Chapter 2

Lawson tapped his fingers along his steering wheel as he waited to enter into Camp Leon, the military base just outside of Seaside. He was off to a late start this morning, thanks to the favor he’d agreed to do for Commander Oakes. And thanks to the very beautiful, albeit nose-in-the-air, uptight woman he’d run into while completing that favor.

Chuckling under his breath, he turned to look at the fence to his right, lined with homemade banners from excited families welcoming their loved ones. He wasn’t sure if there’d been banners for him when he’d gotten home four months ago. His world had been a blur back then, and he’d half wondered if he was even alive. He was, unlike one passenger who’d been on his UH-1N Huey helicopter. Sergeant Jenkins. Jinx had been young, one of those guys who was full of enthusiasm for every mission. He’d been brave and he’d lost his life too soon if you asked Lawson.

Lawson’s throat burned as he nodded at the young Marine guarding the gate to Camp Leon.

The Marine offered a salute and a “Good morning, sir. Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Lawson pressed the gas on his Ford F-350. His window was rolled down just enough to hear the roar of helicopters thundering in the sky. As he drew closer to the airfield, he experienced that same feeling he got at the top of a roller coaster, teetering at the highest point, ready to plunge toward the ground at breakneck speed. His heart quickened. Flying was the ultimate rush. What he was feeling right now was adrenaline, not fear. Fear had no place in a man. That’s what his father used to bark at him at every opportunity growing up.

Lawson parked his truck and got out, stretching his neck from side to side, and then rolling the tension off his shoulders. He was dressed like the man he’d worked so hard to become, in a fatigue-colored jumpsuit and his favorite aviator sunglasses. It’d been a while since he’d set foot on the airfield. Longer since he’d piloted a helicopter, but he was ready. In fact, he was chomping at the bit to get back to piloting this morning. He’d been given time off for recuperation from his injuries—just a few broken ribs and a torn rotator cuff muscle. He’d taken the time to drive home to Texas and see his mama. He’d done his physical therapy while he was there. But now he was back and ready to fly.

A couple of Cobras flew overhead as he walked. He didn’t even have to look up to know that’s what they were. Osprey sounded different from Super Cobras sounded different from Hueys. They all had a distinct sound. Lawson’s pace slowed as he listened, the noise growing impossibly louder as he drew closer to the Huey at center field. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, underarms, and at the back of his neck.

Just keep walking, Lawson. One foot in front of the other, he told himself. Fear is for the weak, his father’s voice barked in his memory.

Lawson’s vision blurred as he continued onward. In the skies of North Carolina a Huey wasn’t likely to become a target. But in Afghanistan, going up in one of these was always a risk. Sure, he was a risk taker. Always had been. And he’d always come out a winner.

Until a few months ago.

“Captain? Something wrong?” a young lieutenant asked, walking up behind him.

Lawson stared at the beast of an aircraft before him. His heart was knocking around in his chest like a rabid dog in a cage. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He felt dizzy and…weak.

“Captain?” the kid next to him asked again. Anyone who’d never been in combat was a kid in his eyes. They were still innocent. Not Lawson. “Captain?”

Come on, Lawson. Man up. Flashes of his father yanking his arm and lifting him off the ground when he’d been bucked off his horse as a child poked at his memory. Not wanting to let his old man down, he’d always stepped up back then. Getting back in a helicopter after it’d exploded in the sky, however, wasn’t quite the same. He wondered what advice his father would have for him now if he hadn’t run off with his mother’s best friend.

Sweat sealed his jumpsuit to his skin. Lawson’s legs refused to move forward.

“Cap—”

Cutting his gaze to the kid beside him, Lawson growled out a breath. “Shut up, Sergeant,” he said. Then he turned and quickly walked away.

When he got inside the building just left of the airfield, he veered into the men’s room and vomited. He’d dreamt of flying all his life. In the sky was where he was meant to be. And now he couldn’t even look at a helicopter without losing his breakfast.

What now? He couldn’t “quit” the Corps. This was his life—at least it had been until that last flight.

“Captain Phillips?” The voice came again outside his bathroom stall. Geez. This kid didn’t know when to stop.

“I’m not feeling well, Sergeant. Leave me alone.” He waited until the door to the bathroom shut, and exhaled a painful breath. He wasn’t sick, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready for today. Tomorrow he’d come back. He’d be ready. He wouldn’t fail.

Julie parked her car in front of the Veterans’ Center the next day and gulped in a breath. At least it wasn’t raining this morning. She had a fresh printout of her proposal to offer Allison in case funds did show up and new classes were allowed.

Determination. That had to count for something. She also wanted to apologize. She’d been a little unnerved by Lawson the last time she’d been here. Allison may not have a job for her, but Julie wanted her to wish that she did.

“Hi, Julie,” Allison said from the front desk as she walked in.

Julie squared her shoulders and flashed her best smile. This wasn’t an interview, so there was no need to stress out. “Hi. I came to bring you a fresh copy of my proposal.”

Allison’s gaze fell to the folder. “Oh, thank you. I really wish we could okay it right now. It sounds like a great idea, Julie. Something that would really benefit our veterans.”

“Really?” Well, that was something.

“Really.” Allison stood up and took it from her hands. “Our Marines need all the support we can offer.”

“You can say that again,” a bellowing voice said coming up behind them.

Both women turned.

“Mr. Banks,” Allison said to an older man. “How are you?”

“Ah. That heart episode last week was nothing. I survived two wars. A whole year as a POW. A little heart attack is minor in comparison.” He waved a dismissive hand.

“Glad to hear that.” Allison gestured toward Julie. “Julie, this is Mr. Banks, the owner of our center. Mr. Banks,” she said, turning to the older gentleman, “I’d like for you to meet Julie Chandler.”

The large-statured man turned toward Julie. Even at his age, he was built and carried himself proudly, with an upright back and lifted chin. And, if Julie wasn’t mistaken, there was mischief sparkling in his gray eyes. “What is this you’re proposing to help our Marines?”

“Oh.” A flash of heat tore through her. “It’s just…Well.” She felt all kinds of silly now. This was a man who probably still lifted hundred-pound dumbbells. He probably ran several miles a day.

“Julie wants to do yoga with our Marines,” Allison offered. “For stress reduction.”

Mr. Banks’s face distorted. Julie was beginning to get used to that reaction.

“There have been programs like this at other military bases. I looked them up after you left yesterday morning, Julie,” Allison continued.

Julie’s mouth fell open. “You did?”

“Uh-huh. I was very impressed with your proposal, watermarks and all. And from what I’ve read, there’s been a lot of success. I even spoke to my mother about it. She’s a naval psychologist at Camp Leon.”

“I remember.” Julie nodded.

“She thought it was a great idea, actually.”

“She did?” Julie asked, stunned. She didn’t know why she was so surprised. It was her idea. And it was a good one.

Mr. Banks chuckled. “Marines doing yoga, huh? Sounds like hogwash to me.”

Julie swallowed, forcing away memories of her ex saying the same about her passion. “I assure you, Mr. Banks, yoga is not hogwash. I have a lot of research and experience backing up my proposal.” She held up her folder. “I have testimonials of people whose lives have changed due to this valuable exercise program specifically aimed at stress reduction.” Pride surged through her. She was strong, she reminded herself. Words were just that. Words. She wouldn’t let them hurt her anymore.

Mr. Banks stared at her. He was a retired Marine and that was a bit intimidating, but she didn’t blink as he watched her. Then he pointed at the folder in her hand. “Not happening here,” he said. “Marines don’t do yoga. Sorry, Ms. Chandler.”

Julie watched him turn and walk away, feeling like she’d just been in a boxing match and lost. Feeling the way she used to after every interaction with Daren. “Well, that’s that,” she said shakily, trying not to let Allison see how destroyed she was.

“No, that’s not that.” Allison put her hands on her hips and looked after Mr. Banks as he walked away. “I think I can get him to change his mind.”

“What?” Julie looked up. Allison had a little grin on her face, and her green eyes had a gleam to them. “How?”

“Just don’t count the Veterans’ Center out quite yet, okay? You have a great program and I’m sure you could get it up and running somewhere else. I want it here, though. So let me see what I can do.”

Julie sucked in a breath. “Okay.” She didn’t have a choice but to wait anyway. Allison was wrong; there weren’t any other businesses lining up to let her do this program. It was Veterans’ Center or bust. And if Mr. Banks had a say about it, the proposal was a bust.

She walked to her car on shaky legs and started driving toward the beach a few miles away. The salt and the sand always shifted her mood, along with a few calming poses and deep breaths. Her phone rang beside her in the passenger seat as she drove. She hesitated before reaching for it. No way could answering be any worse for her mood.

“Hello?”

“Julie.” Her mother’s soft voice came onto the phone, better for stress than any beach on earth.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?” Julie was already smiling. When she’d lived in Charlotte, she’d missed her mother and was ashamed at how seldom she’d called or come home to visit.

“Concerned,” her mother said.

Julie’s foot instinctively lifted off the gas pedal. Her mother only lived thirty minutes away. If she had to, she could be there in twenty. “What’s wrong?”

“Daren just called me again.”

Julie’s heart sank to her belly. “And? You did what I asked you to, right?”

Please, Mom. Just this once say you did what I asked you to.

“He asked where you were and I really hated to lie to him, dear,” her mother said.

The car suddenly felt like the air had been vacuumed out of it. Julie’s gaze wandered to her side window where the ocean bordered the road now. Calm and scenic.

“But I did,” her mother continued. “I told Daren you’d gone to the West Coast to visit one of your college friends. Jennifer.”

Julie’s body sagged even as she continued to grip the steering wheel, holding on for dear life. “Who’s Jennifer?” she asked, pulling into the public parking zone for the beach.

“I don’t know.” Her mother laughed lightly. “You know how they say one lie leads to another? Then it gets easier and easier? Well, apparently that’s true.”

Now Julie was laughing. She parked and laid her head back against the headrest. “I love you, Mom. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Take care of yourself, dear. And you and Kat come see me sometime. I’m old and lonely.”

Julie shook her head. “You’re fifty-two years old and you have more friends than I do. But yes, we’ll come see you soon.” Julie owed her mother that much. Becky Chandler may have just saved her a visit from Daren, for a while at least. All she needed was a little while longer, to figure things out and to find herself. Daren had broken off little pieces of her until she no longer knew who she was. It’d been nearly a year, but she still couldn’t face him. Not until she was stronger, bulletproof, and immune to the poison he seemed to funnel into her whenever she was with him.

She said goodbye to her mother and grabbed her yoga mat from the backseat. Then she headed toward the crashing waves, feeling better with each sandy step. She set up and went through a few sequences, pushing the stress of Mr. Banks and Daren out of her mind.

The one person she hadn’t been able to get off her mind, not since yesterday’s encounter, was Lawson Phillips.

Lawson had called in “sick” yesterday. He was sick again today. The only thing turning his stomach, though, was feeling this elephant-sized pressure sitting on his chest when he thought of flying.

He headed to the barn that housed his sister Beth’s and her four-year-old daughter’s horses and grabbed a shovel. This was the work of his youth in Texas. It was what he’d always done to kick his stress to the curb, although since his short-lived deployment last winter that was a lot harder.

Julie Chandler flashed across his mind. An hour or two with her and he bet he’d be feeling all right.

He scooped a pile of manure out of one of the stalls. He didn’t need a woman, he needed…Hell, he didn’t know what he needed these days.

“Hey,” his sister called behind him, stepping inside the darkened barn.

Lawson stopped working and glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Something wrong?” Beth asked.

“Nope.” Handling the shovel again, he worked harder, faster.

“You’ve never been able to fool me, Lawson. Want to talk about it?”

“That’s a negative, little sister.”

She didn’t respond to that immediately. Instead, she sat on a chair in the barn and stared at him.

“Where’s Sabrina?” he asked as he worked. His four-year-old niece occupied a huge part of his heart. She was another distraction from his daily stressors.

“Napping for once.” Beth held up the baby monitor.

“You sure that thing will pick up from way out here?” he asked, glancing back again.

“My ever protective brother.” Beth laughed. “You’re supposed to be at work today. But you’re here. So I’m guessing this has to do with—”

“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ don’t you understand?” Lawson set his shovel against the wall and blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. Just a rough morning.” He met his sister’s worried gaze. “Nothing to concern you with. I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will.” She nodded.

“Thought you had a babysitter lined up for Sabrina this week,” he said, changing the subject.

“I did.” Shrugging her shoulders, Beth shook her head. “And I don’t want to talk about that.”

Lawson frowned. His niece was an angel in his opinion, but in the presence of others she had a less than angelic side. “The horse show’s in a couple weeks. You and the horses need to train.”

“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ don’t you understand?” Beth said, tossing his own words back at him with a smile. She stood. “Since neither of us are in the mood to talk, I’m going to go check on the child in question, just to soothe your mind that this monitor is working. Then I’m going to make lunch. Can you stay?” she asked, starting for the barn door.

“Sure. I’ll be in in a bit.” After he’d sufficiently cleaned both stalls and worked off his frustration.

His cellphone rang as he reached for a new bale of hay. Pulling it to his ear, he answered.

“Captain Phillips?”

Straightening, the stress that Lawson had just worked off came back in full force. “Yes, sir?”

“This is Commander Oakes. How are you?”

Lawson hesitated. Commanding officers didn’t usually call when you were sick. He’d no doubt heard about what happened at the Air Station yesterday. Lawson had had every intention of going back this morning, but then he’d woken in a cold sweat. “I’m well, sir. Just a little under the weather.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

“I see. Captain, you have an appointment at zero nine hundred tomorrow at the Naval Hospital. Dr. Pierce will be expecting you.”

“An appointment, sir?” Lawson rubbed his hand over the senior mare’s snout. “I’m sure I’ll be feeling better by that time.” Commanding officers didn’t usually make doctor appointments for their guys, either.

“It’s with Naval Mental Health. Dr. Pierce is a psychologist there.”

Lawson froze. “Sir, with all due respect, I really don’t think that’s necessary. Like I said, I’m just under the weather and—”

“Zero nine hundred, Captain Phillips. I strongly suggest you be there on time.” A dial tone replaced the commander’s voice.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He kicked the bale of hay next to him and stormed out of the barn. He’d text Beth and tell her lunch wasn’t happening. In his state, she’d just ask more questions. And Sabrina definitely didn’t need to witness his current mood.

Talking was not his forte, which is exactly why seeing a psychologist was the very last thing he needed. What he needed was something, or someone, to take his mind off his stressors.