TWENTY-SIX
THE RINGING NOISE shook Colton out of his slump. He swiveled in the desk chair to face his laptop. Someone was trying to open a video chat with him. Using his legs, he scooted across his room and hit a button.
His screen lit up with the most adorable face Colton knew next to the face most of America knew.
“Man, are they not feeding you in Georgia?”
Vincent James’s dark brown eyes narrowed at the screen a second before he had to maneuver it away from the grabby hands of his one-year-old daughter, Daesha.
Colton leaned back in his chair. “Brother, I’m consuming close to four thousand calories a day and can’t keep the weight on.”
“It sounds like rookie camp.”
Daesha babbled, her chubby fingers reaching for Vince’s lips. He smiled, pretending to eat them, much to her giggling delight. Colton still couldn’t believe his friend was a father. It suited him well.
“She’s getting big.”
Vince set the phone in front of him so he could hold up Daesha. She was wearing some kind of pink shirt with ruffles on the bottom. Her little socks looked like ballet shoes. Vince made her legs bounce side to side in a dance.
“I’m teaching her the St. James Fake.”
Colton raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? She going to be a future Mustang?”
“No way,” a feminine voice called out from off screen. A second later, Shaunette, Vince’s wife, walked into view. She leaned over the couch and tickled Daesha’s chunky thighs. “This little girl has the legs of a track star, like her mama.”
Daesha squealed, bringing her hands together. A string of drool dripped from her gummy smile, and Vince made a face.
“Looks like baby girl is ready for her mama to show her some moves.” Vince lifted Daesha overhead, and Shaunette grabbed her.
“Tell Uncle Colt bye-bye.” Shaunette took one of Daesha’s hands and waved it at the screen. “Say, ‘Bye-bye. Come visit us soon.’”
“Nice seeing you, Shaunette.” Colton waved. “Bye, Daesha.”
Shaunette walked off screen, and Vince’s attention was on them for a few seconds before he turned back to the phone and picked it up.
“That little girl is going to be the end of me.”
Colton smiled. “Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?”
“Yeah, but I never thought I’d have it this bad.”
A tiny stab of jealousy pricked Colton’s soul. Vince was living his dream. Colton was proud of him—couldn’t be prouder—but it only made his own situation feel that much worse.
“Hey, man, the reason I was calling was to let you know I talked to my financial advisor and I’ve got the go-ahead for the investment. I’m all in.”
The investment. Right. When Colton began imagining his future for the ranch as a retreat for veterans and their families, he knew he’d need investors to help him. Asking Vince was humbling, but his friend had always supported the military, and if Colton could get him on board, he figured other investors would see that and want to help too. But last night his vision for the ranch died right alongside the man who attacked him and Pecca.
“Yeah, about that—”
“And guess what? I spoke to a couple other players on the team, and they want to invest too. They asked if maybe they could come out. Have dinner and visit with the families. I know I didn’t ask, but I figure that would be pretty cool, so why not, right?”
“Oh, hey, did your friend’s little boy like the football? I hope it wasn’t too late?”
“Maceo loved it.” His heart ached. “I appreciate you helping me out.”
“And with his mama?” Vince’s eyebrows danced. “Did she fall into your arms and profess her—”
“Look, Vince,” Colton said. “I wanted to talk to you about the ranch. I, um, don’t think it’s going to happen, man.”
Vince straightened. “Why not?”
The last thing Colton wanted to do was get into the details of last night and the mess he’d made with Pecca. The first thing he did this morning was cancel his sessions with her, because the idea of facing her was too much. His heart was too vulnerable.
“I don’t know. It’s probably a lot of work, and I’m not as far along in my therapy as I’d hoped to be. I think it’s too much. Too soon.”
“What can I do to help? Once my season’s over, I can come to the ranch and help with construction. I can bring some players too. Do you need more money?”
“No.” Colton shook his head. “I don’t need money or anyone helping with construction. It was an idea I was toying with, and now I’ve realized it was too much.”
“Talk to me, Colt.” The corners of Vince’s eyes pinched. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, good.” Colton tried to sound convincing. “It’s just . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I never really thought this would be my life, ya know. It’s been hard trying to imagine a future outside the one I worked for.”
“I get you, brother, but that’s the way of life.” Vincent settled back. “Nothing is promised. Shaunette and I are always coming up with different visions for our future. All it takes is one hit the wrong way and I’m done. Toast. I have to consider alternate options. I’ve done that ever since I busted my leg in high school.”
“You’re still doing what you love.” Colton hated how pathetic he sounded, especially in front of Vince.
“Brother, hear me out. What I’m saying is I like playing football. A lot. But I love my wife and my daughter. As great as it is to live my dream on the field, it’s the dream I’m living at home, with my family, that means the most.” Vince pointed at the screen. “You convinced me in high school not to give up, even when it hurt, and I’m telling you to do the same. Just because you’re not wearing a uniform anymore doesn’t mean you don’t have anything to offer.”
Vince’s words echoed Pecca’s, making Colton’s chest hurt. He checked the clock. It was time to go.
“I appreciate that, Vince. I’ll let you know what I do.”
“Hang in there, Colt. You’ve got this.”
Ending the call, Colton felt drained. Maybe Vince should consider being a therapist, like Chaplain Kelly. After one short video chat with his friend, Colton could see the pathetic reasoning behind his tantrum last night. Maybe his appointment with Chaplain Kelly would go better.
“You had a bad night.”
Bad night. Next to the night following his diagnosis and departure from the Army, last night was the worst one of Colton’s life. Pecca’s heartbroken expression had haunted his dreams. He did that to her. He hurt Pecca.
“Pecca told me you canceled your sessions with her today.” Chaplain Kelly leaned back in his chair. “Why?”
“I’m only here for another week and a half. I can go to a gym anywhere, but I want to make sure I have a good grasp on the cognitive brain therapy before I leave.” And if hearing Pecca’s name felt like a stab in his heart, seeing her would only cause him to bleed out. Colton tapped an electrode. “Can we start?”
“Sure, but I want to talk about what happened last night.”
“I already told you.”
“Yes.” Chaplain Kelly pushed his glasses up his nose. “You gave me a report. Concise. Organized. Impassive. Exactly what I would expect from an intelligence officer.”
“What else do you want?”
“To know how you’re feeling. You said you had another episode. You hadn’t had one since our first meeting. Do you realize that was five weeks ago?”
Colton shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You should.” Chaplain Kelly smiled. “You’ve made progress.”
Progress? Colton’s gaze drifted to the window as he thought about how his body had failed him again. He could barely see the edge of the parking lot and the squad car parked there. He was grateful Charlie had listened and gotten Pecca more protection, but it was a painful reminder of his own shortcomings.
“Why don’t we talk about your homework? You told me about your idea for your grandparents’ ranch. What steps have you taken to make that happen?”
Colton scoffed, turning away from the window. He thought about his earlier conversation with Vince. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” Chaplain Kelly frowned. “It’s a great idea.”
“It’s too big of a project. And I’m not ready for it.”
“May I speak to you a moment as a chaplain rather than your therapist?” He smiled. “I have a bit more experience on that side.”
“If I say yes, can we start the CBT?”
Chaplain Kelly’s smile grew bigger. “Yes.”
“Then fire away, sir.”
“I want you to consider for a moment why God may have brought you to this point in your life.”
Colton rolled his lip between his teeth. “Maybe I’m being punished for something?”
“Do you believe that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Can’t think of why else this is happening to me.”
“Do you believe God has a plan for your life?”
“My parents seem to think he does, but I’m struggling to understand why God would allow this to happen.”
“That idea about the ranch. Do you think you would’ve thought about that if you hadn’t come here?”
Colton’s fingers bounced with the tremor. All he’d planned to do on the ranch was retire after a long career in the Army. “No.”
“And what about Maceo? You started a flag football team just to give him a chance to play a sport you both love. Did you ever think you’d get the privilege to coach and mentor a team of kids and inspire them to look beyond physical limitations?”
“You make me sound much better than I am.”
“What I’m trying to do is make you look past your own narrow vision, Colton.” Chaplain Kelly shifted in his chair. “You can’t see the value of what you’re currently bringing to the lives around you. Even with your movement disorder. You look at yourself as less than. Is that the message you want your life to reflect? Those kids on the field don’t see Maceo’s prosthetic because he stopped seeing it. Those guys in D-Wing have lived rich, full lives, not because they haven’t seen hardships but because they have and are choosing to focus on what is better. When are you going to make that decision, Colton?”
“What was wrong with the life I had hoped for?” Colton looked at his arm. “Did I mess up and choose the wrong path or something and now God is using this to get me back on track?”
“I think God is using this to get you to trust him completely.” Chaplain Kelly’s voice was gentle. “Give your plans over to the Lord and trust him. Allow yourself to believe that even though this isn’t how you planned your life, it doesn’t mean it’s not exactly where you need to be.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, Colton feared running into Pecca. He wasn’t sure what he would say to her if he saw her and was even more convinced that maybe Chaplain Kelly was right.
Chaplain Kelly’s words had challenged Colton throughout the remainder of his session. It was like Pecca, Vincent, and the chaplain had all conspired to point out the same exact thing. His mother would call him stubborn and remind him that a wise word spoken once is easily ignored, but when it’s spoken again the listener should pay attention. Reflecting back on the last year, Colton realized he had used his movement disorder as an excuse to give up. It was a foolish, prideful, stupid response, and he was ashamed of himself.
He scanned the hallway and lounge on the second floor. It was quiet. Good. Running into Gunny, Sarge, or anyone on D-Wing would be just as bad as running into Pecca. Worse. They would call him out on his cowardice. Remind him that women like Pecca didn’t come around often, and he was making a mistake.
Brrring.
Colton stepped into his room and tugged his cell phone out of his pocket, closing the door behind him. Kekoa’s mug popped up on the screen.
“Brah, we’ve got a problem. I don’t know who that wahine is, but she’s cursed. I was able to use a program to piece together enough of her face to run through a couple of facial recognition programs and sent you a copy. If she had a criminal record, it’d pop pretty quickly, but brother, this woman is hot, and I ain’t talking about her good looks. My computer is fried.”
Kekoa was amped up, his words running together—and there wasn’t a lot that got the Hawaiian on edge. Colton put his phone on speaker and checked the message. The pixelated image was grainy at best, but Kekoa did a good job piecing the photos together. “Was it a virus?”
“Fried, Colton. Like Texas State Fair fried.” Kekoa blew out a breath. “Something or someone turned my five-thousand-dollar computer into a paperweight.”
Colton’s mood grew darker. “You didn’t get anything on her before then?”
“Brah, this wahine doesn’t want to be found. She faked her way into a federal prison, knew how to avoid the cameras, and somehow discovered I was looking into her.” He whistled. “I have a feeling we’ve stepped into a hornet’s nest and met the queen.”
What had he gotten his friend into? Who was this Marissa Dominguez? Something wasn’t sitting right in Colton’s gut. He needed to talk to Charlie. Maybe Agent Frost would have better luck.
Movement from the corner of Colton’s eye spun him around. The shades in his room were still drawn, but there was no mistaking the silhouette of a person standing in the corner. Colton’s shoulders tensed, and he took a step backward toward his door.
“Kekoa—”
The shadow moved and Colton’s muscles strained, readying for a fight, but his arm jerked and he was right back to that night. The shadow continued stretching toward his window, and a second later the blinds twisted open a little, letting in some light.
Colton squinted and then his eyes widened. Marissa Dominguez. Standing right in front of him. What is going on?
“Brah, you okay?”
“Best to tell him all is well, Cap,” she whispered, shifting so she was leaning against the desk.
He eyed her. Dark jeans hugged curves that led to a black sweater just bulky enough so that most wouldn’t notice the bulge at her hip. Wait—she called him Cap. Her eyebrows lifted as though she were waiting for him to figure it out.
“I-I gotta go. I have an appointment with a queen.”