Page 29 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men

CAMRYN

A light snow fell as I climbed into the sheriff’s truck, still shivering from being outside. Oakley flipped a switch on the dash and the vents kicked in full blast. The heat washing over us felt amazing against my face.

“More sliders?”

He licked his lips. The brown paper bag in my lap was already filling the cab of the truck with the delicious smell of spiced meat.

“No. Chicken kabobs.”

He frowned. “Can’t you bring home a pizza or something?”

“I bring what Millie lets me bring,” I smiled. “It’s potluck.”

It was late, and the city was dark. Oakley had dropped me off more than ten hours ago, on the way to his own shift. It had been a long night, too. For some reason the whole town seemed to have shown up for dinner service, and Millie had been in rare form.

“You wouldn’t believe the day I had,” I sighed, kicking my shoes off.

“Yeah, well, did you almost arrest someone for stealing SpaghettiOs?”

I laughed for the first time since this morning. It felt great.

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“Well, I did,” groaned Oakley. “Domestic dispute. This couple was separated, and the guy broke into his old house and took a pillowcase of canned goods. Claimed they were his, and that he’d paid for them.”

“Were they?”

“That’s not up to me,” he grinned. “That’s a civil matter. She did want him arrested though. Breaking and entering, with an intent to steal Green Giant corn and Del Monte vegetables.”

“A diabolical heist.”

Oakley chuckled as he guided us back through town. “He demanded she be arrested for her terrible cooking, and forcing him to eat out of cans for fifteen years.”

Grinning, I put one foot up on the dash, grabbed it, and began massaging the arch. It felt so good my eyes half-closed.

“So how’d you leave it?”

“I told them they had two choices. They could go off in different directions, or I could detain them both and put them side by side, in the back of my truck, until I’d completed my investigation. Which, I noted, might take hours.”

“How fast did they get the fuck out of there?”

“Pretty fast,” laughed Oakley. “The guy left with the SpaghettiO’s, though. Which was pretty weird, considering how much he complained about eating canned food.”

The truck rolled on, the snow flying at the windshield in that pretty way that always made it seem like you were traveling through hyperspace.

One leg after the other, I massaged my tired feet through my socks.

When I caught Oakley looking, I blew him a kiss and hiked my server’s skirt a little further up my thigh.

“Can I ask you something?” I ventured. “Just between you and I?”

He paused, but only for a moment. “Sure.”

“What happened to Jaxon?”

The snow blew even faster. Our hyperjump accelerated.

“You’re talking about the sleepwalking?”

“Yes,” I acknowledged softly. “But also, his hands. They’re scarred. Like from a fire.”

He nodded, and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

“Before we met him, Jaxon did a tour over in Ar Raqqah,” said Oakley. Syrian province, lots of activity. Just before he was scheduled to get out of there, he was involved in a nasty crash.”

I watched him as he told the story. His eyes were focused on the road. His mind, however, was somewhere else entirely.

“It was a CH-47. One of those big old Chinooks, with the double rotors,” he went on. “It came down hard, but Jaxon got lucky; he was thrown from the wreckage. Somehow he managed to run back to it, and pulled five men out of the inferno.”

Oakley’s jaw went tight, as he paused in reverence.

“None of them made it.”

It was deathly silent now, except for the quiet, rhythmic sound of the wiper blades.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

“Yeah,” Oakley swallowed dryly. “He did what he could, and damned near died in the process. He’s got the scars to show for it, though. Inside and out.”

I tried, but I couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t even come close.

“What happened after that?”

“They commended him,” Oakley went on. “His CO put him in for a bronze star.”

“That’s nice.”

He turned the wheel and smirked. “Not really. Jaxon told the guy to shove the medal up his ass.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch doesn’t even begin to describe it. Have you ever seen the bronze star?”

I shook my head.

“It’s very pointy.”

The shadows around us deepened as we left town and turned onto the road that would climb our mountain.

I was looking forward to the soft couch, and to toasting my feet in front of the fire.

Most of all, I was looking forward to the camaraderie that came at the end of every night.

The warmth and laughter that came with sharing my life, after being so very alone, for so achingly long.

“Jaxon’s closest friend died in the crash,” Oakley continued.

“He flew all the way down to Savannah, just to tell his parents about their son’s demise.

After that, Jaxon refused to get close to anyone.

He was already a crack shot, so he qualified for sniper duty and took the most remote missions possible. ”

“Just so he’d have to work alone,” I breathed.

“Yes.”

It all made sense now. “And that’s where you met him.”

“That’s where we met him,” Oakley confirmed. “In the jungle, all alone, covered in vines and snakes.” He shrugged. “Jaxon took missions that were almost always solo, up in the mountains or deep in the bush. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else but himself. But then, well…”

“You brought him back?”

Oakley settled back in the seat a little more comfortably. His smile was full of pride.

“Ryder did, mostly,” he admitted. “The two of them bonded over a bunch of New England crap that a west coast guy like me could never understand. But it was Sarge who really crashed his pity party. He slapped the solo right out of Jaxon, and taught him what it was to be a Marine again. To rely on others through working together. That every one of our lives was forfeit unless we were watching each other’s backs, and that it was okay to shoulder that responsibility, in every circumstance. ”

“Sarge sounds special.”

“He was,” Oakley agreed. “I’ve never seen the Corps accommodate a man’s every wish and demand, the way they did Sarge.

He put our unit together by hand, and for the next three years we were so busy and constantly on mission, there wasn’t any time to feel sorry for anything.

” He paused, curiously, for a moment. “Hmm. Maybe that’s why Jaxon’s reflecting on it now. ”

We rumbled on in silence for a bit, as the incline steepened.

“So yeah, I’d like to think we brought Jaxon back, so to speak,” Oakley finished. “Not all the way back, maybe, but eventually he learned to trust again. And we trusted him, of course. With our very lives.”

“Just as you trusted Sarge,” I noted.

It was meant as a casual statement. But it caused Oakley to stiffen, visibly.

“All the way,” he said, his voice lower and tinged with sadness. “Until the day he gave his life for us.”