The Officer Breaks the Rules (22 page)

On second thought… She reached over and turned off one of the two desk lamps, darkening
the hallway a little more. There. Less light meant he couldn’t see her flush.

Finally, she reached for the mouse and quickly clicked on the call button, screwing
her eyes shut in disbelief she’d actually done so.

The first ring was like a twist to her belly. The second pounded through her head.
After five rings, she realized he wasn’t going to answer. On the sixth, she told herself
to hang up. By the ninth, she managed to click the end button.

Staring at the once-again blank screen, she knew this was her sign. For once, they
weren’t going to cross paths. She’d tempted it one too many times. A man like Dwayne
was too busy to sit around and chat with someone like her. Someone he’d never even
met before. It was time to give up and stop hovering around the computer in case he
happened to be calling. Time to let go of her surprise pen pal.

Time to move on.

She hesitated only a moment before shutting the computer down completely and walking
to her room.

He’s not coming, so stop watching the door.

“Madison?”

“Hmm?”

Skye stared at her for a moment, then waved a hand in front of her face. “I was asking
about how soon we’ll have details on when D gets back from Afghanistan.”

“You were?”

Both Skye and Veronica stared at her for a moment. Then Veronica quietly asked, “Do
you want to talk about Jeremy?”

“Finally!” Skye tossed her hands in the air, flipping her pen over the back of the
couch in the process. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Veronica made a face. “Why did I have to be the one to ask?”

“Because I’m not allowed to,” Skye grumbled, then pointed at Veronica. “But Madison
can stand witness that you started it.” She turned back to Madison. “So spill.”

“There’s nothing to say.” She played with the edge of the rug she was sitting on,
not wanting to make eye contact. She really did suck at this whole lying thing. The
entire last week, she’d been trying so hard to act as if nothing was wrong. The biggest
lie of all.

“If you miss him, isn’t there something you can do about it?”

Veronica’s soft question made her smile. “You’re sweet. But no, nothing I can really
do about it. What are my options? Chase him down the street and beat him with a whiffle
ball bat until he caves?”

Skye snorted. “I’d hold him down for you.”

“Always good to know who your friends are.” Madison smiled a moment at the image,
but the smile didn’t hold. “He’s made up his mind as far as what’s important. Everyone
should have a chance to do that. He’s made up his mind, so that’s that. I just want
some time to work through it on my own. If that’s all right with you, oh Zen one.”
She gave Skye a pointed look.

She sniffed. “Natural female curiosity is not the same thing as not being Zen. Just
so you know. Now, back to the topic at hand, which is D’s homecoming party, and the
aforementioned timeline of events.”

“Oh. Right.” Madison stared down at her notebook, though she already knew the answer
wasn’t going to be there. “That’s Tim’s thing. He’d have more accurate information
than I ever would. I’m just in it for the food.”

“You’re planning a homecoming party specifically to get to pick out the food?” Veronica
tilted her head to the side, braid falling over her shoulder, looking like a confused
cocker spaniel with long floppy ears.

“Sort of. I’m in it to make sure all of Dwayne’s favorite food is here. It’s his party,
and he’s been eating the slop they call food in the chow hall and the dirt they call
MREs for the last seven months.”

Veronica held up a hand. “MREs? Translation, please?”

“Meal, Ready-to-Eat. The pre-packed, dehydrated food that you mix with water and is
supposedly edible. If the world went into nuclear war tomorrow, the only things that
would survive are cockroaches and cases of MREs. The man will be starving for food.
Real food. He should get to eat something other than what the Veggie Queen would pick
out.”

Skye rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of realizing that other people eat meat
on a regular basis. I work in a restaurant, after all. I don’t switch out all the
steaks for blocks of tofu, thank you very much.”

“No, thank
you
,” Madison replied. “But you know D. I just wanted to check and see that he’d have
what he wants.”

“Which is?” Veronica asked.

“Beer. Pretzels. Nuts. Chips and non-vegan dip. Pigs in a blanket. Some version of
recently dead animal grilling outside. And stop making that face, Mrs. O’Shay.”

Skye stuck her tongue out. “It’s still Ms. McDermott, if you please.” Her eyes sort
of glazed over in that weird dreamy way she had. “But I’m considering changing it.”

“Why?” Veronica bit into a baby carrot. “You said you liked your name and didn’t want
to change it.”

“I do like my own name. I just think maybe…” Snapping back to her practical self—well,
at least more practical than a moment ago—Skye waved it off. “Not important right
now. Back to the party. How much time, truly, do you think we would have to plan once
we get word they’re on their way?”

Madison lifted one shoulder. “A week, two days, two hours. It all varies.”

Skye groaned.

“Haven’t you learned the rule about schedules yet?” Madison teased.

“There is no schedule,” both she and Skye said together. Madison continued, “The good
thing is that all this stuff is really easy to store. So if he’s delayed a day or
two, no big deal.”

“You have a point.” Skye leaned around, grabbed her pen from behind the chair, and
scribbled furiously over her notepad.

Madison settled down for a moment, then pointed a carrot stick at Veronica. “Why did
you ask to come along, again? You don’t even know Dwayne.”

Veronica’s eyes widened and she looked around the room. “Well, I mean, he’s your friend.
And Skye’s. And I’ve spoken to him… a few times… on, you know…” Her voice slowly grew
quieter with each sentence until it was almost a whisper.

“Stop interrogating her, Madison,” Skye said without looking up from her notepad.

“Not interrogating. Just asking.”

“I’m fine,” Veronica insisted.

“Take your bad mood out on a punching bag,” Skye continued.

The door leading from the garage opened and Tim stepped into the townhouse. “Afternoon,
ladies.”

“Oh look. Here comes one now,” Madison said with false cheer. Veronica snorted behind
her, poorly disguising a laugh with a cough.

Tim froze mid-step and glanced behind him. “Here comes what?”

“Nothing. Ignore your sister.” Finally ready to put down her pen, Skye stood and gave
her confused husband a kiss on the cheek. “Glad you’re home. I could use your input
for the homecoming party for Dwayne.”

“A party?” Tim shook his head. “I don’t remember anything about a party.”

“I just decided to have one. He’ll have been gone longer than we anticipated, and
so I think he deserves to have a little fun. It’s just a casual get-together. Nothing
big.”

Tim put on his fake pout. “I don’t recall getting a party the last time I came back
from deployment.”

“For one thing, you weren’t married,” Madison pointed out. “So your wife, queen of
the get-together here, wasn’t around.”

“I was married the last time,” Tim corrected.

“You didn’t even make it out of the country.”

“It counts.”

Skye stepped between them “Fine, then you got a ‘Hey, remember that girl you married?
Congrats, here’s your wife’ party. Which is just like a homecoming party, only better.”
Skye grabbed the front of his shirt to yank him in for a longer kiss. “Now stop playing
sibling squabble and be the charming, helpful man I know you are.” With a playful
slap on his thigh, she nudged him into the armchair.

“Charming? You really have her fooled.” Madison ducked the carrot he threw at her.

“Anyway,” Skye put in forcefully. “I’m going over timelines now. But as Madison pointed
out, we can simply be prepared with most of this stuff since it’s easy to store. Which
alleviates my mind. Can we keep some of it at your place?”

“Fine with me if it’s fine with Veronica.” She grabbed a piece of celery slathered
with peanut butter.

“Of course, no problem.” Veronica nodded.

“I know Jeremy’s worthless when it comes to food storage, given his fridge is the
size of a stamp. But do you think he can be counted on for heavy lifting when the
time comes? Setting up tables and moving furniture around?”

Tim shrugged. “He’s been busy lately. Even I haven’t seen him much in the last week.”

“What is he up to?” Skye asked.

“It’s none of my business.”

“But if you would just—”

“Skye.”

There was that tone. The voice no sister could forget. The one that said
I
love
you
more
than
anything, but if you don’t back off things will not go well.

And for once, it wasn’t directed at her. Huh. Funny how things change.

Skye sat on the corner, silently glaring at her husband, but said nothing more.

It was then Madison realized the whole room was quietly holding their breath, as if
waiting for her to burst into tears and run out of the room at the mere mention of
Jeremy in casual conversation.

“It’s fine, guys. Seriously. Stop tiptoeing around the subject. We’re all friends.
We’ll be in the same place at the same time. You don’t have to stop talking about
him.”

“We just want you to be okay,” Veronica said.

Yeah. Me too.

***

Five kinds of fool. No, six. Maybe seven. As the minutes ticked by, Jeremy began to
feel more and more foolish, standing outside of the staff parking lot in the middle
of the night. Like some creepy stalker. He’d be lucky if nobody called security and
reported a weird guy nervously pacing in the shadows.

“Come on, Matthew,” he muttered. “Do your part.”

Ten more minutes passed before he heard the side door open and close. Which meant
a whole lot of nothing, since he’d heard that door open multiple times in the last
ninety minutes that he’d been out there, and false alarms, every one of them.

But this time, the glorious sound of Madison’s voice assured him his time was near.

“Matthew, why are you walking so damn fast? We have a full hour break. And exactly
how did you work it that we had our break together again?”

“Switching things around. I just wanted to hang out; I miss you. Now come on, slugabed.”

“I’m not in bed. And—hey! Matthew, slow down!” He watched from a distance as Matthew
reached back and grabbed her hand, tugging a little to get her moving. She planted
her heels and refused to move. Of course, Matthew was bigger, by a large margin, and
pulled her along like a child’s toy.

Matthew looked around the lot, quite obviously looking for him. “We’ve got something
to do. That’s all.”

“Something to—no. You promised me food. If that something isn’t food, I’m going to
be seriously pissed.”

Jeremy hoped not. Taking a deep breath, he stepped under the warm glow of the parking
lot light and waited for Madison to notice. But Matthew was the one who saw him first.

“Dude. Finally. You could have given me warning she’d put up a fight.”

“I figured you would know better than anyone how Madison handles being pushed around.”
Jeremy held out a hand, shaking Matthew’s. “Thanks, man.”

Squeezing a little in silent warning, Matthew stared him down. But Jeremy didn’t blink,
only nodded a fraction of an inch. Enough to give Matthew the encouragement to step
back and kiss Madison on the cheek.

“I’ll see you inside when your break’s over. If you’re running behind, I’ll cover.”

Madison stood in the darkened lot, mouth gaping open. “You two were in on this together?”

Matthew nodded, completely unapologetic. “He called. I didn’t go to him. Now close
that mouth, flytrap.” With a tap on her chin, he sauntered away.

“Love you too,” she called dryly after Matthew. Then she turned to stare at him, arms
crossed over her chest. Anger? Or hurt?

Neither one was a great option. Worse would be a combination of the two.

“So what’s the deal, Phillips? I don’t have that long of a break.”

The unspoken
I
don’t want to waste it on you
wasn’t missed. He smiled. “I hope this won’t take up too much of your time then.
I needed to talk to you, and you’re always busy.”

“How would you know?” she shot back. “I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

“I’ve been driving by your place, hoping to catch you when Veronica wasn’t there.”

“Oh.” Her arms dropped to her sides. “So what’s so important?”

He rocked back on his heels. It hadn’t seemed real at first, hadn’t seemed true. But
saying it out loud to her… It was the first time someone’s opinion of his choice mattered
so much he couldn’t breathe for the nerves battling inside his chest. “I’m done.”

She raised a brow. “I thought we both were.”

Oh, God, he was messing this up. “With the Marine Corps,” he clarified. Waiting as
the look of understanding—then shock—passed over her face, he smiled quietly. “Yeah.
I know. I think I probably had the same look on my face when it hit me.” Hands in
his pockets, he dared to take a step toward her. Counted it as a good sign when she
didn’t counter with a step back. “I realized that people go into the military for
too many reasons to count. And it doesn’t matter what that reason is, as long as they’re
okay with it. But I wasn’t.”

She blinked, but astonishment still covered her face.

“I was trying to make amends for some wrong I thought I committed, just by existing.
Live up to some standard that my father had no right to place on me. Which was easy
enough, when I didn’t know what I wanted for myself. Good enough career, decent paying
job. Met my two best friends because of it.” He breathed out and went for gold. “Met
the woman I love because of it.”

She blinked again, the shock on her face being replaced with something better. Something
warmer, encouraging.

“But those weren’t good enough reasons to dedicate myself to this career. Not when
I wasn’t happy. So I’m out. Well, not immediately. Paperwork and terminal leave take
a while. But I’ve got a contractor job lined up. Which isn’t my ultimate goal either.
But I need to work, and there’s no serious commitment or extensive travel involved.”

“What about you and your dad?” she asked.

Jeremy shrugged. “Broken, but not shattered. Time will help. I just couldn’t keep
living his dream and ignoring two things that are way more important.”

“What are they?” she asked in a whisper, barely heard over a car several lanes away
pulling in to park.

“The important things? One is writing. I finished the book, completely. Still needs
work, but hitting the end made me realize it wasn’t just a fluke, something to get
out of my system. I loved it. I was dying to start all over again with a new idea.
But I have to be practical; I can’t live on whatever writing pays alone… if the book
ever even sells.” His lips quirked. “That’s too many maybes for me. But a nine-to-five
helps.”