One Year Home Page 8

  After a delicious meal, a couple of margaritas and excellent conversation about San Diego, New York and Chicago, which is Muncie’s hometown, we head back to the hotel. I’m tired and sated and… confused. In the course of this enjoyable, relaxing afternoon, I’ve gone from dreading being around John to wanting to hear more of his stories, more of his worries, more of everything.

  In the backseat of Muncie’s SUV, Amy texts me.

  What’s wrong?

  I look over at her. Nothing. ??

  You’re super quiet. Not like you.

  Just thinking.

  We’re going to talk about this when we get back to the room.

  Ok, Mom.

  Amy glares at me, probably due to the Mom reference.

  “Do you ladies like beer?” John asks.

  “We do.” I answer for both of us.

  “We should hit some of the craft beer places. That’s another thing San Diego is famous for.”

  “That’d be fun,” I tell him.

  Amy raises a brow in my direction.

  I refuse to react. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but I’ll find out soon enough.

  A short time later, Muncie delivers us to the hotel door.

  I lean forward into the gap between the seats. “Thank you both for a great day.”

  “It was fun,” John says. “More fun than I’ve had in years, in fact.”

  “I enjoyed it so much,” Amy adds. “Thanks for showing us your town.”

  “We have to make sure you see the Hotel del Coronado, too.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be over around nine thirty to get some work done.”

  “I’ll be ready.” This is said with a warm smile that hits me square in the chest. Dear God, the man is gorgeous when he smiles.

  They see us inside the hotel before driving off. I wait for Amy to say something, but she’s quiet until we’re in the room.

  The second the door closes behind me, she whirls around. “You have to drop him as a client. Right now.”

  * * *

  JOHN

  On the way back to my place, we hit every red light. Each time the car stops moving, Muncie looks over at me. After the third time, I return his stare.

  “What’re you looking at?”

  “I’m just wondering where you came from.”

  “Huh?” He’s certainly heard my story often enough and knows I grew up in several foster homes in California before landing in San Diego after I joined the Navy. I’ve spent most of my career here, when I wasn’t deployed.

  “I’ve never seen friendly, fun, smiling Captain West. I’ve only seen surly, bitchy, bitter Captain West. This guy… He’s a revelation. I wondered how you’d managed to find a woman who’d wait for you for years, but now I can kind of see why if she was with this guy.”

  The reminder of Ava is a shot to the heart after a good day—the best day I’ve had in a long time.

  Muncie looks over at me again. “Too far?”

  Yes, but I’m trying to be nicer to the people who’re helping me, so I cut him some slack. “No, it’s fine.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No worries.” I stare out the passenger window for a long time, watching familiar landmarks go by, including the building where I spent the best years of my life with Ava. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, even if I don’t say it often enough.”

  “It’s an honor to work for you, sir.”

  “Don’t ‘sir’ me.”

  “Captain. It’s an honor to work with and for you.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I say, laughing. “And my name is John. I should’ve told you a long time ago to call me that.”

  “Thank you, sir. Err, John. Thank you.” At the next red light, he says, “What brought about this miraculous transformation?”

  “I, um, well, while you were looking at the seals, I was talking to Jules, and she—”

  “Wait. Jules?”

  “She said that’s what her friends call her.”

  “So now you’re friends?”

  “I don’t know. I guess. Colleagues, at least. Anyway, it was a nice conversation, and it helped to… clarify some things for me.”

  Muncie has nothing to say to that as he takes the right-hand turn into the apartment complex that I now call home, even though nothing of mine lives there with me. What’s left of my belongings is in storage with Ava, waiting for me to tell her where to send it when I’m permanently settled somewhere. I’ll figure out where that’s going to be after I get through this media tour that hangs over me like a dark cloud I can’t get out from under. Although, with Jules guiding me through it, I stand a better chance of surviving it than I would have without her.

  “Listen,” Muncie says when we’re parked in the spot assigned to my unit. “I know you’ve been through hell, and I’m glad to see you rebounding a bit. I truly am. But you have to know that becoming friends with Ava’s new sister-in-law is… you know…”

  “What?” I’m not sure where he’s going with this.

  “You can’t fall for her, sir, er, I mean John. You can’t go there.”

  “Whoa, I’m not going there. I have no interest in anything like that.”

  Muncie raises a brow. “None at all?”

  “Not now. I’ve got much bigger things to be concerned about, such as being able to get around without the goddamned crutches and not making a fool of myself on national TV.”

  “You’ll be great on TV.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “People are invested in you and your story. You’ve been avoiding the coverage, so you have no idea how much love is coming your way.”

  That makes me uncomfortable. “I was just doing my job.”

  “You were instrumental in bringing down the most wanted man on earth, John. I know you’d rather pretend none of it happened, but you have to know your life is forever changed by that video. You may as well embrace your hero status and accept that people are going to want to thank you for what you did.”

  “I’m not sure how to deal with that.”

  “You’ll figure it out. But be careful with Jules. You’ve had enough heartache to last one guy a lifetime. I’d hate to see you hurt again.”

  “Awww, Muncie. Are we discussing our feelings now?”

  “Don’t be an ass. You know what I’m saying.”

  “I do, and I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

  The look he gives me tells me he doesn’t agree, but he wisely leaves it alone and gets out to fetch the crutches. We make our way—slowly—inside and take the elevator up to my floor. “I can take it from here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Thanks for going today.”

  “It was fun. Nice to see San Diego from the view of an insider. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Sounds good.” Leaning on the crutches, I reach out to shake his hand. “Thanks a lot for everything.”

  “A pleasure, sir.”

  I don’t bother to remind him again that dealing with me is hardly ever a pleasure. I choose instead to end a good day on a positive note, and I pretend not to notice that he waits until I’ve got my apartment door open before pressing the down arrow on the elevator.

  I’m thoroughly exhausted from the outing, and after using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I remove my prosthetic, take a pain pill and change into sleeping pants and a clean T-shirt. I’d love a shower, but I’m too tired and weak to risk that when I’m here by myself. Pathetic that I can’t even take a shower without worrying about falling. When I think about the things I used to be able to do…

  It’s better not to go there.

  I reach for the phone on my bedside table that’s plugged into a charger. Muncie set me up with a new one after Jules took my other one. He didn’t want me to have no way to call for help if I need it. The guy thinks of everything.

  I have no idea who’s paying for things such as the n
ew phone and Jules, and I find that I don’t care. If the Navy is paying, I figure it’s the least of what they owe me for the sacrifices I’ve made on behalf of my country. Not that I wouldn’t do it all again, even knowing what I do now. Nabbing Al Khad and dismantling his organization was worth the hell and heartache of losing my leg, my friends and my love. If I keep telling myself that, over and over again, maybe I’ll survive the losses.

  I open the browser on my phone and type my name into the search bar, curious to see what’s being said about me after what Muncie told me. More than one million results come up. I’m completely flabbergasted by that number. I click on the first result, a story The New York Times did about the raid and the subsequent release of the video that outed me and one of the Army Rangers who deployed with us. He was also gravely injured and is still in the hospital, which is why I’ve become the go-to guy for the media tour.

  The article talks about how little is known about me, which of course is strategic on my part and the Navy’s. SEALs are taught from the first day of training that discretion is key to protecting ourselves, our comrades and our missions around the world. We’re instructed to never speak of what we do to anyone, even our spouses. In the unit I belonged to, there were supposed to be no spouses or significant others due to the possibility of long-term deployments.

  We signed on for five years in that unit, and I was at four years and eight months when Al Khad took down the Star of the High Seas. Four months later and catching Al Khad wouldn’t have been my job. I would’ve been transferred to a different unit and would’ve been free to propose to Ava and build a life with her.

  Timing is everything, and I had two near misses. Had the attack happened four months later or had we succeeded in catching Al Khad at the four-and-a-half-year mark, I’d be with Ava now, or at least I like to think I would. She would’ve forgiven me for the lies I told, once she knew I’d had no choice but to lie. Instead, she’s married to someone else and on her honeymoon. I can’t even think about what she might be doing, or I’ll go mad.

  Instead, I read about myself until I fall into a restless sleep plagued by dreams of Ava and Jules.

  Chapter Eight

  JOHN

  After a few hours of work with Jules in the morning, Muncie drives me to lunch with my unit. We’ve chosen a dive in downtown San Diego, far from the base where we’d be easily recognized. At my direction, Muncie arranged a private room and asked for discretion from the staff. Of course, that tipped them off that something big—if you’d call me big—was happening, and they’re buzzing with curiosity about who their guest is.

  When the hostess sees me, her face goes blank with shock.

  “Please,” I say softly to her, “don’t.”

  Thankfully, she shakes off the shock and recovers herself. “Right this way, Captain.” She leads us to a back room that you’d have to know was there to be able to find it. “I hope this is to your satisfaction.”

  “It is, thank you.”

  “It’s a pleasure to welcome you to our establishment. Thank you for your service.”

  I offer her a small smile and a nod in acknowledgment. That’s all I’ve got to give.

  As I venture into the room where one big table has been set for twelve, Muncie confers with her about the others who’ll be joining us.

  “We need two more places, Muncie.”

  He comes into the room, his sharp-eyed gaze taking in the setup.

  “We need two more places.” I say it softer this time. “Please get two more.”

  “Yes, sir.” He turns to see to my request.

  I’m looking forward to seeing my guys and dreading it, too. Though I’ve never said as much to anyone, I feel like I let them down because Jonesy and Tito were killed in the raid. No, I didn’t fire the shots that killed them, but I led them there, and their loss is on me. I’ve reached out to their families, let them know I’d like to see them if they’ll have me, but haven’t heard anything. The offer has no expiration date, and I made sure to let them know that.

  We undertook an incredible journey together, spent years hunting Al Khad, and by anyone’s standards, the raid that led to his capture was a smashing success. We got our guy after more than five years of looking for him. We captured the world’s most wanted terrorist. But because we lost two of our own in the process, we don’t see it as the same smashing success that everyone else does.

  I lean my crutches against the wall, determined to stand without them to greet my guys. I only hope I don’t fall or otherwise embarrass myself. I want them to see me as the same strong, determined leader I always was, even if that guy doesn’t exist anymore.

  One by one, they filter in: Phillips, Barker, Griff, Tonka, Dunlevy, Martinez, Soares, Turner, Blankenship, Roland. Tall, short, white, black, Hispanic, we’re a hodgepodge of nationalities and backgrounds. Some of them are like me, products of the foster system. Dunlevy, a star swimmer on his high school team, had gotten into big trouble his senior year of high school when he was caught selling cocaine. Like me, he chose the Navy over prison. Today, he’s a warrant officer and has a brilliant career ahead of him if he chooses to stay in the Navy—or even if he doesn’t.

  I return the back-pounding hug he gives me while hoping he doesn’t break me. I’m not the badass motherfucker I once was, which I’m sure he can see. Dunlevy doesn’t miss anything, which made him an incredible asset to me during the deployment.

  When he pulls back, I’m shocked to see tears in his eyes. “It’s so good to see you, Cap. You had us worried.”

  “Sorry to put you through that.”

  Dunlevy grimaces and shakes his blond head. “Been a rough few months all around. How you getting along?”

  “Pretty good. I’m getting used to the peg leg and hoping to be rid of the crutches entirely before much longer. The coma is what really fucked me up.”

  “It’s going to do these guys good to see you up and about and on the road to recovery.”

  I’m glad to hear that. It’s why I’m here after all. “Where’s Pops?” Jimmy Popovicci, a forty-four-year-old master chief, is the oldest member of our team and my go-to guy for just about everything.

  Dunlevy shakes his head, his face grim. “He’s off the radar. No one’s heard from him since we got back.” After they were debriefed, everyone was given sixty days of leave, which has only recently ended.

  I process this news with a sinking feeling. “He’s got to be taking the loss of Jonesy hard.” Jonesy was like a son to the salty old master chief.

  “We all are. I almost couldn’t come knowing he and Tito wouldn’t be here.” He blinks back tears that gut me. Seeing this warrior, a man who has killed with his bare hands, fighting tears guts me.

  “Do I need to be concerned about Pops?”

  “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

  Neither of us has to mention that it’s extremely out of character for Pops to go silent on this group of men, who’re the closest thing to a family the guy has ever had.

  “I’ll do some recon,” Dunlevy says.

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Yeah, of course. It really is good to see you, Cap. Gotta get used to calling you that.”

  “I’m still getting used to hearing it.” I was promoted from lieutenant commander to commander and then captain during the deployment. When I first entered the Navy as a seaman, I never dreamed of reaching the rank of O-6.

  I have a few minutes to catch up with each of the guys, all of whom are emotional about seeing me after worrying I wasn’t going to make it. I hate that I put them through that.

  Waitresses come in bearing pitchers of beer, as well as platters of nachos and wings. The guys send up a cheer in appreciation.

  I glance at Muncie, standing by the door, ready to help if needed. I give him a thumbs-up.

  He smiles and nods.

  “Join us, Dave. Please.”

  I can tell that he’s reluctant when he walks over to the table to find a seat. I appreciate that
he doesn’t choose one of the two that he knows I want left empty, but rather he drags another chair to the table, and the waitstaff quickly provide a setup for him.

  “You guys, this is Lieutenant Commander David Muncie, who’s had the unlucky job of tending to me in the aftermath of… well, everything. He’s one of the good guys, so be nice.”

  The others greet Muncie and make their way to the table. They’re talking, laughing, in high spirits, which is nice to see. We saw a lot of crazy shit over there, and I worried about how they’d do at home. They seem to be doing as well as can be expected. At least it appears that way. There’s no way to know what goes on inside, where they carry the wounds of what we endured together.

  When everyone is seated, I stand, taking a second to make sure my legs are strong beneath me.

  The others go quiet, conditioned to shut up when their leader wants their attention. “I just want to say thanks to all of you for coming out today. Means a lot to me to see your ugly faces.” That gets a laugh, as I’d hoped it would. “I want you to know that I got all your messages while I was in the hospital, and they meant the world to me. Knowing you guys were pulling for me got me through the worst of it. I’m sorry that I wasn’t up for seeing anyone until now.”

  “No worries, Cap,” Blankenship says. “We’re just happy to see you back on two feet and still on the right side of the grass. You gave us a helluva scare there.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” I glance to my left at the two empty chairs. “I asked them to set places for Jonesy and Tito. Doesn’t seem right to get together without them and Pops.” I take a minute to collect myself and settle my emotions. “I’m going to get a little poetic here and quote Shakespeare. I hope you’ll forgive me for this, but it sums things up rather well for me, and I hope it does the same for you.” After clearing my throat, I dive into the St. Crispin’s Day speech from Henry V that I memorized last night: