Page 109 of Luck Be Mine
Baxter’s funeral choked him. The usual military traditions played on repeat in the beautiful, ugly way death had. His mind shied from even imagining his death instead of Bax’s. Guilt crashed through him, then relief that Cait still had him, and then a sick ache for Bax’s mother.
He spent a half hour after the funeral on the phone with Gil Stemmons’s family. Harrison had notified the man of Baxter’s death only to discover Gil’s condition had declined, infection running rampant. He had to have his leg amputated. Another man down and out.
He finally focused on the alarm and walked through the procedure to check the sensors. All doors were closed and nothing was amiss. He’d do a physical check in a bit.
The house was in disarray with half-empty cups, discarded plates and napkins, and chairs everywhere, but he found gratitude. Cait had made this home happen – the sale, themoving, the putting it together. Every step had been fueled by her dedication to we-go-home rule #3.
The mid-morning funeral transitioned to the early afternoon meal laid out across table after table through their dining room, family room, and kitchen. Every command and team member had moved through the house. The mood remained somber, and the contrast to the laughter, stories, and ribbing of normal hurt, too.
Finally, only his team remained, and late afternoon slipped into dark evening before the guys and their families drifted home. Doogie took all care seeing to Bess Baxter and Adele. Hernandez, Tommy, and K-Rock left with family. Jack and Carter left alone. That worried him, too.
He gazed around the room. Niles, who’d been a rock through the whole thing, promised to come in the morning and set things right.But here and now, it was a stark reminder that homes carried all manner of emotional weight. Some were filled with terror, like his childhood home, but this one had truly become safe harbor for all.
A light turned on in the kitchen, the muted one over the stove. A drawer opened. Hunt followed the sound and came to the kitchen entryway. Cait had kicked off her heels and stood at the counter with a fork in her hand eating what was left of the vanilla cake.
He existed in her presence and found comfort here as no other place on earth. She stayed calm and moved from group to group, easing hard emotions with touch and care. When he thought he’d come apart, she appeared at his side and slipped a hand into his. Half a dozen times, she appeared. Solid. Understanding. Loving.
He couldn’t find the words to tell her.
“Come here,” he whispered, finally forcing out the words.
She dropped her fork and padded on bare feet to his side. “What do you need?”
He shook his head, pulled out a kitchen chair, and helped her to sit in his lap. Who knew five years ago, when she’d insisted on lap conversations, it would become so important to him.
“You’re hurting.” Her words rippled in the quiet room.
“Yeah.” There was no use denying it. He shut his eyes, trapping all manner of emotion in his head. “Not tonight. I can’t…”
She cupped his face. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Truth be told, he was, too.
He dropped his head to her shoulder and held on for the longest time. Minutes, no. An hour, maybe. He couldn’t find words, and he didn’t try.
The truth of the matter sat deep in his gut.
She would be better off if he’d never come into her life.
She never would have taken her third tour, she wouldn’t have been hurt, and she wouldn’t be carrying the weight of his choices.
Death was a bastard, and regardless that she joked about battling the grim reaper in the surgical theater, when the monster came this close to home, he desperately wanted to change the past, change the path, change everything to protect her.
Cait finally shifted off his lap and took his hand, tugging him to rise. He resisted, not sure he had the will to move.
“We both need sleep. Let’s go to bed.” She tugged again, and he let her pull him through the living room to their bedroom.
“Did you set the security system?”
“Yes.” He collapsed to the side of the bed. She coaxed away clothes, like peeling layers to shed the day. He cooperated, and his eyes closed before he could throw the covers over hisstruggling body and mind. Sleep took him under as he listened to Cait ready for bed.
Dreams chased and tormented him.
He was saved from fitful waking by Cait, once again. Her weight against him, her cool fingers on his face, and her soft voice telling him it would get better.
She should know.
The errant thought that she was masking her pain flitted away. His mind calmed, and he sank into deep rest.
