Five Years Gone Read online

  Long after we end the call, I remain seated on the bed, forearms on my knees, head bent to relieve some of the pressure that’s formed at the base of my neck. John is looking for me, she said. Five words that turned my world upside down and plunged her back into the nightmare she’s tried so hard to escape.

  It’s not fair to either of us. What right does he have to come back after all this time, thinking he can snap his fingers and she’ll come running? Does it occur to him that she has a life? That people love her? That she’s no longer sitting around waiting for him?

  I no sooner have those thoughts than I feel like a monster. The man has given years of his life to protect the rest of us. He’s sacrificed more than I or anyone I know ever will. He should have whatever he wants. Except Ava. He can’t have her. She’s mine.

  My phone buzzes with a text from a number I don’t recognize. I click on it.

  Heard u r engaged. Sooooo happy for you. No one deserves to be happy more than you do.

  My fingers fly over the keyboard. Who is this?

  Brit. She’s included the kissy-face emoji and a heart.

  I delete the text and block the number. The last freaking thing I need right now is to hear from her. What would’ve been a bombshell in my life only a few months ago barely registers now.

  “Eric?” Amy is at the door. “Are you okay?”

  I want to tell her what she needs to hear, but the words get stuck in my throat, wedged against that gigantic lump that won’t go away no matter how hard I try to get my emotions in check.

  Amy steps into the room, closes the door behind her and sits on the bed next to me. She puts her arm around my shoulders, and I lean my head against hers. “I hate this for both of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Ava is asking for you.”

  The words are like a jolt of electricity that have me straightening, marshaling my defenses and standing to go to her.

  Looking back at my sister, I say, “Brittany texted me.”

  “What?”

  “She wanted to congratulate me on my engagement.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “I deleted the text and blocked her.”

  “The bitch has got some nerve. That’s for sure.”

  “Yeah. Her timing is exquisite, too.”

  “Always was.”

  “I can’t do this again, Ames. I just can’t.”

  She gets up and comes to me, her hand on my back, propping me up the way she has all our lives. “Everything about your relationship with Ava is different.”

  “But will the outcome be the same?”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Eric. She’s engaged to you.”

  “For now.” My stomach aches and my head pounds, as if I’m hungover. But Ava is asking for me, so I push aside my own concerns to tend to her.

  Camille is sitting with Ava on the sofa. She gets up to give her spot to me.

  I sit with Ava and take her hand, which is freezing. I cradle it between both of mine, my gaze drawn to her engagement ring. “What can I do?” I ask her.

  “I… I don’t know what’s going to happen now. But whatever it is, I want you right here with me. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, baby. That’s okay.” Her sweet words fill me with relief. He’s looking for her, but she wants me. I put my arm around her and hold her close to me while Camille, Rob, Amy and Jules look on. They want to help, but there’s nothing any of us can do yet.

  Now that John knows how to find Ava, we wait for his next move.

  * * *

  It comes the following afternoon in the form of a Navy officer named Muncie at my door. Ava and I both called out sick from work, and we’ve spent the day in a restless state of suspended animation, waiting for something without knowing what we’re waiting for.

  Neither of us slept for shit last night, and we’re tired and stressed. I buzz Muncie in and open the door to the hallway to wait for him.

  He comes up the stairs, and the first thing I notice is the khaki uniform he wears under a blue wool coat. Extending his hand, he says, “David Muncie.”

  “Eric Tilden.”

  “Thanks for seeing me.”

  “I’d say it was no problem, but…”

  He has the good grace to seem pained. “Is Ms. Lucas at home?”

  “She is. Come in.” I step aside to admit him and gesture to the sofa, where Ava is seated with her legs under her and a blanket over her lap. “Ava, this is David Muncie.”

  “Hi,” she says tentatively.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” he says, taking a seat on the chair next to her.

  “I’m almost afraid of what you’ve come to tell me.”

  So am I, and I appreciate her saying it for both of us. I take a seat next to Ava, but I don’t touch her.

  “I’m here on behalf of Captain John West, United States Navy. I’m the liaison appointed to assist him after he was injured in the raid on the Al Khad compound.”

  “Wh-where has he been since then?” she asks.

  “In the hospital, ma’am. I’ve been authorized to tell you he was shot in the leg, and the bullet nicked his femoral artery in a near-fatal injury. The leg was too badly damaged to be saved.”

  Ava whimpers, the sound so small as to almost be inaudible, but I hear it.

  “About four weeks after his surgery, he contracted an infection that left him in a coma for more than a month. For a time, we weren’t sure he was going to survive it, but he recovered, and he’s currently in a rehabilitation hospital in the San Diego area.”

  Oh my God. He’s been in the hospital. That’s why she hasn’t heard from him.

  She reaches for my hand and holds on tight to me.

  “May I ask,” Muncie says, “if you two are…”

  “We’re engaged,” I tell him and watch his face fall with what can only be called disappointment.

  “I see,” he says.

  Do you? I want to ask him. Do you see that she’s in love with someone else, and this guy from her past has no right to show up after all this time and want to see her?

  “Is John… He’s all right now?” Ava asks tentatively.

  “He’s getting better all the time.” After a long pause, he drops the bomb. “He would very much like to see you.”

  * * *

  AVA

  They’re words I waited years to hear. John wants to see me. But they bounce off me like rubber bullets, painful but not penetrating.

  Beside me, Eric’s body is rigid with tension. He holds my hand so tightly, it hurts. This is killing him, and I hate that. I never want to cause him any pain, but hearing that the man I once loved nearly died not once but twice in service to our country and now wants to see me hurts him deeply.

  I wanted to know why John hadn’t called me. Now I know. It was because he couldn’t, and that is so much easier to accept than thinking he didn’t want to.

  “Ms. Lucas,” Muncie says gently. “I’m prepared to transport you to San Diego, tonight if possible, and arrange for you to meet with Captain West tomorrow. He’s scheduled to give an interview to 60 Minutes later this week, and he would like the opportunity to speak with you before he goes public with his story.”

  I could see John tomorrow.

  I look to Eric, who’s staring at the wall behind Muncie. “Eric.”

  He glances at me.

  “What should I do?”

  “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart, but I’ll support whatever you decide to do.”

  “Would you come with me if I go to San Diego?”

  “If you wanted me to.”

  “Of course I would.”

  “Would you mind excusing us for a minute?” Eric asks Muncie.

  “Certainly. Take all the time you need.”

  Eric gets up and gives a gentle tug to bring me with him.

  My legs are rubbery under me as we go into our bedroom and close the door.

  He puts his arms around me and brings me into his warm, sturdy embr
ace. “I needed this, so I figured you might, too.”

  “I need it so much.”

  “I can’t imagine what you must be thinking and feeling.”

  “My mind is racing, and so is my heart.”

  His hand glides over my back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Ava.”

  “I know.”

  “And you don’t have to decide anything this minute. You could ask Muncie to call you in the morning, so you have time to process everything he told you.”

  “That would be good.”

  “You want me to let him know?”

  I nod. “Thank you.”

  “Whatever you need.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

  Eric leaves the bedroom and closes the door, but I hear their voices in the next room. I hear the door to the apartment open and then close.

  He’s gone, but he’s left me reeling from the information he provided about John, information I craved for such a long time. And now… Oh God, I don’t know what to do with it.

  Eric comes back into the bedroom and sits next to me, taking my hand and holding it the way he has for almost a year now. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he has to be reeling, too.

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “I wish I could, but this has to be your decision. All I can do is tell you I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You won’t be mad if I want to see him?”

  “God, no, Ava. I’d totally understand.”

  He says and does all the right things, but I can see the toll this is taking on him.

  “Could we lie down for a while? I need to put my head down.”

  “Whatever you want.” He helps me up and holds the comforter for me until I’m settled under it.

  I can’t seem to get warm no matter what I do.

  He gets in next to me and holds out his arms.

  I curl into him, resting my head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart calms and soothes me. “I’m sorry this is happening, especially now.”

  “Don’t make it about me, Ava. This is about you. And him.”

  “There is no me and him, not anymore.” I mean that, but every time I think about what it would be like to see John again, my heart pounds. I’m not sure if it pounds with excitement or fear, but what does it matter? “It might be better… If I just don’t see him.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t know. Part of me wants to leave the past in the past, but then I think about what happened to him and how the least I could do is give him the courtesy—”

  “Don’t mention courtesy in regard to him.” Eric’s tone is sharper than I’ve ever heard from him. “He didn’t give you the most basic of courtesy, so you don’t owe him that. If you want to see him or need to see him to get closure, that’s one thing. But don’t do it out of courtesy to him.”

  His tense words tell me a lot about how he’s feeling, and his pain kills me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Please don’t be, Ava. This isn’t your fault—and it’s not his, either. It’s just a tough situation no matter how you look at it.”

  “I’m not going to see him.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. It’s not in my best interest or yours.”

  “It’s not about me.”

  “It’s about us. I worked so hard to get over him and move on. Seeing him would be a huge step backward.”

  “But it might also give you closure that you haven’t had before now.”

  “I know he’s alive and he’s safe, and that’s more than I’ve known up to now. That’s all the closure I need.”

  “Don’t you want to know why he did the things he did?”

  “What does it matter now? It won’t change anything for me.” I raise my head so I can see his face. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

  “I want to.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “As much as I want to protect you from ever being hurt again, I’m afraid you’ll always regret not seeing him. Why not give him half an hour so you can go forward into the rest of your life with that chapter firmly closed and left behind where it belongs?”

  Returning my head to his chest, I mull that over. If only the thought of actually seeing John didn’t terrify me. Would thirty minutes with him undo all the hard work I’ve done to move forward? That’s my greatest fear, but Eric makes a good point. Will I ever truly be at peace if I don’t see him?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  JOHN

  I wait all day to hear from Muncie and pounce on the phone when he finally calls at ten. “Did you see her?”

  “I did.”

  I want to ask him everything—how she looks, what she said, where she lives. “And?”

  “Sir…”

  My heart sinks at the way he says that single word. “What?”

  “She’s engaged to be married.”

  I want to howl. No, no, no. She can’t be engaged to someone else. I can’t hear that. Although… What did I expect? Ava is a beautiful, wonderful woman. Of course she didn’t sit around waiting for me. But still, I held out hope that maybe she had—hope that’s now been dashed.

  “Sir? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here.” I grit my teeth. “Who’s the guy?”

  “His name is Eric Tilden. Seems like a nice enough guy. I did a search on him, and he’s the son of the New York governor. There was an article about them in the New York Times because her sister married his brother. That’s how they met—at the wedding last June.”

  Last June. She was single as recently as last June. They haven’t been together that long. “Does she… Is she… happy?”

  “I was only with her for a short time, but I would say she seems happy—albeit rattled to hear that you want to see her.”

  My heart sinks to the floor and crashes. “She’s not coming, then?” Earlier in the day, I got someone to cut my hair, and I shaved off the beard I allowed to flourish during my hospitalization. I sent word to my unit that I wanted my dress blues updated with my new rank and brought to me so I could meet her in uniform. She’s never seen me in my dress blues.

  “She asked for the night to think about it.”

  I had this picture in my mind of her screaming with joy at the news Muncie brought and begging him to bring her to me right away so we could get on with the rest of our lives. I feel like I’ve swallowed a ten-ton boulder now that I know she didn’t exactly jump for joy at hearing I want to see her.

  “I’m really sorry to not have better news, sir.”

  I can’t bear his pity. “Don’t worry about it. Let me know when you hear from her tomorrow.”

  “Will do.”

  I end the call before he can say anything that’ll make me feel worse than I already do. I’m like a balloon that’s been deflated. Every minute I’ve spent in this hellhole trying to get back my mobility has been with her in mind. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

  The possibility that she wouldn’t want to see me never occurred to me. Maybe it should have. I know what I did to her was unconscionable, but I never in a million years expected the deployment to last as long as it did. However, when I accepted the assignment to the task force, I knew years-long deployments were a remote possibility.

  That was before Al Khad came into our lives and changed the ballgame.

  I roll my chair to the window to look out on the world that’s gone on without me. Six years is a long time to be gone. I feel like a foreigner in a country I no longer recognize. And without Ava, I have no idea where I belong. She’s my home, the only real home I’ve ever had, the only home I’ve wanted to come back to since the day I left.

  Without her, I have nothing.

  Less than nothing.

  Tears burn my eyes as the worst pain I’ve experienced yet attacks my heart, making it almost impossible to breathe. I can’t conceive of going on with
out her. She’s been my reason for living.

  I haven’t shed a single tear since I lost my leg. Even during the painful rehab, I haven’t cracked. But this…

  This guts me.

  I wheel the chair to the table next to my bed and push the nurse call button, keeping the chair facing the windows so they won’t see my face or my tears.

  “Hi there,” a nurse says cheerfully when she comes into my room a few minutes later. “What can I do for you, Captain West?”

  “I’d like something for the pain, please.”

  “I thought you weren’t accepting pain medication any longer.”

  “I changed my mind.” I want to scream at her to get me the fucking pills, but I don’t. I somehow manage to contain myself. Just barely.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She’s not gone long, but it feels like an eternity before she returns with a medicine cup full of relief. This time she comes around the bed, hands the cup to me along with a glass of water while taking a too-close look at my face.

  I take the pills, chase them with the water and close my eyes to pray for respite from the grinding ache in my chest.

  “Are you okay?” the nurse asks.

  I nod.

  “I like the haircut and shave. You look great.”

  It was all for nothing if Ava doesn’t come. “Thank you.”

  She squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll let you get some rest. Give a ring if you need anything else.”

  I nod to let her know I’ve heard her. The only thing I want or need is the one thing she can’t get me.

  * * *

  AVA

  I’m up all night, tossing, turning, pacing. One minute I’m positive I’ve made the right decision not to see John, and the next I’m questioning myself again. The facts run through my head like a movie I can’t escape:

  He lost a leg.

  He nearly died from blood loss.

  He nearly died a second time from an infection.

  He wants to see me.

  After all he’s endured, how can I not honor his request?

  But what about what I’ve endured? That counts for something, too.