CHAPTER 17
Travis was going to kick her ass. But she had a hard time bringing herself to care. At the moment, all Cassie wanted to do was try and salvage her bike. She sat on the floor of her old playhouse, laptop open, screwdriver in hand, trying to make sense of the diagram she’d found online. It might as well be Greek.
Ask her if she knew which lights came on in the cockpit and in what order in an emergency? She could do that in her sleep. But ask her where the wires went underneath those buttons, or how to disable the fuel line from the auxiliary tank, or any other number of things, and she’d point to her crew chief. Those guys were worth their weight in gold, and she’d never fly without one.
Cassie had half a mind to call up Parker and beg him to come over and help her. Parker was as good as a crew chief when it came to mechanics. The man could fix anything. How many times over the years had he helped her fix her dad’s vintage Yamaha? But if he saw the state of her bike or the enormous purple bruise on the outside of her knee, he’d go through the roof. Cursing in frustration, she tossed the screwdriver into a corner. It was probably time to ice her knee again anyway.
Struggling to her feet, she hobbled across the yard to the back door. Fortunately, her dad was out in the far pasture, finishing mending the fences, and wouldn’t be here to ask questions. Same with her mother. She’d stayed in bed until Dottie had left for the food truck at dark early. Grabbing an ice-pack from the freezer, she propped her foot on a chair, strapped on the ice-pack and grabbed her phone.
A chat with one of her sisters would be the perfect remedy to her mood. She buzzed Carolina first. Carrie deserved an explanation for her crazy behavior the other week. Smiling at the memory, she waited as the phone rang. By the second ring, she knew her sister wouldn’t be picking up.
“Hey sis, it’s Cass,” she spoke brightly when the voicemail beeped. “Had a spare minute and wanted to catch up.” A smile spread across her face. “I promise there are no boys around. Give a call soon! Love you.”
She hung up, mildly disappointed Carrie hadn’t answered.
Scrolling through her contacts, her finger hovered over Lexi’s name. But after glancing at the clock over the stove, she opted for a quick text. Lexi would be in court.
Lydia would be around though. If she wasn’t at her sewing machine surrounded by samples of leather and lace. Lydia could share the latest drama and intrigue in the shoe world. She glanced down at her worn boots. Lydia was routinely horrified by her choice of footwear, kept rattling on about shoes being sexy and functional. Cassie snorted at the memory of her last conversation with her sister. There was no way to make a combat boot sexy. She punched the button.
“Sis?” Lydia’s voice sounded breathless.
“It’s me. Where are you?”
“Not where you think I am,” she bubbled. “I’m in Paris.”
Cassie held the phone back from her ear. “No kidding?”
“Christian brought me with him to show my concepts to Chanel for a collaboration we’re working on.”
Pride swelled through Cassie. “Wow, from Prairie to Paris. Does Mom know yet?”
“No, it was spur of the moment, we just landed this morning, and have been running all day. Thank goodness my shoes can handle that,” she teased.
“I bet they look better than mine too.”
“Of course they do. Here,” she paused. “I just sent you a picture.”
A few seconds later, a picture of a purple clad foot with a swirly heel and gold flowers curving up over the ankle, popped up on Cassie’s screen. “Ooh la la, sis. You’ve outdone yourself.”
While she might have a weakness for lingerie, Cassie had little interest in typical girly things, especially impractical shoes. But it thrilled her to hear her sister so excited and… happy. A pang hooked deep inside her chest. She’d felt that excited once upon a time. When she’d first crawled inside the cockpit of a UH-60. The day she’d received her wings. Hell, even the first day she’d landed in Kandahar, so excited to finally be serving her country in combat. A part of something bigger than herself.
And now? Now she was happy if she got through a day without losing her shit. Or a night without violent dreams where she woke screaming or thrashing. What the hell had happened to her? Her hopes and dreams had collapsed with the force of a black hole. Reduced to a tiny fraction of what they’d been only a few years prior. A pinprick of light, barely visible, but enough to hang on.
“How’s home?” Lydia’s voice reached through her sudden funk.
“Let’s just say I never imagined coming home to my old room at the ripe old age of twenty-nine.”
Lydia’s voice filled with concern. “How’s Mama?”
“You know how she is. Soldiering on and keeping everyone’s spirits high.” Her mother’s relentlessly positive attitude was nothing short of an inspiration. Yeah, she might be overbearing and way too far in her business, but nobody doubted Dottie’s love for every single person in town.
Again, the pang hooked deep in her chest, tugging harder this time. Cassie’s hand started to tremble. “Hey. I don’t wanna keep you. Good luck with everything. Keep me posted, ’kay?”
“Sure thing, Sissy. Love you.” Lydia ended the call before Cassie could answer.
The empty house pressed in on her as her thoughts started to race. If she stayed here another second, she’d crawl the walls. Removing the ice-pack, she stood and braced herself through a few deep knee bends, gingerly feeling on either side of her knee. It was swollen, but nothing felt out of place. Just tender. More ice and aspirin and she’d be good as new before her next drill weekend.
*
Cassie woke with a start, covered in sweat and breathing sharply. The moonlight spilled through the open window, casting her room in an eerie glow. She clutched at the light blanket covering her, focusing on its rough feel in her palms, willing her breath to slow.
They were never the same, but they were all vividly violent, and abjectly terrifying. Had she screamed? She lay still, waiting for footfalls outside her door. After an interminable minute, she relaxed her grip on the sheets. Night sounds of crickets and frogs filtered through the open window. The house was as peaceful as always.
Too bad her brain wasn’t.
She swung her feet over the edge and reached for her robe. A glass of milk would help. She padded down the hall, then gingerly down the stairs, taking care to skip the third stair from the bottom – the one with the squeaky floorboard that made it impossible to sneak into or out of the house. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Cassie stopped short.
Her mother sat at the kitchen table, hands warming around a mug of something, bathed in the soft glow of a single votive candle.
“Mama?”
Dottie flashed her a sad smile and lifted the mug. “Peppermint and chamomile. Water’s on the stove.”
Cassie rooted in the cupboard for her favorite mug. After pouring hot water over the two tea bags, she pulled out a chair across from her mother.
“Can’t sleep.”
“Another nightmare?” Her mother pinned her with a steely look over her mug.
Cassie shifted uncomfortably. She was a grown woman, and yet her mother could reduce her to a little girl with just a look. Every. Single. Time. “I’m fine.”
“I saw you were out in the playhouse today.”
Oh man. Nothing got past her mom. It never ceased to amaze her how her mother knew about anything her children did or felt. Had Dottie seen the bike? This felt like the interrogations she’d endured as a teenager when her mother basically led the witness to confess. She was a master. No wonder her sister Lexi did so well in the courtroom. They’d learned from a pro.
But Cassie was older now. She’d made it through SERE training, and cut her teeth on the politics of the military. Her mother wouldn’t extract a confession from her so easily this time. “Thought I’d clean it up.”
“Your dad and I were talking after dinner. If you’d like, he’ll install a fan or a window AC unit. You could move out there if you like. Have more privacy.” Her gaze drifted to her mug. “I know it’s got to be hard for you being at home after living so long on your own.”
She was used to no privacy in the military, but appreciated her mom’s effort. She’d have to sneak out and cover up her bike though. Her parents would freak if they saw the damage. “I- I’d like that.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. Uh-oh. She was moving in for the kill. “I had a conversation with Travis at the food truck today.”
Boom.
Cassie went cold, then hot. He wouldn’t have ratted her out to her mom, would he? Judging from the murderous expression on his face the day before, maybe he had. She scrambled for an explanation, and in the end decided to play it cool. “Oh?”
Her mother narrowed her eyes, mouth tightening. Cassie’s stomach made a sickening flip. That was the I know what you did, and it’s gonna be ten times worse if you deny it face. That was the face, that when she was a kid, got her grounded for a week. With extra chores. “Don’t you think it’s time to come clean?”
Oh, God. Had her mother seen her bike in pieces? Cassie focused on the rim of her mug, heat licking at her neck.
“I know what’s going on, Cass. Travis told me to tell you not to be late tomorrow.”
Goddammit. He had gone and ratted her out to her mom. She seethed. They’d had a deal. That you broke, her conscience supplied.
Dottie reached across the table, palm open. She automatically slipped her hand into her mom’s. For a moment they sat quietly, hands linked. Then Dottie spoke. “We don’t much talk about your father’s military service. It’s his choice whether he wants to open up. But I’ll tell you this much. He had a hard time at first. You were small, and it was tough coming home to a family.”
She could relate.
“Have you talked to anyone at the VA?”
“Mom, I don’t want to sit in a circle with a bunch of Vietnam Vets and sing Kumbaya.”
“Have you talked to anyone else?”
A bitter laugh ripped from her throat. “Ha. So they can put that on my record? Or ground me because they’ve doped me up on God knows what? I am an aviator, and you know all the crap they give people to sleep is grounding. I love flying more than anything.” She shook her head vehemently. “No thank you.”
Dottie squeezed her hand, her face a mixture of sadness and worry. God, she hated that look. It was even worse coming from her mother. “I want my daughter back.”
Dottie’s words knifed straight to her soul. She was supposed to be home helping her mom, not the other way around. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’ll be fine.” She pushed back from the table. “I’ve gotta take a walk.”
She shoved her bare feet into her work boots by the back door and stumbled out into the darkness.