Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two) (15 page)

Dad walks away from the pretzel stand. “You
sure you don't want one?”

“Positive.” Appetite hasn't been the same
since meeting the terrorist. It's done a wonder for my physical
concentration, but at the rate I'm going to end up losing pounds I
can't afford to lose. Not this close to school. Not this close to
the game changer.

“Any idea what you want to get Haven?”

“No. What'd you get her?”

“Some fancy cooking crap from one of Mindy's
magazines.” he takes a giant bite, salt falling onto his shirt. He
took the easy way out. A practical gift. Lucky bastard. We continue
walking a few feet and he spots a jewelry store and tosses his
head. “What about jewelry?”

“She already has tags.”

“No one said a necklace,” the words come out
of his mouth quickly. Continuing that direction, he sighs, “Maybe a
pair of earrings? A charm bracelet?”

“An engagement ring?”

The words cause Sir to choke on the bit of
pretzel he was working on. I try to stifle a laugh as he lowers a
glare to me. “A joke, son?” When I don't respond he sits down on a
bench and points that I do the same. “Clint, we talked about
this.”

“Before I left. I remember. You said I
couldn't ask her then--”

“And I still don't recommend it now.”

“Dad--”

“Hear me out.” He lowers the pretzel. “I know
right now you're itching for a way to soothe that burn. That fear
that Michele is you when you're not here.” How does he do that? How
does he just...know? “And while putting a giant ring on her finger
would declare to the world a little louder than your tags, it could
also just scare her off. It's hard. I know. I know what it's like
to want to claim what's yours from invaders, but the way to do it
is emotionally not by shoving shit on her body like a victory
flag.”

He could have a point. Can't blame a guy for
thinking that way. But what if that's the only way the asshole
Michele backs the hell off? What if that's the only way he gets the
picture that Haven's not for him? Especially with me going away to
school for a few months. If I can get her busy planning a wedding
then she'd be too distracted to even hang out with him.

Relaxing against the bench I ask, “When'd you
propose to mom?”

Dad slows his chewing down. “You really wanna
know?”

“I do.”

“Four months in.”

“And you're worried about me?”

“Slugger--”

“Dad--”

“Slugger, I won't lie and tell you that it
was wrong. I loved your mother more than anyone else in my entire
life. I wanted to marry her. To rescue her. Protect her. I wanted
God and the entire world to know she was Mrs. Walker. But it wasn't
that easy once we were married. There are things we still needed to
learn about ourselves. And each other. What makes a marriage work
and such. Hell, what makes a relationship work. Looking back, I
can't say I would've waited...but I will say I would've given it
more thought. And I wish someone would've warned me to slow down. I
got lucky, Slugger. She said yes. I don't know what I would've done
had she said no.”

I don't know what I would do if Haven said no
if I asked. But we've been together longer than dad and mom. And
I'm not trying to drive her away. Unfortunately, I could see asking
her to marry me right now not going well, given what's been going
on lately. I'm not sure as I once was that she would just scream
and shriek yes. And that uncertainty scares the shit out of me.

“God you look like a puppy that just can't
wait for his owner to get home,” Mindy says to me from the
kitchen.

I turn around and head away from the window
where I was peeking out to see if Haven had arrived home yet. She's
getting out of class early today and while I offered to go pick her
up, she insisted she let Mandy bring her home. She says it's a
great time for girl talk and other things. And why waste the gas? I
don't think she understands when it comes to her nothing is ever a
waste.

“Get in here and try this,” Mindy
demands.

Quickly, I relocate myself into the kitchen
and hop on one of her counter tops, my bare feet swaying back and
forth as she glances over her shoulder at me. Curious, I watch as
she stirs something in an oversized pot. It's funny. When my mom
would cook, I would sit on the kitchen table and watch her. When
she died and I started spending time at Mindy's while Sir was gone,
she used to let me sit on the counter, a habit that never quite
ceased I guess.

Mindy holds out a spoon with her hand cradled
underneath to protect her clean floors from drips. She pushes her
perfectly painted red lips out and blows. Soft. Tenderly. “Be
careful. It's hot, Slugger.”

I slurp the contents cautiously into my
mouth. Marinara sauce. Really goddamn good marinara sauce.

“For God's sake, Slugger, you weren't raised
in a barn. Manners,” she huffs. I lightly laugh as she rolls her
eyes. “Good, or more garlic?”

The amazing flavor lingers happily on my
tongue. Staring at Mindy I let a smile spread on my face. I know I
don't say it enough out loud and I know it would probably give her
a heart attack, but I really do love her. The same way I once loved
my mom. She'll never replace her, but she's done a damn good job
filling in the blanks.

“More garlic, huh?” the realization that I
haven't responded and just been staring at her hits me.

I open my mouth with the intent to tell her
how amazing she is. How I'm lucky to have her. How my mom would be
so thankful that it's Mindy in my life where she couldn't be.
Instead I shake my head and sigh, “It's perfect.”

For a moment, her blue eyes stare at me
unsure. Here we are again with another perfect chance for me to try
to tell her how much she means to me and the words just won't come
out. At least it's not for lack of trying. Sometimes I think I'm
more broken than could ever possibly be fixed.

Flustered, she moves to rinse the spoon,
clears her throat, and asks, “Are you doing okay, Slugger?”

“Yeah. I'm good.”

She tosses me a look before returning to
avidly rinsing the utensil. “Excited?”

“About tonight?”

“No, about getting into school.”

“How did you--” my words are cut off by a
sarcastic look as she dries the spoon. “Dad.”

“You really think Whiskey could keep
that
to himself?” I fight the urge to smile at his pride in
me. “Please, Slugger...” Suddenly the idea that he let it slip to
Haven, the fact I haven't had the chance to tell her yet screaming
at me, when Mindy helps, “Don't worry. He didn't tell her. He knows
that's
your
responsibility.” My look of relief only lasts
for a brief moment because she quickly says, “And when are you
gonna tell her?”

“I don't know...soon?”

“Slugger.”

“It's just been rough lately. You know she's
trying to get ready to graduate and stressed out about finals. I
just don't want to add to that. So let's just get through her
graduation and then I'll tell her.”

She turns the fire off under the pot and
turns around wonder on her face, “Has she stopped to ask?”

The realization that she hasn't strikes me
hard. Feels like a jab in the rib cage. One not needed. “Like I
said she's been busy and stressing out.”

An unfamiliar look crosses on her faces
before she clears her throat to clear it away. “So are you
excited?”

I shrug. “A bit.”

“Just a bit? Slugger, this is a big deal!
HUGE!”

A smile pops on my face even as I attempt to
fight it. “If I graduate, it's a career changer. Something I always
wanted.”

“Exactly,” She raises her eyebrows and sighs,
“What do you mean if you graduate? Of course you're going to
graduate! Why wouldn't you? You train an annoying amount.”

My head falls back in mirth. “An annoying
amount?”

“Yeah. Seeing you run in the morning only
reminds me every time the sun rises my youth is slowly slipping
away.”

“How is that possible? You look even younger
now than when I was a kid.”

Mindy shakes her head and comes over to place
a hand on my cheek, “I know you're full of shit, Slugger, but you
know how to make this middle aged woman's day.” I smile and she
gives my cheek a soft pat. “Now back to why you don't think you'll
graduate.”

Admitting to others that I have faults in my
career isn't something that comes easy. Sure I never miss. Sure
I've been training for something endlessly from what feels like
birth. Sure my superiors think I've got this under control, but
truth is, I'm not sure as I once was. Doubt is a new emotion that's
worse than that poison called hope. Hope at least can build you up
when you need it; doubt is set to destroy you at every open
opportunity. And lately there have been many open
opportunities.

“I mean, I meet all the qualifications,
obviously, but I just feel I can do a little better on my swim
requirements. Then of course when the course starts I know I'll
pick up marksmanship but I'm worried about field sketching, UKD and
Stalking.”

“You've never been worried before--”

“I've easily been the best before,” the
cockiness comes out before I can stop it. “It’s just going to take
a lot out of me and when it's over, if I graduate--”

“When.”

“When I graduate, the new range of questions
I have to answer is even worse.”

Puzzled she folds her arms and asks, “What do
you mean?”

“Where do I get next? If I graduate--”

“When, Clint.”

“Sorry, when I graduate, I can either take
advanced courses, or possibly...” the thought trails off unsure
that I want to admit the possibility out loud.

“Possibly what?” When I don't answer she
pushes. Her tone and volume like a carefully selected tactic for
applying pressure to all the right places. I swear, she has
military training some times. “Possibly what?” I bite my tongue
harder. I can out last her. Mindy points a stern, motherly finger
at me, “Clint Thomas Walker, so help me God if you don't finish
that sentence, worrying about graduation will be at the bottom of
your list of problems.”

Fear forces my mouth to spew, “ITC. It's an
intense course that takes a minimum of 9 months.”

A small gasps leaves her. “But if you do
that...that's over a year you'll be gone.”

“I know.”

“That's a year away from Glove and
Lordy--”

“I know.”

“Away from all of us--”

“I know.”

“A year away from--”

“Mindy.” I cut her off, my eyes falling into
hers, the fact that I don't need another reminder I'm a ghost in my
girlfriend's life very apparent. “I. Know.”

She nods and touches her cheek now
distraught. Silence fills in the kitchen and she turns her body
away from mine, the possibility of tears in her eyes being the
reason. When I joined the Marines, when I made this plan to be the
very best and climb to the top, I never took anyone else into
consideration. I was taking my family for granted. My friends. And
that was before I had a love that I don't know how to live without.
What the fuck am I supposed to do? Give it all up and choose a
different dream? Because right now I don't think I can have it
all.

“Do you have something to wear for tonight?”
her change of subject is much appreciated.

“Jeans won't cut it?”

After pulling out a long dish she turns
around and pops a hand on her hip. “Is that a joke?”

It wasn't. I shrug. “Is that a no?”

“Slugger, it's not only one of the nicest
events in the city, state, but in the country. Those tickets are
the kind you don't get unless you're in the right circles.”

“Guess I'm thankful you're in the right
circles.”

She rolls her eyes. “Black tie affair.” Shock
comes on my face. I figured it'd be nice, but not that nice. “I
mean an actual suit. With an actual bow tie.”

“I don't own a suit.”

“Why don't you own a suit?”

“Why would I own a suit?”

She pauses before nodding to herself that's a
fair question. The last time I wore an actual suit was mom's
funeral. I figured the nice pants and blazer at my welcome home
dinner parties would cut it. Fuck me for assuming.

Mindy pours some of the pasta sauce in the
pan that I think is filled with pasta. I'm starting to think she's
making lasagna. After more ingredients fill the dish she places it
in the oven, wipes her hands on her apron, takes it off and motions
her finger for me to follow.

Doing so, I follow her upstairs around to a
room I know relatively well. When dad was away, before he fully
pulled out, and then when he had to work the late night shift
before I was old enough to stay alone, this was my room at Mindy's.
Available any time day or night.

The room is just as I remember it. Queen
sized bed covered in dark sheets and a dark comforter. Windows hung
with dark curtains. A dresser that used to be filled with my
things. Now on top are framed photos of me. Neighborhood BBQs.
Christmas. High school graduation. Corps graduation. I see one of
me and Haven from Thanksgiving. I want of those.

“Now, I bought this while anticipating for
another event,” she says in what feels like a mutter to herself,
“but since that hasn't come as quickly as I suspected might as well
take this baby for a test drive.” Suddenly she pulls out a tuxedo
from the closet still in clear zipped suit bag of protection. Mindy
gently pulls the zipper to reveal it a bit.

With a crooked smile I ask, “How do you know
my size?”

Mockingly she shrugs as she offers it. “Lucky
guess.”

I study the material including the tag.
Remembering the name I look up. “Who is the Tom Ford guy and why do
you think I belong in him?”

“He's an amazing designer of men's fashion.
And because I know about fashion the way I know about food. Don't
question my judgment, just trust it.” She turns around and reaches
in pulling out another suit, this one not black and white, but
black and gray with a tie missing. “This one is for her graduation
dinner. Try not to wrinkle it.”