Page 101 of Three Reckless Words

“I like your ink. Says you’ve got a good reason for being such a grump,” I say, and he stiffens. “An eagle and a…”

“Caduceus. For medicine,” he answers roughly.

“Huh.” I tilt my head as I consider. “You were in the army?”

“Special Forces Medic. Almost drove me to medical school when I was younger.” He puts the pizzas in the oven and leans against the counter, facing out into the kitchen.

From downstairs, Colt and Evans yell something unintelligible, probably caught up in their video games.

“Impressive,” I say, watching his face as a shadow crosses it. “How come you didn’t stick with being a doctor? Real estate seems more boring.”

“Because I learned to make the pizza.” There’s a gruffness in his voice that makes me blink.

“Come again?”

There’s a sadness in his eyes now as he slowly looks away.

“I’m not such a hardass about making the pizza perfect just for Colt’s sake. For me, it’s about honoring a mentor—a friend. We called him Big Frank. He was a Chicago guy, and he made the best goddamned pie I ever had, working miracles in mess halls from a few ingredients and MREs. If you tasted it, you would’ve had to strap yourself down not to take flight. He was killed in an ambush. Syria was fucking chaos, too many different sides and special ops the public never knew about. Officially, we were never there when it happened. He took shrapnel to the neck. I tried like hell before we were extracted, but I couldn’t save him.”

My heart crumbles.

Even now, there’s a hint of panic on his face behind the brave, stoic mask.

I see this young, wide-eyed, heroic Archer coming out who’s so human it hurts.

He’s always been like this, I guess. The natural protector, and when he couldn’t do what he does best, when he let his fallen friend down…

God.

“So that’s why you have the tattoos.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “As for the rest of it, why I came back—” There’s a fraction of a pause where he bites back whatever he was going to say. “I had to come home and figure life out fast. Being a father wouldn’t wait ten damn years to finish medicalschool. I couldn’t be away from Colt that long, not with the situation with his mom.”

He looks away.

I haveso manyquestions. But I’m also not stupid or cruel, and now obviously isn’t the time to pry at his marriage.

“I’m sure you did the right thing,” I whisper.

I hate that my eyes are stinging again.

I’ve always been a huge sucker for these wounded warrior stories, though. It’s the only thing that ever seemedrealin politics, the times when we’d show up so the senator could pay his respects to military families.

The flag-draped coffins always tore my heart out.

Especially the ones that came back from the places just like he said—the invisible, background wars and special missions no one thinks about.

The ones where good men die for mysterious causes.

Nothing changes the tears, hot and real and shed by loving families.

Even now, I want to flipping hug him, but I don’t know where the boundaries are anymore.

I just know they’re blurred like staring into murky water, and I kinda wish they’d just get messier.

“That’s really kind, you know. Making food to honor Frank and keep his memory alive. I’m just sorry you had to go through—”

“That was that, Winnie.” He cuts me off. “You can’t change the past, and there’s a certain point where there’s no use in crying about it either. Me, I’d rather fucking eat.”

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