Page 36 of Fighting for Valor
Ryker kicks out a chair and folds his massive frame into the seat as he slides a coffee in front of Dax. “Yep. Up in the mountains,” he says. “I hate being in the city on New Year’s Eve. Too many fucking fireworks.”
Shit. The Fourth of July back in Boston was a nightmare. Only a few days after we flew back from Afghanistan, I didn’t know which way was up, and I spent the night huddled on the floor of my hospital room, Dax and Ry on either side of me. The assholes wouldn’t leave, and when the fireworks started, Ryker found the movie Bohemian Rhapsody on the small television, and the two of them sang every fucking song—badly—while I tried not to throw up.
“You’re coming, Rip. We’re not getting married without you there.” Dax carefully reaches for his mug and stops with it halfway to his mouth. “Don’t make me ask again.”
“I’ll be there.” Though the idea terrifies me, being somewhere new, somewhere I might not be able to escape, somewhere I’ll have to be social…these men are my family.
No one speaks for a few minutes, and Ryker looks more uncomfortable with each passing second. “You going to join us at Hidden Agenda?” he asks finally.
I choke on a sip of my cappuccino. “I already told you—”
He sets his cup on the table and stares me down. “That’s not why you wanted to meet?”
With a sigh, I run a hand through my hair. It still feels foreign to me—this shorter style I wore until we landed in Hell. “No. I’m trying something new. It’s called being a normal guy. One who has friends. And isn’t broken as fuck.”
Ryker jerks like I just slapped him, and Dax rubs the back of his neck. Their tells. I haven’t known them long—not the men they are now—but we were trained for years to observe, to read gestures and micro-expressions. And they’re both…hurting.
“Sorry,” I say quietly. “Brothers—”
“That’s not it.” Ry meets my gaze, and the greens, blues, and ambers of his eyes deepen as he stares at me. “You’re not broken, Rip. Not like you think. None of us are.”
I arch a brow. “You set me up in the sweetest apartment on the planet, and I sleep on the streets. I went to the animal shelter yesterday and bolted when I had to put a dog back in his kennel. His fucking kennel, Ry. He wasn’t even upset about it. But I couldn’t handle it. If that’s not broken, I don’t know what is.”
Ryker lays his arm on the table, exposing a fresh tattoo. Not the one we all got the other night, but a different one. The design looks like a stained-glass heart with words etched around the outside in a flowing script.
We’re all beautifully broken.
“Wren’s words. Before her, I never would have believed them. But she’s right. Doesn’t matter what shit we’ve been through. What shit we’re still going through.”
Dax clears his throat. “He’s right. Fuck, man. If we could erase what happened to you the past six years, we would. You don’t think I wish I had my sight back? I do. Every damn day. I’ve never even seen the woman I’m going to marry. But I’ll tell you one thing… If I had the choice between seeing and having Evianna in my life? Between seeing and sitting here, right now, with my two brothers…there’s no choice. I don’t need my sight. I need my family.”
“I’m not you. Either of you.” Standing, I grab my cup and plate. “And this is about all the normalcy I can take for one day.” Sliding my dishes into the bus tub, I rush for the door, and thankfully, neither of them follow.
Chapter Sixteen
Ripper
By the time I get to Safe Haven, my body feels like one raw nerve. Admitting my brokenness to Dax and Ry…it opened up a box I don’t know how to close again. One full of shame and disgust and agony that swirls around me in a dark cloud I can’t escape.
As I reach the edge of the empty parking lot—the shelter closes early on Sundays—the door to the office opens, and Charlie comes bounding towards me, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“Hey, buddy.” I drop down to one knee and try to keep him from licking all the way up my face as I wrap my arm around his neck and rub his side, his tail wagging so fast, it’s only a blur. “What are you doing off leash?” The German Shepherd yips and starts trying to herd me towards the office. “All right. I’m coming.”
Melissa waits at the door, a big smile on her face. “He saw you coming all the way from the road. Whined at me until I let him out.” I must look confused, because she pats Charlie’s head when he sits next to me. “He doesn’t get a lot of love,” she explains. “That missing ear…it means he gets passed over every time. So after we close for the day, I usually let him hang out up here with me.”
I reach down and stroke Charlie’s head. “You’re still handsome, buddy.” My fingers skim the edge of the mangled remnants of his ear, and he leans his whole body against my leg. “Why don’t you adopt him?” I ask Melissa.
She arches a gray brow and chuckles softly. “I think he’s meant for someone else. So does Charlie, apparently.”
Her words don’t register for a few seconds. Not when Charlie’s leg is thumping on the ground like he’s just discovered the secrets to the universe. But when they do, I meet her gaze. “I…can’t. I’m not a good bet. My life isn’t…stable. I’d fail every question on the application.”
Melissa clucks her tongue. “You know the best part about running this place, young man?” After a beat, she turns and heads back for a stack of paperwork on the desk, plucks a blank application from the tray, holds it up, and then crumples it into a ball. “I make the rules.”
The wadded-up paper sails into the trash bin with a soft plunk, and she smiles. “When you figure out what Charlie and I already know, we’ll talk. Until then…you know where everything is. Go see what speaks to you today.”
Four hours later, my shoulders burn from mopping every floor in the place. Charlie stayed close to me the whole time, and when I ventured into the kennels, trying to get over my irrational fear of locking doors, he never left my side. I scrubbed his space until it shone, switched out his bedding and got him a chew toy, then sat outside the open door while he lay on his pallet with the toy between his paws and went to town.
“I’m broken, Charlie,” I whisper, too quietly for him to hear me over the sounds of the other dogs. “Too broken to give you a good home.” My tears shock me, but I can’t make them stop.
