Chapter 36
thirty-six
JUDE
Awareness comes unwillingly. Prying open my eyes, I silence my wailing phone.
The light from the screen assaults my pupils like a high noon sun.
My mouth is dry and sour, the skin on my back stinging from last night’s tattoo session.
I free my arm from under Greer and check her insulin pump for the blood sugar reading.
After a nighttime low, they’re finally stable.
Something prickles on the back of my neck.
Greer takes very good care of herself, but her body’s acting weird, and I have a pretty good idea why.
Is it possible to have everything I could ever want so easily?
It’s still a few days too early for a blood test to detect a pregnancy, but I have a feeling Greer’s body’s already figured out what’s going on, and her diabetes is reacting to it.
I’ll bring it up to her when we get to the privacy of the apartment.
In the meantime, I need coffee and to find Folgers. Lucky for me, this time of day they’re both in the same spot.
Forcing my body off the mattress, I cover Greer in the navy comforter so I’m not tempted to climb back in with her.
I want to let her warmth dull the ache of overindulgence.
I make my way into the bathroom, stretching as I go.
I take a piss and use the new toothbrush someone left on the counter before tossing on my boots.
Giving one last lingering look at the bed, I lean down to kiss Greer’s forehead before ambling down towards the kitchen. The scent of coffee fills the room, the coffee maker still percolating.
Folgers is on the deck right outside the back door, bringing a mug to his mouth, watching the sun rise over the bayou. He never waits for the coffee maker to finish before pouring his first cup.
My sponsor. The man responsible for the patch on my back. Vice-President of the Bayou Dogs and mediator before shit gets to Odin.
The back door squeaks on its hinges as I pull it open. “Good morning, brother,” he says without turning around.
“We need to talk about Flinch,” I pronounce.
“I told you, it’s legit. Allie’s claimed. We can’t interfere between a man and his old lady. The rules are the rules.”
“It’s not them together that’s the issue. It’s her being kept at the compound without her family knowing. It’ll never work. Greer and Allie are too close.”
“It’s Allie herself that’s the problem. She’s too much of a loose cannon to trust anywhere else.”
I hold up an impatient hand, “I know. She never should have snuck away from the prospects Flinch left to watch over her.”
“Flinch’s old lady, his decision. I can’t say I blame him either. While P.J got her alone, he gave her a concussion and broke three ribs. Her face…”
“Look, I’m not saying she doesn’t need to be under protection. I’m saying it’s best if she’s with Greer and me. There’s two people trained to care for her around, and Flinch can come and go as he wants.”
“Allie’s refusing to stay in town. She says her classes are starting and she’s going. What if Greer decides to try to help her?”
“Once she’s healed, we can send someone with her…”
“She goes to State University.”
I drag in a long breath. That’s the Kings’ turf. We have bad blood with them that goes back decades. Even if she wasn’t an old lady now (something I hear she’s bucking against worse than Greer), she still couldn’t go back there, ever. We can’t go on their land if something happens. It would be war.
“I’ll talk to Greer. Make her understand,” I say resignedly.
“You can’t tell her. You really think Greer’s just going to sit around and let Flinch keep Allie in that cabin? Concussion and broken bones or not, Allie’s already putting up a fuss.”
“All the more reason she should be in the apartment under guard.”
Folgers lets out an impatient huff. “Look, I know you don’t like this. Neither do I. Allie’s not thinking straight and is running scared straight into more danger. Let things cool off a bit.”
I mutter a curse under my breath, running my fingers through my hair as pounding starts in my ears. “This plan has a very short expiration date. I’m not lying to Greer to cover up shit.”
“Just give it time,” Folgers assures me again. “We’ll probably find P.J. in the next day or two anyway.”
The smell of mint greets me as I crack open the door to the apartment.
Greer uses aromatherapy to help relax. The smell sticks to everything, including my clothes.
I love the reminder of her long after I leave for work.
My head’s pounding from last night’s excess right behind my eye.
I’m still dehydrated. Greer follows me in and locks the door behind us.
She ambles from the small foyer into the kitchen, stopping to flick on the lights.
We’ve been quiet this morning, in part from massive hangovers.
Mine from the liquor foisted on me, Greer’s from a low blood sugar that refused to go up.
Lifting off the flap to the dog carrier, I pick up our first baby and place him on the floor. Hank shoots me a sideways glance that screams judgment before waddling over to the bed in his open playpen. “You forgot his treat for being a good boy in his carrier,” Greer informs me.
“Why does he get one of his cookies now, but he didn’t when we got to the compound last night?”
“Because going bye-bye is his reward. Unless it’s to the vet, but that’s an entirely different scenario.”
As if the stroller isn’t confirmation that Greer spoils him, this moment does. Reaching into the overnight bag, I retrieve one of the prescription dog food snacks Greer stores for him. When the bag crinkles, Hank sits and cocks his head to the side.
“Gentle,” I remind him, tossing the bone-shaped biscuit at him.
Greer comes from behind with an electrolyte drink in one hand and Tylenol in the other. She hands them both to me and asks, “Did you black out last night?”
After swallowing the pills with the blue drink, I inform her, “I remember every tiny detail, down to waking up with your CGM buzzing.”
“It sucked, but I lived.”
I wrap my arms around her waist. “That’s the second bad low you’ve had in two days.”
She turns to face me and argues, “It happens.”
“Especially if a baby’s just implanted itself,” I point out. “You know as well as I do that some women’s blood sugars plummet the minute that happens.”
She swallows nervously, eyes refusing to meet mine. “It’s way too soon to know.”
Brushing her hair away from her face, I gentle my tone. “Your body is very aware of what’s going on with it. The sooner we get ahead of things, the better it is for you and the baby.”
“You know it’s typically the woman tracking her periods,” she points out.
“If I’m going to be confronted with your father and uncles toting a gun, I’d like to have advanced warning as to when that might happen.”
“Dad wouldn’t shoot you,” she assures me before adding, “anywhere important.”
I’ll handle Colonel Guidry. I’m more worried about keeping Greer happy and healthy.
There’s only one high-risk OBGYN in the area.
I took the liberty of paying off his receptionist to ensure Greer’s seen as soon as the stick turns pink.
Willa told me he likes to see the moms-to-be as soon as possible so he can begin new regimens.
While I settle Hank in his playpen, Greer sets up the aromatherapy diffuser.
Something floral joins the peppermint smell in the air.
As girly as that shit is, I’ll admit it’s soothing.
As much as I want to hide in the bedroom with Greer, she pouted on the way home, admitting that after their last text exchange then radio silence, she knows she’s going to have to deal with her mother.
“Have you checked your phone since you got back?”
“Not yet. It’s going to be ugly. She’s going to freak out that I went somewhere that doesn’t have cell service. Calling for an ambulance, you know.”
Leaning down to kick off my boots, I suggest, “Why don’t you go take care of that? When you’re done, you can meet me in bed for cuddles and a nooner.”
She looks at the kitchen like it’s a harbinger of death. “I love them, I do.”
“Don’t let her stress you out. Let her know you have thirty minutes to talk before you have to go, and if she’s still going on about something after the time has lapsed, tell her you absolutely have to go and hang up. If you do it consistently, she’ll get the hint.”
“She’ll just call back later.”
“Don’t answer. You’ll have already told her you can’t talk anymore.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” she says, already moving towards the kitchen.
I stand and kiss her on the cheek, then head into the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open so I can intervene if needed.
I had no idea it was her uncle at the door the night before last, or the can of worms it would open when I answered wearing only a pair of jeans. Now Greer’s gone overnight with no phone contact or explanation.
While Greer doesn’t mention her Mom’s family as much, the Guidry family seems tight-knit, something I’m going to have to learn to navigate.
There’s a family group text that seems pretty active.
She’s shown me pictures a couple of times.
It’s never anything remarkable—an aunt and uncle in Disney World with their kids, a baby cousin who lost their first tooth.
In the mundaneness of every day, there’s love in Greer’s voice when she flips the screen so I can see and offers whatever commentary.
Can you believe they bought a brand new car for a sixteen year old?
My cousin is in Fiji with his girlfriend. I think he might propose.
In all of that, Flinch can’t honestly believe that a few generic texts here and there will placate a loving family?
My worry is Greer. She and Allie seem tight and as thick as thieves.
When Greer speaks about her cousin, it’s always with so much love, even when retelling stories of their misadventures.
The one that made me raise an eyebrow was a trip to New Orleans by bus at fifteen to see a concert.
They ended up stranded in the city with no money.
If Greer knew her cousin was being held at the compound, regardless of why, she’d do everything possible to help Allie leave, possibly entangling her in a dangerous situation.
As much as I loathe it, maybe it’s best Greer doesn’t know for a bit. Just until Allie realizes she’s safest where she is, and stops rattling the gilded cage.
I’m sitting up in bed, scrolling social media and willing my hangover away when Greer walks in. It’s been exactly half an hour since she picked up the phone. She crawls across the bed and plops her head in my lap. I brush the hair away from her face, loving that I’m her safe space. “How’d it go?”
“Typical Mom,” she declares. In a tone that I assume is mimicking her mother, she says, “Where are you going that has no cell service? And why haven’t you told us about Jude before now?”
“Did you mention I know how to take care of you if something happens?”
“They already know you’re a former medic.” She peeks up at me, “Dad says you served under him for a bit.”
He’s already figured out my last name and that I’m ex-enlisted. Quick work. I wonder who he’s spoken with in town. “I suspected, but didn’t know for sure until now. Which would have made you the base commander's daughter.”
“Good thing we met after you got out. Can you imagine if we’d tried to date while you were on active duty?”
We wouldn’t have been able to be in any kind of relationship.
Taboo isn’t the right word. It suggests it’s wrong, but could still happen.
Even adds an air of fun and danger. Big no.
Dating the base commander's daughter isn’t against the Uniform Code of Military Justice, but try it, and you’re headed to a shit hole NATO base in Eastern Europe indefinitely.
The universe made sure Greer and I met when the timing was right.
Further proof that this is meant to be. Her phone rings and she huffs.
“Are you going to answer?”
“Nope, I spoke for half an hour, and I’m done.”
She reaches over and sends the call to voicemail, then tugs me toward her by my tee. In a breathy voice, she says, “I was promised a nooner.”
I trail my morning stubble across her neck. “Were you?”
“And you didn’t come to bed last night until late.”
“Sounds like I have a debt to pay…”
She gives me a coy smile. “Definitely.”