Chapter 11
Harlow
3:45 p.m.
Unknown number
Harlow, please, babe. I miss you. It wasn’t anything. I promise.
3:49 p.m.
Unknown number
There’s no way I’d want anyone else but you. How could I? Look at you!
3:55 p.m.
Harlow
Did you buy a burner phone just to bother me? Or is this your “cousin’s number?”
4:05 p.m.
Unknown number
Please, beautiful. I don’t feel anything for her. I just didn’t want to be rude.
4:09 p.m.
Harlow
There’s a far cry from rude to letting your “friend” hump you at the table.
Why am I even replying to this asshole? Burn me once… that’s my motto. I’ve had enough of men treating me with disrespect. I work harder than any man I know, but my two exes acted as if I was a second-class citizen because I had a vagina. Forget that’s the sole reason I married them, because this woman’s body grew another human. Make that two.
“This last hour feels like an eternity.” Ethan groans as he leans back in his squeaky chair. I can’t help but agree with him. It’s literally felt like watching paint dry. Usually drill weekends are so busy that my eyes are closed before my head hits the pillow at the end of the day. But we haven’t even gotten through day one and I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open, purely out of complete and utter boredom. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight, sis? It’ll be like a reward for making it through today.”
Ethan and Brandon have felt like big brothers to me since I joined this unit. I know I’m safe with them. Yet, after this mess with Stewart, I’m still licking my wounds. Not sure I’m up for going anywhere.
4:14 p.m.
Unknown number
Give me a chance to make it up to you. To prove you’re it for me. Let me take you out to dinner when we get back from drill. Please?
Stewart and I have the same drill weekends. We’re in different units and have only crossed paths on a few occasions, when we were on orders somewhere to provide aid. When on orders, you have no free time. But during typical drill weekends, we can do what we like after hours. In hindsight, I still can’t believe I let my guard down enough to break the rules I’d set for myself when it came to men in the Guard. Even talking to him long enough to give him my number was too much.
I never fraternize with the guys in my unit. It’s always seemed safer to keep a line drawn in the sand. The only exceptions have been birthday or celebration dinners. Yet even those I tend to make a hasty retreat before too much alcohol gets flowing.
I’ve never had a hard time controlling my liquor. To be honest, I rarely drink. When I do, it’s not often I have more than one or two. Yet it’s clear I have an issue with being able to keep my libido in check when under the influence. And the last thing I need is to cross a line with anyone in my unit. It’s bad enough I let myself fall for Stewart’s act.
“Brandon,” Ethan shouts, “tell Harlow to come out with us tonight. She never cuts loose.”
“I cut loose. I just need to make wise choices. Unlike you losers, I have two kids at home who count on me.” Plus, the last time I let my guard down, Stewart came into the picture, and look where that got me.
“Awe, come on, Harlow, it’s just one night. We won’t let you do anything stupid,” Brandon goads.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes with another incoming text. I look down long enough to confirm it’s the same unknown number before turning my phone over on the counter in disgust.
“Someone else begging for your time?” Brandon quirks a brow.
Does he know?
“No one important.”
“You’re damn right. Tell him to fuck off and come out with us. There’s a restaurant in Quincy that’s supposed to have the best lobster tacos around.”
“Oh, my stomach growled just thinking about it.” Ethan moans.
I laugh. “You two are ridiculous. Here I thought you wanted me to join you to help you get women.”
“Hell, no. I don’t need any help getting women. I just wanted a good meal and some adult beverages before we have to come back here and watch grass grow again tomorrow.”
Walking into The Little Lobster, a smile crosses my face when I see the quaint space. It’s not a big establishment, there are booths along the perimeter of the restaurant with four tops covered in red and white checked tablecloths located centrally. Gazing about the place, there are metal buckets and rolls of paper towels on each table.
“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Brandon rubs his big palm over his belly.
The music changes, and I instinctively scan the room, finding a jukebox in the corner. Shania Twain belts out that any man of hers better walk the line, and I can’t help but picture her, brown curls piled atop her head, dancing in a pair of daisy dukes as she sings.
“Hey, everyone. Welcome. Feel free to seat yourself. I’ll be with you in just a sec,” the older waitress, carrying a tray full of drinks, greets.
“Thanks,” Ethan answers as he heads toward a booth in the corner.
We slide in, Brandon and Ethan grabbing menus, and I watch a young couple in casual clothes sway on the parquet dance floor beside us. She has short shorts and a pair of turquoise boots while her partner, wearing a white button down and jeans, spins her toward him.
“What can I get you three to drink?” the buxom blonde appearing in her forties asks.
“I’ll have a Coke.”
“Harlow, one drink. Nothing bad is going to happen,” Ethan lectures.
“It’s okay,” Brandon interrupts. “At least we got you out. You can have a Coke if you want.”
I almost relax until I remember blocking Stewart’s latest number and stiffen. “No, you’re right. I’ll have a whiskey sour.” Hell knows I deserve it.
“Now you’re talking. I’ll have a seven and seven,” Ethan orders.
“I’ll have one beer, then switch me to water. I’m driving this motley crew back to base.”
The server gives us a nod before heading to the bar.
“I want that,” Ethan says, pointing across the room to a crab leg feast fit for a king. But as my gaze returns over the dance floor, my eyes land on the couple dancing. He’s pulled her in, and she has her hands resting on the back of his neck. I can practically hear Bruno Mars singing in the background as I recall the way Harrison’s tall frame felt so close to me. His manly scent has stuck with me since that night, tempting me to drive to the local Kris Kringlemart and test each cologne sample on display to find the matching fragrance.
“I’m going to have the lobster tacos,” Brandon says, putting his menu down proudly, as if he’s single-handedly picked the winning lottery ticket. “What do you want, Har?”
Looking back to the couple, wrapped up in each other, I can’t help but think to myself, I want that.
Finishing the last of my lobster bisque and cheddar biscuits, I lean back in the booth and sigh. “Boys, this was a good plan.” I rub my belly full of peeled shrimp.
The sweet server returns with another tray of drinks and a water for Brandon. “Oh, I’m not sure I should have another.”
“Harlow, it’s only two. It’s not like you’re going to dance on the bar. One more drink won’t hurt.”
He’s right. I just have to toe the line a little more closely when I’m at drill. I’ve earned a stellar reputation there and don’t need any bad decisions made when I’m a little too tipsy, wrecking all of that for me. The knowledge of how my children came to be is a staunch reminder of all the things that can go topsy-turvy if you’re not careful with decisions while drinking.
I take a sip of the tart cocktail and laugh as “Cake by the Ocean” by DNCE comes on. This is the most eclectic music I’ve ever heard. From Shania to DNCE. “Hey, I’m going to see what other tunes are tucked in that jukebox.”
Standing from the table, the boys barely notice me stepping away as they continue to consume shellfish as if it’s their last meal. As I cross the dance floor, I have to acknowledge how nice the evening has been. And Brandon and Ethan are good men. We’ve worked alongside one another for years that there’s a sibling type bond between us now.
Peering inside the beautiful, multicolored music box, I find the dial and rotate to find the songs inside when I hear a familiar voice.
“C’mon. Just let me use it for a second.”
“What the hell? Why are you so obsessed with borrowing my phone? What happened to the one you had earlier?”
“It’s not working,” the familiar voice grumbles.
“It’s that chick, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I fucked up.”
“What’s so special about this girl? I thought you said she had kids or some shit. You ready for all of that?”
“Hell no,. but there’s something about single moms. The sex is next level. It’s like they’re starved for it or something.”
My face heats as I confirm he’s talking about me. This fucking asshole.
“Didn’t you say you were hooking up with a resident at the new hospital in Miami?”
“Yeah, but that’s Miami. I don’t have to be back at work ’til Wednesday.”
Narrowing my eyes, I peer around the partition to where the hallway leading to the restrooms is located. Had he not realized I was here?
Stewart wiggles his fingers at the tall blond guy standing beside him. I recognize that tool from a prior deployment. He’s in the same unit with Stu. “Do you see a ring?”
The blond chuckles. “I don’t know how you keep them all straight. Fuck, I’d give anything for some chick who was desperate to get off. I have to beg Janet for sex. She’s always moaning about being too tired after being with the kids all day.”
Hmmm. Wonder why she’d be too tired? If they’re like my boys, they’re go go go all day. Of course, this prick probably doesn’t lift a finger to help, and then wonders why she doesn’t put out.
“You need a little side pussy,” Stewart says.
What. The. F?
“It’s tempting. But Janet would go all Lorena Bobbitt on me if she ever found out.”
“Well, I’m not settling down longer than my contract lasts. I’m just hoping to keep my side pussy around a little longer. It’s no skin off my nose if it doesn’t work out. Fuck, I’d never actually date someone like her. She’s only good for one thing.” He snorts before making a disgusting demonstration of bucking his hips back and forth. As if there is any confusion to what he is talking about.
Leaning my hand on the jukebox, I try to take a calming breath. My body is shaking with rage. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Unable to control my temper any longer, I walk around the partition and watch as Stewart’s face freezes.
Shock and awe. My favorite military strategy.
Walking slowly and deliberately until I’m standing directly in front of him, I sneer. “Only good for one thing, huh?” I ask before dumping my cocktail over Stewart’s head. “You were lucky I ever came back for seconds. You’re right, single moms don’t have it easy. It’s why we settle for really disappointing sex from asshats like you!”
“What the fuck, Harlow?” he practically squeals, his voice coming out high-pitched.
As if their telepathy has kicked in, Brandon sweeps in, grabbing me under his arm and pulling me back before I can do anything else to make a scene. Meanwhile, Ethan gets into Stewart’s face.
“I have no idea what just happened here.” He waves his index finger up and down the length of Stewart’s body. “But if Harlow did this, I know damn well you had it coming. Make one move to try and cause trouble for her, and you’ll regret it. We’ll all regret it, but I’ll make sure the spotlight is on you.” Ethan gives a menacing glare to the blond at Stewart’s side, and he immediately takes two steps back.
Ethan is a domineering presence. Tall, dark hair and eyes, built like he could compete in Mr. Universe, and covered in ink. But the reminder of what could happen to all parties involved if an officer in either of our units found out about this is just what this conversation needs to get hot heads back on straight.
Brandon and Ethan flank me as we head for the door.
“Eth, you get Harlow to the car, I’m going to settle the bill. I’ll be right back.”
As we approach Ethan’s truck, I’m filled with shame. I was just so mad. I can’t believe I lost control like that. “Ethan, I’m so—”
“Harlow, don’t. I don’t want to know what led up to that.”
“But, I—”
“Don’t. We’ve worked together too long. I know you don’t want me to end up in jail.”
“What? Of course not. What are you talking about?”
“We promised we’d look out for you tonight. When you weren’t at the jukebox, we went looking for you. I knew you wouldn’t take a drink into the bathroom. When I saw what happened, I just knew. And it was all I could do not to punch the fucker, knowing he’d hurt you somehow.”
Wrapping my arms around his chest, I bury my face in his neck. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”
Ethan tilts my chin up with his fingers. “You never need to apologize for standing up for yourself, ’lil sis. Brandon and I will always have your back.”
Moments later, Brandon jogs over to us, opening the car door for me. As I buckle my seatbelt, he gets into the back seat and does the same.
Ethan starts the ignition and lets out a laugh. “Well, maybe you were right, Har, one more drink would hurt.”