Rev (Jack 'Em Up #4) (31 page)

“It’s a boy.”

A collective cheer went up as Blake slapped him on the back in one of those half-handshake/half-hug things guys did. “Congrats, man!”

Jesse took his turn congratulating his friend while the women grinned and got all gooey-eyed over the prospect of holding a new baby.

“What’s his name?” Rachel asked when she swooped in for her hug.

“Brady Evan Berringer.”

“Aw, that’s a great name,” Delilah added with her own squeeze.

Micah shook his hand with a silent smile of congrats then let me in. Trace scooped me into a hug and I smiled as I squeezed him back. “I’m happy for you both,” I whispered.

“Your time is coming,” he whispered back before letting me go and stepping away as if he hadn’t said anything.

I glanced at Micah, but he was oblivious, concentrating on something Jesse was saying.

After a quick hello to an even more exhausted Tori and her sweet bundle, we all headed out with promises to come visit once they were settled in at home.

Our friends paired up with sappy smiles and headed home to their own families, leaving Micah and I alone in awkward silence. “Well . . .” I picked up my purse. “See ya.”

“I want this to be us one day,” he said, his voice low and pained.

I spun around. “What?”

Dark, anguished eyes met mine. “I want this.” He spread his arms around to indicate the waiting room and all the love that had just filled it. “Just tell me how . . . tell me what to do, baby. I’ll do anything.”

I blinked back the threatening tears. “You know what to do, Micah. You just have to let go and let yourself do it.”

I spun and loped away, catching the elevator before it closed. The last thing I saw as the metal doors slid shut, was Micah’s dark face staring at me with the forlorn expression of a man lost in his own skin.

Micah

I
couldn’t face going home alone. Not now.

I found myself at the Funky Monkey, surrounded by thumping music and the scent of beer and stale cigarettes. I sat on the farthest bar stool and ordered a beer that I had no intention of drinking. For just a minute, the noise around me distracted me from the noise in my head, but it felt so fake.

The young waitress they’d hired to replace Tori smiled at me sweetly. “Something wrong with your beer?”

I glanced down at my still full mug. “No. It’s fine.”

She nodded and sauntered away, but kept casting furtive glances my way as if trying to puzzle out the weird guy at the bar. I twisted the mug and studied the rings of condensation staining the old wooden bar top.

The cloying scent of overdone perfume wafted over me as a woman slid onto the stool next to me. She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and smiled at me with sparkling baby blue eyes as she waved down the bartender for a drink.

Sex on the Beach. Figured.

“Hi,” she said to me while she waited for her drink to be mixed.

“Hey.” I focused on my beer and forced a sip.

She held out a hand full of gaudy rings and fake red nails. “I’m Maddie.”

I glanced down at her hand, but didn’t take it. “Nice to meet you.”

She frowned. “Do you have a name?”

“Micah.” I squirmed in my skin. This felt wrong on so many levels. I shifted to stand and she put a hand on my arm to stop me.

“Buy my drink?”

Again, I studied her hand with a lifted brow. She drew back like I’d burned her. I walked away without another word and slammed out the front door. I’d never felt at home in this place, but it was especially foreign without my friends there to ground me. What was I thinking?

Escape.

That’s what I was thinking.

I needed to get away from it all. From the pain, from the confusion, from my tangled, mangled thoughts.

I leaned on the hood of the Jeep with my head bent as I sucked in great gulps of night air. Nothing was filling this aching hole inside of me. Nothing.

Eventually, I got in and headed home, my empty apartment reminding me how empty my life was. I was truly alone with my bitterness.

You know what to do, Micah. You just have to let go and let yourself do it.

What the hell had she meant? What was I missing?

I showered and plopped down on my bed to stare at the ceiling, preparing myself for another sleepless night, when my phone dinged with a text.

Forgot to give you Mrs. Franks number. Call her. That’s an order.

I waffled. Checked the clock. Searched for any excuse to avoid this. In the end, I dialed.

“Hello?”

I flinched at the sweet older woman’s voice. “Yes, hello. Mrs. Franks?”

“Yes.”

I sat tall, preparing for the verbal beating I deserved. “This is Micah Christian. I served in Afghanistan with your grandson.”

“Yes. I know who you are. How are you, son?”

“Pardon?”

She chuckled softly. “I asked how you’re doing. That was a horrible thing you survived. I hope you’re doing all right. Johnny would want that.”

I closed my eyes at the thought of Johnny Franks with his easy smile and ridiculous sense of humor. He was just a kid. And he was dead because of me. “I’m not so sure about that, ma’am,” I said, my voice as strained and tired as I felt.

“Well, I am. He was a good boy. Never hurt anyone. Not on purpose anyway.”

“I know.”

“So, I take it you’re not doing so well? Mr. Dempsey told me you were having a rough time with everything.”

“No, ma’am. I’m not doing so well.”

“Can I give you some advice, young man?”

“Of course.”

“Life is short. Forgive those who wrong you, forgive yourself. Do the very best you can to be the person God called you to be and hold onto love with both hands . . . because, in the end, that’s all we’ve got.”

I sagged back against my pillow. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not easy, but it is simple.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Franks.”

“Don’t you thank me. My grandson wouldn’t have written such nice things about you and all his friends if you weren’t good folks. I trust his judgment. Now, go on. Live your life. Be happy.”

I thanked her with tears in my voice and we hung up. It was then that I realized I’d never asked for her forgiveness. She’d given it freely.

One week and several long talks with my friends and parents later, and I was starting to understand this forgiveness thing. I choked back every hesitation and finally let myself be totally open about my pain, my struggles, and the truth. I shouldn’t have been surprised that they all embraced me fully, never once placing any blame on me.

I shaved and dressed carefully, studying myself in the mirror. The man staring back at me was so foreign, yet he was starting to be familiar again. I rifled through my drawers for the last of what I needed, grabbed the package from my dresser, my hat and keys, and headed out.

The sunshine spurred me on, as if it was cheering for me, and I embraced that crazy notion. At this point, what did I have to lose?

I had one more stop to make then I could go to Jewel. I only hoped she’d forgive me as well and let me try to be the man she deserved. I checked the GPS on my phone and made my way to my future.

An hour and a half later, I found myself parked outside Jewel’s apartment, staring at her closed blinds. What if she wasn’t even home? What if she turned me away?

I glanced over. Her truck was in its usual spot.

Swallowing thickly, I shot her a text.
Where r u?

Home

Can we talk?

Pause.
I guess

I hopped out of the Jeep, put on my hat, and loped to her door.
Great. Can u let me in?

A minute later, the door swung wide and Jewel’s mouth sagged open. Her eyes raked over me from the top of my dress hat, down to the medals on my chest, to my dress pants and shiny black shoes.

I stood at attention in full Marine dress uniform and let her stare her fill.

“What is all this?”

I met her gaze and bit back a smile at her messy bun, shorts and bare feet. “You said you wanted to see me in uniform.”

“Wow.” She gathered herself and stepped back. “Wanna come in?”

“Thank you.” I removed my hat and stepped inside her apartment, the sweet scent of honeysuckle nearly buckling me.

“Uh . . .” She seemed at a loss for words. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

“No, thank you.”

She fidgeted. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes.” She seemed uncomfortable with me like this and that was never my intention. I stepped toward her and reached for her hand. “It’s just me, baby. Don’t be nervous.”

Green eyes snagged mine. “This is just . . . I wasn’t expecting this. I’m not sure what it means.”

“It means I love you. It means I’ve been working on figuring things out and I’m getting there, but I don’t want to go one more step, one more day, one more second, without you.”

Tears filled her eyes and began to rain down her cheeks. “I love you, too.”

I clutched her hands tighter. “Can you forgive me, baby?”

“Forgive you? There’s nothing to forgive. There never was. I just want you to be happy.”

“Well, good, because I’ll only be happy with you.” I knelt down on one knee and pulled the ring box from my pocket, popping it open to present the emerald and diamond ring I’d chosen just for her. “I should’ve done this the right way the first time, but I don’t regret proposing that day in the lake. That was the first step to me getting whole again and I can’t thank you enough for loving me so much you’ve helped me love myself again.” I reached for her left hand and kissed her knuckles. “You are truly my better half, baby. Please be my wife.”

She sunk to her knees in front of me and wrapped her arms around my neck as great sobs heaved through her body. I rubbed her back and kissed her temple. “You’ll marry me?”

She drew back with a wet smile. “Of course I’ll marry you. I wanted you to sort your head out, but my answer was always yes.”

Jewel

M
icah slid the ring on my finger and I held up my hand to admire it. “This is beautiful.”