AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She nodded in agreement. He closed the door gently behind him. Erin sank back into the couch. What a night.
Chapter 13
Mom: Another Word for Love
Ryan walked back to the shop, gravel crunching under his feet. He was both happy and miffed about Erin's mother riding in like the Seventh Cavalry. He'd almost kissed Erin. He stopped and closed his eyes for a second, remembering the feel of her soft skin. If he'd followed his first thought and asked her to lick the frosting off his finger, they wouldn't have answered the door.
If her mother came in anyway, she might have seen a lot of him. He laughed, the sound echoing off the metal doors of the garage. No, they wouldn't have gone that far. But locked on Erin's lips? Yeah. He'd wanted to, that was for sure.
But if he had, everything would change, and he wasn't sure either of them was ready for that.
They'd both been caught up in the moment, but afterwards, she'd regret kissing him. Ryan would regret it because he'd forget and use his residual arm, and Erin would freak. She might be comfortable seeing him without the prosthetic, but touching her with the ugly stump? No one wanted that. And then everything would be really awkward. No, it was best if they just stayed friends. He didn't have many. It would be stupid to scare her away because he wanted her.
But logic didn't stop his longing. Erin was beautiful, inside and out. He kicked a rock. The men in this town really were idiots. They had gorgeous, talented women everywhere, and rather than wining and dining them, they felt threatened. So stupid. He snorted. If he hadn't gotten to know Erin at work, she'd intimidate him too, even if he had both arms. But if he had both arms, he'd still be in the Air Force or working on a flight line. If he was playing the what if game, the Sarge would still be alive, and they'd be happily married.
He entered the garage, locked it, checked the shop alarms, and trudged up the stairs into his apartment. It was looking pretty good, if a little bare. Everything was clean, neat, and in the proper place. And the new bed was comfortable. Really comfortable. Not that it would help him sleep tonight. No, tonight was likely to be a repeat of last night, tossing and turning and wanting what he couldn't have. Plus, he was worried about an attack on Erin's business, or worse, her home, out there on the back of the property, all alone.
But it would take a lot of guts to attack after such a spectacularly failed attempt, and he didn't see Cust having any courage at all. He was pretty sure they were both safe for tonight. Cust was sneaky enough to know he needed a plan, not another stupid attempt. Not after such a massive failure.
Besides, there was no way Cust could have fit through the drive-through window. He must have paid or threatened someone to set that fire, and now that guy had a hold over Cust. Or Cust had a really powerful hold over the arsonist. Either way, it would take a little more time to set something decent up. Cust wasn't entirely stupid; he had to know people talked, eventually. He'd want to find a pro, one that couldn't get traced back to him. Nah, Erin and the business were safe tonight. But since Ryan would be awake anyway, he'd patrol, weapon in hand.
He flopped onto his bed. The mattress was perfect, except for the lack of a sexy mechanic. He could want all day, but he wouldn't get. He had friendship—it had to be enough. Especially when she needed a friend as much as he did. She spent way too much time out here by herself, when she should be downtown, dancing the night away. And not with Chaz Cust or her horror of a mother. Ryan shuddered.
Even when his mother was drunk, she hadn't been like that woman. Dysfunctional, sure. Pretty much useless after she got home from work and started drinking, check. But Ryan knew Mom loved him—she'd never throw him under a bus for money. Especially money that wasn't even hers. It must be the power of her position. Political and economic power was addictive, they said. Not that he was likely to find that out. He laughed, the sound echoing a bit in the mostly empty room. Not with what he was making. Not that his salary was bad for what he was doing, and this apartment was perfect. But he'd made more in the Air Force, even as a brand-new airman. And he'd had a promotion due when his arm got blown off.
He could go to school, if he could figure out what to study. He had the GI Bill, and he'd saved some for college. Or the VA would pay for training in a new career field, but again, he'd have to figure out what kind of a job he wanted. Nothing really held his interest. He'd make coffee for a while and see what happened. Maybe he'd figure it out. Or maybe he'd spend the rest of his life making coffee and driving a delivery truck. It could be worse. Lots worse. Too many guys came back missing legs or brain cells. Or worse. An icy shiver ran down his spine.
Enough doom and gloom. Time for some mindless entertainment, and then he could sleep in tomorrow. Ryan pulled out his laptop and surfed through all his social media, laughing at some of the stuff his buddies in his old unit posted. He really missed those guys. He missed being in the military. Not the military itself but the sense of being part of something bigger, having a real mission; everyone working together to crush a goal. Yeah, that's what he missed. At Kelly's, everybody was doing the mins, and for what they paid, that's what they got. He was more than happy to work hard for Erin, but it was still just coffee. Necessary to most of the people he saw driving through in a zombie-like state but not life and death, no matter what they thought. And they could get coffee in half a dozen other places if they wanted to.
He pulled up his email and clicked on Erin’s name. The info she promised about the backpacking trip. He read the email from The University of Montana's Wilderness Institute. While the "citizen scientist" spiel was serious, the trip looked like a little work and a lot of fun. Attached was an application, medical questionnaire, legalese, and an equipment list. He'd see what he had and what he'd have to find, borrow, or buy.
The first thing he needed was a new pair of hiking boots. His old ones were pretty beat up, and while he could wear his desert camo uniform boots, they were pretty beat up too. His good ones hadn't made it through the medevac. Good hiking boots were pricey, but maybe he could find something on sale.
He'd check Mom's—maybe his old backpack was still there. No telling if it would fit. He had way more muscle than he had at eighteen. He might have an old sleeping bag there too. Clothing was easy; he still had all his military gear, a never-used mess kit, and water bottles, too. Peanut butter and jelly for lunch, oatmeal for breakfast, throw in some trail mix and jerky, and he'd be good to go. Dinners were provided but vegetarian, so he'd get some sausage to add. No alcohol allowed. Interesting, and probably smart.
He closed down his email and put his hand behind his head. The last time he'd been backpacking was with a bunch of the guys from his Alaska unit, after they'd returned from their first overseas deployment. They'd hiked to a lake on the Kenai Peninsula and spent most of the time sitting around the fire, drinking beer. Their packs were a lot lighter on the way out. He grinned. They hadn't seen much other than the trail and the lake, but it'd been a blast. Yeah, he missed those guys.
Tomorrow he'd take Mom to breakfast after church and see if his old gear was still around. He sent her a text, asking, and she answered back 'yes' with hearts and smiley faces right way. Hopefully, they wouldn't run into Sharlene Murphy. Ryan snorted. It wasn't likely. She did "brunch" at expensive restaurants, rather than breakfast at a diner like the rest of humanity. Poor Erin.
And now I'm full circle, back to thinking about Erin. Yep, it was gonna be a long night. He grabbed his Xbox and put his grasper back on. Time to kill zombies.
The next morning, he pulled out a chair for his mom at the Coffee Cup.
"Ryan, how's the new job?" Mom's expression slid from hopeful to worried and back again.
He was tempted to tease her, but he couldn't—not after meeting Erin's mother. A shiver ran up his spine. "It's okay. It's kind of interesting. It takes practice to make a good espresso." Ryan huffed. "It's kind of ruined me for regular coffee. And that's not something I ever thought I'd say."
Mom laughed. Katie Walsh was still a good-looking woman when she smiled, but her addiction and tough life carved some pretty deep lines into her face, making her look older than her forty-nine years. "I never thought I'd see the day my son would become a coffee snob."
He snorted. "Doesn't seem likely, does it? Surprised me too."
"And your boss? You knew her before, right?" Mom raised both brows, clearly curious.
She'd never met any of his coworkers or bosses—the Air Force had never stationed him in Montana. Or anywhere close to Montana. Neither of them could afford tickets to Alaska. The Air Force flew her to Walter Reed, but she'd seen little except the hospital and his broken body. Ryan nodded. "Yeah, she was married to one of my first bosses in the Air Force. He was killed downrange four years ago."
She took in a sharp breath. "That's terrible. I’m so grateful you made it." She leaned across the table and grasped his hand, squeezing once before releasing him.
"Yeah." He'd lost too many friends. Not so many compared to an Army soldier or a Marine, but every single one of them left a hole.
