A Soldier's Family

Under different circumstances, he’d appreciate her attempt to be humane. But in this much pain, he couldn’t get a hold of himself. He hurt so bad, his personality was uncontrollably altered. His leg felt like an Abrams tank had rolled over it.

Twice.

His entire body burned as though an RPG sheared the skin right off his bones.

As if sensing his self-consciousness, she stepped out. Funny thing. He felt her absence immediately.

And didn’t like it.

Celia was the kind of girl who changed the room when she walked in. Or, rather, bounced in. Always upbeat, feet moving, face nearly always grinning, bright teeth, big smile, just the kind he liked. Thick curls dancing around her overly expressive, ever-laughing face. Everything about her blared drama, and he usually loved it. Any day but today.

He wished they could bury the hatchet and become friends. He needed the cheering up that the sound of her laugh could accomplish.

Like at the rehearsal dinner the night before Joel and Amber’s wedding. He’d been the best man and Celia the maid of honor. He’d shown up in a horrid mood because he hated weddings since his own marriage had failed. Within minutes she’d had him laughing until tears rolled down his cheeks. Her sarcasm. Her cheeky humor. Her spit-fire comments and street-smart wit. As though she’d sensed his struggle to be happy for Joel more than sad for himself. The icing on the cake had been getting to know Javier, who’d hovered like his shadow. He really liked that kid.

Manny was happy for Joel, he really was—he just wished he had a relationship like that. God had entrusted him with one family and he’d dropped the ball in a big way. No matter how hard he ached for another family, he didn’t deserve it.

He hadn’t taken care of the first one.

Only with God’s help could he ever forgive himself. Or deal with this outlandish pain that challenged his control and his sanity and his hospitality to visitors and his…everything—just everything.

God, it hurts. I can’t do this by myself. Not another minute. The urge to screech out like a jungle animal bit at him, clawed at his mind. He seethed wet air through his teeth instead. Changing positions did. Not. Help.

How could something possibly hurt this bad?

Seven hours of torturous pain with not one second of relief and now he teetered on the brink of insanity. He should take the pain meds. No. He’d rather hurl off the edge of a mental cliff than have the nightmares. His team seeing him in this shape didn’t bother him so much, but pretty Celia? His male ego hated it. He didn’t expect her to understand, didn’t want her to know what a failure he’d been in his life, the horrible things he was responsible for. No one except his team knew how his past haunted him. For years they’d tried to convince him to run clear and free of cumbersome guilt.

He couldn’t.

Why should he? His mistake had cut his son’s life short. Manny should suffer.

Usually he could wake himself from the dreams. The one time he couldn’t was the last time he’d taken something for pain after a botched root canal. Images from the drug-induced dreams had stayed with him and refused to fade.

Even now. Images of his toddler son floating face up, eyes frozen in death and fear. Mouth open from screams that had pulled water into his lungs instead of alerting his mom and dad for help.

All unnoticed by the two people who should have been watching over him instead of arguing. Oblivious that on the other side of the glass, mere feet away, the child they’d made in happier days had found a way outside and was drowning in the family pool.

Once they’d noticed Seth wasn’t in his toddler bed, they scoured the house and yard and found him. Manny had performed CPR but it had been too late. He’d wanted them to pull together to get through it but their marriage had melted under the heat of bitter, burning accusations. It hadn’t made a difference in Theresa’s mind that Manny had just come off a several-month-long mission and had no way of knowing the yard gate had broken or that Seth knew how to unlock a dead bolt.

Then his wife had died shortly after divorcing him the same year. Authorities had never determined whether her overdose had been intentional or accidental. Regardless, it haunted Manny to this day that he hadn’t prevented it.

He’d failed—as a father, as a Christian. As a husband.

This morning he’d failed as a PJ. He hadn’t gauged the wind right when he’d flared his canopy. The jump before, Manny had a tandem diver strapped to him. The person could have died, leaving Manny responsible for yet another person’s death.

At the hospital, he’d failed Joel as a friend by not trying harder to get along with his wife’s best friend. Everyone sensed the tension. Joel and Amber should be spending their time delirious in love, not playing referee between him and Celia. They should at least try to be civil.

Seemed every time they came in contact with one another, it was like a match strike to gasoline-soaked flint. Anger flared. It had to stop. Surely they could learn to be mature about this for Joel and Amber, because like it or not, he and Celia would be in each other’s lives from now on.

He was willing to try. Was Celia? Would he get a second chance to forge a friendship? Or at the very least, put on a pretense of tolerating one another for their friends’ sake? Maybe with God’s help and his newfound faith, he and Celia could truly get past their personality issues.

Please don’t let me fail again.

Whether she responded maturely or repelled his efforts was up to her. He’d throw the ball. What she did with it, he couldn’t be responsible for. For Joel and Amber’s sakes, he hoped she’d play like a good sport.

Celia paced the hall outside Manny’s door, breathing in the antiseptic smells. What should she do? Go wait with Javier and Bradley? Take them home? She certainly couldn’t go back inside that room, knowing how much she’d obviously added to Manny’s discomfort.

No one wanted to be hovered over or seen at their worst. She of all people knew that.

She regretted traipsing in there in the first place.

Then Nolan, oh, man, she could just shake him. How could he betray Manny’s confidence like that? Okay, so she’d give the guy a break. Obviously it had just been nervous chatter. She’d picked up that Nolan was the tenderhearted one on the team. He’d been worried close to physically sick about Manny. He obviously wasn’t thinking clearly when he’d mindlessly blabbed.

“Miss Munez?” A nurse stepped from the room, followed by Joel and Amber.

Celia whirled, noting immediately the peculiar expressions coating Amber and Joel’s faces. Celia cleared her throat and faced the nurse. “Yes?”

“Mr. Péna would like a word with you.”

“Excuse me?” Celia craned her neck at the woman and pushed curls behind her ear. She couldn’t possibly have heard right.

“Mr. Péna?” The nurse hiked a thumb at his door. “Would like. To speak. With you.” She pointed a finger at Celia as if Celia didn’t know who or what “you” meant.

Celia scowled and fought the urge to mimic the nurse’s slowly enunciated speech pattern. Like she couldn’t understand English or something. The kind of technique she and Amber used when teaching letter blends and phonics to students. Celia had a masters in English, for crying out loud.

Though it practically killed her to be humble, Celia nodded and folded her hands in a gesture of gratitude. “Gracias.” Okay, so she still had a little mean streak.

Headed for Manny’s door, Celia slanted her eyes at two newlywed grins on smug faces as she passed by on her way to—what?

World War Three?

Or a peace talk?

Doom music sounded in Celia’s mind while she shuffled one foot in front of the other, as if headed for the guillotine. She drew in a fortifying breath, hopefully not her last, and pushed open Manny’s door.

Ready or not, here it comes.

“Hey.” He shot her a sheepish grin above covers that went nearly to his scraped chin.

“Hay? That’s the first stage of horse poop,” she countered.

By the confusion sifting across his face, Celia wondered if he’d taken a pain shot, after all. Then his expression righted itself. An uncomfortable tension drew the walls too close together, causing the air to get stuffy. She guessed the guy wasn’t one for jokes.

Her shoulders stiffened under his scrutiny. “So…”

“So. Why don’t you have a seat?” Manny gestured to the chair. Not the farthest chair from him, but not the closest, either. Okay. This was progress, right?

Meeting in the middle. Coming to a compromise.

Mechanical creaks sounded as he raised the head of his bed by pushing a button on the rail before looking back at her. “I wrote you a letter. I must not have got the right address because it came back to me.”

She dipped her head. “Uh, no. Actually, I sent it back.”

He nodded as if he already knew. “I wanted you to read it.” He stared intently at her. Dark, searching eyes. Ones she wouldn’t want to mess with in a deserted alley in a dangerous neighborhood. Like the one she’d grown up in.

She flipped curls behind her ear. “Yeah, well, I didn’t.”

This conversation was going nowhere.

Why did he stare at her all serious like that? Did the doctor find a tumor in his MRI or something? The guy wasn’t cracking a smile for nothing.

“I wrote another letter. Joel has it.”

“And you want me to read it.”

“It explains a lot.”

“Like why you pawed me at the wedding?” She flashed a cheeky grin, but he didn’t laugh.

Manny spread dark hands over the white blanket. “Look, no matter how we feel about each other, we have to put Joel’s and Amber’s feelings above our own.” His dark face set in consternation with the words. Like he’d rehearsed them almost.

Wait. What had he said?

No matter how we feel? Then that meant he still couldn’t stand her, right? He hadn’t respected her at the wedding. Thought she was easy. Well, fine. That worked both ways.

Or could he just be feeling her out? Seeing if she could be someone he could thaw to and build a friendship with?

He braced one hand on the side rail; with the other he adjusted a lumpy pillow behind his back. Wishing to spare his independence and dignity, she fought the urge to assist him. He finally managed.

The pillow made a shushing sound when he leaned back against it. “So, let’s try to get along. At least pretend to when they’re around if we can’t manage it.”

Pretend? Who’s pretending? Now, that ticked her off. “Fine.”

But it wasn’t. Why did his words crush her so? Somehow she’d let herself hope friendship with Manny could be real and that she could mean something to him. Something more than a frivolous ending to a drunken evening. Someone he didn’t have to work so hard to try and be civil to. Absolutely no respect.

Zero.

Why had she hoped there would be? Because she’d grown to respect him through Joel’s stories. Admiration had grown through what contact they’d had since that day at the school year before last. The team had shown up to surprise leukemia-laden Bradley, who’d wished to meet a real Special Forces soldier face-to-face.

Now one of them had become his dad, making Manny like an uncle to Bradley and a brother-in-law to her best friend, Amber. Joel’s team had a brotherly bond she’d never seen before. It was special and unbreachable, yet the entire team had pulled her and Amber into the circle with open arms and hearts.

Except she and Manny had ruined that, strained the camaraderie by acting like a couple of junior-high kids at what was supposed to be a joyous celebration of Joel and Amber’s life together. It had jarred Celia’s confidence when Manny had shattered her hope of being his friend by suggesting she leave with him to his hotel—alone. Clearly, a friend is not how he saw her. How cheap that had made her feel.

It stung worse than he could ever know.

“I’d like to know what you’re thinking,” he surprised her by asking. She surprised herself by stepping backward, running into the chair she’d never sat in. It screeched just like her nerves at how he didn’t take his eyes off her, and seemed to notice every microscopic move. Manny eyed the displaced chair, then her. Those eyes. Like they saw right through her.

And maybe cared about the turmoil? Her throat tightened.

No. He wouldn’t like to know what she was thinking. Celia took another step back. And another, clutching her handbag against her stomach to stop the quiver.

In fact, she didn’t want to know what she was thinking, either.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Manny glanced at the chair in the middle again. “You’re making me nervous.”

Him? She was making herself nervous.

Rather than flee and make a fool of herself, she promptly sat. She was not good in this type of situation. Her mouth got her in trouble so often she was afraid to open it in front of Manny and lose her footing with this friendship. If it could be salvaged. This was important to Amber, so Celia would push through it. Speaking of…

She eyed the door, where Joel and Amber’s mingled voices and conjoined laughter bounced off corridor walls.

Manny must have heard it, too. He smiled. “I think we’ve been sabotaged.”

For the first time since walking in, she grinned and it felt genuine. “I think so.”

Manny targeted his gaze at her black eye, which she knew makeup did little to hide. “You look awful.”

Celia grinned. “Thanks. So you do you.”

He tilted his head and pinched the corners of his eyes a little. “What happened?”

She lowered her face at his soft, interested tone. “I had a scuffle with the lawn mower and lost.” She didn’t want anyone knowing about that. So why’d she just blab to Manny?

“I have a hard time believing you could lose a fight.” He rubbed fingers across his lip for emphasis. Then grinned as big as she’d ever seen him.

Ouch. She resented that remark.

Okay, out with it. She draped her jacket across her arm, then crossed the other arm over it. “Oh. Yeah. About that. I’m sorry I smacked you. It was inexcusable.”

His smile faded and his eyes softened even more. “To be fair, how I acted was more inexcusable. That’s what I wrote in the letter.”

“I know.”

His grin returned. “You really read it?”

She flashed him a grin of her own. “You really wrote it? You’re pretty eloquent with words—when you’re not drinking that is.” She stared at her squared-toe pump to keep the snicker down. What could a little sarcastic jab hurt?

“A month ago.”

She looked up. “What?”

“I wrote the letter a month ago. It’s in my PDA. I can prove it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Never mind. Doesn’t matter.” But it did. She could plainly see by the disappointment caving his chest and dropping his shoulders, massive shoulders she might add, that it did matter to Manny. Maybe he really had turned over a new leaf. Otherwise, why would he obsess about the letter and when he wrote it?

A soft groan came from him as he pushed himself up in the bed. His face looked strained and weary. Typical alpha guy—hurting and trying to act as if it wasn’t. Joseph did that when his kidney stones acted up, and Celia hadn’t been very sympathetic.

“Manny, I’m sorry you crashed, and I’m glad you didn’t get hurt worse, or maybe even killed and I’m glad you gave your life to God, if you really did.” The words tumbled out so fast, they felt forced though she’d meant them sincerely.

His brows rose slowly. “If I really did?”

Ugh. Had she said that out loud? Why couldn’t she be better at this sort of thing? Learn how to think before speaking? Her mouth ran way ahead of her brain, and that was a fact. How could she stop this automatic, inherent suspicion of him?

Judging by the look on Manny’s face, he picked up on it, too. Celia hated that she doubted him, but there it was again. Would she never be free of it?

He tipped his chin at her. “Who messed you up, Celia?”

Her back hit the spindles on the chair. She’d likely have a bruise on the skin over her spine. “What?”

He dipped his head in a curt nod. “You heard me.”

“That’s just weird.”

“Your expressive face hides nothing, Cel.”

Cel. No one had called her that since—

The lump returned to her throat. Joseph.

Fine. If Manny wanted the ugly truth, she’d let him have it. “I lived under the same roof with a man who acted one way on Sunday then a different way the rest of the week.”

“Your late husband?”

How’d he know about Joseph? She didn’t want him to assume he had a mean bone in his body.

“No. My father. I have a tough time trusting and gauging if most Christians are for real. I was forced to attend a church oblivious that it was possessed by an evil deacon.”

His brows rose. “Deacon possessed?”

“Yes. No. My father was—never mind.” She just wanted to leave. How’d they shuttle down this road anyway?

He folded bulky arms loosely over his chest and tilted his head to one side. “But you’re a Christian.”

“Yeah, and I know how hard I struggle. I know that I’d fall flat on my face if He didn’t help me every step. I know what I’m capable of when left to my own devices. I pose a danger to myself and others, as you well know.”

She meant the smack-down at the reception. Whether he picked up on that, she didn’t know because his expression gave nothing away.

Then his face drooped with sadness. “I know the feeling.” He searched her face, her eyes, as if deciding whether to say more. That told her there was more on his mind than words conveyed. But what? What put that extra depth of dark in his eyes? What hid there? She aimed to find out. Only to understand him if they were to try and build a friendship. For Joel and Amber’s sakes, of course.

“So, friends?” He uncrossed his arms and reached out his hand to her.

Did he want her to actually shake on it? What if he put the moves on her again? Don’t be ridiculous, Celia.

She tried hard not to judge. God knew she battled gladiators of doubt in that arena. It took a lot to convince her so she mostly kept church people at bay. Like right now.

Manny’s hand dropped to the bed with a dull thud and he looked…dejected. Regret singed her stomach lining. She had no right pointing out other people’s faults when she stumbled over plenty of her own. Still, trust didn’t come easy to her and when it finally did, discernment of men’s ongoing motives ate at her constantly. Especially dangerous and powerful men like Manny who possessed charm and who reminded her so much of her father.

A knock outside Manny’s door drew their attention.

“Hello?” Joel poked his head in. “I’ve got two guys out here anxious to see Manny and his killer bruises.”

Manny grinned and eyed Celia. “Bradley and Javier?”

He remembered her son’s name? Her heart thawed a degree.

Manny situated his covers. “Let ’em in.”

“Dude! That musta hurt.” Javier gaped at the swelling and bruises on Manny’s face and arms. Bradley just stared. Celia hoped it wouldn’t strike fear in his heart about Joel.

“Slightly.” Manny grinned.

“What’s gonna happen now?” Javier asked.

“According to the doctors, intense physical therapy for up to a year. I had to have reconstructive surgery on my hip.”

“When will you get to jump again?” Javier asked.

Manny didn’t answer for the longest time. It tore at her heart to watch his throat constrict like that but she knew he tried to be brave.

“I’m not sure,” Manny finally answered.

“Ah, dude, you will get to jump again, right?” Javier asked.

Again, the Adam’s apple in Manny’s throat gave him away. “I hope so. The next six months will tell.”

“Six months? That stinks. Bradley said you might do rehab here.”

For some reason Manny flicked a glance Celia’s way and held it there, almost like a question. “I might.”

“Dude, I hope you do. I mean, you’re a PJ. An American hero. If you ever wanna use Dad’s weight room in our basement, dude, feel free. Mom could never get rid of it, ’cause she used to walk the treadmill while Dad and I pumped iron. If you ever need a workout buddy, I’m game.”

Manny’s eyes glittered with something Celia couldn’t discern. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Wait. Manny working out in her house? Getting all sweaty and buff just a floor beneath her?

Nuh-uh. Nope. That wouldn’t be good. What if she ended up falling for the guy or something crazy? She didn’t like that idea.

She decided against scolding Javier in front of Manny. That might damage her relationship with Javier further. But as soon as she got him alone, he needed to know not to make suggestions like that without consulting her first. She caught Javier’s eye and tossed him “The Mommy Look” instead, which he pretended not to see.

Unease cinched her stomach tight at the look of hero worship coming from her son’s eyes every time he looked at Airman Péna. Maybe she should keep space between the two of them. She’d worked all these years to steer Javier toward choosing a sensible career, not dangerous ones. Javier didn’t seem at all fazed by Manny’s injuries.

She worked three jobs and scraped every penny to send him to college. She planned to surprise Javier by prepaying tuition at the local university. That would give him a good start. A better one than she’d had. Hopefully, Javier would appreciate her sacrifice and do well. She could see him behind a fancy executive desk. Certainly not stuffed in some tank or chopper.

Javier cracked his knuckles. “Dude, I hope you get to go back to the military. That’s the coolest job in the world.”

All right. That’s it. Celia snapped fingers at her son. “Javier, we need to go. Gotta get crackin’ on that homework.”

Javier half faced her, his shoulders slumped. “But I have all weekend to—”

“Please don’t argue with your mom, Javier,” Manny said in gentle but firm tones.

Celia, Javier and Bradley turned to the bed. Javier started to open his mouth. Manny cast a no-contest expression his way that bordered on stern.

Oh, boy, here we go. Her son unfortunately had been cursed with her short fuse of a temper and had inherited her inability to control her tongue.

Which is why it surprised her when Javier’s stance softened instead of hardened into his typical defensive posture.

Javier bounced on his heels. “Yeah. I need to split and plow through that homework, dude. So, we’ll see you later.”

Manny waved at Javier and Bradley, and winked at her. “Later.”

Winked. At her?

What on earth was she supposed to make of that? The last thing Celia wanted for her or Javier was a flirt with danger.

Celia straightened her spine and ushered the boys into the hall without a backward glance. The quiet chuckle following from inside the room made her want to trot right back in there and assault him with his IV pole. A conk right between the eyes should do it.

She let out a long, unladylike groan. This was going to be the longest six months of her life.

Chapter Four

Manny hated this. Six months couldn’t get here fast enough. He absolutely despised, loathed and abhorred having to depend on other people.

He gave his bedside table a little shove. Maybe too hard. It bumped his crutches propped up against the wall at the head of his bed. They slid sideways and clattered to the floor.

He lay back and groaned. Where was that reacher thing that came in his hip kit? His precautions wouldn’t allow him to bend or squat to get the crutches. He scanned the room.

Great. His hip kit sat near his closet…across the room.

Manny eyed the call light. Nah, he’d figure a way to do this himself. He was sick and tired of having to call for help every time he needed to blow his nose, brush his teeth or blink.

Why couldn’t he remember to leave stuff within reach?