30
Vivian
The Chipped Ham
Vivian woke up with a slow awareness, drifting sluggishly in and out of the reality of warm blankets and the memory of what had happened the previous night.
When everything landed all at once, she instinctively put out her hand to find Rowan.
He was beside her, putting out enough heat to cook a pizza.
He grunted as her hand clenched possessively on his thigh and rolled toward her. Then he made an unhappy noise as he rolled onto his injured arm, flailed angrily in the blankets, and sat up.
“I am not fucking eating the chipped ham again,” he barked and stared aggressively around the room as if daring someone to argue.
Vivian did not know what that meant, but she had been aware that her father had also loathed the Marine Corps creamed chipped ham. He had described it as reconstituted cardboard in puke gravy.
“OK. I was going to order Starbucks,” she said, her voice gravelly with sleep.
Rowan looked down at her as if he couldn’t remember why she was there. Not the best sign to start off her day. His hair was sticking up, and in the cold light of a Pacific Northwest fall morning, his arm looked nearly purple with bruising.
“Oh, thank God,” he said.
“Yeah, Starbucks is a better option than chipped ham.”
“No, thank God I’m retired. Although, yes, on the Starbucks.”
He looked around the room and then reached for the bedside table, where there was a bottle of painkillers and a bottle of water.
He opened the painkillers in a one-handed movement that spoke of long practice, tossed a couple in his mouth, and chased them with water while Vivian checked her phone.
“Howard made it out of surgery,” said Vivian, reading Nadine’s text that had apparently come through at three in the morning but hadn’t cleared her do-not-disturb setting.
“Yeah,” grunted Rowan. “Delacroix texted at some point.”
“She says he’s still in critical condition and in the ICU. They’re all at the hospital.”
“We’ll go after breakfast,” said Rowan. “You want some of these?”
“I don’t think so?”
He frowned and then lifted up the covers to inspect her. She looked up at him in disbelief.
“Mmm…” he said, fixating on her hip. “Maybe take one.”
“I try not to take drugs unless I think it’s really warranted.”
“That is so cute. Meanwhile, your hip is bruised, and if you’re not sore yet, it’s just because you haven’t moved.”
“And I think I should make up my own mind about my body.”
“And I think by the time you realize you hurt, you’re already in the hole. It’s better to take one to ease you into the day. If you want something not as strong, you can take a couple Motrin.”
“Was that some sort of woman joke?”
“What?”
“Motrin?”
He reached into his bedside table drawer and came back with a bottle of Motrin.
“Motrin?” he offered.
She stared at him. He stared back.
“Motrin is for period cramps.”
“Motrin is for everything. I once saw a guy hike out five miles on a broken ankle and a bottle of Motrin.”
“I feel like this message has not made it out to civilian males. Out here, it’s pretty much just for women.”
“Well… women and Marines. Seems legit.”
Vivian snorted. “Give me four Motrin and the water.”
“Going hard,” he said, nodding. He handed her the pills and bottle of water. She sat up long enough to swallow and then had serious second thoughts about the painkillers, but she wasn’t about to admit it now.
Vivian settled against him, resting her head on his chest, and for a little while, the world returned to warm blankets and safety.
Rowan had been adamant about not permitting her to go back to her apartment.
He’d said that she could send the guys with her keys and a list of things she wanted, but she would not be going anywhere without protection.
“I’m going to want clothes at some point,” said Vivian, and Rowan grunted as if she had woken him up again.
“Baby, it’s fine,” he said at last, but his eyes remained firmly shut.
“I know you said the guys could get my stuff, but you said I had to make a list. I haven’t made a list, and I don’t want to make a list.”
Vivian didn’t want to be a whiner, but at the same time, she also wanted her clothes to magically appear at her wishing.
“What if we just tell them to get everything and bring it here?”
“What everything?”
“Everything, everything.”
“Then all my things would be here.”
“Yes.”
“But then I would just be living here.”
“Yes.”
Vivian tried to consider that in a realistic way, but all her brain could come up with was that it would be a lot more convenient.
“We’ve only been going out for a month,” she said.
“Mark proposed on his first date with Jenny.”
“Mark wanted the housing benefit.”
“I think it might have been Jenny, actually, but that doesn’t mean it was the wrong decision.”
“And I think you took too many pills.”
“Too many, or just the right amount?”
Vivian couldn’t stop herself from laughing, which was how she knew she would end up moving in with him.
“Fine,” she said after a moment. “But only because I’m very attracted to the idea of someone else doing all the moving.”
“Great,” said Rowan. “Your stuff is in the garage.”
Vivian thought about that for a long while. It continued to not make any sense.
“What?”
“Well, last night, I figured that you would want your clothes and, at minimum, a different bra. You’re particular about your underwear.”
“This is true.”
“But I can’t keep having the guys clear your apartment every time you want to go home for clothes, and I don’t really want them digging through your drawers.”
“I also don’t want that.”
“So, I called this one company we’ve used before. They move your entire house as is.”
“As is?”
“They don’t pack things. They box things. So they box your dresser. Your bed. Your closet. Your kitchen. Each drawer gets labeled and put in its own box. And then it gets moved.”
“That’s genius,” said Vivian.
“And it’s now in my garage. It arrived around five this morning.”
“Did I wake up for that?”
“I barely woke up for it.”
“Huh. You know, you would think that would make me more likely to get up and get clothes, but it really doesn’t.”
“Getting up is for suckers. We’ll stay here.”
Rowan’s phone rang, and he cracked one eyelid and looked at it. Vivian could see his brother’s face. With a sigh, Rowan answered.
“Hey, Forest.”
“Hey Forest? What the actual fuck?”
“Uh…”
“I turn on the news, and there’s Valkyrie Security saving the day at local veteran’s charity event.”
“Oh, nice name drop. Mark will be pleased.”
“Mark will— What the fuck is wrong with you? I was texting you last night. Meanwhile, Rowan Valkyrie, owner of Valkyrie Security, is credited with personally saving Howard Hoskins’ life. When did you find time to squeeze me in?”
“You were before all that happened.”
“You didn’t call me.”
“Why would I call you?”
“Mmmm,” said Vivian, recognizing his mistake but burying her face in his chest.
“Why—” Forest’s voice went up an octave.
“Oh, my fucking God. I don’t know, maybe because I don’t want Grant Ichikawa assuring me that everyone is very shaken up, but not to worry, he’ll still make our meeting on Monday, and please do thank my brother on behalf of the firm.
” She could hear the sarcasm even with the covers half over her head.
“Yeah?” Rowan still sounded confused.
“He’s saying you should have told him you were fine so he didn’t have to find out from strangers,” whispered Vivian.
“Oh. Yeah, sorry. Forgot to text you. But the situation was fluid, and I had to focus on immediate concerns. I am fine.”
Forest made an inarticulate noise of frustration that sounded very much like the noise Rowan made when annoyed.
Vivian wondered how many times Rowan had not called his brothers after he’d been hurt. Enough that it hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“But Grant thought the custody papers weren’t going to be a problem?” asked Rowan.
“I emailed them over. He’s looking at them. But he literally said oh, this will be fun when he saw them, and I don’t know what that means.”
“He thinks he’ll win,” translated Vivian quietly.
“It means he thinks he’ll win,” said Rowan.
“Oh. That is actually reassuring, then. Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yes.”
“Like, really sure? Or like that time you were home for six months, sure?”
“Really sure.”
“OK.”
“Can you call Ash and tell him I’m fine? I’m lying in bed, and I would prefer not to answer more phone calls than I have to.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t watch news that isn’t on Twitter or X or whatever, so he wouldn’t call for another hour or whenever local news makes it on there.”
“That is an hour I could be sleeping.”
“Good point. OK, I’ll call him. Go back to sleep.”
“I will do that.”
They hung up, and Rowan dropped the phone back on the bedside table. There was more warm and fluffy silence, although she could tell from his breathing that he wasn’t asleep.
“I—” Whatever Rowan was about to say was cut off when Vivian’s phone began to ring. Vivian struggled away from Rowan, floundering in his poofy bedding, and finally grabbed her phone.
Vivian looked at the face and frowned. It was Sunday, wasn’t it? It felt like three months had been packed into yesterday. But if it was Sunday, why was Courtney calling?
“Hey, Courtney,” she said, picking up.
“Vivian, I’m really, really sorry, and Ms. Branch said not to call you, but I think you would be super pissed if I didn’t.”
“What’s the problem?” asked Vivian.
“Last night, someone broke into the office and trashed Howard’s office and your cubicle.”
Beside her, Rowan flipped off the covers and sat up.