Page 46 of Bursting With Love
Jack set down the receiver and sank into a dining room chair. He leaned his elbows on his thighs and dropped his face to his hands. I’m so fucked up. This is insane. Savannah’s words replayed in his mind. I’ve latched on to some worthless, angry, insecure mountain man. He sat up tall and breathed in, expanding his chest and broad shoulders to their full capacity. Worthless. He rose to his feet, curling his hands into fists. Insecure. He was anything but worthless and insecure. Angry, yes. What motherfucker wouldn’t be angry? He fucking killed his wife. But insecure? Worthless? Is that what everyone thought of him now?
He stalked down the step into the sunken living room and snagged the framed medal from the built-in bookshelves beside the fireplace and scanned it. He needed to reiterate his value in his own mind. Congressional Medal of Honor. Above and beyond the call of duty. He touched the glass above the word valor. Pride swelled within him, drawing his shoulders back. He flexed the muscles in his legs, feeling his strength, and he stood taller. He set the medal back on the bookshelves and, wearing courage like a cloak, he went back to the phone. Without any hesitation, he dialed Rush’s number. His heart pounded against his chest. Each ring of Rush’s phone sped up his pulse.
“Hello?”
Rush’s deep, familiar voice sent a pain right through Jack’s chest. He swallowed to alleviate the tightening in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, and his mouth was so dry he couldn’t form a single word.
“Hello?” Rush’s tone was guarded.
“Rush,” Jack managed.
Silence filled the airwaves.
“Rush, it’s Jack.” Damn it. He grasped for the right words. Hell, he grasped for any words. “Don’t hang up.”
“I’m not hanging up.”
The tension in Rush’s voice was equal to the fear in Jack’s as he pictured Rush standing, much like Jack was, with his body tense, legs rooted to the ground, biceps twitching.
“I know this is too fucking late and I wouldn’t blame you for hanging up after the things I’ve said to you.” We’ve said to each other. “Rush, I’m done running, man.” He closed his eyes, disbelieving that he’d just said the words he’d sworn he’d never say, much less want to say. After Linda died, he didn’t think he’d ever want to stop running away. Savannah made him realize how wrong he’d been.
He heard Rush blow out a breath, and Jack pictured his shockingly blue eyes—which were as light as Jack’s were dark—in a conflicted stare, a mixture of cold anger and warm brotherly love.
“I’m calling Elise to come get Linda’s things.” Goddamn it, Rush. Talk to me!
“Don’t.” Rush’s emphatic statement took Jack by surprise.
“Don’t?”
“Her father’s really sick. Terminal. You’ll only upset her more,” Rush said.
“Terminal?” Jack’s voice faded to a whisper. “Ralph?” Before Linda’s death, Jack and Ralph had been close. He had fond memories of talking about the military and politics with Ralph, watching football together on Thanksgiving, and sharing many intimate conversations mulling over the differences between men and women. He smiled at the memories, but the smile quickly faded as he remembered their last interaction. It had been right after Linda’s accident, when Ralph had made no bones about his blaming Jack for Linda’s death. Jack had known then that it was grief speaking, but Ralph’s words had only confirmed what Jack believed to be true.
Jack rubbed the scar on the back of his arm.
“Jack, you’ve done enough damage to that family. Don’t make it worse,” Rush said.
His words sliced through Jack’s courage like a knife, leaving him grasping for strength as he lowered himself to the chair once again.
“Rush, I gotta see him.” Jack closed his eyes. He had to see him and clear the air. It wasn’t just Ralph who had said cutting, hurtful things.
“The guy’s on his deathbed, Jack. What good will it do?”
Rush’s voice softened, and Jack was glad for the change. Maybe there was hope for them after all.
“I’m not sure, but I owe it to Linda. We were solid before she…before the accident.”
“That was a long time ago, Jack. It took months for him to be able to move on, and he finally has. A lot has happened over the past two years while you’ve been hiding out like fucking Saddam Hussein.”
Jack stifled the urge to tell his brother to fuck off. Jack had earned his medal during the capture of Hussein, and he knew that Rush was just trying to push his buttons. He wondered if his father was right there behind him, goading him on. His father was always goading them on. Be a man.
