Rogenna Brewer - Mitzi's Marine

“Jeez, wipe that grin off your face or I will,” Freddie threatened.

“Can’t,” Bruce said, his grin the only thing visible beneath the brim of his helmet.

“You just spent three days in Dubai with my sister. Humor me,” Freddie insisted.

“Never even left the hotel room.”

“Too much information, bro.” Freddie elbowed him in the gut, hard. “You’re not married to her yet.”

“O-kay.” Bruce let out his battered breath. “I deserved that. But I’m still smiling.” He tugged his brim lower so Freddie wouldn’t have to see the satisfied smile on his face.

“Just make sure she’s the one still smiling or I’m going to kick your ass from here to Timbuktu.”

“Where’s Timbuktu?” Henriquez asked.

“West Africa, Mali,” Luke answered, around Freddie. Luke was a college grad, an officer, and as such the lieutenant in charge of the operation.

A really smart guy. Imagine coming halfway around the world to discover that about your own brother. Half brother. They had the same father—not that Bruce held that against Luke.

Bruce peeked out from under his helmet at Freddie. “You think you can kick my ass all the way to West Africa? I’d like to see you try.”

“How far is not the point. The point is I can, and I will,” Freddie boasted. “Mitzi loves you,” he said in all seriousness.

Bruce shoved his helmet back. “I know.”

“This isn’t high school. You don’t get to break her heart again. Not and have me as a friend. Marriage is for real. You hurt her…”

“I’m not going to pretend we have it all figured out. With her there and me here it’s going to be tough.” They were having to shout above the grinding gears of the diesel engine, making this conversation a little less private and a lot more uncomfortable than Bruce would have wanted. “We love each other. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Why now?”

“Why not now?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a war zone. Chances are you’ll make my baby sister a widow before your first anniversary.”

“Thanks for that optimism.”

Freddie’s family had moved next door to Bruce’s when they were both eight. They’d been best friends ever since. Bruce’s relationship with his best friend’s little sister was a lot more complicated.

They’d been on again/off again since high school. Being in two different branches of military service didn’t make it easy to be together. But in high school she’d been his first love. His only love.

And he’d been hers.

She wasn’t the only woman he’d been with since then. Just the only one who mattered. When they were together they were inseparable. And when they were apart?

Well, he used to drive himself crazy thinking about it. Finally he drove himself crazy enough to propose.

Before Kuwait it had been eight months since he’d last seen her. Eight very long months. He’d been reading between the lines of her emails. There was this guy, her crew chief. Nothing serious as far as he could tell. Just the way she dropped his name every now and again left Bruce thinking.

And thinking was dangerous.

“I don’t want to lose her.”

“Fear is not a reason to get married.”

“Reason enough.”

“Couldn’t you have said you knocked her up? I could respect that, at least.”

It was Bruce’s turn to elbow his future brother-in-law in the gut. “Mitzi’s not pregnant.”

“Too bad. I was kind of hoping you’d take her away from all this.” Freddie spread his arms to encompass the thirteen of them sweating it out in the oppressive heat of the truck’s interior.

The thought had crossed his mind. But Mitzi wouldn’t have gone along with that and he was far more afraid of her kicking his ass than of her brother’s threats. “We’ve agreed—”

“Don’t wait too long to make me an uncle.”

No kids.

DRESS SHOES WEREN’T MADE for running. But Bruce managed the distance without a serious slip. Thanks to his new all-terrain leg, he could push himself further than before. Pavement gave way to gravel and he didn’t miss a beat. Slowing to a stop, Bruce propped himself against the metal fire door at the back of the recruiting station to catch his breath.

There were days like today when he felt unworthy of the uniform. He loosened his tie and dragged it through the collar. As if he’d let everyone he cared about down.

The sock on his right foot was soaked through from the melting snow. His left foot, too—he just couldn’t feel it. But his stump throbbed a constant reminder of all that had changed. Eyes closed, he let the sensation take him back to Iraq. He’d been about to say No kids.

Or maybe he’d said No kids. He couldn’t remember.

How tragic if those were his last words to Freddie.

Don’t wait too long to make me an uncle.

The RPG had ripped through the truck then.

If Bruce had sat on the end…

What if? What if he’d been two minutes earlier? Two minutes later? Missed the transport altogether? Sat next to Luke? Instead he’d pushed Luke and Freddie to one side and hogged the middle.

And his brother and his best friend were dead.

BY THE TIME MITZI RETURNED to the office, Calhoun had showered and changed into combat utilities. She tucked her hat and handbag back into the bottom drawer, along with the prescription of birth control she’d picked up at the VA, and settled in at her desk.

She didn’t know if he could still run a five-minute mile, but she knew the word can’t was not in his vocabulary.

Unfortunately that stubborn streak extended to his personal relationships, as well. Come mid-afternoon she wanted to scream at him out of frustration. She’d never quite understood the term deafening silence until now. Everything left unsaid over the past eighteen months lingered in the air like the half-eaten egg salad sandwich she’d tossed out at lunch.

If they were going to work together they’d have to learn to communicate again. She’d been wrong to reject his offer of a truce.

But she’d be damned if she’d tell him that.

“School’s out,” she said with a nod toward the pedestrian traffic outside. Within minutes two girls, trying to look much older than their seventeen or eighteen years, walked through the door.

The pair stopped in front of Bruce’s desk while he continued to do whatever it was he was doing at his computer. Mitzi was pretty sure his emails to his old command had little to do with recruiting.

“May I help you?” he asked after a while.

“Hi.” Swallowed up by an oversize varsity letterman’s jacket, the first to speak wore a cheer skirt and cropped top underneath. Mitzi didn’t know her name, but the other girl was Kelly Casey. Kelly had on jeans and layered T-shirts. She carried drumsticks and hid behind her schoolbooks.

Mitzi could relate to the band geek. She’d been one. As well as captain of the swim team. What she’d never been was a cheerleader. Or a blonde.

She’d never seen the two together before. They made an odd pair.

“Hi, Heather,” Bruce responded without inflection.

Heather took that as an invitation to perch on his desk and Mitzi got a glimpse of the name on the back of the jacket. Calhoun.

So that’s how they knew each other.

Heather must be Keith’s girlfriend.

“So are you, like, a Marine?” Heather picked up Bruce’s stapler and played with it until he took it from her and set it out of her reach.

“I am a Marine.”

“Did you, like, fight in the war or whatever?”

“Whatever,” he agreed. Calhoun stood up so that he towered over the two girls. “Excuse me, ladies. I’m busy right now.” Heather shrugged. Whatever.