Shooter (Burnout) (20 page)

Caleb sighed. “It was a year ago today.”

Hayley didn’t need much more than just a few seconds to realize what Caleb was saying. “Oh,” she replied weakly. “Oh God,” she whispered, casting a sympathetic eye to Chris who lay passed out in his bed.

“We were all going to go out together,” Hawk told her. “But he didn’t want to go. Wanted to be alone,” he said derisively. “Not a good idea,” he declared, eyeing Chris with something far less than sympathy.

“And your Jimmy?” Hayley asked.

Hawk shook his head. “Wouldn’t come with us today. Mad at the world, us in particular, and made the L.T. feel even worse, if such a thing is possible.”

Hayley walked to the foot of the bed. “He shouldn’t have his dirty boots on. He wouldn’t like that,” she announced, taking hold of one and pulling it off. “Plus, he spilled bourbon all over his pants.”

“I was hoping he hadn’t pissed himself,” Hawk told her.

She grimaced at his words and pulled the other boot off. She peeled off his socks and tossed them aside. Then she moved to the side of the bed and with only a slight nervous shake of her hands, unbuckled his belt. “I should clean up,” she said to no one in particular. “He won’t like waking up to a mess. He would
hate
that.” Steeling herself to help Chris, she managed to pull off his jeans and slide the belt out of the loops. “Can you put him on his side?” she asked the guys. “In case… in case he gets sick?”

Caleb nodded and set about doing that while Hayley gathered the dirty socks and jeans and stuffed them into the hamper in the corner. She picked the whole thing up and headed off to the laundry room across the hall. She sorted his clothes and started a load. When she was finished, Chris was sleeping soundly with the light off and door partially closed and the guys were in the living room, talking quietly.

“I’ll stay with him,” she announced. “He shouldn’t be alone. I can do it.”

Tex frowned. “Are you sure? ‘Cause we can stay. It’s no problem. We’re-”

“I don’t-” Hayley interrupted, looking over her shoulder at the door. “I don’t think he’d want you to. To see him…like this. He wouldn’t like it. He’s not supposed to be like this. I mean that’s what he probably thinks. So…you should go. I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

They finally agreed and Tex squeezed her shoulder warmly. “That’s nice of you, Slick. And thanks for callin’ us, not leavin’ him there like that.” Hawk and Caleb nodded their thanks and she locked the door behind the men as they walked to their bikes. She set about picking up pieces of broken glass she found on the carpet while waiting for the wash cycle to finish. There wasn’t much to clean because Chris liked it that way, but she wiped down the kitchen counters anyway. It wasn’t until after she transferred the first load of laundry into the dryer and started the second, that the screaming started.

At first Hayley had been startled by it. More than startled. It had felt like she’d been doused with ice water, but she quickly sprang into action, heading not to his room, but to the guest bathroom next to the laundry room and snatched a washcloth off the towel bar. She dampened it and went to Chris’s room. Despite his agitated state, Hayley calmly climbed onto the bed and took hold of his wrist.

“Shhh,” she told him. “It’s alright. You’re home. You’re home now. And in your bed.”

“Oh, God,” Chris moaned. “The smell. I can’t take the smell.
God, I hate the smell!
”

Hayley looked around the darkened room, lit only by the hallway light. “What?” she asked him. “What smell? There’s nothing-”

“He’s burning!” Chris answered, panicked. “Fuck! Hawk! Get to him! Get him out!
Jason’s burning
!” he screamed.

Hayley swallowed the bile rising in her throat and pressed the cloth to the side of Chris’s face. “No,” she said firmly. “No, he’s not. That’s all done. He’s- he’s not hurting now. He’s in a better place.” Hayley didn’t know if that was precisely true, but it was certain, at least to her, that being dead was better than burning alive, and so there was some comfort in that. Chris calmed under the cool strokes of the cloth and she got him to roll onto his side again.

She laid the cloth on the back of his neck and calmly reassured him that he was at home, in bed, and that the worst of it was long over. He cried softly into his pillow. “I couldn’t save them,” he said out loud to no one at all.

Hayley laid a hand on his arm. “I know,” she whispered softly. “I know exactly how that feels.”

When he finally fell back asleep, she covered him with the bedsheet and left the door open just a crack.

***********************

Chris woke to a blinding headache and was pretty certain large balls of cotton had been shoved into his mouth. He stared at his ceiling, waiting for the wave of nausea to subside before trying to sit up. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he saw a glass of water sitting on the nightstand and a bottle of Excedrin next to it, cap off. He frowned at it. He didn’t remember taking any and if his throbbing head was any indication, he hadn’t.

He swept up the bottle, shook out a few pills and chased them with the water. Then he realized he was missing his pants. No sooner had he come to this realization than he came to a second, more perplexing realization, that there was a laundry basket next to the door filled with clothes. His jeans lay neatly folded on top. He slowly rose, despite the pain behind his eyes, and put on the jeans. When he opened the bedroom door, the first thing to hit him was the smell.

Coffee. It was definitely coffee brewing, and although his stomach roiled slightly at the smell, he also knew he really, really needed a cup. Or five. He set off down the hall to investigate and found Hayley in his kitchen. “Slick?” he managed to get out, but his voice was rough and gravelly.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Hey,” she said softly. “Sit down at the table. I’ll pour you some coffee.”

He frowned, but did as he was told, settling into the chair. She reached for the carafe, filled a mug, and brought it over, setting it down in front of him. But he found he couldn’t drink it. An icy fist punched him in the gut as he looked up at her. He stood up so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. She took a startled step back but he caught her arm. His other hand cupped her jaw and he ran a tentative thumb over her swollen lip.

“Please,” he murmured. “Please tell me I didn’t-”

“It was an accident,” she assured him. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I hit you?” His voice sounded disconnected and far away to his own ears.

She shook her head. “No. It was an accident. It wasn’t-”

“
I hit you?!
” But he didn’t wait for an answer because the wave that had been threatening to overtake him, finally washed over him, and he staggered down the hall. He only made it as far as the guest bathroom before he slammed the lid open and retched into the bowl. On or about the third hurl, he heard Hayley come in, run some water, then felt a cool pressure against the back of his neck. He jerked in surprise but then relaxed.

Hayley knelt down next to him on the floor, holding the cloth to his neck. When he could move away from the bowl, he sat down beside her. She brushed the cloth over his forehead and down the side of his face. “Everything’s fine,” she told him.

In the deafening silence he said, “I’ve never hit a woman before. Ever.”

“Well, you still haven’t,” she told him, moving the cloth to his other cheek. “It was an accident. I came up behind you. You didn’t even know I was there.”

Chris took hold of her wrist and stared at her. “I could have killed you.”

She shook her head. “Doubtful,” she told him. “You couldn’t even stand up. I’d have gotten away.”

“Hayley-”

“It’s alright. I’m fine. You’re fine. But if you took any of those pills I left for you, you better take some more,” she said, looking pointedly at the toilet bowl.

Chris flushed it and lowered the lid. He looked at her, for the first time, not seeing her lip but her eyes and the dark circles underneath them. “You were here all night,” he guessed.

She nodded, wiping his forehead one more time. “I heard glass breaking and I came to see if you were hurt or needed help. After I put you to bed, I found the mess in the living room and cleaned it up.”

“You did this for me,” he said, taking hold of her wrist again and looking at the cloth. “I remember.”

“My mom always did it for me when I was sick. It helped. I figured it would help you. But you need a real shower to feel better. Go take one and I’ll make you some toast.” Chris didn’t get up, though. He couldn’t seem to make any part of his body do what he wanted. He just stared at Hayley. “Hey,” she admonished. “We’re not thinking about that now. Right now we’re focusing on shower and breakfast. And probably some toothbrushing in the middle there. Later we can talk about how you made it through the Army hitting like a girl.”

That snapped him out himself and he gave a surprised chuckle. Hayley stood up, laid the washcloth over the counter and left him alone. He made it to his own bathroom, stripped out of his freshly laundered pants and day old underwear and stood under the hot spray. He’d hit her, was all he could think about. That and the fact that
after
he’d hit her, she’d stayed the whole night taking care of him.

When he got out, got redressed, and picked up the pill bottle a second time, he realized she’d left the cap off on purpose because he had put it back on after taking the first dose and was in no mood to fight with the child proof cap, which he was now doing. He finally got the damn thing off, downed a few more pills, vowing to keep them down this time, and set off in his clean socks and jeans to the kitchen.

Hayley served him dry toast and an egg white omelet, with a cup of coffee and a glass of ice water, insisting he drink both. He thanked her profusely then grimaced when he caught sight of the time. “I’m so late,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, you own the place. It’s allowed once in a while,” she told him. “Finish all of it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, tucking into the food. He had to admit, the shower and the breakfast went a long way toward making him feel like a new man.

When he was done, he stood and took his dishes to the sink. “Hayley-” he began but she shook her head.

“Everything’s fine,” she assured him. “It’s absolutely fine. You go. Finish getting ready for work. I’ll clean up.” Chris paused and put a hand on her shoulder. She put her own hand on top of his. “Do what you’re told for once,” she admonished with a slight smile.

He squeezed her shoulder in thanks and left her to clean the kitchen. When he emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed, Hayley was hanging up the kitchen towel. “We need to go to the store,” she told him. “I need to get some things to make ribs for Tex’s barbeque on Sunday.”

He nodded, pocketed his cell phone, and picked up his keys. “I’ll have to stay a little late,” he told her, “because I got such a late start. But I’ll pick you up around six.”

“Have a good day at work,” she told him, but Chris couldn’t bring himself to let the matter of last night drop.

“Hayley-”

She waved his words away and stepped up to him. She pressed her tiny frame against his and he wrapped his arms around her.

“You’re a good man, Chris. That’s why I’m still here.”

He closed his eyes. Wanted to believe it. “Sometimes I’m not sure,” he admitted quietly.

“I’m sure enough for the both of us.”

Chapter 15

Hayley spent all day Saturday cooking the ribs, using both ovens. She allowed Chris to be her taste tester since only he knew how her barbecue stacked up to the Texan’s. Chris declared it hands down the winner, but admitted to possible bias on his part. They packed up a picnic basket with enough ribs to feed half of the Dakotas and set off for Tex’s place.