Here And Now (American Valor 2)

Dedication

For Mom and Dad—

Thank you for showing me happily-ever-afters do exist.

Happy 50th Anniversary.

Contents

Prologue

June 2006

E
VEN THOUGH HE
knew it was coming, Lucky James flinched at the first volley of gunfire. He remained steady for the next two volleys, the loud crack giving way to the mournful sound of the bugle.

During his five years with the 75th Ranger Regiment, he’d never attended a stateside service for a fallen soldier. He’d stood at attention on a tarmac halfway around the world as the American flag was lowered to half-staff and “Taps” blared from loudspeakers. He’d carried flag-draped metal coffins holding the remains of his brothers-in-arms up the ramp of the C-130 that would deliver them home. He’d knelt beside many of those coffins, placed his hand atop them, silently begging forgiveness for failing them. After all, as a Ranger medic, his number one priority was to return his fellow soldiers home to their loved ones safe and sound. Not in a box.
Never
in a box.

When the bugler finished, the honor guard lifted the American flag from Ethan Dellinger’s casket and began the ceremonial folding. Everyone watched in silence as the soldiers worked in tandem, pulling the fabric taught, smoothing each crease, making each fold with precision.

It had been years since he’d last seen Ethan; his last memories of him were as a chatty middle schooler who invited himself to shoot hoops with Lucky at a nearby playground one day. Over the course of the next few years, Ethan would show up out of the blue and follow Lucky around as he worked on his car, mowed the yard, whatever he was doing. Right up until the day Lucky left for basic training.

To be completely honest, Lucky hadn’t given much thought to Ethan during the past five years. After all, he was just a kid he once knew. He hadn’t even known Ethan had joined the army immediately following his high school graduation. Only after arriving home on leave the day before had Lucky learned from his father that “the youngest Dellinger boy” had been killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq.

Barely three weeks into his very first deployment, Army Pfc. Ethan Dellinger died two months shy of his nineteenth birthday.

His immediate family assembled only feet away from his casket with the remaining friends and family forming a semicircle around the grave site. From where Lucky stood at the back, he could see each of their faces. Ethan’s mother and father sat side by side on small folding chairs with elderly relatives, grandparents perhaps, seated next to them. The youngest of four children, Ethan’s immediate family was large to begin with, and when in-laws, nieces, and nephews were thrown into the mix, it grew to massive proportions.

Despite the large gathering, his eyes were drawn to Ethan’s sister, Rachel. She stood out even among her own siblings with her fiery red hair and bright blue eyes.

She and Lucky were of the same age, had attended the same schools from the time Lucky and his father moved to Durant, Oklahoma, in the middle of seventh grade. In all that time, he’d never spoken more to her than the occasional hello, goodbye, or single-word answer. And for as long as he could remember, while she’d never paid any mind to him, she’d always had his attention, despite the fact they traveled in different social circles.

But what stood out about her today he found upsetting. There she was, surrounded by all these people, all family or friends of her brother, and she stood completely alone. With her arms wrapped tight around her middle, Rachel comforted herself at a time when no one else seemed to notice or care.

It took every bit of self-restraint for him to not make a scene, march over to where she stood, and pull her into his arms. He was on the verge of saying to hell with being polite when the service ended and the crowd began to disperse. Everyone except him. He remained right where he stood, watching Rachel as she walked over to Ethan’s casket, pressed a kiss to her fingertips, and laid her hand upon the polished wood.

He had only taken a few steps in her direction when her head lifted and she caught sight of him. Much to his surprise, she stepped away from Ethan’s casket and walked toward him. Her blue eyes were red and swollen, her face tearstained.

“Rachel,” he began the moment she was in earshot. “I’m very sorry about Ethan. He was a great—”

Before he could finish his condolences, her palm met his cheek with a resounding crack.

“How dare you come here,” she said bitterly.

The tears fell freely down her face now. Her hands shook and her body vibrated with restrained fury.

He apologized a second time for reasons unknown even to him. But judging from the expression on her face and the hurt in her eyes, the words needed to be said.

“This is your fault,” she said, pointing to the hole where her brother’s casket would be lowered and the adjacent pile of red dirt that would bury him deep beneath the earth’s surface. “Ethan idolized you. Wanted to be you. He joined the army in hopes of following in your footsteps. Except he didn’t score high enough to be a medic. Wasn’t fit enough to be a Ranger. I hope you’re happy.”

Stunned into silence, he could do little more than watch as Rachel Dellinger turned her back on him and walked away.

Chapter One

September 2012

T
HEY WERE GIGGLING
again.

Lucky kept his head down as he strode past the group of young coeds huddled along the sidewalk. Three weeks ago he wouldn’t have thought anything of it, not even if he noticed them stealing glances as he made his way past. But now he knew better. Now he knew they were friends with his assigned lab partner. Thankfully, they kept their distance and didn’t approach him or call out his name. But the giggles whenever he walked past? Not even two months into the semester and this shit was getting old.

If there was one thing he hated about college, it was the age difference between him and most of the other students, something he’d never really considered when he left the 75th Ranger Regiment. With his thirtieth birthday on the horizon and at least six years of schooling ahead of him, not counting internships, residencies, or any specialties, it was now or never. So he’d chosen not to renew his contract, separated from the military at the beginning of August, and as a result was now surrounded by packs of giggling, teenage, selfie-taking girls.

Lord help him.

A little voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably refer to them as young women instead, but with their short shorts, long ponytails, and glossy lips, he certainly didn’t— couldn’t—regard them as women. Sure they were of legal age to have sex, but not being able to buy their own beer was a strike against them in his book.

Damn, he sounded old.

And compared to them, he
was
old. By the time he finished his undergraduate degree he’d likely be telling incoming freshmen to get off his lawn.

Having finally reached the science building, Lucky pulled open the door and made his way inside for his last class of the week. Fridays were his long day, with an early morning English class and then his chem class right at lunchtime. Afterward, he’d head home for a nap, and get up just in time for dinner with his dad and his dad’s girlfriend, Brenda, before heading into work.

And the nights he didn’t work weren’t much better. Usually he’d study a couple of hours, watch some television, then hit the hay early. Thank God his buddies didn’t know just how sad his social life had become since he’d returned home to Oklahoma. He’d never hear the end of it.

Of course, it had never been his plan to stay in the army so long. He’d enlisted before graduating high school in spring 2001, intending to serve out his contract and use the GI Bill to pay his way through college before continuing on to medical school. Then 9/11 happened and the 75th was called upon to lead the way, first into Afghanistan and then Iraq.

Year after year he deployed with his brothers-in-arms, choosing to renew his contract more than once instead of keeping with his original plan. Medics were hard to come by and the need for 68Ws in particular was great with his unit literally taking the fight to the enemy’s doorstep. Night after night, under the cover of darkness, the Rangers hunted high value targets featured on the Iraqi deck of cards and the elusive leaders of the Taliban. Finally, after a dozen years of fighting, as the Global War on Terror began to wind down and forces withdrew from the Middle East, it was time for him to go.

As much as he liked moving forward with his life plans, Lucky couldn’t help but miss the military. Mostly he missed his friends and the camaraderie, but he also missed the adrenaline rush of combat, where every day was a matter of life and death. Now he was just an almost-thirty-year-old college student with a full course load and a job working as an ER tech in the local hospital.

For a man who had served as a special ops medic for over ten years, the position was far below his level of knowledge and experience. While serving his country he’d performed venous cutdowns, inserted chest tubes, and externally fixated severe limb injuries under the harshest conditions. But all that military training and experience didn’t mean shit in the civilian world, so his responsibilities were now limited to starting IVs, drawing blood, and screening urine samples. Exciting stuff for sure.

But he made this choice. No one forced him into it. If he wanted to be a doctor, monotony was the price he’d have to pay for now. All part of paying his dues. In the meantime he’d have to shove all his frustration deep down inside and lock it up tight.

At the end of the hall he rounded a flight of stairs, finally reaching the chemistry lab. But instead of entering right away, Lucky took a deep breath and fortified himself. Ridiculous when one considered all he’d been through in the army. And yet, what he would face behind that door struck more fear in him than the killing season in Afghanistan’s Panjwei province.

He exaggerated, but still.

From the pounding footsteps in the stairwell behind him, he knew additional classmates were on the way up and the last thing he wanted was to be caught standing all alone in an empty hallway. A few weeks earlier he’d been bored to tears in Humanities and let his mind wander. Caught staring off into space, some snot-nosed kid sitting next to him leaned over, shook his shoulder, and asked if he was having a PTSD flashback. In reality Lucky had been making a mental note to change the oil and rotate the tires on his Jeep. When he explained what he was lost in thought about, the kid laughed in relief and admitted he was on the verge of bolting from the lecture hall out of fear Lucky was about to go postal.

When his fellow classmates appeared at the top of the stairs, Lucky reached for the door and held it open for them. He followed the last one through, finally facing his fear.

“Hi, Lucky!” His nineteen-year-old lab partner waggled her fingers at him from across the room, as if he might have forgotten his assigned table.

Brittany Jacobs was a sweet girl with long blond hair and light green eyes who chattered incessantly. She talked about some singer dude named Louis, whoever that was. Her labradoodle named Buttercup. Her red Volkswagen convertible with car lashes and black spots to make it look like a ladybug. Even about housewives and wedding dresses. Most of the time he had no idea what in the hell she was talking about. And to be completely truthful, he only really listened maybe five percent of the time.

“Wanna study this weekend? Big test coming up Tuesday.”

As he settled on the stool across the table from her, Brittany leaned forward on the tabletop, the motion pressing her breasts upward and together. Based on the slight smile on her face and raised brow, it was obvious the bird’s-eye view of her cleavage was more invitation than accident.

“We could grab a bite to eat Saturday night and quiz each other afterward?”

Ten years ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about sampling the wares of a pretty girl in search of a little fun. Hell, he probably would have jumped at the opportunity even five years ago, especially if he’d just returned from the sandbox and hadn’t gotten laid in four months. But now? Now he couldn’t help but wonder if in all that yapping she’d spoken of an older brother. And if so, what would he have to say about his baby sister making a move on someone a decade older.

“Sorry, but I’m working,” he muttered before digging around in his backpack for his notebook and pen.

Her smile faltered a moment, but she quickly recovered. “Then how about Sunday evening?”

Lucky shrugged. “Can’t do that either. I work third shift on the weekends. Seven p.m. to seven a.m. And when I’m not working, I’m sleeping.”

That slight smile now gave way to a pout. She actually pursed her lips and pouted like a five-year-old on the verge of stomping her foot. He could only imagine she wasn’t used to hearing the word
no
.

“If you’re really in need of a study partner, I’m sure there’s someone in here who’d take you up on it.” He quickly scanned the room, then pointed at a tall, lanky, dark-haired guy with glasses. “Like him for instance.”

Brittany looked to where he pointed, then quickly turned around. “Ugh. R.J.? No, thank you.”

“Why not? He seems like a smart guy.” And age appropriate.

“Been there, tried that. He slobbered all over my face like a dog the one time I let him kiss me.”

“That must’ve been a long time ago, right? When was it? Eighth grade or something?”

She answered without any hint of amusement. “Last Fourth of July. And let’s just say that horrific kiss was his best move.”

Ouch. Even he had to admit he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to “study” with good ol’ R.J.

Then she reached across the table and patted his forearm, that sly smile on her face again. “Don’t you worry about R.J. or your work schedule. I’ll figure something out. Just leave it to me.”

Before he could say anything more to deter her, class began, and he knew he was as good as fucked.

W
RAPPED IN A
towel with her hair dripping wet, Rachel Dellinger found herself in a race against the clock. With less than forty-five minutes to get dressed and to the hospital before her shift started, there was a good chance she’d be late clocking in. Not the best way to start off in a new department.

In need of extra cash, she left her job as a daytime floor nurse for a night shift weekend rotation in the emergency room when an opening came available. The schedule change made her boyfriend, Curtis, less than happy because that left her no time to wait around on him. What he didn’t know was her reason for the schedule change. The small bump in pay would provide just enough to let her get a place of her own, permanently moving Curtis from current boyfriend to ex-boyfriend status.

Grabbing a laundry basket half-filled with clean but not folded clothes, Rachel began pulling the finished load from the dryer as she searched for her scrubs. She found the top first, then spotted the pants at the back of the dryer. Grabbing hold of one leg, she pulled it free from the pile only to find a pair of ice blue lace panties dangling from the opening of the opposite leg.

Panties that were definitely not hers.

Staring at the undergarments she held in her hand, Rachel waited for that oh-so-familiar sting of tears. This time, they never came. Just as there were no chest pains, no bile rising up her throat. Instead, her body went completely numb. A sure sign she was completely over Curtis and more than ready to move on.

Rachel calmly walked to the trash can, opened the lid, and dropped the panties inside and went on about her business.

Sadly, it wasn’t the first time she’d found evidence of his cheating. She first suspected something months earlier when she overheard two of his friends talking about their weekend in Dallas. Friends he’d supposedly gone out with the Friday night before. When she finally gathered the courage to say something to Curtis in passing, he told her she must have misunderstood. That his friends had been talking about a different weekend, not “last” weekend.

With her bank account in dire straits, she didn’t have the means to leave him then. So she ignored the feelings in her gut and let him convince her he was telling the truth. And for added measure, he piled on the guilt for her accusations.

Determined to be a better girlfriend, she kept the house spotless, made dinner every night even if he wasn’t there to eat it, and she certainly didn’t nag him about their future. She’d almost convinced herself things were going well between them until she found a wadded-up receipt in the pocket of his jeans. When confronted with the piece of paper from a nearby casino itemizing dinner for two, he tried to pass it off as a night out with his cousin.

But knowing his cousin like she did, she was damn sure that redneck wouldn’t be caught dead drinking anything but Jack Daniel’s or Jim Beam, much less some pink, fruity girlie drink that had probably been garnished with a tiny umbrella.

As she blew her hair dry, Rachel made a mental list in her head of things she needed to do. First things first, find a place to live. Which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Just today, she’d tried to adjust her body clock for the night shift and quickly learned apartment living wasn’t conducive to a daytime sleep schedule. People tromping up the stairs. People tromping down the stairs. People tromping across the floor overhead.

Obviously her apartment building was home to a herd of elephants.

What she’d really like was a house. No shared walls with noisy neighbors. A little breathing room. Maybe a small fenced yard so she could get a dog. A really big, scary one.

Unfortunately, if she had to guess, most of the rental properties in her price range would already have been snapped up by college students. If the new place wanted first and last month’s rent, plus a deposit, she’d be living on peanut butter and jelly for the next month. Throw in the utility deposits and it might be only bread and water for two months.

And so very worth it.

As the sun set, she headed out the door and hopped into the pickup truck that once belonged to her younger brother, Ethan. He’d bought it brand-new just after joining the army, and when he died he left it, along with everything else of his, to her. Much to the disappointment of their parents. So instead of using his death benefits to pay off the truck, she gave the money, along with her old car, to her financially strapped parents and went about paying for Ethan’s truck herself.

More than six years later, it was just as he’d left it. An army decal stuck on the back window. His favorite CDs in a holder strapped to the sun visor. The tassel from his graduation cap hanging from the rearview mirror.

About every three months she’d tell herself she’d take it all down the next time she cleaned it out. But when the time came, she couldn’t do it.

Halfway to the hospital, the cell phone rang where it sat in its hands-free holder. She pressed the speaker button and said hello.

“There’s nothing to eat,” Curtis said immediately.

No “Hi” or “How you doin’?” No simple courtesies at all. It was all about him. And for all she cared, Curtis could starve. The days of fixing him dinner and waiting on him hand and foot were over.

“Then go to the store. I’m on my way to work.”

Even without seeing him, without him saying a word, she could picture him standing in front of the refrigerator, resting one arm on top of the door as he stared inside, and waiting for something to magically appear.