Her All Along Page 8

I left my personal opinion out of it, because it was biased and selfish, but it went without saying that I thought it was a waste of life, a waste of a wonderful friend. One of the best men I’d ever known.

  I’d expected the main service to be the most emotionally exhausting, but I was wrong.

  Everything was fucking difficult, and the impressions of the day were already causing my head to swim. There’d been crying family members, too many American flags delivered to spouses and parents, prayers, salutes, and more crying.

  Yet, it was nothing compared to when we arrived at Jake’s final resting place.

  Among the thousands and thousands of white headstones gracing the green hills of Arlington National Cemetery, Jake’s immediate family—and I—gathered at the one bearing his name.

  Sgt Jacob J Quinn

  It went on to list his date of birth, the date he’d died, his military branch, and his most distinguished medals, among them the Purple Heart that’d made James turn to Ryan with a pointed look and a sharply delivered, “If you ever become a medal, son…”

  The other families who were here today to lay their loved ones to rest were fairly close by, and two bugle players performed “Taps” in the background, which brought us to the moment where it felt like my whole chest cracked open.

  Since the Air Force had been part of the assignment in Afghanistan, and due to the circumstances, they offered their own tribute.

  Pipsqueak snuck closer to me and hugged my middle.

  Dusk had arrived when James and Ryan, both dressed in their dress uniforms, walked up to Jake’s headstone with Darius and took a knee. At the same time, four fighter jets flew over us in their missing-man formation.

  My eyes burned with unshed tears, and I gnashed my teeth to the point I thought I’d crush my molars.

  Mary broke down in Ethan’s arms, and Willow turned into Lias’s embrace.

  Pipsqueak’s shoulders shook with her silent cries. I squeezed her to me and pressed my lips to the top of her head.

  Christ, I needed to see good in the world. I had to. If one of my closest friends had died for nothing, I didn’t know what I’d do. But it meant I had to earn my own place too. I had to be better. I had to become someone worth saving.

  When Ryan rose from the ground, I caught him quickly wiping his cheeks before he coughed and urged James up too. The formal uniforms fucking killed me, because talk about having earned your stripes. Then Darius in his regular suit, similar to my own—he would never get any credit for what he did. When he went out into the world’s most hostile territories, society remained oblivious.

  Darius stayed at the headstone a couple more minutes.

  He was now the eldest Quinn brother.

  The next day, Darius split.

  He left Ryan a note, along with his phone and other personal items, and informed everyone that he’d taken a gig with his employer, whose headquarters were here in the DC area.

  No one said anything, but I suspected we all felt the same. We were tired, wrung-out, grief-stricken, and we knew Darius. This was how he coped. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken off in the middle of the night to go on an assignment. Was I irritated with him because of the timing? Fuck yeah. So was Ryan. But we kept our mouths shut, and it wasn’t as if Ryan could say much without coming off as a hypocrite.

  He had his next deployment coming up at the end of the year.

  Instead, we started making our way home.

  Ryan returned to California. Lias and his girlfriend went back to New York.

  “Everybody fucking leaves,” Willow said tightly before we boarded our flight.

  “They’ll be back home soon, sweetie,” Mary comforted, but Willow was having none of it.

  Ethan and I exchanged a glance. Then he nodded subtly at Pipsqueak, to which I inclined my head. I’d look after her, and Ethan would focus on Willow.

  I blew out a breath and showed my boarding pass at the gate.

  Time to go home. Time to rebuild a semblance of normalcy—without Jake.

  Nine

  In Ryan’s defense, he started talking about retiring from the service after we’d lost Jake.

  It took two years and two more deployments, but one sunny day in June of 2010, Ryan came home in time for Pipsqueak’s sixteenth birthday, and in the middle of dinner in the backyard, he stood up and announced he was officially retiring. He had one more training mission—stateside—and then he’d be a civilian.

  “This, we have to celebrate.” I tipped my beer at him.

  “Best birthday gift ever!” Pipsqueak rushed over to him and hugged the hell out of him. “Gah!” And that wasn’t enough; she grabbed his arm and legit bit him, something I’d only ever heard of her and Willow doing before. I’d never witnessed it. Apparently, it happened every now and then when they couldn’t contain the energy they felt.

  Ryan grinned despite his flinching.

  Willow smiled carefully, then lifted a brow at Darius, who occupied one of the short ends of the table. “Do you possibly have an announcement too?”

  I chuckled.

  Darius was busy cutting into his steak. “Before y’all start kissing Ry’s feet, maybe he should tell everyone that he’s moving to San Francisco. Oh, and he’ll be joining me in the private sector.”

  “What the fresh f—” I slammed my beer down on the table, and I had a feeling both Ethan and Lias were mirroring my incredulous expression at Ryan.

  “Thanks, bro,” Ryan deadpanned.

  Darius inclined his head. “Anytime.”

  Their father shook his head and sent a glance skyward, as if asking for strength.

  Mary was a little warier. “Hon, what does he mean by you joining the private sector?”

  “He’s exaggerating,” Ryan insisted and sat down again. “The part about San Francisco is true. I wanna open a bar there, but last time I checked, they don’t throw money at us in the Marines. I’ll need dough for the down payment, and quick in-and-out gigs with Darius will take care of that.”

  Okay, then. Basically, we would go back to the regular worry we felt at having him as an active service member, and we’d postpone the celebration. But it was on the horizon. I hoped.

  “Quick in-and-out,” Willow stated flatly. “Right.”

  Ryan was about to answer when he was saved by the doorbell inside the house, and Pipsqueak let out a squeal before she felt the need to fluff her hair and ask her mother if her makeup looked all right.

  It made me frown. The girl was growing up too fast. She wore too much makeup, and now she was dating. She was dating some no-good punk named Chad.

  Fucking Chad.

  Darius waved a fork in the direction of the house. “We about to meet the boyfriend?”

  “Yes, and behave—or I’ll kick you in the balls,” Pipsqueak told him. Then she darted inside to get the door.

  “Who’s met him?” Darius pressed forward.

  “Avery and me,” Ethan replied. “Chad came by Ave’s place when I was there—Ave was helping her with a school assignment.”

  “Chad?” Darius blanched, then…cracked up. “Fucking Chad. That’s priceless.”

  “Fucking Chad is the official nickname already,” I added helpfully.

  “I’m surprised he’s showing up here.” Ethan took a swig of his beer. “Ave made him look like a fucking idiot last week.”

  I showed my palms, indicating I was innocent. “He did that all by himself. All I did was ask some basic questions about Pipsqueak’s homework. Shit he’s supposed to know.”

  “Well, good,” James replied. “Mary’s forbidden me from acting like a caveman, so I trust you boys to do your duty as her brothers.”

  No problem.

  “Seriously,” Mary grated. “From what I hear, he’s a sweet boy.”

  Ryan nodded at the patio doors and sat back. “Here they come.”

  I didn’t like the sight at all. Pipsqueak was leaving her childhood behind. She stepped out onto the patio hand in hand with Fucking Chad, and she
looked utterly love-sick. She was losing her innocence.

  “Where’s his surfboard?” Darius muttered under his breath.

  “He’s the reason Elise joined the swim team,” Ethan provided.

  It meant he was the reason she wasn’t stopping by as many early mornings anymore. Because she’d advanced quickly, and now she had practice before school most days. She’d taken swimming lessons when she was younger; she’d even competed a little—outside of school. Now Fucking Chad had recruited her.

  “Everyone, this is Chad.” She beamed over at us. “Chad—my mom and dad, Mary and James. Then my brothers—Ryan, Darius, Ethan, Lias, and sort of Avery. You’ve met him already. He’s part of the family, and so is Evelina, Lias’s girlfriend. And that’s Willow.”

  Surfer Boy took one look at me before averting his gaze and forcing a polite smile for James and Mary.

  The guys and I exchanged a few glances and nods while Fucking Chad was busy greeting the folks, and Darius spoke under his breath about me going first.

  “All right.” I leaned back in my seat and clasped my fingers over my stomach.

  Mary and Evelina made Chad feel welcome, more so than he deserved, and James begrudgingly fetched an extra chair.

  “Chad, can I get you a beer?” I asked.

  He was almost eighteen, not that it was a reason for him to accept the offer.

  Except, the second he slid a surprised but happy smile onto his face, we got further proof of what an idiot we were dealing with.

  “Suh-weet. Yeah, I’ll have a beer. Thanks, Av—uh, I mean, Mr. Becker.”

  “Strike one,” we guys said in unison.

  While Fucking Chad sat ramrod straight in his seat and flushed, Mary and Pipsqueak shot us all warning looks.

  James smiled.

  Ethan silently set a Coke in front of Fucking Chad.

  Lias cleared his throat and sat forward. “So, what’re your plans for the evening? Y’all heading out?”

  Pipsqueak made sure to answer first. “Yes, we’re heading up to see Grandma at the home. Do you have a problem with that? Is my boyfriend possibly a delinquent for spending a few hours with me and a group of senior citizens?”

  “Depends,” Darius said, taking over. “How’re you getting up there?”

  “Chad has a car,” Pipsqueak answered, frustrated.

  “Strike two,” Ryan and Darius declared.

  Then Ryan continued. “He’s a delinquent for wanting a beer right before he plans on getting behind the wheel with our baby sister in the car.”

  “For the record,” Ethan took over, “you only get two strikes.”

  I had a feeling Fucking Chad wouldn’t last very long in this family.

  He lasted throughout the summer.

  The day before I returned to work and the new semester, Pipsqueak knocked on the patio door until I woke up, and the sight that greeted me caused my chest to constrict. She stood there in too-short shorts, presumably Chad’s T-shirt, and tears were streaming down her face.

  I opened the door and didn’t get the chance to rub the sleep from my eyes before she flew at me and locked her arms around my middle.

  “It’s over,” she sobbed.

  I suppressed a sigh and hugged her to me. “Tell me what happened.”

  As entertaining as it would’ve been to claim we’d given Chad hell all summer long, it would’ve been a lie. Darius was off on another assignment, Ryan was in San Francisco, Lias was backpacking with his girl, and Ethan and I had spent the summer working on his new loft in the Valley. Additionally, we were adults. We’d given him some shit that first time; that was all.

  “He became a fucking asshole, that’s what happened.” Pipsqueak inched back and wept as she swiped her hands fruitlessly over her cheeks. “He indicated that my times are improving too quickly, and it won’t look good if he comes back for a new season and feels threatened by his g-girlfriend.” The last word left her in a pained wail.

  I winced and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “He’s an insecure douchebag, in other words.”

  “He really is,” she cried. “Guys fucking suck.”

  Poor girl. Poor me. She’d really landed smack-dab in the middle of teenage drama, and somehow, it’d been dropped into my lap too.

  “Come on, let me make you some coffee.” Because this child drank coffee these days. Admittedly with a truckload of sugar, but nevertheless. “You’ll get past that fuckwit in no time, and then you’ll find someone better when you’re ready. He was just one guy.”

  Listen to yourself.

  Just one guy. Like my mother had been just one woman, and my ex-wife had been another.

  Right, and then all the other cheating whores who’d let me fuck them before they went home to their boyfriends and husbands.

  Then Darius entered my head, or rather, what he’d said once. One action didn’t make a person…or something along those lines.

  Pipsqueak collapsed at my kitchen table, her face falling into her hands, and I busied myself with the coffeemaker. Over the years, I’d amassed a selection of items in one of my cupboards for Pipsqueak-related emergencies—some chocolate bars, but also grape jelly, a box of cookies, honey, tea, and the brown sugar she preferred in her coffee.

  “So, did you two break up in the middle of the night?” I asked carefully.

  She sniffled and shook her head. “Last night. I just couldn’t sleep. I miss him and hate him at the same time.”

  Relatable. I missed being with someone, but I wasn’t sure I could. Other than ending up at a few women’s apartments the past couple of years, I’d kept my distance. The hatred for women didn’t burn as hotly as it once had—far from it, actually—but the resentment lingered, misplaced or not. The betrayal still kept an internal wall slammed into place.

  “Mister, would it be too weird if I asked you about sex?”

  Ugh, yes. Yes, Pipsqueak, it would be weird.

  “I’m uncertain about the social boundaries here,” she mumbled.

  Goddammit. I rubbed the back of my head and eyed the coffeemaker. “Uh. I filled in for a colleague during sex ed once, so if you keep it very clinical and objective, I might pull it off. But don’t fucking tell me you’ve already—actually. Fuck.” I blew out a breath. I wasn’t supposed to judge her. “Whatever it is, lay it on me. Better me than Darius or Ethan.”

  She snickered at that, a sweet sound. “Can you imagine…?”

  “I’m not sure who’d suffer a brain aneurysm first,” I chuckled.

  This better not give me a brain aneurysm…

  Pipsqueak appeared to struggle with how to phrase herself, so I stayed silent and fixed our coffee before I joined her at the table.

  “Several of my friends have already had sex,” she confessed.

  I nodded, not surprised. But I hoped the way she said that meant she wasn’t one of them.

  She hesitated. “Is that normal?”

  Well, I couldn’t lie and say that everyone waited until they were in their twenties. It was probably something Darius would’ve gone with, though.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty normal,” I replied. “If I remember correctly, the average age both boys and girls lose their virginities is around seventeen, so you can give or take a few years on each side of that number to get your range of normal.”

  She nodded slowly and chewed the inside of her cheek. “Were you seventeen when you…?”

  I shook my head. “I was twenty.”

  “Really?” She hadn’t seen that coming, for some reason.

  Did I give off a vibe of having screwed around at an early age?

  “When I was your age, I didn’t even see girls,” I told her. “I was focused solely on school. Hell, I didn’t even have friends.”

  “Huh.” She knitted her brows together and stirred her coffee with the spoon I’d shoveled sugar with.

  “You probably shouldn’t compare yourself with me, though,” I reasoned gently. “You know I was in foster care, right?”

  “Ye
s.” She nodded minutely. “Mom hinted a little… I asked her once—about your scars, I mean.”

  No shock there. I’d never been very careful around the Quinns. They were safe.

  “It’s fine,” I assured her. “But you could say it left me with some trust issues, so I kept to myself for a long time. School was my ticket to a better future, and it replaced everything else. I didn’t go on dates or to prom or to the mall.”

  “I understand.” She took a small sip of her coffee-flavored sugar and started drumming her fingers against the table. “I don’t know that I want to wait that long, but I’m not ready for sex now.”

  Good.

  “Don’t ever let anyone pressure you,” I told her. “I hope Chad didn’t do that.”

  She shook her head quickly. “No, we only talked about it. He let it go when I said I wasn’t there yet.”

  “That’s good—and very strong of you.”

  That seemed to relax her a bit, and most of her nerves left her smile.

  Was it over? Could I breathe out? It hadn’t been as bad as I’d feared.

  I blew some steam off my mug and took a slow sip.

  “Besides,” she went on more casually, “it’s more fun exploring myself first.”

  I coughed and spluttered, sending a mouthful of coffee splashing onto the table. And what didn’t come out, burned its way down my throat instead. Christ. I coughed some more, and then I was assaulted by images that had no business in my brain.

  “Too hot?” Pipsqueak guessed.

  Bad fucking wording. I left my seat, still coughing, to grab a few paper towels.

  “Maybe that’s something—” I cleared my throat loudly to get my voice back. “Something you discuss with your mother and sister.”

  “I do!” She smiled happily. “It was Willow who helped me pick out a vibrator—”

  “Brain aneurysm!” I snapped in fucking panic. Too far, too far—holy shit, way too fucking far. “We can’t talk about that, Pipsqueak.” God, the images were goddamn disturbing. I felt like I was being forced to be a predator, because I couldn’t unhear her, nor could I unsee what my mind had conjured.