One Lucky Hero (19 page)

“Pass, but thanks for stopping by.” Violet tried to step past him, but he grabbed her arm. Violet shook it violently and gritted out, “Take your hands off me.”

“I know you're angry with me, and I want to explain. To make amends.”

It would have been funny if it didn't make her really want to slap him. “You want to make amends? For what? For stealing our lunch money and blowing it on drugs? Or getting high and leaving me to raise your kids?” Violet's voice rose, and the neighbor's dogs started barking furiously, but she was beyond caring. “Or maybe you feel bad about attacking your son in the middle of the night when he was only eleven years old?”

He finally released her arm, but now Violet was seething and stepping into him aggressively. “Do you know he still has nightmares about you? Parents are supposed to make their kids feel safe, not scared.”

“I know I made plenty of mistakes, but that is what I'm here to fix—”

“This is not something you can fix. We have no use for you.” Violet spun away from him, heading for the porch steps.

“I hate to bring this up, but this house is in my name, and for better or worse, you, Daisy, and Casey are still my kids.”

Violet faced him once more. “We might share DNA, but we don't belong to you. This house might technically be yours, but we aren't. If you want it back, we'll start looking for another place to live.”

Her father ran his hands over the top of his head and released a frustrated laugh. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”

“Then you really never knew me. After everything you did, you really thought you could just show up here and we'd be happy to see you? That's we'd just open our hearts and forgive you?” Violet didn't want him to know that she had worried, but she couldn't keep the telling tremble from her voice. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. I was so screwed up for a long time, Violet, and after you told me to go, I thought it would be better if I stayed gone.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I've been sober for eighteen months, and for the first time in my life, I'm able to take care of you guys. I know it will take time to earn your trust, but I've changed.”

Good for him. He's straightened out his life finally, and what? You're just supposed to let bygones be bygones?

“I appreciate that you've finally found God or inner strength or whatever, but it's too late. Daisy and I are both adults, and the last thing Casey needs is to have you triggering old wounds.” Violet pointed to the road, in case she was being too subtle with him. “You can't repair something that never existed.”

She'd almost made it inside when he called out, “I'm not giving up. Whether or not you think I deserve it, I will fight for the chance to know my kids.”

Opening the front door, she tossed back over her shoulder, “If you'd ever been much of a father to begin with, you wouldn't need to get to know us now.”

Closing the door on whatever else he wanted to say, Violet locked it and escaped into her bedroom, sliding down the back of the closed door with a sob. Hugging her knees to her chest, she just sat there, fighting long-buried memories.

How dare he do this now? How could he think that any of them would fall for this bullshit?

Hot tears seeped from her blurry eyes, and she wiped at her cheeks furiously. God, she was sure that she had shed all the tears she had for him, but look, there were more. Finally getting up, she went into the master bathroom and turned on the shower.

She undressed as the water heated up, her gaze flickering to where the tub had once stood. It had been a deep, spa-type tub that had come with the home. Her mother had loved it, languishing in the bath for hours. It was why Violet hadn't thought anything about how long she'd been in it the day they had found her.

When her dad had left and Violet had moved into the master bedroom, she'd come in here with a sledgehammer and shattered it to bits. Once she'd cleared away the rubble, she'd sold off everything of value her father hadn't taken and used it and some of her savings to cover up the space and put an old oak hutch where the tub had sat. She had hoped it would erase the very essence of her parents from the room, but they still haunted her.

Maybe she should let him have the house. They could make do with a studio apartment for a while, at least until she graduated in December. Once she had her diploma, she could look for a better-paying job. They would be fine.

Are you going to tell Daisy and Casey he's back?

She had to tell them, although she wouldn't be telling Casey much of anything if he didn't start speaking to her soon. Part of her was afraid that if Casey learned their dad was back and sober, he might actually want to live with him. That he'd leave her.

If he does, wouldn't that mean you were free?

Free from what? From having a family? People who needed her? If she didn't have Daisy and Casey to worry about, would she continue down the same path?

In the deepest, secret parts of her, she'd imagined something different, but only Daisy had an inkling of her desire. The thought of having her own eatery had always appealed to her, no matter how impractical it was, but she was a realist, and it never went any further than a mild fantasy. But if she only ever had to worry about herself now . . .

It was a train of thought she'd never entertained before, and even now, guilt ate at her. Was she selfish for wondering what life would be like if she didn't have these responsibilities?

God, how could she even consider any of this? Her father had only been sober for a minute; there was no way Casey would ever trust him enough to leave Violet.

You never know with kids. Even when they know their parents are losers, they still love them. Right?

Violet stepped into the shower, ignoring the little voice, and submerged herself in the burning stream. With any luck, the scalding water might take all her pain down the drain, too.

O
N
T
UESDAY
, D
EAN
opened the door to his therapist's office, the little bell announcing his arrival. Ever since the conversation with Casey, he'd been talking himself into telling Rita everything, including about the nightmares and lack of sleep. He'd been reading up on different treatments for his nightmares, and even if they were a symptom of PTSD, if he sought treatment, they couldn't keep him from active duty. At least, that's what several websites said.

Either way, it was time to practice what he preached.

“Dean, good to see you. Come on back.”

Rita stood at the end of the hallway in a pencil skirt and blue blouse, a welcoming smile on her face. For some reason, knowing he'd be telling her the whole truth made him more nervous than every other time he'd visited.

“How are you doing?” Rita asked as she sat down in her chair.

“Honestly, I've been better. How are you?”

“I'm doing well.” Rita grabbed her pad and pen, watching him over the tops of her glasses. “What do you mean that you've been better? Has something changed?”

“No, well actually, yeah.”
It's now or never.
“I've been having trouble sleeping and I know I need some help with it.” Dean's chest loosened at the admission. It felt good to actually tell someone.

“I see. Are you having trouble falling asleep or staying asleep?”

“Both, depending on the night.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“On and off for six months or so.”

Her pen stalled on the page. “Why are you telling me now?”

Dean was a little stunned by her question and stuttered, “I . . . Because I need help.”

She set her pad and pen down and folded her hands in her lap. “But what changed? We've been meeting every week for well over six months, and you've avoided telling me about this. What is it about today that made you finally want to talk about it?”

Dean stared at her, trying to figure out what he thought she might want to hear before finally settling on the truth. “One of the kids at Alpha Dog is going through some bad stuff, and I told him he should talk to someone about it. Figured I'm kind of a hypocrite if I don't follow my own advice.”

“Hmm, so you felt guilty?” she asked.

Guilty?
Sure, he'd felt guilty every day for nine months, wondering why he lived and wishing he could go back and change what happened. If he could do it over again, he'd get up and get moving faster. Take the lead . . .

But if you had died that day, you wouldn't have met Violet.

And that thought gave him a whole new sense of regret.

“No, it wasn't about guilt. It was . . . It was about not being scared anymore.” Taking a deep breath, he let it all out. “I have been so fucking scared since it happened, questioning myself and who I am. I've been scared that I can't be a soldier anymore, that people will always look at me and think, ‘Oh yeah, he's the one who choked and let his squad die.' And it's so God damn stupid and selfish, because even if nobody ever trusts me to carry a gun at their back again, I'm doing something here. With the kids I help, the ones I train so that they can find a different path and overcome all the crappy homes, and parents, and just the shit that life throws at them. Instead, I come here, sit in this chair, and am terrified to tell the truth and have you end my career over there. When I'm not even sure that's what I want anymore.”

“Really? For months all you've wanted is to be deployed again. Is it the job at Alpha Dog? Or something more?”

Dean hadn't really thought about what else had changed for him, but since he was being honest . . .

“There's a woman I met at a concert a little over a month ago. At first it was just a one-time thing, but I've seen her a couple of times since. Every time I tell myself that it's not fair or it's not what I want, I seek her out. I keep finding ways to see her, and touch her, and I just . . . Hell, I don't know what I want.”

“Don't you?” Rita stared at him intensely before leaning forward. “Sitting here in this room once a week, Dean, I've gotten to know you. I knew that you were hiding something from me, but I want to share a couple things I've learned about you.

“You are not a coward. You were in shock, caught off guard by a violent and traumatic situation. Very few people would have reacted any differently, and from the reports I've read, there was nothing you could have done to save them. I know you won't believe that, but it's true.

“But I also understand that you are proud. Your father and a long line of grandfathers and uncles all served in the military. And I think that you're worried about how your father will feel if you get stuck behind a desk. Because it happened to him.”

Dean remembered telling Rita about his dad, how he'd gotten orders to serve in Vietnam. His friend in basic had gotten a cushy job in New York. He'd begged his father to switch so he could see some action, and his dad had traded. He'd never told Dean that story, but Dean had overheard his parents talking about it one night. His dad had never wanted to go to war but hadn't wanted anyone to think he was a coward. He'd been relieved for the switch.

“You think I resent my father and that I've been trying to prove I'm better than him?”

“I didn't say that, but do you? When you think about what happened that day, do you compare yourself to him not wanting to go to war?”

Dean answered automatically. “No, I never hesitated. From the minute I signed up, I wanted to serve my country wherever they needed me.”

“And this woman you can't seem to stay away from, does she need you?”

Dean laughed a little at the absurdity of the question. “Actually, she's told me over and over that she doesn't and that I'd just complicate her life.”

“And what do you think?” she asked.

Dean thought about Violet hiding her tear-filled eyes from him. He pictured her run-down house and the way she had fought to keep him from helping her. How every time he'd held her, she'd melted the tiniest bit against him before steeling herself.

“I think she's afraid of needing me,” he said.

“And how about you? Are you afraid of needing her, too? Maybe that's why you keep telling her you don't want to get involved.” Turning the page on her yellow tablet, she started writing. “I'm going to give you a homework assignment. Two actually. The first is, I want you to take home these three questions and over the next week, really think about your answers.” She ripped off the sheet and handed it to him as she stood and went to her large cabinet. She pulled a book from inside and handed it to him. It was one of those composition books with a black and white cover. “And I want you to write down every time you are feeling too anxious to sleep or you wake up from a nightmare. I'm also going to prescribe you something that should help you sleep better, but it is really important that moving forward we have complete honesty between us. All right?”

Dean read over the three questions she'd given him.

When I see myself in five years, how does my life look?

What do I need to do to be the best version of myself?

Name three things that make me happy.

“Dean?” His head jerked up as he realized that Rita had been talking to him.

“Yeah?”

“Do we have an understanding?” she asked.

“Yes. From now on, nothing but the truth.”

V
IOLET AND
D
AISY
climbed into her car a little after two in the afternoon. Violet wanted to go by and see if Casey would let them in before she had to be at work and had asked Daisy to come along to talk. Violet hadn't told her sister yet that their father was back, partly because Daisy had been gone when she'd woken up this morning. Luckily, Violet had found their father's card tucked into the front door before Daisy had. She'd almost crumpled it up and thrown it away, but it wasn't fair to her brother and sister. They deserved to know that he wanted to see them.

But now, here they were all alone with a fifteen-minute drive, and yet Violet's tongue felt heavy and her mouth seemed too dry to speak.

“So, why the sudden invitation?” Daisy asked.

Clearing her throat, Violet concentrated on merging into the left lane of the freeway. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you seem like you've got something you want to say to me, but you're not talking. You've got this whole creepy, foreboding silence going on, and it's freaking me out.”

Just say it, you big wimp.
“I came home yesterday and found Dad on the porch waiting for me.”

After a beat, Daisy scoffed. “Well, at least we know he's not dead in some crack house. What did he want? Money?”

“No, he—”
God, why is this so painful to admit?
“He looked good. Really good. He's put on weight, and he was dressed in a suit. I mean, he didn't even wear a suit to Mom's funeral, and he shows up after three years asking for forgiveness wearing a fucking
suit
!” Violet's voice rose to a hysterical pitch on the last word, and suddenly, Daisy's hand reached out to squeeze her arm.

“Breathe. You look like you're about to hyperventilate, and I would rather not crash at sixty-five miles an hour.”

Violet breathed in deeply and slowly while her sister kept the conversation going.

“I can't believe he showed up and just expected you to welcome him back with open arms. What an idiot.”

Violet was a little surprised by her sister's calm, almost sardonic attitude. “How do you feel about him being back?”

“You mean, do I want to see him?” Violet glanced over at her, caught Daisy's thoughtful expression, and turned back to the road. “Fuck no, why would I? Honestly, I hardly remember what the man looks like; that's how much of an impact he's had on my life.”

“He wasn't all bad.” Violet didn't really know why she was defending him, but she knew she didn't want Daisy to regret writing him off. “Remember when he used to take us to Fairytale Town?”

“He only took us there to meet his dealer. It wasn't like he actually wanted to spend any time with us; we were his cover.”

Violet had known that, of course, but had been hoping that Daisy didn't.

Exiting the freeway, Violet didn't know what else to say, so the last few minutes of the trip were silent until she parked.

“Are you going to tell Casey?” Daisy asked.

“If he'll let us in. I hate to admit it, but at this point, I'm afraid that he might rather live with Dad after everything he's been going through.”

“Then he's a moron.” Daisy got out of the car, and Violet let her wrap her arm around her shoulder as they walked inside. “Casey loves you and knows that you would do anything for him. There is no way he can say the same for Dad.”

Violet appreciated the moral support, but after Casey had ignored her for the last week, she couldn't rule out the possibility that he was done with her. Maybe he did blame her for whatever had happened to him.

She and Daisy checked in with security, who radioed back to see if Casey was receiving visitors. When someone answered, the burly security guard grinned at them. “You're in luck. Visiting room three on your left. He'll be in shortly.”

Violet nearly ran for the room, excited to see Casey finally. As they waited, Violet paced back and forth until the door opened and Casey stepped inside.

One week without seeing him, and Violet's gaze raked over him, searching for any changes she may have missed.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi is all you've got to say after ignoring us for a week?” Daisy said.

Casey's cheeks blossomed bright red. “Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Had a lot to think about.”

“Don't tell me, tell Violet. She's the one who worries about you and loves you to pieces. I think you're a butt.”

Violet saw his smile peek out, small but like a beacon of light. “You miss me.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, nerd.”

Violet let them talk, watching the ease between them. Casey and Daisy always had a bond she couldn't touch, like regular siblings. They fought and teased and drove her crazy sometimes with their antics, but they loved each other.

Finally, Casey turned those green-gold eyes on her and swallowed. His gaze shifted to and away from hers several times before he finally whispered, “I'm sorry.”

Violet didn't even care what for. Before he could say more, she wrapped him up in her arms, holding him close and ignoring his stiff shoulders.

“It's okay.”

Slowly, Casey's arms wrapped around her waist and he relaxed against her. “No, it's not. I was blaming you for things that weren't your fault.”

“I don't care, honestly. If it helps to place the blame on me—”

“No, Dean was right. I have to put the blame where it belongs.”

Violet pulled back, staring down into his face searchingly. “Dean said that?”

“Yeah. He's a good guy, once you get past all that alpha-male soldier-boy stuff. He's not a total tool, if you were wondering.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Violet asked.

“I'm just saying that if you like him, I wouldn't have a problem with you two hooking up.”

Daisy burst into hysterical laughter, while Violet could feel her cheeks burning. “As glad as I am that you like Dean, there's something important I have to tell you.”

Casey's expression turned guarded as he let Violet lead him over to sit down. “What's going on?”

“Our sperm donor popped up again,” Daisy said.

“Daisy, damn it!”

“What? All I did was rip the Band-Aid off instead of treating him with kid gloves. He can handle it.”

Violet wasn't so sure as she studied Casey's pale face and wide eyes. “Dad's back?'