Page 27 of We Thought We Knew It All
“I’ve changed, Colby. We all have. But it looks like we’ll get the chance to see what that means because I’ll be around for a while.”
“What happened?” Colby asked.
I hadn’t yet told anyone, not even Callie. She still thought I’d be leaving soon to rejoin my platoon.
“If we’re going to have this discussion.” I rose to my feet. “I need another beer.”
“I’ll order a pizza. Sausage and pepper okay?”
“Is there any other kind?” I asked.
“See,” he said. “At least I know some things didn’t change.”
I handed him a bottle as I took my seat again. Setting my bottle on the table with a sigh, I reached back and pulled my shirt off over my head.
Colby pulled his glasses down and straightened them on his nose as I showed him my shoulder.
“Shit.”
The bullet hadn’t gone all the way through, lodging itself in the muscle instead. It required three surgeries to repair the damage. Ironically, it’d been one of the surgeries to cause most of the nerve damage to my arm.
The entry point itself was smooth and slightly red, but the surrounding skin was puckered and marked with scars from the surgeries. It had looked pretty gruesome soon after, but now just looked like it contained a good story.
“I don’t remember getting shot,” I admitted. “I think that’s a good thing. But my buddies told me the guy who got me was taken down when they came after me. I passed out, only to wake up hours after I’d been rescued with a medic tending to me in a field hospital. I was flown to Germany soon after and my company was recalled, our mission unfinished.”
“Your hand-”
“Nerve damage. All down my arm.” I grabbed my beer bottle again and tipped it back against my lips, taking comfort in the cool liquid before giving him the final piece of the puzzle. “It’s why I can’t go back.”
I pulled my shirt back over my head and down my chest as the silence stretched between us. Colby thought for a moment, then reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “Then you aren’t staying in a hotel. I have an extra room.”
I nodded, unable to form words. I had a lot of good friends in the army, ones I risked my neck for time and again. They did the same for me, but none of them were Colby. He’d been there for me at a time in my life when I didn’t have anyone else in my corner. He’d kept me going. A lot of the time he’d been the only reason I didn’t go off the deep end. I’d screw up, and he’d pull me back from the edge.
I’d made a huge mistake when I thought it was too hard to keep in touch, when I decided to just let the people of Gulf City be a part of my childhood. Growing up didn’t mean growing apart. It was something I hadn’t understood. But, as usual, Colby was smarter than me.
The pizza arrived, and we’d both had enough of serious topics for now. Our talk moved on to the upcoming NHL season. He shared stories of his nephews and the funny things they did. I told him about the guys in my platoon and some of the crazier things we’d had to do.
And just like that, it was as it used to be; as it was supposed to be.
11
Callie
I took some much-needed space from Jamie. We’d barely spent time together, and he already had me questioning everything. I moved home for a lot of reasons. I didn’t want to raise my kids in L.A. any longer. It’d never felt like home. I wanted to be near Kat, Colby, and Jay. I never in a million years would have thought Jamie would come back.
But how long was he back for? He hadn’t brought it up. I didn’t know how leave worked in the army, but I knew it didn’t last forever. There were things he wasn’t telling me, but could I fault him? It wasn’t like he had a whopper of a secret like I did.
The sad truth was, I didn’t even know if I had a secret. I’d been too scared to have the test done and Dylan had assumed the role of father in Jackson’s life. Did I have a right to take that away from either of them?
If Dylan were here, that’d be an easy no. Jackson would eventually deserve the truth, but not at nine years old.
I pushed my hair behind my ears, stepping around an older couple on the sidewalk as I walked through the downtown area.
I wanted to scream at something. Dylan wasn’t here. That was his choice, and it changed things.
My phone beeped. Another text message from my agent, Nicole. She was pushing hard for me to sell these movie rights. Of course she was. It’d be a huge paycheck for her. For me too. And for Dylan.
Divorce sucked. Especially when you publish a book months before the proceedings start. My hard work, my mother’s story, was no longer just mine. What’s mine is yours and all that bullshit. That’d probably explain the three missed calls I had from Dylan - not the fact that I was now raising his sons across the country.
