Helen Lacey - Lucy and The Lieutenant

“I still might.”

“You could teach French at the night school, too,” Grady suggested.

“I could,” Brant replied, thinking about his options. “If I wasn’t so busy with the Loose Moose.”

“How are the renovations coming?”

“Slow,” he said. “But I knew it would take a while. Doing the majority of it myself saves dollars but takes more time.”

“If you need money to—”

“It’s fine.” Brant waved a hand. “I don’t need your money.”

“It’s family money,” Grady corrected. “The ranch is just as much yours as mine. And I would consider the tavern an investment. Dad and Uncle Joe and Granddad used to love the old place, remember?”

He did remember. It was one of the reasons why he’d been so keen to buy the tavern. “I’ll let you know,” he said, trying to fob his brother off as gently as he could.

Grady had a good heart but still acted as though he had to shoulder the brunt of all family issues. It was an “older brother thing,” he was certain. When Grady had taken over the ranch he’d made it into one of the most successful in the county. Brant admired Grady’s determination and commitment to the family, but he needed to do this alone. He needed to forge a life for himself that was of his own making.

“So, about this thing with Lucy Monero?” Grady asked.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” he assured his brother and looked toward their mother, who was cracking eggs into a bowl at the counter and pretending not to listen. “So, drop it. That means both of you.”

“Can’t,” Colleen said and grinned. “Not when one of my kids is troubled.”

Brant looked toward his brother for a little support, but Grady was nodding. Great. Suddenly, Saturday lunch had turned into some kind of intervention. Next, his mom would be suggesting he visit the shrink at the local veterans home.

“I was just talking to Dr. Allenby the other day about...”

Yep, right on schedule, he thought, and pushed his mother’s words out of his head as she rattled on. He didn’t need a shrink. He’d seen too many of them after Operation Oscar had gone down so badly. Three of his team had lost their lives. It had been two days of hell he wanted to forget. And he would, over time. If only his mom and brother would let up.

“I don’t need a shrink.”

His mother continued to whisk the eggs. “Then what about talking to someone else. Like me? Or your brother? Or even Lucy?” she suggested. “She’s a doctor...and a good one.”

Brant expelled an exasperated breath. “Mom, I’m fine. You gotta let this go, okay? I am happy,” he lied. “I have you guys and the Loose Moose... For the moment, that’s all I have room for. Working on restoring the tavern keeps my head clear, if that makes sense. And it’s all the therapy I need.”

That was the truth, at least. Sure, he was lonely, but better to be lonely than to bog someone else down with the train wreck his life had become. He probably just needed to get laid. It had been a while. He did the calculation in his head and inwardly grimaced. Man, he seriously needed to get out more. He still had friends in town, but going out with his old high school buddies, drinking beer, playing pool and talking smack didn’t really cut it anymore. He wasn’t twenty years old. He wasn’t blinded by youth or ignorance. He’d seen the world and life at its darkest and would never be able to escape who he had become. Finding someone to share that with seemed impossible. The occasional one-night stand was all he allowed himself. And since Lucy Monero was not a one-night-stand kind of woman, he knew he had to keep avoiding her.

By the time he left his mother’s it was nearly two. He headed to the hardware store to pick up a few things and spent the remainder of the afternoon working on the walls in the front part of the tavern. Turning in to bed around ten, he woke up at six on Sunday morning to get an early start, planning to spend the day sanding back the long cedar bar. But at one o’clock he got a call from Grady to say Uncle Joe had been taken to the hospital and was in the emergency room. It took him five minutes to change and head out and another fifteen to get to the hospital. He called Grady again once he was out of the truck and headed for the ER.

By the time he reached Reception he felt as though his chest might explode. The woman behind the counter said she’d inquire after his uncle and told him to wait.

Great. Exactly what he didn’t want to do.

He knew Grady was on his way to the hospital, so he paced the room for a few minutes and then finally sat. The hospital sounds reverberated in his eardrums. Phones, beepers, gurneys, heels clicking over tiles. Each sound seemed louder than the last.

He sat for five minutes, swamped by a building helplessness that was suffocating.

When he could stand it no more he got up and headed back to the counter. “Is there any news about my uncle?”

The fifty-something woman scowled a little and flicked through some charts on the desk. “No, nothing yet.”

“Then can you find someone who might know something?”

She scowled again and Brant’s impatience rose. He wasn’t usually a hothead. Most of the time he was calm and in complete control. Twelve years of military training had ingrained those traits into him. But he didn’t feel calm now. He felt as though he could barely stand to be in his own skin.

“Brant?”

He knew that voice.

Turning his head, he saw Lucy and relief flooded through him. In some part of his mind he wondered how she had the power to do that, to soothe his turbulent emotions. Just knowing she was there somehow made things easier. Better. He swiveled on his heels and watched as she walked toward him, wearing scrubs and a white coat. Brant met her gaze and swallowed hard.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here,” she said and smiled fractionally. “What do you know?”

“Not much,” he said and shook his head. “What happened?”

Her eyes gave it away. It was serious. “He had a heart attack.”

A heart attack? Fear coursed through his blood. “Is he...is he dead?”

The second it took for her to answer seemed like an hour. “No.”

Brant fought back the emotion clogging his throat. “Is he going to make it?”

She nodded slowly. “I think so.”

“Thank God,” Brant breathed and, without thinking, reached out and hauled her into his arms.

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