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“And there’s no getting out,” Dakota joked. I felt his big fingers clap gently over my shoulder. “You’re stuck here for good.”
“Shackled,” Ryan winked.
I smirked back at him suggestively. “Tied up?”
“If that’s what you want, sure.”
I let out a contented sigh. It felt enormously good, finally being this close to them. Being able to talk about anything, knowing I wasn’t being shielded or ‘protected’ from the truth.
“Good enough?” Kyle asked, squeezing my hand.
“Guess so."
“Alright then,” he said, pushing his chair away. “Let’s get out of here for a little while and do something fun.”
Twelve
SAMMARA
The first two weeks passed quickly, or so it seemed. Summer gave way to fall. The leaves around our beautiful lakehouse estate turned yellow at the edges, and there was a crispness in the air that I always welcomed, always loved.
Fall was the best season as far as I was concerned. The holidays were fun; Halloween and Thanksgiving, with little in the way of stress and without the horrible specter of having to send cards and buy things for everyone, as with Christmas.
Both Kyle and Ryan delved into their work, which sometimes kept them on base overnight. Each of them were in the process of fulfilling their last enlistment obligations, in addition to outlining what their new duties might be. This would free them up to spend more time with Di Spatia, and by proxy, us.
For Kyle this was no big deal. He was glad to be free of traditional enlistment, and happy to take side work which consisted mostly of training future Ranger regiments. The job would sometimes call him away for two month stints teaching combat leadership courses, but that was okay. I felt comforted knowing he was Stateside, and for the most part, safe.
For Ryan however, the adjustment was going to be much more difficult. Coming from a long string of bad foster parents, he’d seen the Army as a way out. It had been his savior, his love… even his parent. For that reason he was reluctant to fully end his service, but his impeccable record and long string of citations and accomplishments — not to mention his two bronze stars — were the deciding factor in his superiors keeping him on as a ‘commissioned consultant’. Whatever the hell that meant.
That left Dakota, the only one still fully immersed in the Ranger program. He could be called away at any time, to go any place, to do anything. That part always bothered me, because Dakota was my rock. No matter what kind of day I was having, Dakota was always wearing his big, bright, trademark smile. His ‘Iowa-boy grin’, as the others called it.
No, Dakota was always happy. Always in a chipper mood. Whenever one of us had a problem, or an issue, he was the first to drop one big arm around us and ask how it could be fixed. He was like a big blond teddy bear, really. A teddy bear that could crush you with one big hand… or deliver death from three kilometers away.
Over the past few years I’d learned the least about what Dakota did, but what I did learn was terrifying. Apparently he was a legendary sniper. The others laughed, joked, and chided him whenever they felt like it, but in regards to his role as a Ranger they talked about his ‘work’ in various campaigns with cold, grim reverence.
“The part I can’t wrap my head around,” Kyle once told me, “is how indifferent he is as a soldier. How he can somehow separate the things he’s done on the battlefield from real, actual life.”
It was something I had to admit I respected as well. Out of the four of them, Dakota never once told me a story. He never once went into detail about a job, or a mission, or any predicament in which he’d nearly lost his life. Sometimes he’d tell me of the places he’d been, but he’d always describe them with bright, happy adjectives and a big smile on his face. He’d talk about the food, and the people, the culture — all with a boyish, tourist-like wonder. Like he’d been to Hawaii instead of Tikrit. Bermuda, instead of Kandahar.
It was always strange, listening to him speak, because I knew Dakota had been to these places for deadly reasons. When the Army called on Dakota Bradley, it wasn’t for security, or recon, or information. No… whenever they called upon him?
Someone was going to be eliminated.
Essentially, I had to put these things aside. Like the wife or girlfriend of a police officer, I understood the inherent dangers of the job. A military spouse or significant other had it even rougher, because their partner would leave for the other side of the world, sometimes abruptly, somet
imes for months or even years without warning.
But that was also why they’d put out the ad in the first place: there were four of them. Four dynamic men looking to share the love and affection of a single woman, one that wouldn’t be put off by the drawbacks inherent to their lifestyle.
Another week went by, and my loans came through! I was thrilled to receive funding, and even more excited to get the ball rolling on the first of my projects. The guys took me out to celebrate that night, crawling from bar to bar in my favorite part of the city and ending with a steamy cab ride home, during which we had to tip the driver extra to keep his eyes on the road.
It was amazing, having them share in my success. Being with them through the origins of my budding new venture, which of course I’d dubbed Modern Vintage Homes.
At the same time though, I felt guilty. Guilty that Jason wasn’t there.
Every day I asked one of them if they’d heard anything. Every day they answered no. Kyle tried assuring me this was all normal, and that the lack of communication was nothing out of the ordinary. But as the days wore on, I could see his body language change. His eyes betrayed his worry when I asked, and his shoulders slumped just a tiny bit more each time.
And not just him, but Ryan and Dakota too.
