Chapter 7
Marc
Ishoved my hands into my pockets as we strolled down Magnolia Ave toward the shop. JD had been oddly quiet since our super-late lunch. I’d have to be better at keeping an eye on the time. But I didn’t think that’s what this was about.
“So, um, what did you think of the catfish?” I asked awkwardly.
He paused his inspection of a storefront we were passing to look at me with a smile every bit as radiant as his hair.
And had his freckles multiplied? “I can understand why the blackened is Tallulah’s specialty, but I think I might be partial to the fried.
You can keep those damnable jalapeno hushpuppies to yourself, though.
” He made a face and gave a full-body shudder.
I laughed, letting some of my tension go. He didn’t seem bitter about being here.
“Give it time. They grow on you.”
He scoffed. “No amount of time is going to make those edible. Though now that you mention it, maybe the blackened is better than the fried.” He gave me a wink, and warmth filled my chest.
“Welcome to the dilemma.” We were still smiling when his face abruptly went blank and the warmth I’d been feeling vanished along with his grin.
“I, uh, realized earlier that I’ve been kind of a jerk since you got here, and I never even thanked you.
So, you know, thanks for the help,” I finished somehow more awkwardly than when I’d started.
“You’re welcome. Though there’s really no need to thank me. I haven’t done very much. I know I’m no Jones.” Anxiety tightened his face, and I didn’t like it one bit. All of this was on me, and here he was trying to take some kind of responsibility for it.
“Doesn’t give me license to be an asshole,” I grumbled.
I released a heavy sigh and looked up at a sky so blue it hurt while we waited for the crossing signal to change.
“I still really struggle with sudden changes. It’d be great if I could blame it on the Army and being in logistics, but it was kind of already an issue before that,” I admitted sheepishly, my shoulders reflexively curling inward.
JD glanced around as we finished crossing the street, which wasn’t nearly as busy as I would have expected, though I guess it was early in the season.
I was about to ask what he was looking for when he tugged me aside.
“Come on.” We stopped a few feet from the main walkway beneath an awning that kept most of the sun out of our faces, and I glanced tentatively up at him.
“What’s up?”
“Those aren’t things you apologize for,” JD deadpanned. Instantly a buzzing began in my ears. That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to shrug it off, call it no big deal, and we’d move on, pretending this conversation never happened. “Marc, look at me.”
I focused my gaze on the rows of bricks neatly laid beneath our feet and distantly wondered how often they had to be replaced.
It was rare that I’d seen a gap, and it never lasted long.
Was there a committee that went around and checked?
An anonymous tip line? A neighborhood watch type situation led by someone like Ms. May with her eye for detail?
“Spec Weathers, I gave you an order,” he barked without actually raising his voice. I snapped to attention so fast, you’d think I was still in boot camp.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“At ease.” His face softened slightly as I assumed a more relaxed stance. “Whether you had anxiety before the army or because of the army, I think we can both agree the army contributed. Even people who never see a second of combat don’t come out completely unscathed.”
My face heated, but I didn’t dare look away. I swallowed thickly and wished like hell I could stop shaking. I also kind of wanted a hug more than I wanted my next meal, but that would be weird, right? Yeah, that would be a super weird thing to ask for.
Almost as if he had a direct line to my thoughts, his hand engulfed my shoulder in warmth, effectively grounding me in the right here, right now.
“We’re all a little fucked up. You’re not alone.
We’re taught to do just about everything as a team in the military.
I don’t see why dealing with the aftermath should be any different.
” He gave me a crooked smile and shrugged.
“Or at least that’s what the therapist told me. ”
It finally hit me that he’d said “we” as in he also had demons that kept him up at night and followed him in the shadows, always lurking, waiting for their moment.
I didn’t know what issues a guy like Gallagher could have, so I’d just have to take his word for it.
And shit, if someone that might as well be the living embodiment of a GI Joe could go to therapy, maybe there was hope for me yet. But that was a problem for another day.
JD crossed his arms and made the universal gesture for “keep it coming”. When I remained quiet, he prompted, “What else? I know it’s not just the Jones-thing bugging you.”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times.
The only other people in my life who could read me so well were Great Aunt Petunia and Alex—and she was my damn twin.
No way was I about to unload my wealth of Dad-drama on him, so I settled for a lesser confession.
“I don’t like the idea of you sleeping on the couch. ”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. I could see the argument brewing as he let his arms fall to his sides, so I quickly cut him off.
“Look, I don’t care if it sounds super shitty.
The couch was plenty fine for Jones, but you deserve better.
And no, I’d rather not get into why I feel that way, even though we both know why.
” I held his crisp blue-green gaze and waited for him to contradict me, to tell me it had nothing to do with how he’d rescued me, because he didn’t even remember it—he’d rescued countless people.
Nor did it relate to my embarrassing rendition of a peeping Tom, which I was doing my damndest to pretend had never happened.
Not that I was succeeding on that front, but the effort was there.
He looked at me for a long time, then seemed to reach some sort of conclusion. “Would it make you more comfortable if I stayed at a hotel or something while I’m here?”
I was pretty sure the visceral image of the tension leaving my body in one fell swoop was answer enough, but I still said with maybe a little too much relief, “Yes.”
“Okay, then that’s our next mission.” He smiled, but it lacked the conviction of the one he’d given me earlier. I didn’t know why the difference, and I didn’t know why that difference made me so sad. Rather than focus on things I didn’t understand, I put my energy into actionable goals.
We set up shop at a little cafe where I noted that JD indulged what was turning out to be an epic sweet tooth.
I made myself a mental reminder to make sure to get him some creamer for when he was at the shop.
And more sugar. Would definitely be needing more sugar.
I sipped at my much more reasonably sweetened café au lait and added another hotel to the list of potentials.
“The lists, is that a specialist thing or a Marc thing?” JD asked, popping another piece of–yep–my coffee cake in his mouth.
In retaliation, I stole a broken piece of some kind of stuffed key lime cookie and, holy fucking oh my God, was it good.
I pretended I didn't see the small smile he tried to hide. “A bit of both, I guess. My sister used to tease me about it, but then she was also the one who always made sure there was pen and paper handy for my inevitable need to make a list.” I smiled fondly, thinking of Alex. It had been too long since we’d gotten together.
“Just one sibling?” he asked, switching back to his disconcertingly good cookie and washing it down with his liquid sugar.
“Yeah. You?”
“Younger sister and brother.” He poked at the remains of his cookie, turning it into unidentifiable crumbles, and it took everything in me not to reach over and stop him. “Your, uh, sister serve?”
I can’t help but snort at the unexpected and frankly preposterous question. “Yeah, no. Alexandra follows a different ‘protect and serve’ if you catch my drift.”
His smile is more genuine than I expected for some reason.
“So both of the Weathers are badasses.” It was a statement, not a question, and I had to fight the knee-jerk need to correct him.
Alex was the badass. Always had been. Me?
I was the failed twin. The one with anxiety.
The one who’d rather play with pretty flowers than things that blow up.
And most telling of all, the one responsible for having their unit captured.
I forcibly shook off the funk that accompanied the thought.
The guilt stayed, of course. I couldn’t outrun it with a rocket strapped to my back, Wiley Coyote style.
Not to mention it was near-constant when I was with the man who pulled all of our asses out of the fire.
Realizing I’d waited too long to respond, I cleared my throat and adjusted my position.
“What about your siblings? I imagine your family is bursting with pride at having such a decorated war hero among them.” Lord knew my father would be.
Something dark passed behind JD’s eyes, stealing the light from his bright eyes, and he dropped his head to examine the eviscerated remains of his cookie.
“No. They, uh, didn’t serve. I’m actually the first person in my family.
” Belatedly, I realized I’d done it again.
It was obvious JD was uncomfortable talking about his hero-status and I just kept fucking bringing it up.
On a whim, I swapped our small plates, giving him the remaining two-thirds of my coffee cake and taking his disaster that once was a cookie.
He glanced up, and I arched an eyebrow in challenge, silently daring him to call me on it.
To underscore my actions, I pressed my finger onto the plate to secure a covering of crumbs and popped them in my mouth.
See? No regrets. Totally selfish. Except…
except now JD was watching me with an intensity I didn’t understand.
I finished pulling my finger free and surreptitiously slid the plate a little further to the side. “Right, should probably start tackling these. Any criteria I should keep in mind?”
He hiked a shoulder in a half-shrug, but I couldn’t bring myself to fully dismiss the curious look in his eyes.
“Eh, you're the local. I guess a gym would be nice. More than anything, the more I see of this place, the more I want to see. Am I imagining things, or did I see an area that looks suspiciously like the French Quarter while we were walking?”
“That you did,” I said with a laugh. “It’s not nearly as old as the one in New Orleans, but it’s just as charming.
Also, just between you and me, it smells a whole lot better.
” He chuckled, lowkey letting me know that he’d been to Bourbon Street and knew exactly what I was talking about, and the sudden band of tightness around my chest eased.
“I’ll make sure to show you all the touristy spots and local hidden gems.”
“Careful, this is starting to sound like a vacation.”
I snickered. “You have no idea how badly I want to say that anywhere you don’t end up with sand in your ass is a vacation, but we have a beach. You will one hundred percent get sand up your ass.”
JD blinked, and I watched a smile slowly grow to cover his face while the light in his eyes flickered back to life.
Then he let out the biggest belly laugh I’d ever heard from another man, and I had no choice but to join him.
Between my stint with the sledgehammer earlier and now my second laughing fit, my abs and obliques were going to be fucking sore tomorrow.
But at least JD was smiling again. Darkness didn’t suit him, and it made me anxious.