Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Kenny
S tone and Cookie arrived at eight on Saturday morning, plates of goodies plastic-wrapped for safety in hand.
“Did we have plans?” I asked, scratching at my scraggly face.
They barged in without me inviting them, but they were always welcome, so this wasn’t anything particularly alarming.
“We heard you might need a pick me up,” Cookie said, right as Stone rumbled, “Welfare check.”
That was all it took to release the dam of memory from the night before.
My family claiming to want to take me to dinner again and clear the air, but then pushing, before we ever sat down, for money, which I had already planned to give them. Their disdain and total lack of desire to know anything about me other than a routing number .
My brilliant decision to go home and watch You’ve Got Mail and take a shot every time I heard the AOL dial up tones… woof.
My heart thudded around in my chest as the next memories came through—Liz arriving, me saying something I didn’t quite remember but definitely wasn’t appropriate, me crying in the kitchen and her hugging me, her feeding me, and forcing me to eat even more and drink water, and then tucking me into bed, wedging me onto my side.
Then deep in the night, a kiss to my forehead and whispered words. You’ll be okay. I promise you’ll be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.
“Yep. Elizabeth let us know you had a day yesterday,” Cookie said, one brow raised.
I huffed a laugh and took a seat at the table. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“That why you didn’t show at Craic?” he asked.
I nodded. “I self-medicated in the dumbest way after a predictably upsetting interaction with my family and then made at least one pass at Liz before crying all over myself and letting her tuck me into bed.”
Stone’s eyes widened and Cookie’s closed slowly.
“So yeah, just nailing it on all fronts.”
“She’s fine. She wouldn’t have reached out to us or tucked you into bed if she was upset.”
Stone’s confidence would normally cheer me, but I wouldn’t know until I spoke to her—saw her.
“I hope so. I feel like an ass, but at the same time…” I sighed.
“At the same time, your family is the worst and you’re human. I know about families like that and I’m sorry,” Cookie supplied .
His words, so full of grace for me, made my throat tight. “Yeah. That.”
Also, he knew about families like mine? He’d rarely spoken about his family at all. I should’ve asked follow-up questions, but that might need to happen another day.
Stone unwrapped the two plates of food—one of delicious-looking omelets, and one full of what looked like homemade croissants.
“First, you eat. Then you talk. Then you check in with her.”
“I don’t know if I have an appetite,” I said, eying the food and knowing if I could stomach it, it’d be delicious.
Stone’s expression didn’t change. “First, you eat.”
Cookie looked out the window, but I could see the jerk’s grin. I could be a bit bossy when it came to taking care of my friends, so I supposed turnabout was fair play, but it didn’t mean he should get so much joy from it.
“Yessir.”
“None of that garbage,” Stone grumbled.
“Yes, Master Sergeant?” I asked, mouth full of one of the croissants, which were, I could now vouch, absolute perfection.
He growled.
I cackled. “Uh oh. Someone’s taking on Beast’s role.”
Cookie snickered and grabbed a croissant, and Stone glared. “No, I’m not. But we’re not in the military anymore.”
I acquiesced. There had been many months where that reality, the transition from active duty to civilian, had plagued the man. It was only because I knew how far he’d come, how well he was doing that I dared joke about such things.
“Fair enough. I’m just trying to sort out my crap internally before you guys start asking questions.” I chewed another bite and tried to work through the messy haze of memory, the energy slowly returning to me with each swallow.
After a full five minutes, and helping themselves to the coffee that had brewed at eight o’clock despite my never setting it last night, they jumped in.
“So start with the family.”
Cookie’s prompt was all I needed. These men and I had been through some of the hardest things imaginable during our time in service, and then again as we got out, and in the last few years, our bond had only solidified. They were my family now, and something about sitting here sipping coffee and eating homemade croissants with them reminded me why I didn’t have to stay broken by what had happened yesterday.
“Sometimes, I wish we didn’t have a morality clause,” Stone said, his regret audible.
Cookie and I laughed, knowing he’d never break the handful of morality-based requirements Saint Security put in place, and yet loving him for even saying such a thing.
No, Stone could not murder my family in retribution for the pain they’d caused me. But again, I loved him for even making the joke, though I’d never actually want him to do it, and he never would.
What we’d all done in service to our country had left scars on our bodies and our souls. There was freedom in knowing we’d never do some of those things again. And pain in knowing we’d never do others.
“It’s small stuff. When I think of the things we saw, this is so, so small. But damn if it doesn’t crack me wide open just thinking about it.” Moisture gathered in my eyes, but I breathed through it. What I wouldn’t give my family? Any more of my tears .
“It is small in some ways and fundamental in others. They are the people who are supposed to love you and accept you and they have failed in this. But you know it is their failure, not yours. It is their cruelty, not your fault. It is their loss, not your burden.”
When Cookie—Luc—felt strongest, he sometimes slipped into French, so the string of words that followed was rapid and passionate. I felt the vehemence of his words despite not knowing exactly what he’d said. He seemed to know these truths well, like he spoke from experience. Curiosity flared in me, but Stone spoke before I found the right words to ask a question.
“Family wounds are just that—they are wounds. Even when they heal over, they don’t disappear. Just like anything else, they stay with us. And maybe sometimes we suffer through healing them, but it doesn’t take away the memory of the pain or the healing. It doesn’t make us immune from remembering the pain and being affected by it.”
Stone’s words were weighted with so much hard-won wisdom, I never took a single one uttered for granted.
“Thank you. Thank you both. For coming. For being the family I’ve chosen and who has—” I cleared my throat, the emotion building up again. “For choosing me.”
Stone nodded in acknowledgment and Cookie set a hand on my shoulder and shook me lightly. “ Bien s?r, mon frère. ”
Of course, my brother . And there it was.
These two men had chosen me like I’d chosen them. And there were more members of our rag tag family.
A tiny scratching sound reached me, and I jumped to my feet. “I forgot about him.”
In seconds, I ran to the door and released Kit, who scampered down the hall and directly into the kitchen. I scooped him up before he darted away again, snuggling him to me. A flash of memory from last night hit, the moment when I’d pressed Liz’s hand to my chest burning through me. Yeah , might need to apologize for that, too.
Stone made a mildly pained sound and Cookie let out a stream of expletives in French, his eyes wide.
“Uh, what just happened?” I asked, turning side to side, looking behind me to figure out what was going on with them.
“He’s so… tiny.” Stone was winded and looked like a cartoon version of himself, his eyes wide and pupils practically blown as he gazed at my kitten.
“I love you, Kenny, but ca, c’est pourquoi —he’s the reason we came,” Cookie said, reaching greedy hands for the tiny mewing cat.
I laughed, a moment of pure joy filling me as these grown ass men fell all over themselves over my mangey little cat.
“The truth comes out,” I said, as though I’d found out something I didn’t already know.
These two were ridiculous, but I’d keep them.
And as soon as I could, I’d thank Liz for sending them to me and helping me get grounded in so much goodness before I could sink back down into the bad feelings again.