Chapter 19 #2
Mom leans toward me, muttering, "That's a non-operating fucker. Someone useless in combat."
The man continues. "You froze, buddy. Clutched your rifle like it was blankie. Cried for your mama all the way back to the FOB.” He pronounces the acronym rather than spell it. “We called you Cabbage Patch for weeks."
"Cabbage Patch?" I can't help interrupting.
"The li’l baby dolls with the big heads?” the man says.
I snicker. "Oh."
“That’s my son,” Dad explains. "Just had his first taste of combat, including being held in iso for two weeks."
"No fuckin' shit. Well, son, if you're anything like your old man, you'll come through it no problem.
Next time we hit the shit, he came in clutch.
Saved all our asses. Couldn't call him Cabbage Patch after that.
" A pause. "I gotta run, Harry. Be glad you got out and went private. Being brass ain’t always what it's cracked up to be. Meetings up my asshole.”
“Meanwhile, I'm gonna be chillin' on my private beach, on my private island," Dad says.
"Yeah, and where's my invite?"
"Steely, you don’t need one. Get yourself some leave and come visit."
"I got some comin' end of the month."
“I’ll send you the coordinates."
A laugh. "What makes you think I need 'em? You forget who I am?"
"Consider yourself invited, old man. Come see us."
"Old man. Fuck you, Harry. I can still kick your ass six ways to Sunday.”
"I don't doubt it. Alright. You go. I just needed that backup."
The other man raises his voice. "Son, I've been in iso.
We'll talk more when I'm down there to see you all, but I'll leave you with this, for now—I'm seventy-three goddamn years old, that shit was fifty-some years ago, and I still sleep with a light on.
" A quick pause. "Gotta run, kids. Love to you, Layla. "
“Back at ya, Steely."
Dad ends the call, then, "That was my former CO and my mentor, four-star general Dan Webber, known to a select few as Steely." He looks at me. "That help?"
I nod. "I…I feel…" I roll a shoulder. "I dunno. I’m feeling a lot. I feel like all my pieces are gonna come apart, inside."
Mom crushes my head to her belly. "Because you've been through hell, my boy. You're allowed to come apart, now." She crouches and gazes up at me, cupping my face in her hands. "It's okay. It's safe. You're safe. She's safe."
I shake my head, panic sizzling and slashing through me. Guilt. Fear. Shame. Terror. All the shit I refused to let myself feel. "Fuck."
Story squeezes my hand. "Hey, hey. Killy? Look at me, baby. Look at me."
I force my eyes to her. "I'm s-s—"
"What did you say to me, before, when I was crashing out? Shut the fuck up with that shit, Killian. I don't want it. You did everything right." She lifts my hand to her lips. "Let it out, babe. It's okay. Trust me, everyone here gets it."
Selah nods. "We do. I was held captive, also. Only for a few hours before ’Selm came for me, but I knew what was…
what was planned for me. I have never known fear like that.
Not since, and not before." She glances at Story.
"Until she went missing and we realized who had her, that is.
And that is an entirely different kind of fear. "
"Captivity of that kind is deeply psychologically damaging, Killian," Anselm says. "You must not reproach yourself for struggling with the natural emotional aftermath of such trauma."
"I didn’t…” I shake my head. "I didn't realize how… what I was…how bad I—"
"You couldn't," Dad finishes for me. "You put it aside because you had to stay alive. You had to fight. And you did. So." Dad pats my thigh. "Debrief us. Give us the whole nitty-gritty.”
Story and I take turns telling the story, obviously leaving out the more…private details.
"What I would like to know is how you and Story got off the freighter," Anselm says.
"They moved us. In the middle of a fucking crazy-ass storm," I answer. “Launched a rescue boat off the side in the middle of a storm with fuckin'…what, ten, fifteen-foot waves." I shake my head. "Still no clue why, but I’ll sure as hell never forget that shit.”
"Pugli knew we were on his ass," Dad answers.
"It was a joint op—A1S, Johnny Raze's crew, and some cats outta Vegas.
Hard-ass operators, that bunch. Except they don't kill. Weird but true.” He shakes his head.
"I think when Pugli realized we were coming for him—when he found out Mercado was dead, the Vegas ambush had failed, and our people were chasing his ass across Europe, he panicked.
Snatched you, Cal, and Story. Bryn got herself into trouble, and it was only blind luck that it just happened to involve the same people.
Stashing you on a freighter was a smart play, I gotta say.
The move?" he shrugs. "At the end, Pugli was on the run, on his own.
My guess is he was panicking, spiraling, trying to retain control.
I think he thought he could use you as leverage, you and Story. "
"They kept saying he had plans for Story."
"Oh, I'm sure he did, the vile fuckstain,” Mom says. "But more than anything, you were supposed to be insurance. For all the good it did him. Didn't know who he'd snatched."
Story and I both laugh, Story carefully and with a wince and a hiss. "That's what we said," I say.
Mom eyes Story. "God. Wish I'd thought of that tampon trick.”
Story shrugs. "It's all I had. Enzo was shot and we knew more were coming, so I improvised." She looks at me, then. “His wife and daughter! We never made it to see them."
"The address is written down. It’s in the pocket of my jeans, wherever those are."
"I'm sure the doctor or one of the nurses will know," Mom says.
“On it,” Dad says, and exits the room—I think he’s glad to have something he can do.
"Too much emotion in here for your poor ol' hard-ass dad," Mom says, with a wry smirk. She kisses my forehead. "You should rest now, the both of you."
Story and I trade looks, and then burst into laughter, although Story's laughter halts immediately with a hiss of pain and a wince.
"Much as I hate being told to rest every hour of the day, I admit I'm pretty wiped already."
"If you'd not been a stubborn dumbshit and had let Dr. Lia fix you up, you wouldn't be in such pain," Story scolds me. "So while I have sympathy for you, I'm also kind of pissed. You sitting at my bedside and refusing medical help was just stupid."
Mom's gaze cuts to me, narrowing. "Killian Nicholas Harris. Please tell me she's making this up." A glance at Story. "I know you're not, honey. I know how men are."
I growl. "It wasn't a conscious decision. I was exhausted, in pain, and delirious, I'd lost a good bit of blood, and I was fuckin’…” I close my eyes and sigh. "I was terrified she was going to die. It just didn't matter if she wasn't okay."
Mom's gaze softens. "I suppose that's an understandable response.
" She looks from me to Story and back. "To be totally honest, I'm surprised it took the two of you this long.
It was obvious to everyone except you guys, I'm pretty sure, that you both were in love with each other for… god, since I can remember."
Story frowns at me. "Everyone knew but us, huh?"
I shrug. "I dunno. This is the first I'm hearing of it."
Selah lets out a soft little huff of laughter.
"It really was obvious. Killian would follow you around like a puppy, Story.
He looked at you like you held the moon and the stars in your hands.
It was different for Story for a while, because you are younger, but she has cared about you deeply since you were just a child.
And since you started becoming the man you are now, she too has looked at you with many stars in her eyes, although she has tried to hide it.
" Her smile is affectionate. "She cannot hide it from me, however. "
Story is blushing. "Mom. God. We aren't kids anymore.”
Selah only smiles even more broadly. "I know.
It is all the more reason for me to be happy.
I know Killian. I know he is a good man raised by good people whom I love and respect.
I know he will treat you well, unlike those…
those…" a huff. "Ma'afan boys you have wasted your time on.
" She uses a Hebrew word I obviously don't know, but I assume it's derogatory.
"Mom!" Story snaps.
Selah holds up her hands. "Okay, okay. I am just saying…" she smiles at me. "This…has my approval. I know you do not need it, but there it is."
Story's irritation dissolves like an ice cube in boiling water. "Need? No. Want? Yes." She looks at me. "We just need some uninterrupted time together where we aren't in fear of our lives so we can figure things out."
Mom and Selah exchange looks. "I bet you do," Mom says, her expression neutral.
Selah keeps her face expressionless for a few seconds, and then she and Mom burst into laughter at the same time.
Story and I just trade annoyed glances at our embarrassing mothers.
"You'd think she'd be over embarrassing me," I say. "I'm a grown-ass man."
Story arches an eyebrow at me. "I'm almost thirty.”
"You will never be too old to embarrass," Mom says, ruffling my hair.
"Okay. Now I know you're gonna recover, this old lady needs a glass of wine, a long nap, and an orga…
nized tour of this cute little town." She was definitely about to say something that started with orga- and ended with -sm, but detoured halfway through.
"Nice recovery, Ma," I deadpan, giving her a droll stare.
She gives a cutesy smile and shrug. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
I sigh. "You two have a really fun habit of leaving your villa open. Let's just say I’ve heard a lot of your…organized tours and Dad's yodeling moose impression."
Mom splutters, cackling with a hand over her mouth. "Killian!"
"Blame it on the painkillers," I say, pointing at the bag hanging from the IV.
She kisses my forehead, and Selah and Story exchange gentle cheek kisses, and then Story and I are alone…for roughly a minute.