A Soldier for Keeps Read online

  “This place smells good.” He pulled out a chair for her and helped her scoot it in. “Is that pizza?”

  “You have a discerning nose.”

  “One of my many talents.” His dimples flashed as he leaned her crutches against the window. “What’s your pleasure?”

  “Their pepperoni and sausage is divine.” She pulled out the chair beside her, for him to place her backpack on. “Get plenty of cheesy sticks.”

  “As you wish.” He winked. “Anything else?”

  “A cola would be good.”

  “It’s a risky mission, but a worthy one. I’ll be back ASAP.” He left her smiling, striding toward the turnstiles, and disappeared into the food court.

  Was that a sigh? She unzipped her coat, annoyed at herself. So, the guy was dazzling. He wasn’t going to affect her. It was simple behavioral theory. Every time she felt a glitter of affection, she would associate it with something negative—how she felt when Kevin showed his true colors. That ought to work.

  “Lexie.” Cari Paulson slipped into a chair across from her. “Who’s the hunk?”

  “Giselle Granger’s older brother.” She was in research methods and stat with Cari. “Have you started your paper yet?”

  “No. Is he your boyfriend?”

  “What gave you that idea?” If she leaned a little to the right, she could see him standing at the pizza place. He radiated vitality, dressed in a jacket, sweatshirt and jeans. There was something amazing about him. Something that no other guy in the place possessed.

  Wait a minute. There she was, admiring him again. Time to remind herself of what happened when she trusted a man. Disaster. Abandonment. Heartbreak.

  “If that guy was taking me to lunch and he wasn’t my boyfriend, he would be by the time lunch was over.” Cari hopped out of the chair. “Just a little advice. See you in class.”

  “Yeah.” She blinked. She was hardly aware of Cari crossing over to the far side of the dining room where two other students sat at a table heavy with opened textbooks. She could no longer see Pierce. He had stepped out of her sight, leaving an odd sense of loss. Cari’s words sent a shiver of panic through her.

  I have a crush on him, she realized, as she slipped out of her coat and hung it over the back of the empty chair. Pierce was striding toward her carrying two trays. The sight of him filled her like a smile. He walked with unmistakable confidence—she liked that about him. She liked everything she knew about him.

  “Lots of cheesy sticks, as ordered.” He slid the trays on the table. “You’ve got it made here. Everything from cinnamon rolls to deluxe pizza, and it’s all good.”

  “Surely you get that in the Army.”

  “Not that the Army cooks don’t try, but I’ve eaten out of cans for months at a time.” He eased into the chair across from her. “We’ve talked a lot about me lately. It’s your turn.”

  “Uh-oh. I don’t think a guy like you would be interested in me.” She took a straw from the tray and tore off the paper. It gave her something to do so she wouldn’t have to see the truth on his face. She was going to bore the poor man.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You slide down those ropes out of helicopters and go on nighttime missions, don’t you?” She knew enough about guys to know they liked the pursuit, but once they reached their destinations, many of them moved on. Or, she thought as she poked her straw into the fizzing cola, maybe she simply didn’t want to let him that close to her.

  “Don’t think that because I didn’t choose to go to college I don’t value it.” He ripped the paper off his straw and torpedoed it into his soda. His smile was pure trouble. “Why psychology?”

  “They say you gravitate toward what you need most, which in my case is maybe therapy.” She was more of a complicated mess than she’d realized, because his smile made her spirit brighten like the east at dawn.

  “Therapy? You think you’re dysfunctional? No way.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to make that call, believe me.” It was easier to make light of things and to keep him from getting too close again. “I have abandonment issues. I have trust issues. All that leads to commitment issues. I don’t want to let anyone too close.”

  “Me, too.” He balled up the straw wrapper and flicked it onto his tray. “That’s not dysfunctional, not in my opinion. It’s being smart. People can let you down. That’s why I like being a Ranger. The guys I work with, we depend on each other. I know the man beside me won’t let me down, just like I’m going to be there for him.”

  “I see that about you.” Yep, she definitely was suffering from a minor crush on the guy. “I understand problems, since I have so many.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Exactly.” She did her best not to look up at him. If she didn’t look into his sensitive hazel eyes, then maybe she could keep this crush thing under wraps. “Do you want to say grace this time?”

  “The pizza fumes are getting to you?”

  “Something like that.” It was him, purely him. She folded her hands and bowed her head.

  “Father,” he began in his rumbling baritone. “Thank You for this borrowed time with a new friend. I have a feeling that down the line we will both be grateful for it.”

  Her heart turned over, filling with gratitude. She was grateful, too. She did not trust love, but she trusted Pierce. She trusted his friendship for now and maybe for a long time to come. Maybe that’s all this crush was—simple respect for a new friend. It was a comforting thought. “Amen.”

  “Now, let’s dig into the pizza.” He grabbed for a piece with everything on it. “Something tells me you’re a knife-and-fork kind of pizza eater.”

  “There is nothing wrong with that.” She took her fork in hand, surprised how good it felt to laugh with him.

  “After all night marching down the mountain, I was done. Hawk, he’s the stoic one, he could have been dying and you never would have known it.” Pierce washed down his last bite of pizza with the last of his cola. Since Lexie still seemed interested, he kept going with the story. “Keep in mind we had our rucks on—forty pounds on our backs. We’d been hustling as fast as we could go since dark. We’d been under mock ambush three times. No chow, no breaks, nothing. Two hours’ sleep the night before. I was toast. Every muscle I had was screaming fire. I came off that mountain and saw a line of pink on the horizon.”

  “Dawn?” She sipped on her straw daintily, the way she did everything. “You must have wanted to shout with joy.”

  “Sure, but I didn’t have the energy. I just wanted to collapse.” He still remembered that march in Ranger School. Every time life got hard or the battle got tough, he remembered how hard he’d pushed himself and it gave him confidence to keep going.

  “I can’t imagine that much marching. Mostly because I’m not very athletic.” She put down her cup, smiling prettily. “I could probably make it a mile if I had to and then I’d collapse. I’m a wimp.”

  “No, you’re just not conditioned. You’re no wimp. You broke your ankle and didn’t shed a single tear.”

  “I’m sure it was because the cold helped. I was too numb to actually feel it.” She dipped her chin, as if embarrassed, or not used to compliments.

  His chest tugged with emotion. He liked her. There was no sense fighting it. “I was in charge, and I didn’t know what I was doing, but I thought I’d got us to our next post. Next thing I hear is our instructor shouting out, ‘Heavy drop will be here in five minutes.’ Guess what fell out of the sky?”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “A tank. It hit the ground like an earthquake. It was the next part of our mission. We trained until midnight, nonstop, but I made it. Hawk made it.” He crumpled up his napkin and dropped it onto his tray. “When Tim went through the next year, he was the top of his class. Best at everything. He had all of our best advice, so I figured Hawk and I made the difference, it wasn’t him.”

  “You never let him live it down.”

  “N
ot when he started reminding us of his accomplishments.” The hardest part was remembering. The only thing worse was not remembering at all. He reached for Lexie’s plates and began stacking them on top of his. “Guess it’s about that time. You’ve got class and I’ve got a bird to catch.”

  “Is it going to be hard to go home?” Her question was kind and layered with meaning. She wasn’t asking about the conflict with his folks. She was asking about Tim.

  “It’ll be my first visit home since his funeral.” He moved her tray beneath his and tried not to feel anything. “I got leave. I escorted him home. I was a pallbearer. I stayed a couple days. My mom was inconsolable. My stepdad couldn’t look at me. So yeah, I think it might be a rocky visit.”

  “You can call me anytime. I’m a good listener.”

  “I’d like that.” He would miss her when he was gone. There was no sense in analyzing that too much. He wanted to keep things simple. He had another four years ahead of him with no-notice deployments, constant missions and endless training. An arduous road and sometimes a deeply lonely one. He put on his coat. “How are your letter-writing skills?”

  “Top-notch. I might not be able to do a Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol, but I am a faithful letter writer.” She stood to reach for her crutches.

  He beat her to it. “I’m going to put you to the test on that.”

  “The real question, soldier, is how good of a letter writer are you?”

  “Fair to middling. It’s not a skill we tackled in Ranger School.” He held her crutches while she shifted onto them and grabbed her backpack from the chair. “My failing could be one reason Cindy lost interest in me.”

  “If she had really loved you, she would have stayed interested.” Lexie seemed sure of it.

  “Few relationships can take the strain. I’m just being practical.” He grabbed the trays and spotted the receptacle near the door. He had become a very practical man. “In a year from now, you’ll get an e-mail from me and think, Pierce, now what does he look like again?”

  “No, that’s what you will be thinking about me.” She kept her head down, and her dark hair fell forward to hide most of her face, but not enough.

  He saw the vulnerability there. The fear that even something as safe as a friendship would wind up hurting her in the end.

  He was afraid of that, too. Just like he was scared of the deeply felt need to lay his hand against her cheek and lift her face to his. He ached for the closeness they had shared and for her gentle caring. More than that, he wanted to hold her close, to feel her sweet presence against his chest and to know the tenderness of her kiss.

  Not going to happen. But still, he wanted it. He tucked it into a wish, like so many other things he could not have. A man made choices and lived with the consequences. It was smart to remember how much love could hurt and to stay away from it. Friendship was best. It wouldn’t hurt so much when it was over.

  “C’mon, I’ll walk you to class.” He held the door for her. It was starting to get busy with students pouring out of buildings and streaming down the breezeway. He protected her from the jostle as they crept into the traffic flow. He stuck by her as they followed the pathway toward a cluster of stately brick buildings. “What do you have next?”

  “Research methods and statistics.” Snowflakes fell between them, clinging to her hair, gracing her with sweetness. “Sounds like a blast, right?”

  “Like serious excitement.” He joked. “Statistics is way over my head. Does that mean you have a research project, like an experiment?”

  “I’m supposed to start one. It’s going to be part of my master’s thesis.” She paused to get a better grip on her handles and kept going. “The big problem is me. I don’t know what I want to research. I keep praying for inspiration, but so far, nada.”

  “It will come to you when you least expect it. I have every confidence in you.” They were approaching the shadow of the building, where fine flecks of snow fell between them like a veil. “Write and tell me how it works out.”

  “If you text me your e-mail addy.”

  “Deal.” He held the door for her, stepping to the side to allow a few other fast-moving students by. “I hope your ankle heals up quick.”

  “I’ll let you know when I’m back to running around without my sticks.” She knew what he was doing, because she did it, too. Drawing out their final parting. It was funny how fast you could bond with one person, and how you could know a thousand others for twice as long and not like as much. “I’ll keep you in my prayers, Pierce. For a good visit home.”

  There was more, but she couldn’t say it. Her feelings were too sentimental and vulnerable, and he might take them the wrong way. She well understood Giselle’s concerns. It was tough to know in a short while he would be heading back to danger, facing gunfire or worse. “Take care of yourself.”

  “Sure, as long as you do the same.” He flashed his dimples, showing her his easy smile and charm. The serious man she’d come to know had vanished. Once again he looked very much like the guy shouting “banzai” as he barreled down the mountainside, all carefree confidence. “I’ll be looking for that e-mail.”

  “Goodbye, Pierce.” She forced her crutches forward, over the slick threshold and onto the industrial carpet running through the marbled foyer. She caught sight of his wave, of the smile sliding away. He gave her one solemn look before he turned, striding through the snowfall. She memorized the straight span of his shoulders, the powerful line of his back and the way snow veiled him like a dream.

  Sure, they might keep in touch by e-mail for a while, but this could well be the last sight she ever had of him. Four years was a long time, and chances were their paths would never cross again. Sad, she tightened her grip on her handles and headed down the hallway to her next class.

  The electronic doors swished apart, giving him a face full of fresh, Wyoming air. He breathed deep, scenting the mountain air and wood smoke and something innately comforting. There was no place like it on earth. It was home.

  The airport was small with minor commotion. A couple of vehicles sat along the curb with family members waiting, their rapid conversations rising and falling with the cadence of the wind.

  He didn’t spot his folks’ rig anywhere. Mom and Skip must be running a few minutes late. His plane had landed eight minutes ahead of schedule, of all things. He parked on a bench and kept watch for them. And if he pulled out his cell, it wasn’t because Lexie was on his mind. She hadn’t been; he’d made sure of that. He had banished her from his thoughts the moment he’d driven away from campus. Whatever his feelings for her, they had best stay buried. He’d done the right thing, said goodbye, and got the chance to see her one last time. Chances were she’d forget him by month’s end.

  He turned on his cell, in case Mom was trying to get a hold of him and not because he hoped Lexie might have sent a text. Because if he let himself hope, he would be bound for disappointment. Lexie was great—but he simply wasn’t the man for her. An electronic beep told him he had a message waiting.

  “Pierce!” Mom waved at him from their moving vehicle.

  He was on his feet, emotions raw. She looked good. Older, but good. He took in her shock of gray hair, which hadn’t been there last summer, and more lines on her face. Grief had been tough on her, but her smile was the same. He put thoughts of Lexie on hold as the rig’s door opened and Mom rushed into his arms.

  “You are a sight for sore eyes, dear boy,” she told him, grabbing hold of his jaw to take better stock of him. “You look tired and too thin. We’ll fix that real fast.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been baking up a storm just for me.”

  “Skip likes my baking, too, so I’m sure he and Sean can help out. Now get in this vehicle so we can get home. I can’t wait to show you the new horses.” She clung to him a little too long, and it was revealing.

  He winced, wishing he could be what his mother wanted, but in doing that, he would let Tim down. He couldn’t win. Torn up, he stowed
his ruck and hopped into the backseat.

  “Good to see you, Pierce,” Skip said, catching his eye in the rearview mirror. “You buckled up?”

  “I am now.” He reached for the strap as the SUV rolled away from the curb. It wasn’t until he went to secure the buckle that he realized his cell was clutched in his left hand. He flipped it open, only half listening to his mother’s plan for the rest of the afternoon. His heart was pounding as if he’d just finished running ten clicks.

  “Here’s my e-mail addy,” Lexie had written. “Tag, you’re it.”

  He smiled; he couldn’t help it. She hadn’t waited for his text. She had sent her address instead. Why that made him happy, he couldn’t rightly say.

  “Pierce, are you listening to me?” Mom asked.

  “I am now.” He slipped his phone in his pocket, gladness filling places that had long been sad.

  Chapter Seven

  The crutches made life interesting, but she was adapting. She leaned her sticks against her bedroom wall, balancing on her good foot, and unslung the duffel bag from around her neck and shoulder. Sure, she could have asked one of the freshmen for help, but it was the crunch time before midterms. Besides, she was doing all right on her own.

  She upended the bag and fresh laundry tumbled onto her twin bed. Warm from the dryer, her socks and sweats crackled, scenting the air. A knock on the door interrupted any stray thoughts of actually folding the clothes.

  “It’s me.” Giselle lingered in the doorway. She looked pale, her eyes too big for her face. “I wanted to thank you for hooking me up with the support group.”

  Lexie shut the inner door to her bedroom. “I was about to head down and knock on your door to see how it went. It was good?”

  “Really helpful.” She sighed, looking downcast, but better somehow. “There was another girl who had lost a sister over there.”

  “You’re not alone.” Lexie leaned on her crutches. “That’s a lot to handle on your own. You don’t need to bottle things up. You can come talk to me anytime, you know. The center has some good counselors.”