Airman To The Rescue. Heatherly Bell
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Joanne struggled to get through business school, living with her parents and raising their child.
Then again, Dad had never understood Matt’s draw to service. He’d wanted to join up, as had many of his friends in a post-9/11 world. Plan B had turned out to be the best option for Matt, who’d never much aspired to hang with Ivy Leaguers, top-tier grades or not. The Air Force had been everything to him for years. His friends. His family. His life.
Now he was out and trying to figure out life after the Air Force. Plan C.
“Why don’t you take the kid fishing?” Dad now asked between cookie bites. “I hear it’s a good way to connect.”
Good way to connect? Dad, who had always been about as warm and fuzzy as a missile, suddenly had nothing but fatherly advice for Matt. He would have loved to have gone fishing with his dad. Even once.
“Where do you hear this?”
“Dr. Phil.”
Matt couldn’t help it. He laughed. A few years ago, Dad would have laughed off TV doctor advice, too. But now that he’d retired and couldn’t spend all day on the golf course, he had turned to TV to fill some of his free time.
“All right, if you don’t want Dr. Phil’s advice, don’t ask for it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Listen, Mr. Smart Ass, I’m still your father.”
“Dad, I’m thirty-two. I’ve been lacing my own shoes for a while.”
“So I have nothing to add to the conversation?”
Matt cleared his throat. “I’ll see if he wants to go fishing. And maybe you could go with us.”
“I’ve never fished in my life. Why would I want to start now when I’m busy working on my golf game? You know what? Forget the fishing. I never took you fishing, and look how well you turned out. Except for that little hiccup, you were a great kid.”
Matt’s jaw tightened. “You mean Hunter. He’s the little hiccup?”
To his father’s credit, he wouldn’t meet Matt’s gaze. “Not him. Joanne was the little hiccup. Told you to keep it in your pants. Just because you have women falling all over you doesn’t mean you have to sow your seeds everywhere.”
Everywhere? Hardly. That had been only the second time he’d ever been with a girl, and he’d screwed up royally. Then again, his dad had never given much advice beyond his fascination with pants. Near as Matt could recall, the whole event had happened in the backseat of a truck and fast enough that he hadn’t even taken his pants off. Since then, he liked to think he’d learned a little bit more how to please a woman, and made wiser choices regarding the women he chose to spend his time with.
The thought brought him back to Sarah. With the pull she had on him, he wasn’t sure how he’d make this new living arrangement work, but he had to try. She needed him, and he wasn’t doing anything more than he would for any other good friend.
And he would keep telling himself that until he actually believed it.
Sarah was already dealing with too much. She’d felt cheated out of an opportunity to say goodbye to her father when he’d become ill with cancer and hadn’t wanted Stone to notify either his ex-wife or Sarah. James Mcallister hadn’t wanted either of them to see him withered away, which both Stone and Matt understood. Sarah, not so much. When she’d first bought the house and not long after decided to flip it for a profit, Matt had convinced himself she was doing it as a way to flip her father off, too. To let him know the house meant nothing more to her than a financial windfall. No sentiment involved. But she’d lingered for months in that old house, even getting a temporary job at the airport to stay a bit longer.
She’d flirted mercilessly with him at the beginning, and he with her if he were being honest. But he wouldn’t have a casual fling with his best friend’s kid sister. He didn’t need the drama or the guilt. Matt would simply bide his time, keep his hands to himself and fix her house. She’d be gone soon enough.
HUNTER CONNER WAS about to blow through his next high level on “Call of Duty” when he heard his mother yelling from downstairs. She was so loud that he had to keep turning the volume up but he could still hear her voice screeching in the background. He’d closed his bedroom door and everything. This wouldn’t be a problem if he could find his earbuds but at the moment they were MIA.
“Hunter!” His bedroom door swung open.
No knock or anything. It was like living in a damn zoo. He ignored his mother and kept on shooting the terrorists. One down. Two.
“Put that stupid game down. I need to talk to you!”
Abort mission! Abort!
She ripped the controller out of his hands.
“What do you want?” The sooner she got this over with, the sooner he’d get back to killing terrorists. He could kick ass with the best of them. But his mother was all about ruining his life.
“I shouldn’t even let you play this game. You’re in trouble, mister. I talked to your father and he’s coming to the meeting with us.”
“Seriously? Why?” Mom acted like this fence-tagging thing was the end of the world. Who cared? They were talking about a fence! Everyone acted like he’d killed someone.
“Because he’s your father and it’s about time he did something. With him being a veteran, maybe they’ll take pity on you.”
Hunter snorted. His dad was no badass veteran. He’d flown fighter jets so it wasn’t like he’d gotten his hands dirty or anything. Hunter was going to enlist, too, when he turned eighteen. He hadn’t told Mom yet because she might lock him in his bedroom. She treated him like a kid, like he wasn’t almost a man. But Hunter would be a Marine or a Navy SEAL. A killer. Not some chair force guy like his stupid Dad.
“Why didn’t you ask me first? Maybe I don’t want him there.”
“Because it’s not up to you. It’s his duty as your father. Dinner’s ready.” She slammed his door shut.
Yeah, right. Duty. He didn’t need his father anymore. Maybe when he was a little kid he wanted to spend more time with him, back when all they’d had was an occasional weekend when he was home from flying all over the world. He still had those little Air Force toy jets somewhere in the back of his closet. Point being, he wasn’t a kid anymore. He didn’t need his father. Didn’t need his mother, either, but try convincing her of that.
All of a sudden this summer, Mom wanted him to spend more time with his dad, so they could “get to know each other” again. She only wanted Hunter to spend more time with Matt so she could spend more time with her new boyfriend. He played baseball, a loser who couldn’t make the major leagues so now he was trying to break into the minors. If his Mom wanted to follow Chuck the Loser around, she was welcome to it. Hunter could stay alone in his own house. He was too old for a babysitter.
No way, no how would he hang out with Dad and try to be best buddies like he was a little kid again.
Those days were gone.
* * *
“THAT’S IT?” SARAH followed Matt to the bedroom he’d be staying in.
The man traveled light. Within a couple of hours he’d moved his few belongings into the spare bedroom. A king-size bed, which took up most of the small bedroom, a dresser, a lamp. His laptop and a flat-screen TV. A few boxes that couldn’t contain much of anything.
“You forget I flew fighter jets. Tiny cramped spaces.”
“You didn’t live in them, did you?”
“Nah, I wish.” He grinned. “That would