Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two) (20 page)

Weak. Helpless. Damaged. That's what I've
become. That's what I am. All of that because I let myself buy into
the bullshit poison of hope. Hope that I could face my past. Hope
that I could face my future. Hope that anyone could ever actually
love me. Hope that maybe for the first time in my life I wasn't as
alone as thought yet now I feel I'm even more alone than before.
Which leaves me feeling hopeless. This right here. This is the
reason I hate the very notion of the thing. It has a tendency to do
this to anyone who buys into it. Tempts them. Seduces them. Then
leaves them worse than they ever. Fuck hope.

After a deep breath, Mindy strokes the side
of my face. “How about I tell you about the first time I met your
mother?”

Through the quiet sobs, I managed to get
myself together for a minute. “Yeah.”

Easing me up until I can rest my body against
the side of the storage unit, too close to the brown boxes, Mindy
takes a minute to brush off the dust from my shirt, while I wipe
away the tears with the back of my hand.

“I will never forget the first time I met
Jamie. Doug and I had decided we needed to move away from that life
we had been living. And Doug was friends with Striker, who knew
Felix, so after the two of them got acquainted, Felix introduced
Whiskey to Doug. Anyway, we were headed to Reckonberg to check on
our house to see if it was done being built and Whiskey invited us
to stop by for dinner. So we arrive, I ring the bell, and this
woman opens the door. She's got on jeans that have holes, a white
t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun and paint on her face. I remember
thinking how can any woman look like such a wreck yet be so
beautiful. I kept praying to God Doug wouldn't notice...”

A small chortle comes out of me. Seems to
help put a cork in the tears.

“That was a stupid prayer because Jamie was
hard not to notice. She just...glowed and had such a give 'em hell
attitude, it was infectious. Anyway, she put on a bright smile and
welcomed us in, immediately apologizing for her not looking her
best. She had been painting a room. Turning it into a nursery...”
my eyes widen. “Apparently she had just found out she was pregnant
and very excited. Even though Whiskey had told her to take it easy,
she painted your entire room telling Whiskey that was her taking it
easy.”

I find myself mumbling, “Stubborn...”

“What? You thought Whiskey was the only
person you got that from?”

I crack a smile. “We had dinner that night
and I remember watching them, the fact they were head over heels
written all over their faces. I remember saying to myself, we're
going to be seeing a lot of them. I just know it. So...when we
found out of they were moving to the neighborhood years later I was
quite glad.”

Silence fills the air. It feels like a brick
that landed on my shoulder has been removed. I wish for more bricks
to be removed. I need this moment. I need to know more about her.
About the woman whose death made me this way.

My hands scrub my face. The chaos inside is
threatening to stir again, which is when Mindy says, “Do you
remember the first time you met me? When you moved into the
neighborhood?”

I shake my head. The memory isn't one that
stands out. Not many childhood ones do any more.

“While we kept in touch with your parents, we
didn't see them again until they moved into the neighborhood. The
day you moved in your mom brought you right over to meet me. You
looked like a splitting image of the two of them. She had warned me
that you were having a hard time with the move and accepting new
people, so I offered you a snack which you quickly rejected. But
when you found that they were chocolate chip cookies, you could
hardly resist...”

That's when it hits me like a sucker punch
causing the words to fly out of my mouth, “Is that why when I'm
upset you always make me chocolate chip cookies?”

“Precisely.”

“You've always been trying to take care of
me, haven't you?”

She offers a faint smile and touches my
cheek. After a moment, she picks her coffee cup back up and takes a
drink, refusing to answer my question. There's no real reason too.
I already know the answer.

Mindy looks around and then back at at me.
“You know what, Slugger, why don't we get out of here? I don't
think this was the good idea I had intended it to be.”

Quickly I reach up and grab her arm. “No,
Mindy. It was...” A very brief smile graces my face, “Thank
you...”

Flustered once more from the recognition she
tries to push through past it. “Is there anything in particular you
wanna look at? Maybe I can find it and just bring it over to
you.”

It's ridiculous that I'm too much of a pussy
to just dig through the boxes myself. I look around at them again.
Being here is like being inside a piece of my mom, so yeah. Call me
a pussy. But this is more than I've ever had to deal with it. And
considering the fact I'm still new to this whole emotions bullshit,
it's not my fault I failed this test. This inability to deal with
the weight the situation. At least I'm trying. At least I'm
here.

“How 'bout some baby photos?”

Mindy looks relieved that I'm not trying to
bail out. She gets up and her signature sound follows her. Click.
Click. She starts to move boxes until she finds the one she's
looking for. With a heavy tug she drags it out and over to me.
Plopping it in my lap she sits down beside, propping herself
reluctantly against the same wall. She's getting her designer
sweater dirty. This has to be killing her. I hold back the smile at
the thought.

My eyes look down at my name stitched on the
front cover of the navy blue scrapbook. Clint Thomas Walker. Slowly
I open it and begin admiring photos of my mother pregnant with me,
pages filled with fun facts about her, like craving spaghetti with
bacon chunks while 7 months pregnant. About the struggle of dad
putting together a rocking chair for them to sit in. Then as I
leisurely continue the scan I see baby facts about me and to my
surprise many photos of me and dad together. The story of his
favorite memory of me haunts the back of my mind every time I stop
at one of the photos to stare.

I'm not sure how long it takes for me to go
through the album, but it feels like hours. Afterward, I put the
album away and agree with Mindy that that's enough for one day.
Once we're in the car, I lean my head against the window, feeling
so drained that I shut my eyes in hopes of sucking back some life
into myself. I've got to start dealing with this shit. I can
control the chaos. I have to. I need to. There's only a few days
before I'm back out training in the field. I miss the order my life
used to thrive in. I can do this. I can put the pieces back
together. Hell, I started by facing mom's memories. Next? Telling
Haven how I feel about Michele and the simple fact that in less
than a week, I'm walking out the door back to work. I need to tell
her that I need her. That I need her to need me. That I need her to
want me. That I need to feel that from her. Fuck. When did I get so
needy? Is it even normal to be needy?

I take a long breath and feel my muscles
finally loosen, as if I was sinking in a hot tub. The final
relaxation starting to deal with my life head on seems to be just
the right amount of comfort.

Before I know it, I'm yawning and stretching,
unsure of when I fell asleep. Looking out the window beside me at
the scenic view, I quickly shoot a look back at Mindy who glances
my direction.

“You're up...”

Slightly ashamed I shrug. “I don't remember
falling asleep.”

“You were exhausted, Slugger. My guess is you
haven't been sleeping lately.” If she only knew. “We were in the
car for like five minutes before you passed out.”

“So...where are we going?”

“Home now.”

“Where were we going?”

“Nowhere. I was just driving around to help
you sleep.” Leaning down in my seat my eyebrows furrow. I never
realized car rides made me sleepy. “See, right after your mom died,
you would be up late at night, so I would tell you, I had an errand
to run and to get into the car. Within the first five minutes of me
driving, you usually were passed out. I'd drive around for about an
hour to make sure you really out before bringing you back home and
tucking you in.”

All these years, I claimed my mother was
dead. That I was parent less. Yet all this time, there was never a
minute that went by that that was true. So much fucking time I've
wasted makes me nausea. I won't do it again. I won't make that same
mistake any more. That's my word.

“Mindy...”

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For everything.” She glances over
like she wants to say something but can't. “And I mean everything.
And thank you for accepting me then, now, and in the days to
come.”

Her jaw trembles and she reaches over to give
my head a good ruffle. Doing her best to shake off her tears, she
replies with, “You need a haircut...”

I smile widely and nod at her, the words she
wants to say crystal clear to me, “I know.” Leaning into her touch
I sigh, “I know.”

After we arrive home, I shag ass across the
street knowing that Haven is supposed to be home from her
interviews, soon, but not soon enough. On my way up the stairs, I
dial her number tired of dating my girl through text messages. I
need to hear voice her. I need her here.

“Hello,” she cheerfully answers.

The warmth in her voice seeps through to me.
“Hey you.”

“Clint,” her voice coos.

I smile and plop down on the top stair too
happy to continue to my room, “You headed home, Angel? I uh...can't
wait to see you.”

“Oh,” her voice quickly changes tone. Not to
a tone I like. “Actually, we're going out tonight to celebrate our
graduation together. You know, since we were all so busy with our
families that night. And interviews since.”

Now, it’s my turn to change tone.
“Right...how about I come with?”

“That's a sweet offer, but I would hate for
them to feel like--”

“Right.” I cut her off knowing where she's
heading with it. Grinding my teeth I nod and lean my head back. I
need to talk to her now. Shit. It can wait a few more hours. “Can
you just do me a favor, angel?”

“Sure.”

“Whatever you do, if I'm asleep when you get
home, wake me up. We need to talk.”

“Everything OK?”

My lips form a thin line. No. It's so far
from OK, OK looks like a pleasure cruise. Clearing my throat I
brush it off, just like I have been. “Don't worry about anything,
angel. Just enjoy your night out with you friends.”

“Alright, baby,” she hums softly; the sound
of Mandy's voice fills the background. “I'll see you tonight.”

“I love you, Haven.”

“I love you too.” Are her final words before
the line goes dead.

Gripping it tight, I gently tap it against my
head in frustration. Her friends. It's always about them. Need to
add that the list of shit to talk about. I unlock my phone and hit
another contact less willingly.

“This is the hot line for love, Glove
speaking. How many of your fantasies can I make become a reality
today?” his response is said in a customer service rep voice.

Disgusting. Why did I call? “Don't make me
hang up.”

He chuckles. Bastard. “And what can I do you,
Grim?”

“Just wondering how many reasons are you
going to give my father's colleagues to arrest you tonight?”

“Hm...” he pauses. Then he begins mumbling,
“Carry the seven...” I roll my eyes. “Why you wanna know? This
close to deployment you can't POSSIBLY be interested in hanging
out. Shouldn't you be hanging out with your girl?” The remark digs.
Like the knife pointed tip. Fuck. Hearing no response from me he
follows up, “Make sure your ass is here by 9. We will leave without
you.”

“I don't doubt it,” is my response before I
hang up.

It'll do me some good to get the hell out of
this house. Just take a breath and a moment away from it all. Show
my brothers that I still care about them. That they still matter to
me too. They might not need it, but you know what, I sure the fuck
do.

Laughter fills the table as the blonde girl
sitting in Glove's lap readjusts herself, her arms falling around
his neck. “Well I think he's cute...”

“Of course you do. You're a school teacher,
and he's a child,” my comment gets another laugh from the girls at
the table as Glove wraps his arms around her waist, grazing the
skin above her hips.

“While I don't think she can school me in
some subjects, I wouldn't mind staying after school and letting her
punish me.” one of his hands gives her ass a squeeze and she
giggles, taking another drink of her beer.

“Maybe she'll let you wear a dunce hat.” I
point my beer his direction and the pair of brunettes sitting next
to me and Lordy start to chuckle.

To my surprise sitting here with them has
been one of the better moods I've had lately. They're just the same
as ever, full of stupid comments and easy set ups. They remind me
of when life was easier. When this is what we did between missions.
When there was stability and order.

“I wanna go dancing,” the brunette who has
shown little interest in Lordy but won't stop eye fucking me
whimpers. “Let's go dancing.”

Her two friends giggle in agreement. Before I
have the chance to answer Glove pipes up, “Absolutely.”

“Let's go refresh our makeup.” the blonde
whose name I think is Brittany tugs on the other girls hands.

As soon as they’re out of sight, I redirect
my attention directly to Glove, “Not happening.”

“Grim--”

“I'm not going to a club, Glove.”

“Grim--”

“I'm not going to put myself through an
epileptic fit to crappy dub step bullshit to up the chances of
you
getting laid.”