Tracing Hearts (24 page)

His eyebrows knit together.

“Why does that name sound so familiar?”

I let go of his shirt and lower my arms, sighing as I do.

“He’s my pen pal from grade school.” I see a light pop on in Cameron’s face, and I watch as he goes from puzzled, to recognition, then ends on anger.

“That asshole from your mom’s funeral?” he shouts a little too loud. I look over at Sebastian and see his head abruptly swivel in our direction. He watches us intently. A silent conversation goes on between us, as he asks me if everything’s still okay, or if he needs to come over and kick Cameron’s ass again. I signal back that I’m fine. He stares at us for a few moments longer but then goes back to our friends.

“Yes, but
he’s
not the asshole here.” I lift one eyebrow and Cameron rolls his eyes.

“And what’s
his
new name?”

“Henry.” Cameron scoffs and shakes his head. “Fine. I’ll keep your secret.”

I exhale in relief. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this because I’m hoping it’s temporary.”

“It is.”

“And…I’m hoping that, someday, you’ll see that I’ve changed.”

My body stiffens. Where is he going with this?

“Cameron—”

“I’m not trying to get you to leave
what’s his name
and come back to me. I think we both know that’s probably not going to happen.” Damn straight it’s not. “I just want you to know that I’m here if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.” I nod, appreciating his gesture. Then, a thought crosses my mind. “By the way, what are you doing here in Florida?”

He smiles wistfully. “Job transfer. Remember? I tried to get you to move with me?” His expression is filled with regret.

“Oh.” And now, for some unknown reason, I feel a little sad for not considering his offer. I know we’ve been through a lot, and he’s not exactly been the best in the loyalty department, but deep down, I know, he wasn’t always like that. It makes me feel like maybe I should’ve given him another chance. Then again, if I had, I wouldn’t have Sebastian in my life, and I’m definitely happy he is. I glance over in his direction. He’s still talking to our friends. Their conversation seems to be light, and they’re laughing and smiling. I turn back toward Cameron. “For what it’s worth, I forgive you, and I hope you really have changed.” Then, I rise up onto my toes, holding onto his shoulder for support, and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for keeping my secret. I’ll make sure to let you know when the risk is over.”

I walk away from him and back toward the group. Sebastian looks concerned, so I give him a reassuring smile and rejoin them. Cameron lags behind me a bit, but also comes to join the group.

“Well, I’m going to go,” Cameron says. “Sorry about the mix up, Emily. You two really need different haircuts or names on your forehead.” He chuckles quietly, and I smile. Then, he turns to Sebastian. “Henry, it was good seeing you again. Let me know if you need anything. I mean it.” Cameron reaches out his hand for Sebastian to shake. Reluctantly he does. He nods at both Jamie and Shelby but before walking off toward the parking lot, he gives me a small, sad smile then, he’s gone. I finally relax.

“This has certainly been an interesting evening,” Shelby says, and we all nod in agreement.

Julia

More than a week has passed since we ran into Cameron. His words to Sebastian still rattle around my head.
Let me know if you need anything. I mean it.
Does he really mean it? Has he accepted the fact that I’ll never go back to him? I feel a little sorry for him but hope he’s ready to move on without me.

While I lounge on the cushions of the Florida room, as I’ve learned is the sun room’s official name, I look out the window at the garden. The slight breeze, which I’ve also discovered is rare around here, gently pushes and pulls the greenery from side to side. It reminds me of what seaweed must look like to fish. I hear a noise and see Sebastian standing in the doorway. I smile at him, and he walks in farther.

“What are you reading?” he asks as he sits facing me.

“Some sappy romance novel,” I say, rolling my eyes and giggling softly.

“You know, those books are dangerous.”

“How so?”

“They give you women
ideas
and put a lot of pressure on us men to act like the unrealistic, leading heroes inside the pages,” he says in jest.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re better than the men in these types of books then, isn't it?” I say, and lean forward to kiss him.

“Mmm,” he moans quietly. “I am, am I?” I nod. He then leans forward and begins placing gentle kisses on my neck.

“I can’t concentrate when you’re doing that.”

“I know,” he replies, and I can feel his smile against my skin.

“Sebastian?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you tell me what you saw?”

“What do you mean?” he says into my neck.

“You know.”

He stiffens, sits back, and sighs, looking at me with apprehension.

“Julia, I really don’t want you to know anything you don’t have to. The less you know, the more you can be truthful about that fact.”

“I understand, but I think this whole thing would be easier to handle if I had a little bit more information. Please?” I bat my eyelashes at him, and he smiles.

“That won't work, you know.” I continue to bat them and add a pouty, lower lip. He laughs at my expression. “Your face will stay that way.”

“Ven yoo bedder start talkin,” I say, not breaking my silly expression. He laughs loudly this time, and I know this’ll work.

“Okay fine. Just stop with the face. What do you want to know?” he asks, still smiling at my humor. I release my bottom lip from its position.

“Just tell me the basics—whatever you’re comfortable with.” I lay my book down on the bench seat beside me and listen attentively.

He thinks for a minute. His expression becomes serious.

“It all started about a year ago. Some of the guys and I were at a local dive bar, off base, called Das Loch.”

***

Eleven Months Earlier

Sebastian

“What’re you drinkin’, Seb?” Sam slurs, as he takes of swig of his draft beer.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I say, noting his level of intoxication.

He lifts his glass mug in the air, summoning a sweet looking, German barmaid. “Get my friend one of these, will ya, honey?” The waitress rolls her eyes at him, but does as he has asked. He then turns back to me. “So, what do you think about this new General we’ve got coming in next weekend? I hope he’s not a real ball buster.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to think. I guess we’ll just hope for the best but expect the worst.” The barmaid comes back with my beer and a wink. I smile politely at her.

Sam, and a few other guys from our unit, have been here a while. They're at least three or four beers ahead of me. We sit at our table at the crowded tavern and drink for several hours. The topics range from hot women, to even hotter women. Once in a while, we’ll get off subject and talk about sports, but it always seems to come back around to the opposite sex.

I’m not much into drinking. Even though Germany seems to be the beer capital of the world, I can honestly say I’ve only been drunk off my ass a handful of times. Sam, on the other hand, is here almost every weekend. I try to go with him, or at least help him get home, probably ninety percent of the time. It can be exhausting, but luckily, he’s not a violent drunk, and usually passes out on the ride home.

It’s almost one in the morning when a guy walks in with his entourage. They’re dressed in civilian clothing and look like they just walked off some runway in Milan or Paris, not that I’d know that firsthand. By the way they carry themselves and the smug expressions on their faces, I can tell they’re not from around here. The men belly up to the bar and speak to the waitress, who most likely takes their order. She’s the same girl who served me earlier. I watch them from the corner of my eye, feeling a sense of unease.

“I gotta piss,” Sam declares, and attempts to stand.

“Will you make it there?” I ask, joking, but not joking.

He waves me off and stumbles in the direction of the latrine. When I look back at the bar, one of the newcomers is getting a little too friendly with the waitress. I try to ignore it, but keep an ear out, just in case. Sam meanders back to our table and sits.

“Barkeep! I’ll have another!” he shouts, but the bartender knows us both well enough to signal to me. He’s had enough for tonight. I nod.

“We should get you home.”

“Bullshit! I’ll have another,” he insists.

I shake my head. “Not tonight, my friend.” I take hold of his upper arm and help him to his feet. “You can come back tomorrow, after you sleep it off.”

I help my hammered friend out to my vehicle and pour him inside. I walk around the driver’s side and climb in.

“Oh, God. I’m gonna…be sick.”

“Shit!” I say, as I reach across him and try to open his door. It doesn’t move. I open my door and quickly walk around to his side, yanking him from my car, and leading him over to the side of the building. He leans against the wall, expelling the contents of his binge drinking. While I’m waiting for him to finish, I hear a noise in an alleyway. Peeking around the corner, I spy the silhouette of a man making out with some woman. Lucky bastard. But, as I continue to observe them, I notice that the woman’s arms aren’t around him, like I’d presume they would be. Instead, she seems to be trying to push him away. He has her pinned with her back to the wall. His hands appear to be pushing down inside her pants. I’m suddenly filled with rage. “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” I tell Sam, and I leave him in search of answers.

I’m hoping, when I get there, I’ll find them both to be willing participants, and I can just walk back and get Sam home—but what I find is quite the opposite.

“Oren, stop. No. I don’t want this,” I hear the woman plead as she futilely tries to stop his advances. “Get off me!”

“Come on, baby. You know you want this. Take off your pants, or I’ll help you out of them,” the man says.

At those words, I leap into action.

“The lady said no,” I say, and they both jump in surprise. “I think she made that perfectly clear.”

“Fuck off, soldier. This is between me and the lady.”

“Miss, are you all right?” She doesn’t say a word but shakes her head subtly and with her eyes open wide, she signals to me that she needs help. “I’ll walk you back inside then.” I take a step back, so she has room to move past me, and she walks quickly out of harm’s way.

“What the fuck!” the man says, as he turns to face me. I recognize him as one of the cocky men from inside the bar. “What the hell is your problem, asshole?”

“My problem is standing right in front of me, a guy who can't take no for an answer. I suggest you get the hell out of here, before she calls the police.”

He laughs loudly. “Let her! What are they going to do about it? I’m not leaving,” he says as he turns to head back into the bar. “There are more where she came from.” The last words he mumbles are most likely not meant for me to hear, but I do hear them, and I need to know he’s not going to do this to someone else tonight, so automatically, I step in his path. He stops and smirks. “What do you think you’re gonna do?” I stand steady. Then, without warning, a fist comes flying across, landing with a thud onto my eye. It knocks me backward a bit, but I come back with a right cross to the jaw, knocking him off balance and sending him careening into the brick wall beside us. His head hits hard and when he recovers his balance, he’s covered in blood. “You son of a bitch!” He comes at me again, throwing punch after punch, but landing none of them.

“I’m done playing around,” I say. Pulling my arm back, I launch my clenched fist as hard as I can at his face and hit him squarely in the nose. I hear a crack and blood begins to pour out. His hands quickly cover his wound.

“Ah, shit! I think you broke my nose!” While he’s distracted, I give him two more shots to the stomach and one more to his temple. He staggers backward again and falls, unceremoniously, onto a pile of cardboard boxes.

“If I hear of you coming on to any other women in this town, I’ll be back to finish the job. Now, get the hell out of here,” I growl.

He stumbles to get to his feet and takes off running. I watch to make sure he doesn’t go back into the bar. After I lose sight of him, I remember Sam. Shit. I run to the car and find him passed out in the passenger’s seat.

The next day, my superior asks about what happened to cause my black eye. I lie and tell him I fell. Surprisingly, he seems satisfied with my answer and doesn’t question me further.

A few days pass and word of our new commander, General Goble, gets around the post. There’s to be a General’s Ball on Saturday, to celebrate this change of command. All the bigwigs in the military will be here over the next few days, and security will be tight. Anybody who’s anybody, according to the US Army, will attend, including some big name corporations.

Pete and I are walking across base, when we pass three men. Civilians. Wearing high priced suits. One of them with a broken nose. The young man stares at me. I recognize him as the asshole in the bar—and the alleyway.
Shit.
I look away quickly. What the hell does this guy have to do with the base? After we pass, I turn my head to take another look. He does the same and our eyes meet again. I’m sure he recognizes me.

Later on, while in the hangar, Sam and I are just leaving for the day, when around the corner comes the guy. He has one of his friends with him. I smile, figuring he doesn’t feel safe alone. They approach.

“You’re the bastard who broke my nose.”

“So it would appear,” I reply, seemingly unaffected. “What can I do for you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to salute me, soldier?”

“No sir. You’re a civilian, and I out rank you.”

“And, how do you figure that?” He tilts his head slightly to the side.

“I’ve got bigger balls,” I say and give him a cocky smirk.