Hold ‘Em or Fold ‘Em
Never count down your days until end of deployment or separation. ~From the Deployment Survival Journal of Pete “Rabbit” Kincaid
“Can I—?” Rabbit’s voice came out in a raspy croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is it possible for me to speak with Nate for a few minutes?” He looked between the kid and his mom.
The vertical lines he was getting tired of seeing when he knew they were directed at him grew upward from the bridge of her nose, but Lin merely directed her gaze at Nathan and raised an eyebrow.
The kid shrugged and nodded once.
Lin pressed her lips together, but she quickly pushed them into a smile. “I guess that’s a yes.”
The level of nonverbal communication between them would have been fascinating if it hadn’t also been a little confusing. What had just been said without actually saying it?
Not your business! Maybe.
Rabbit shot them both a grin. “Cool. Come on, kid. You can help me unload the car.”
Lin balanced JR on her left hip. “Start with the dog bed and I’ll take it inside. I should see if Trish needs help with dinner.”
A few moments later, clutching the dog bed under one arm, Lin led her youngest up the back steps of Montgomery House. JR proudly carried a small box of dog treats. From Lin’s free hand dangled a shopping bag filled with an assortment of toys guaranteed to fascinate any canine companion. Rabbit glanced at the dog sitting next to him, and the orange tennis ball firmly pinned to the ground by one wide paw. His lips twisted into a self-deprecating smile. He’d turned into one of “those” pet owners who spent untold amounts of money pampering a dog that could probably care less about the color of her bed… all in the space of a weekend.
Of course, a lot had changed since his first sight of the skinny kid at the car wash not even two weeks back.
As the mother and toddler disappeared into the house, Rabbit shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it, lady,” he murmured.
“Did you say something?” asked Nate, leaning a pair of kayak oars against the side of the garage.
“Huh? Oh, no, nothing important.” Rabbit sighed and motioned toward the Adirondack chairs. “So,” he began as they crossed the lawn. “I had a bad day today. I’m not getting assigned to the duty I — thought I’d be.” He stopped Nathan with a touch on the shoulder before he could sink into the chair.
After a violent flinch sideways, Nate turned to face him, hands balled into loose fists.
Cammie issued a warning growl.
Rabbit stepped back and held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you.”
The kid let out a long breath and flexed his fingers but said nothing. He sank into the seat, staring straight ahead. Cammie flopped at his feet, and Rabbit twisted his lips into a wry smile. Figured if she was going to choose sides it wouldn’t be the guy who’d just kept her out of the shelter and spent hundreds of dollars on her.
Nate fidgeted in his seat. Right… the kid.
“I took my bad news out on you.” Rabbit took the chair next to him. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“I shouldn’t have messed up the kayak,” mumbled Nathan.
Rabbit pushed down the urge to blow it off with a quick “no problem.” He shifted so he could face the kid. Even if Nate still refused to look at him, hopefully he was listening. “No, you shouldn’t have. You want to tell me why you did?”
Nate turned to meet Rabbit’s gaze. His expression was about as closed off as it had ever been. No holes in those defenses; the kid had definitely battened down the hatches.
“I figured you didn’t want to work on it anymore.”
“Because I snapped at you?”
One shoulder lifted ever so slightly. “Yeah.”
“Is that what happens when you and your mom start a project? She just stops in the mid—”
“No!” Nate erupted from the deeply angled chair, a neat trick only someone young and nimble could accomplish. He spun around to face Rabbit, chest heaving, teeth gritted, fists looking a little more effective than usual. “Leave my mom alone!”
Rabbit again held up his hands. “Hey, sorry… I didn’t mean that the way you’re taking it.” But he’d sure managed to hit a nerve there. Feeling at a disadvantage while he sat, he pushed to his feet with a great deal more effort than it had taken the kid. “It sounded like you had experience with abandoned projects. I thought maybe your mom sometimes got busy doing other things and maybe your plans got put on hold.”
“Not my mom,” Nate mumbled, staring at the ground. “My uncle.”
The uncle-stepfather? Rabbit bit back the words. There had to be a better way to ask that. “Ah… the one who taught you the cool basketball moves?”
“He was coaching my team and—” Nathan’s voice was choked, thick-sounding. “He just left — joined the marines like my dad.” He blinked a few times and sniffed.
Fighting tears, trying to man up, Rabbit realized. But he was just a boy. One who’d had to grow up too fast. Kincaid, you are so far out of your depth now…
He dug in his pocket for his roll of candy and offered the first one to the kid.
Nate shook his head.
Rabbit checked the color. Green. Safe. He popped the candy into his mouth, savoring the sour taste that drew his cheeks in for a second. As he stuffed the roll back into his pocket, he strove for a casual tone. “So, he just left without talking to you?”
“He said goodbye,” Nate answered with a hitch in his voice. “Does that count as talking?”
Not to Rabbit’s reasoning, but from what Lin had shared, the man’s emotions had been on the raw side. The kid probably didn’t know that.
“I asked him what about the team, you know?” The kid bent and picked up a stone. “He told me the league would work to find someone else. Then he just said, ‘see you later, Nate,’ and he was gone.”
“And he never came home…”
“Right,” whispered the kid with a shrug designed to show he didn’t care… when it was obvious he did.
Icy waves rolled over Rabbit. For good or bad, whenever it had happened — how ever it had happened — the kid had developed a dependence on him. If he’d gone back on full active duty… if he’d been set for deployment, he’d have been the next guy to let the boy down by leaving.
But he hadn’t qualified for battle deployment.
Everything happens for a reason…
“Right…” He cleared his throat. “You know, I’m not leaving.” He shrugged. “I might have to leave for a week or two every once in a while up to Quantico, but mostly I’m — staying put. So that means we’ll finish our project.” He took a chance and laid a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “That means you’re stuck with me.”
The kid grimaced. “Until we leave.”
The words were a kick to the gut. Rabbit didn’t want to think about the little family leaving. Not your family, not your responsibility.
He rubbed the back of his neck and managed to hook his thumb on the chain beneath his collar. He cursed under his breath as he worked it loose. Then he caught Nate’s gaze and held on. “What if I told you I kinda wish you guys would stick around?”
Surprise rounded Nate’s eyes. “We can’t. Mom keeps moving in case—” Quickly, he looked away, but not before his surprise turned to an expression of stark fear.
What on earth had painted such fright into the kid’s eyes? Sure, it would be a scary thought if he knew about a custody battle between his mom and grandmother, but… Rabbit’s nerve endings tingled with awareness. Not only were things not adding up, the equation was growing more complicated.
Near the street, a car door slammed. Nathan jerked and stared in the direction of the sound. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense. Cammie let out a welcoming yip and peered up at Rabbit, begging for the okay. Moments later, Dan appeared along the driveway, Jack at his side. Cammie yipped again.
“Stay,” murmured Rabbit. “Jack’s still working anyway.”
Nathan eased out a breath.
“Look, kid, I’ll talk to your mom. We’ll get this worked out, okay? Neither of us is going anywhere for the next few days.” Rabbit grinned and pointed toward the house. “Except into the house for dinner. Then me to base for my new duty and you to school as soon as your mom enrolls you.” He started walking, holding his breath until Nate fell into step beside him.
As they entered the kitchen, JR squealed with delight. She sat in a highchair, some kind of orange sauce ringing her mouth like a clown’s lipstick. More sauce clung to her hair. In the chair next to her, Greg had managed to apply orange sauce to his cheeks and forehead like war paint.
Place settings had been laid out, and food graced the center of the table. Dan stood at the sink nuzzling his wife, appearing not to have heard them enter — or maybe he just didn't care. But it was the seat at the far end of the table that drew Rabbit’s attention. Cammie’s brand new bed lay folded in half, covering most of the end of the table, and Lin sat in the chair using the bed as a pillow. Soft snores slipped from between her lips.
Nathan snickered and moved toward his mom.
“Don’t you dare wake her up,” scolded Trish in a whisper. “She’s exhausted. You took a little nap this afternoon, but she hasn’t stopped until now.”
“Gross,” mumbled the kid. “She can’t sleep next to us while we eat.”
Rabbit stepped forward. “Tell you what. I’ll get her upstairs. If she gets hungry later, she can make a sandwich. Which is her room?”
“End of the hall, room four, across from Nathan’s,” replied Trish, smiling.
Stifling a yawn of his own, Rabbit walked to the table and eased her chair back, then slipped his arms beneath her and lifted. She stirred then settled her head against his shoulder with a sigh. His heart gave an electric jolt.
Oh, boy… He might have underestimated the physical and emotional impact holding her in his arms would have.
Cammie looked between him and the food in her brand new bowl, appearing torn.
“Stay here,” he murmured to the dog, afraid if he spoke too loudly, he’d wake Lin. He glanced at Nate. “Watch your sister for a while, okay kid?”
At Nate’s speechless nod, Rabbit carried Lin out of the kitchen and up the stairs. A cloud of fragrance teased his nostrils — outdoors and surf mixed with something subtly floral. She turned her head and soft hair brushed his cheek. Rabbit clenched his jaw as the unfamiliar sensations tormented him, eliciting a torrent of equally unfamiliar emotions.
A line of boxes along the far wall were the only sign of Lin’s recent move-in. Rabbit walked to the bed and stooped, gently laying her on top of the floral spread. She sighed again and rolled onto her side, burying her face into the pillow. She didn’t stir when he untied her sneakers and slipped them off, but he didn’t want to chance waking her to get her under the covers. He felt like he was invading her privacy as he tugged open the closet door. Trish usually kept spare bedding on the upper shelves in the guest rooms, so maybe — yes, there it was on the top shelf, a tan blanket folded and stored off to the side. He grabbed it and eased the door shut.
As he laid the cover over her, she grabbed the upper edge and tucked it beneath her chin.
When was the last time you really slept?
She murmured a few unintelligible words, her voice growing more urgent. If she didn’t stop, she’d wake herself up.
“Shh,” he whispered. He reached out but halted the movement with his hand hovering just above her face.
She muttered again and tossed her head from side to side then flopped onto her back.
Rabbit sank to the edge of the bed and watched her, allowing himself the luxury of concern as he whispered, “It’s okay… everything’ll be okay.” With the backs of his fingers, he brushed a wisp of hair off her face.
Lin’s mutters became whimpers, and she fell silent. A few soft snores escaped as her breathing deepened. Fatigue seeped into Rabbit’s muscles just watching her, reminding him that they’d both worked all night and stayed up all day. Crashing was imminent.
* * * *
Lin forced her heavy eyelids open. The burning drove her to close them again. She jammed the heels of her hands into her eyes and pressed. Don’t rub, don’t rub, don’t rub. How many times had she warned Nathan not to rub at his eyes and risk scratching them? But the grittiness was horrible — like she’d just hiked through a desert windstorm. What were those called again? Did it matter?
What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so groggy?
Deep, even breathing told her Nate slept peacefully. She pushed her eyes open again and blinked. A dim glow lit the room. The wrong room! Bolting upright, she kicked her feet, dismayed to find they were tangled in a blanket. She shoved the cover aside and threw her feet off the edge of the bed, drawing in great gulps of air. Right. Not at the motel anymore.
Montgomery House. She slowed her breathing as she checked her surroundings, locating the crib across the room, and noting JR’s tiny form under a yellow blanket printed with sleepy bears in nightcaps. The bed creaked as Nate shifted. He must have crashed in her room rather than his own.
She turned to look at him.
And stared at the full grown man on the other side of the bed.
Peter Kincaid, still dressed in his faded jeans and gray T-shirt, lay on his back, hands clasped behind his head, eyes closed. The dim light cast by the lamp on the dresser emphasized his five-o’clock shadow, lending him an air of rugged sexuality. His chest rose and fell with each breath, sketching every muscle beneath the clinging cotton in perfect definition. What she couldn’t see, her memories from the beach filled in.
Why was he asleep in her bed?
She glanced along the length of his body, skirting past the way his jeans defined his muscular thighs, trying to ignore the way her body stirred in response to the sight. She didn’t dare go there. Not again. Not ever again.
And definitely not with Peter.
She swept her gaze over his body once more. In sleep he looked far more approachable, almost vulnerable. Almost. No blanket covered him. Was he chilly? His feet hung off the bed As comfortable as his high-end athletic shoes might appear, it couldn’t be pleasant to sleep in them. Should she wake him? Maybe send him to his own room?
How did his face manage to look so strong and so peaceful at the same time? He sighed and flopped one arm down to his side. But still he didn’t wake up. He’d gotten no more sleep than she had in the last couple of days. And that was largely her fault. He’d put the time in helping them.
Mind made up, she moved to the foot of the bed. The pristine white laces almost glowed in the soft bedroom lamplight. They really stood out against the scuffed and worn shoes. And he was a fan of tight bows. She cursed as her fingers slipped from the double knot. Finally, the left shoe was loosened. Rolling her lips inward and holding her breath, she eased it off his foot. He sighed in his sleep but didn’t move. Feeling bolder, she repeated the process with the right foot. Then she placed them together next to his side of the bed. She hauled the soft blanket from her side and draped it over him. He lowered his other arm and rolled to face the door.
An unexpected tug on her heart weakened her knees, and she paused to watch him. What are you doing, Melinda?
She glanced at the stuffed chair over by the window. It would easily accommodate her. But after only one step in that direction, she hesitated. No blanket. The chill in the air had already raised goose bumps on her bare arms. The queen-sized bed was plenty large enough for two. Decision made, she tiptoed to the other side of the bed, eased back the covers, and crawled beneath them.
It was a dangerous, dangerous game she was playing. But tomorrow would be time enough for regrets. She closed her eyes and fell into the rhythm of Peter’s heavy breathing. Her mind whirled with recent activities, but no matter how many times she tried to put one particular activity aside, her thoughts always drifted back to that kiss.
What had it meant? Did it mean anything? Had she just been a convenient outlet for his frustration? Why hadn’t he mentioned it again? Did she really want him to?
That kiss, that kiss, that kiss…
Her body warmed from the inside out as memories and colors swirled together and blackness crept in.
When she awakened again, streaks of sunlight stole across the floor, and she was alone. Peter had left without a trace. The blanket she’d thrown over him was no longer in evidence. And JR was gone. The bear blanket had been folded in half and draped over the crib railing. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
“Nine o’clock!” Wildly, she struggled with the blankets and finally managed to free herself from their clutches. She raced to her bathroom to make herself presentable.
What must Trish think of her? Falling asleep before dinner… She set her toothbrush in the holder and paused. How had she gotten upstairs? Thoughts of awakening to Peter on the other side of the bed heated her face. He must have had something to do with it. She raked a brush through her hair and fluffed away most of the bedhead.
“Why didn’t you wake me up when you got up, you jerk?”
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” asked Trish from the door to the hallway.
The brush slipped from Lin’s suddenly numb fingers and fell to the counter with a clatter. She whirled, mouth gaping. “I…”
Trish smiled. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I just wanted to let you know I’m taking the little ones outside to play while I work in the garden.”
“You don’t have to watch JR all the time.” The heat in Lin’s face intensified. “I’m sorry. That sounded incredibly ungrateful.”
“Not at all!” Trish waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“Um, where’s, er… Nate?”
“Nate’s watching Greg and JR, and then he wants to take Cammie for a walk on the beach,” answered Trish. Her eyes danced with delight. “And Peter’s off to work. Probably filling out paperwork and getting his ducks lined up for his new military occupational specialty.”
Not asking about him had been deliberate. The entire household likely knew he’d put her to bed and slept in her room. She hadn’t wanted to make too much of it, to seem overly… interested. But Trish’s comment gave her the opportunity to ask without disclosing how hungry she was to find out more. “He has a new MOS?” Of course, the illusion was ruined by words spoken too quickly in a voice that came out too breathy.
“Apparently he’s going to put his law degree to work. He’ll be joining JAG.”
“Oh…” Lin’s heart fell. Peter had a law degree? At least that explained the cross examination feel to some of their conversations. “So he’ll be transferring out?”
Wearing an ever widening smile, Trish angled her head and studied Lin with a speculative gleam in her eye. “Camp Lejeune has a Judge Advocate General’s office.”
So much for not showing too much eagerness. Heat engulfed Lin’s head. Surely she’d combust any second.
Trish seemed to take pity on her. Or maybe the conversation was even becoming too weird for her. “Anyway, I found the school info if you want to see about enrolling Nathan.” Her face clouded. “I imagine it’s kind of… hard. I’m assuming you don’t have his records?”
The air left Lin’s lungs in a rush, and she slumped. “I can’t even use his legal name. I can’t risk them finding us.”
Trish angled her head and worried at her lower lip. “I figured it was something like that. Lookout Island is a small community, fairly tight-knit. A good friend of ours just took over as principal of the middle school, Jay Harris. I called him and had a little discussion with him—”
“No!” Lin stared in horror. “He’ll have to call the—”
“He won’t be calling anyone,” interrupted Trish, holding up her hand. “First, because he trusts me, and second because I told him it’s an abusive situation, and that we’re helping you work on it.” She sighed. “And we are helping you work on it, okay? You’re in hiding for now while we regroup. But no more running away. Promise?”
How could she promise such a thing? How could she say what they might have to do if the unthinkable happened? Trish really didn’t know what she was asking. And whose fault is that? There was no help for them, but Trish didn’t know that either.
So she nodded. It wouldn’t be the first promise she broke if things went bad.
“Good. Jay’s a great guy. I think Nathan will like him. You have an appointment at one o’clock. So you have time to… umm freshen up a little.” She shot a pointed look at Lin. “You might want to go for something less rumpled and slept-in.”
“Thanks,” Lin acknowledged with a wry smile. But the gentle teasing changed the direction of her concern, and she glanced down. Wrinkled blouse, stained jeans. And the thought of a shower wasn’t exactly off-putting. She nodded her agreement. “I’ll be down soon.”
A slow smile spread across Trish’s face. “Take your time. The shower head has a rain setting.”
Lin’s body tingled in anticipation. But, if she was to be honest with herself, she had to admit it was more than the thought of a shower that excited her.
A delicious chilly tingle raced along her skin as she turned on the shower and checked the water’s warmth.
* * * *
Rabbit tapped the sheaf of papers on the blotter in front of him, straightening the edges before he shoved them into a waiting manilla folder. Somehow, he’d made it through his first day riding a desk. Surprisingly, even sorting through the mundane paperwork of unimaginative cases managed to hold his interest. Or maybe it was just that he’d needed the distraction from the newest brewing turmoil in his head.
Things had changed — again — between him and the woman with whom he’d just spent the night. His body buzzed to life. Okay, buddy, ease up. Spending an innocent night sleeping a couple of feet apart in the same bed was a little different from the connotation of graphic sexual interlude his original thought had painted. Then again, that kiss on the beach had been anything but innocent. Darts of awareness zinged through his body. Her scolding him had taken him by surprise, had begun to awaken him from the numbness and shock of his situation.
And it had been hot watching her defend the uniform.
He probably shouldn’t have kissed her with all his anger and hurt bubbling on the surface.
He hadn’t been able to stop it.
They needed to talk, he and Lin. But he didn’t know what to say.
He checked his watch. Past seventeen hundred hours. He could have left any time in the last hour. By the time he got home, Trish would be serving dinner. He and Lin could talk after that.
He still didn’t know what he could say. Not a good idea to approach a situation without a plan. Sighing, he set the folder in his hand on top of the growing pile of folders to his right, cases he’d already reviewed. Only a couple of folders remained in the pile to his left. Without spending more energy thinking about it, he reached for the next folder and flipped it open. Until the lack of a plan was rectified, reviewing the particulars of someone else’s life appeared the safer course.
He and Lin would talk once he figured out what to say. Once he no longer felt like an awkward teenager.
And once she trusted him enough to tell him the rest of the story. He slid a glance at the computer screen in front of him. The screen was dark, in sleep mode. But if he nudged his mouse, it would light up to a data entry screen. The cursor would be blinking next to the name he’d typed in over two hours earlier… waiting for him to hit enter.
McKinley, Joseph.
How many hits would he get? How many men named Joseph McKinley had enlisted in the Corps? It wasn’t like the name was Robert Jones or John Smith, but Joseph McKinley didn’t seem all that unusual either. Would he get more than one? Likely. But he could undoubtedly narrow it down to just one or two if he cross referenced with Jeffrey McKinley. He pushed the mouse and watched the screen flare to life then tabbed the cursor through the screen until he came to Known Family Members and began typing.
With both names entered, it felt like he was on the way to no turning back. Before he could over think the action, he pressed enter.
Joseph McKinley popped up twice. Joseph Anthony McKinley in San Diego, California, Staff Sergeant, honorable discharge. So not him. Joseph Patrick McKinley, Mason, Ohio, Staff Sergeant, killed in action. Bingo!
“Who do you know in Ohio?” Lin had demanded. Yep, definitely Joseph Patrick. He clicked on the name and opened the file.
If he’d had any doubts before, they were gone. An older version of Nathan McKinley only with auburn hair instead of brown stared out of the screen. He started reading Staff Sergeant McKinley’s file, aware he was intruding, knowing he should shut it down. But just maybe he could find out why she wasn’t receiving benefits for Nathan — why they were living hand to mouth. Awards, commendations… the man had been a good marine.
Associated Family.
That would be Jeffrey… the brother.
Lin’s second husband. Rabbit rolled the mouse to the link and clicked. The man’s military ID picture displayed itself on the screen.
Ginger hair, freckled face.
MRAPs… desert…
Explosions.
Rabbit clutched the edge of his desk. His fingers went numb and still he hung on, staring at the face on the screen. What unholy twist of fate had brought the wife and child of one of the men killed on his last mission into his life?
* * * *
Lin shut the door to her room and tiptoed across the carpet to check on JR. Tuckered after a full day of fresh air and play with Greg, the toddler lay with her face smashed into the mattress and her butt pushed up. How was that even remotely comfortable?
Shaking her head, Lin kicked off her flip flops and dug her toes in the plush carpet, suppressing a soft moan. She’d had a full day also. Principal Jay Harris had been completely understanding and promised discretion. They had until the end of the school year, all the way in June, to have some kind of records on file. And Nate had even seemed psyched to attend the small middle school, unlike the one in Jacksonville. Of course, the pretty blonde who kept smiling at him from behind the student helper desk in the office might have had something to do with his enthusiasm.
“I’ll take it,” whispered Lin, padding to the window.
That left one loose end. She peered into the night blanketing the yard in darkness and sighed. Peter hadn’t come home, hadn’t even called. At least he hadn’t called her. He’d apparently texted Trish so she wouldn’t worry, but if there’d been more to the message, Trish hadn’t said.
A sigh slipped past Lin’s lips. Was he avoiding her? Leaning her head against the cool glass, she closed her eyes and willed a set of headlights to light up the street below.
Nothing.
Time would tell, she supposed… And if she felt a bit hurt that he’d communicated with Trish and not her, she squashed the notion. It wasn’t like he owed her anything.