not,” I responded, zipping my carry-on. “Where the hell is my passport?”
“Ember…”
“Sam, you have another final to take, and I’ll be in Germany anyway. I’m not sure how long they’ll keep Josh there.” I lifted my suitcase off the bed then pulled it into the guest room so I could sort through the fire safe. “Paisley booked a flight, and we’re airborne in two hours.”
“I can’t do nothing.”
I pulled my passport from under a stack of papers in the safe and put it in the back pocket of my capris. “You’re not. You’re doing exactly what I need you to do, which is take your final.”
“There’s nothing else?”
My heart sank as I glanced at a framed picture of all of us at flight school graduation. “I need you to check on Morgan, but I’m not sure she knows yet.”
“I can do that. Ember, I’m so sorry.”
I paused in the doorway and almost let it in, the reality of what had happened. It was like this giant monster screaming at the gates of my sanity, begging to be let in, to be acknowledged. But I knew the moment I did, I wouldn’t be able to function.
I was not my mother. I would not break.
“He’s okay,” I said. “He’s alive, and that’s all that matters.”
“You’re right.” A door closed in the background. “Grayson’s home from post.” She handed over the phone.
“Ember? I’m sorry it took so long to get here. I was…making arrangements. Sam filled me in a little, but how bad is it?”
Grayson’s voice buckled my knees, and I sat at the top of our stairs. Thank God he hadn’t been with them. “They’re alive, and everyone has their limbs. Jagger’s legs are pretty torn up, and he has some bad internal bleeding. The last we heard he’s still in surgery. It’s only been a couple of hours since they notified us.”
“Josh?”
I took in two gulping breaths, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and a ruptured spleen. He’s out of surgery but not awake yet. And Will…” The words wouldn’t come.
“I know,” he said softly. “I’ve got a call into his unit and already talked to Paisley’s dad. I’m leaving tomorrow for Kandahar. I’ll bring him home.”
Grief welled in my chest, a sorrow that could not be ignored and refused to remain compartmentalized. My throat tightened, and I covered my mouth as if it could keep my internal screams silent. I nodded, like he could see me, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. “What are the odds?” I squeaked. “What are the fucking odds of this happening?”
Grayson sighed. “If Josh knew it was Jagger that went down, you know there was nothing that could have stopped him from going. Any one of us would have done the same. I would have. I should have been—”
“Stop right there.” I cut him off. “You are exactly where you need to be right now.”
A few moments of silence passed between us before he finally spoke. “You’re headed to Germany?”
“Yeah. Josh won’t be there for long, but we don’t know about Jagger, and I don’t want Paisley to go alone. And honestly, if I can see Josh for even five minutes…”
“You need to feel his heartbeat.”
My forehead dropped to my hands. “Yes. Does that make me weak?”
“That makes you human. He’s going to need you. I lived with him for almost two years, and he never really talked about what happened his first tour. Someone who carries that around, Ember, they’re going to need to lean somewhere.”
He hadn’t talked to me about it, either, just glossed over details, promised me he was fine, and moved on. But I’d never pushed.
Maybe you should have.
The front door opened, and Paisley popped her head in. “Car’s here. You ready?”
“Paisley’s here. We have to go. Give my love to Sam, and we’ll call you from Landstuhl.”
“I’ll keep my cell on,” he promised then hung up.
“I still can’t believe you found us plane tickets so quickly.” I hauled my bag down the stairs and grabbed my messenger bag from the couch. There was a knock at the door. “You called a cab?”
“Not exactly.” She opened my door to reveal a huge, suited man on our front porch.
“Miss Howard?” he asked from behind dark sunglasses.
“Yes,” I answered. He took my bags and walked to the black limousine. I raised my eyebrows at Paisley. “Was there a sale on limos?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head, her face devoid of most color. The back door of the limo opened, revealing a man with Robert Redford looks and a tense version of the smile I knew well. Holy shit.
“Shall we go, ladies?” he asked, his voice a perfect balance of concern and efficiency.
“What did you do?” I whispered to Paisley.
“I called Jagger’s dad.”
My thoughts ran amok once we’d taken off in the private plane Senator Mansfield chartered for the trip. Paisley crashed out on the long couch, sorely needing sleep after today’s shit storm, and the Senator handled business at a table toward the back of the jet, aided by a leggy blonde that, I kid-you-not, was named Monica.
Paisley had been right to call Senator Mansfield. It was the only way we could have left this quickly, but what was Jagger going to think about accepting his dad’s help? It’s not like they were exactly on friendly terms—or even speaking.
I’d called Josh’s mom to trade information and love, my mom for moral support, and Grams for a little sanity before we took off.
Now it was just me, my thoughts, and eight hours of flight time from Fort Campbell to Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany.
As thankful as I was that we’d been able to take off ridiculously fast, thanks to super-political dad, I wished that I’d been able to hear Josh’s voice when he woke up. At this rate, we’d be getting there right around the same time their medical transport landed.
Was he okay? Was his spleen really the only thing he’d needed surgery on? Did they set his arm there? Or would they do it in Germany? I had way too many questions and not enough answers.
But I’d see him in eight hours. I would hold him, kiss him, simply watch the rise and fall of his chest. I’d know that there hadn’t been some mistake—he’d made it.
No book or television show could hold my attention. My thoughts flew as fast as the jet. What did I say to him about the other casualties, the other two pilots who had been killed besides…Will?
Will, who fixed my disposal.
Will, who had given Jagger his Apache slot.
Will, who had pulled Josh through the Blackhawk course academically.
Will, who was coming home draped under a flag.
Like Dad.
I pulled my feet onto the soft leather seat and wrapped my arms around my knees. I was in limbo, stuck between my world falling apart and finding out just how much had been destroyed. Would Josh want me there in Germany? Did he need time? Space? There was nothing I could do besides wait. I felt weak, nauseated, and terrified that everything I was wouldn’t be enough for what was coming.
But he made it. He was alive.
And just like he’d taken care of me when Dad died, it was my turn to be Josh’s whatever, and that was something I could never fail at.