Page 87 of Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC 7)

APTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Early Summer 2015, Austin, Texas, USA

It wasn’t surprising that a broken collarbone and punctured lung didn’t keep Toad down for long. After his continuous demands to be released from the hospital, they complied, and he stayed in my home for the remainder of his recovery. I found his stay to be a pleasant change for me. I had been living alone for several years, and although I constantly found myself looking forward to the day that Katie and I lived together, actually sharing my mornings and evenings with someone was nice.

Two weeks after his release from the hospital, he went back to Kansas. Seeing him in a healthy relationship provided reassurance that a full recovery from the war was not only probable, but quite possible.

“I know I don’t have to, I want to,” I said. “It’s something I think needs to be done.”

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll make a trade with you. I’ll agree to it as long as we get to eat some of those peaches when we get done.”

I glanced toward the kitchen counter. I found it surprising that she noticed I had purchased them.

“Deal,” I said.

“Okay,” she responded as she walked into the living room and sat down.

My new home was an open floor plan with a kitchen that faced the front of the house. Directly behind the kitchen sink was a large island and bar, and beyond it, the large open living room that faced the back deck. The entire back wall was lined with windows, providing not only a view of the spacious back yard, but of Dekk’s pool.

I grabbed my coffee, followed her into the living room, and sat across from her in a chair.

“I struggle, not as bad as I used to, but I still do. You know, with everything I did, and even some things I didn’t do. My mind struggles with the men I’ve killed, and it’s weird. It’s not that I wonder if it was necessary, because it was. But there’s a part of me somewhere that isn’t completely convinced of it. So I have dreams, moments of pause, and sometimes I just sit and think about it,” I said.

She cupped her hands around her coffee cup as she rocked back and forth lightly on the cushion of the couch. After a moment she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees.

“But you don’t dwell on it?” she asked.

“No, I mean, I’m fully functional. So, no. I don’t dwell on it,” I said.

“And it’s getting better? It’s better now than it was when you came home?” she asked.

“Much better. I used to sleep about three hours a night. Hell, when I was in Wichita, I’d get up at night and check the doors, go outside, check under the cars before I drove them. It was pretty bad,” I said.

“But none of that now?”

I shook my head. “None of that, no.”

“I’m sure it just takes time,” she said.

I inhaled slowly as I gazed down at the floor. As I shifted my eyes to meet hers, I continued. “Well, that’s not all of what I wanted to talk about. I’ve uhhm. Since the war, I’ve done some things. Things I’m not ashamed of, but I haven’t uhhm. I haven’t admitted them to anyone but God.”

I felt the need to be truthful with her. I had not, nor would I ever lie to her, but not telling her everything about me, at least in my mind, was the same as not telling her the truth. In my opinion, for her to commit to spend a lifetime with me, she needed to know exactly who I was.

She leaned to the side, placed her cup on the end table and folded her arms in front of her chest. “Bad things?”

“In my mind, not so much. In most people’s eyes, I’d say so,” I said.

“Are you going to get arrested some day?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

As she nodded her head softly, I decided to expand my response.

“I could be, but I won’t,” I said.

She tightened her grip on herself as if she were cold. “Are you sure?”

I was talking in a circle, and not giving her the information I had intended to. It was all too easy for me to give minimal information and convince myself I had actually discussed – at length – whatever the subject was I intended to discuss. It was typical of the Marine in me.