Page 25 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)
J ason woke late with an emotional hangover and an aching neck.
The neck pain wasn’t a surprise. He’d worked himself to the bone the previous evening. After the babysitter left, he’d fallen asleep on the glider. Then he’d done it again after his talk with Natalie. In the wee hours of the morning, he’d moved to his sleeping pallet for a more restful slumber.
He didn’t feel rested, however. He didn’t feel relieved.
He’d tried to unburden himself of the weight he’d been carrying for over a year, and he’d failed.
He hadn’t been forthright enough, withholding just enough details to keep her in the dark.
She hadn’t recognized his last name. She still didn’t know who he was or why he’d come here.
If she’d put two and two together, she wouldn’t have been so kind in her assessment of him.
She wouldn’t have comforted him or told him that the man’s family would be “proud.”
Christ.
He rose from the pallet and rolled up his sleeping bag, wincing.
He should have known that she wouldn’t guess his connection to Mike.
There were six different EOD units in Kabul.
Hundreds of soldiers were trained and employed for explosive disposal.
Deaths were more common in this specialty than any other.
The fact that Jason, a former EOD tech, had turned up on the doorstep of a Marine who’d died while working with an EOD unit was too much for coincidence.
Natalie was an intelligent woman, but she was also incredibly kind and trusting.
People had a hard time recognizing uncomfortable truths—especially those that were deliberately hidden.
Jason didn’t have the heart to connect the dots for her. Instead of giving her the full story, he’d taken the coward’s way out. He’d skipped over the hardest part for selfish reasons. He hadn’t wanted to ruin his chances to bed her.
He studied his hiking gear on the porch, wallowing in self-derision.
He wasn’t any good to her. He couldn’t even sleep indoors .
His therapist had told him that death by suicide was the most common military casualty.
Maybe he needed to walk away from Natalie and keep walking until he dropped dead from exhaustion.
Annoyed with his maudlin thoughts, he left the porch and went to the upstairs apartment.
In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and examined his reflection.
The bruises were gone, but that was the only improvement.
His face was tense, and his eyes had a haunted appearance.
He turned his head to the side, touching the black stubble on his jaw.
He looked more like his father every year.
He shaved and changed into work clothes.
He needed to do laundry again or break down and buy new things.
Sighing, he returned to the front of the house.
Marcus was practicing tai chi near the glider.
Jason watched him for a moment, struck by the improvement he’d made.
He’d picked up the form and fluidity, but he didn’t have the control.
Instead of holding positions, he moved quickly from one to the next, improvising with pseudo-karate moves.
Jason was amused despite his melancholy mood. Marcus was a lot like Mike, talkative and energetic. The boy wasn’t just a ray of positivity and light. He was a rainbow of bright colors.
“You’re getting better,” Jason said.
“I practiced with my mom yesterday.”
“She did tai chi?”
“She did it like dancing.”
Jason could imagine her graceful figure bending and posing. “Is she still sleeping?”
“Yep.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to get breakfast?”
“Sure,” Marcus said, dropping his arms.
They left a note on the kitchen table before setting off. Jason didn’t feel like going to the same fast-food place, so they continued to a diner he’d spotted on yesterday’s excursion. There was an Army-Navy store on the same block.
Jason ordered coffee and two breakfast plates. He let Marcus do the talking, and the boy didn’t disappoint. Marcus regaled him with stories about school and friends. Jason’s attention wandered as he perused the crowd.
“I’m going to marry her when I grow up,” Marcus said.
“Who?”
“London.”
Jason laughed, sipping his coffee.
“Either her or Samantha. She sits next to me.”
“I’d go for Samantha if I were you.”
“London likes my cousin Gabe.”
“How do you know?”
“She was looking at his Insta.”
“Hmm.”
“Your phone doesn’t have pictures.”
Jason had grabbed his phone before they left. Although he rarely used it, he wanted Natalie to be able to reach him. He’d bought the old-fashioned flip phone because it stayed charged longer on the trail and because he’d wanted to disconnect from the world.
“London has two little sisters,” Marcus said.
The breakfast plates arrived, loaded with pancakes, bacon and eggs. Jason fully intended to eat whatever Marcus didn’t finish.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” Marcus asked, pouring syrup with abandon.
Jason took the syrup away gently. “No.”
“Do you have kids?”
“No.”
“Do you know how babies are made?”
Jason almost choked on a bite of eggs. He wasn’t sure how to answer.
“I know,” Marcus said. “My mom told me.”
“OK,” Jason said.
Marcus leaned forward. “I want a little brother.”
Jason realized, with some chagrin, that Marcus expected him to deliver on this request. He chuckled under his breath. “You remember what I said when you asked if I was going to marry your mom?”
“No.”
“I said it was too early to talk about. The same goes for babies.”
Marcus forked pancakes into his mouth. “I need a little brother before I grow up.”
Jason made a noncommittal sound and focused on his own plate.
Marcus did the same. They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. After they were finished, Jason settled the bill and ordered a blueberry muffin to go for Natalie.
Then he took Marcus to a store that sold Western goods.
He grabbed two sets of clothes for himself, along with a new Stetson.
His hiking boots were pretty beat up, so he tried on a pair of roper boots while Marcus browsed the hats.
He found a dun-colored Cattleman style, just like Jason’s, in his size.
It was adorable, and Jason would have bought it, but Marcus got distracted by another shelf.
He abandoned the hat for a far more exciting object: a slingshot.
Marcus looked at him with pleading eyes.
The item seemed harmless enough, so Jason added it to his purchases.
When they returned, Marcus played in the front yard with the slingshot. He found that the seed balls from the sycamore tree made great ammo. He amused himself for over an hour. Then he went inside to play video games.
Jason took his phone out of his pocket and contemplated it. His dad had left a voicemail a few days ago. Biting the bullet, he returned the call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Jason? Is that you?”
“It’s me.”
“I thought you’d fallen into a canyon.”
Jason chuckled wryly. “How’s it going up north?”
His dad gave him an update on the weather.
It was fifteen degrees. Snow was in the forecast for next week.
After that was established, Jeff Reed went on to describe the winter preparations he’d made to the house and a project he wanted to tackle over the holidays.
He’d had a problem with the chimney sweep, so he’d done it himself.
“Jesus, Dad.”
“What?”
“You’re going to break your leg.”
His dad pointed out the fact that Jason was the one who’d broken his leg recently. Jason resented his father’s industriousness and his stubborn refusal to slow down or admit weakness. He resented the fact that they were alike.
“How’s Anna?” Jason asked, changing the subject.
“She’s fine. Leigh had the baby last week.”
Leigh was Anna’s daughter from her first marriage. “Did she?”
“A girl. Eight pounds.”
Jason could hear the warmth in his voice as he reported the good news. “That’s great. Tell her I said congrats.”
“Anna went to visit and help out. She’s over the moon.”
“I’m sure,” Jason said. Unlike him, Anna’s daughter was doing something productive. She was literally producing offspring, creating life. She was making grandchildren. It was the ultimate in wish fulfillment for parents of adult children.
“What are you up to?”
Jason cleared his throat. Any of his accomplishments would pale in comparison to Leigh’s. His dad considered through-hiking a waste of time. When Jason had mentioned the Continental Divide Trail, his dad had snorted in derision. “I made it to Texas.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you talked to her yet?”
Jason had told his father what he’d intended to do here. “Yes.”
“How did it go?”
“OK,” he hedged.
“Well, good,” Jeff said in a blustery voice. “Now you can move on.”
“I’m doing some work for her.”
“What kind of work?”
Jason mentioned the alternator belt and the remodel project. This was more comfortable territory for both of them, so he started to warm to the topic. Then he dropped the piece de resistance: “She’s got a ’55 Ford F-Series in her garage.”
His father let out a low whistle, echoing Jason’s reaction exactly.
Jason walked toward the garage so he could look under the hood while they talked.
He should at least try to get the truck running before he left.
His father was a restoration expert and a skilled mechanic in his own right.
They discussed various parts and options for the next ten minutes.
By the end of the conversation, Jason had a plan of attack for the repairs. He thanked his father for the advice.
“I heard from your CO,” Jeff said. “Bradley.”
“Oh?”
“He wants you to train EOD techs in San Diego.”
“Right.”
“It’s a good offer, Jason.”
“I know.”
“But you haven’t accepted yet.”
Jason couldn’t imagine training soldiers to dismantle explosives, with his track record. He’d literally blown himself up.
“You should consider it,” Jeff said. “He holds you in high regard.”
“I’ll call him.”