Page 47 of Building Courage

“Damn, that would be like a two-year deployment. What if she decides to take another road trip?”

The thought gave him a twinge. “I guess that’ll be up to her. I can’t really say anything when I’ll be gone off and on, too.”

“Fuck.”

Exactly. “My point is…whoever we become involved with…they have to be independent and have a life separate from us because we can’t expect them to put their life on hold just because we’re gone. They have to have something else to fill the void.”

“Like LT’s wife, Moira, with her painting and teaching.”

“Yeah, and your software engineer and Brynn’s photography business.”

Jeff Sizemore, aka Bullet, came out of the kill house and sauntered over to them, and their conversation moved on to other things while they waited for the others to finish their round in the structure. Ten minutes later, the rest of the team had come through, and they circled back around and went through the house in pairs, then split into two teams of four and did it all again. They’d finished the CQB drill when Lieutenant Harding stepped away from the group to answer his cell phone.

Tucker watched the man’s expression as Sam turned and faced the team. “That was Lieutenant Commander Yazzie. We’re standing down for now. The Ambassador’s assistant and the others have been recovered and returned. Nigerien forces are still working to find all the bastards responsible, but our citizen is out of danger.”

He wasn’t the only one breathing a sigh of relief. He read the same response in the relaxing of tension in Sam’s face. As a newly married husband of just over a year, the separations he and Moira had already gone through couldn’t be easy.

Tucker understood the conflict that raged between duty to family and the job. He worked through that tug-of-war with his dad and grandmother. While home, he called them every other Sunday to check-in. When he deployed, they had a routine of text messages, emails, and calls they followed so they wouldn’t worry.

But this thing with Brynn was different. He didn’t want to deploy until they’d worked things out. Or was it until he’d worked things out?

“Just because the deployment has been canceled doesn’t mean we can slack off,” Sam said. “We’re moving on to tech. We’ve just received some new navigational software they want us to familiarize ourselves with.”

No one complained.

*

Brynn chopped up two medium onions and two green peppers and crushed two cloves of garlic with the side of her knife, peeled it, chopped it into pulp, then added it to the Italian sausage frying in the skillet. After stirring it several times, she turned the heat down and put a lid on the skillet.

“You lied. You don’t need my help with anything,” Jess accused.

“I know how to do the chopping and sauteing, and I can fry, but I don’t have the cooking gene like my mom. She does it all. Cordon Bleu cooking all the way.”

Jess shrugged a shoulder. “Cordon Bleu isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You go to a fancy restaurant, and they put three olives and a pumpkin seed on your plate for a salad and charge you thirty dollars—and to add insult to injury, you go home hungry.”

Brynn laughed. “You left out the squiggle of dressing across the plate for the salad.”

Jess grinned. “Your mother really cooks like that?”

“Yeah, but she does put more than a few olives and a pumpkin seed on your plate. It’s all about presentation. She’s a lawyer, so I guess that plays into it, too.”

She removed the lid from the skillet to give the meat mixture another quick stir then got out another pot for the sauce. She opened four large cans of crushed tomatoes, sprinkled in salt, pepper, more sautéed garlic, oregano, and basil, and then turned on the heat. By the time the tomatoes had started to cook, the meat was done. She added it to the mixture, turned the temperature to simmer, put the lid on the pot, and set the timer for thirty minutes.

“Last night, when I was leaving to go to Tucker’s house, I heard Martin and Tate arguing. I made an excuse to interrupt things and knocked on the door. Tate was his usual smartass self. I’m worried, Jess. I’m afraid of Tate. He’s one huge, aggressive asshole, and I’m worried about Martin. I’ve already seen bruises on him.”

Jess pulled the tie from her hair in a common sign of frustration. She raked her fingers through the messy mop, pulled it back up, and twisted the tie into it again. “I’ve talked to Martin, too. But we can’t demand he stop seeing Tate. He’s a grown man. All we can do is be here for him.”

Had her parents ever been there for her? No, she couldn’t say they had. They’d played the blame game because she’d hidden what was happening with Chad. Until she’d filed a restraining order. Even after that, they’d continued to sit in judgment as though what he’d done was her fault until he’d tried to kill her. The pain echoed through her, but it was no longer as strong as it had been.

Jess’s cell phone rang, and she tugged it free of her back pocket. “It’s Oliver.” She answered the phone. Jess wandered around the room as she conversed. Jess closed the call out. “He’s having car trouble and needs me to follow him to the repair shop so he can leave it while I give him a ride home.”

“Go. I hope he’s able to make it to the shop without breaking down. I’ll put the casserole together and walk it over after you get back. Just give me a call.”

Jess grabbed her purse. “Thanks, Brynn. I appreciate it.” She paused at the door. “I promise you can trust me to hold what you told me in confidence.”

Brynn nodded. “Thanks. But I already knew that. I trust you, Jess.”

After Jess was gone, Brynn cooked the pasta and finished preparing the two casseroles. Once she covered them with plastic wrap, she put one in her refrigerator and left the other on the stove to take over for Jess and Oliver.

---