DISARM (DISARM Series #1) (2 page)

We ate
quietly, hiding in our own thoughts to avoid talking about last night. I wasn’t
sure if it was even worth talking about, if maybe he had just been playing
around to teach my nosy ass a lesson. But my, what a long, hard lesson it was.

I had to
gulp down coffee when the toast stuck in my throat, chalking my impure thoughts
of Henry down to sex deprivation. I just needed a good lay, that was all.

The last
time I’d had sex was over a year ago, when my relationship with a guy from work
fell apart a few months after Jason’s death. I hadn’t been able to cope with
the grief and Brian had been inept at offering comfort, so the relationship ended.
Still, even though Brian hadn’t been the best lover, he’d been a step up from
The Rabbit.

That was
around the time my friendship with Henry was tested and cemented, when we
fought and made up in cycles due to our grief. But at the end of it, Henry and
I emerged with an unshakable bond forged out of loss. He and I became family.

“What are
you up to today?” he asked, scratching at the dark hair on his chest.

“Just going
to run at Earlywine,” I said, finishing my eggs. “Why, did you want to do
something?”

“Nah,” he
said, holding his head in his hands. “I’m just going back to bed. Sleep off
this hangover.”

“You’re
hungover?” I asked. We had left Tapwerks soon after that charged moment on the
dance floor. He had only had the shot and one beer.

He gathered
the empty dishes and placed them in the sink. “I had a few more beers after you
went to bed last night.”

I raised my
eyebrows. This was the third time in so many weeks he’d been drinking alone.
Something was definitely bothering him. “Henry,” I began, leaning against the
sink. “Do you want to talk?”

He
scratched the scruff on his face, considering me for a moment. “Maybe some
other time,” he said and walked back to his bedroom.

I threw
some laundry in the washer and tidied my room, giving Henry plenty of time to
come find me and spill his guts. At around three o’clock, I finally admitted
that he was really not going to talk, so I put on my workout clothes and drove
to the park to run my worries away.

Earlywine
is a large grassy area that spanned three blocks with a waterpark in the center
as well as a YMCA building. A two-lane running track bordered the park, and, as
usual, was busy on a warm Sunday afternoon. Everywhere I looked, families were
grilling, kids were playing soccer, and people were running or power walking.
As I watched the activity, I was struck with a sudden bout of homesickness. I
hadn’t made it back home to California since Christmas and I was starting to
miss my parents, but going back home meant going back to the place I knew Jason
best and it still hurt, even after all this time.

I eyed the
cute guys as I ran to take my mind off things, and God help me, I couldn’t help
but imagine each good-looking guy running naked. It was all Henry’s fault,
rousing my sex drive with that little stunt he pulled last night. I’d
suppressed my appetite for so long that I’d become comfortable with it, but it
had awakened and boy, was I ravenous.

A guy ran past
me, wearing shoes, shorts, and little else. As he zipped by, I was able to give
his backside a nice lookover. He had nice, sweaty muscles on his back, and his
calves were well defined as he ran. He must have sensed my ogling because he
looked over his shoulder and flashed a toothy grin, urging me to catch up.

I geared up
to run faster when I heard someone calling my name. I stopped when I saw
Danielle, the girlfriend of one of Henry’s buddies, coming my way.

“Hey!” I
greeted, casting one last glance at the guy, hoping he’d do one more lap of the
park. I turned my attention back to Danielle, noting her running outfit. “You
look great.”

She smiled
widely. “Thanks. I reached my goal weight last week, so I bought a new outfit
to celebrate.”

I gave her
the thumbs up. Danielle had been overweight when we met at a party several
months ago, but now she was wearing capri pants and tank tops and looking
healthier than ever. I suddenly felt frumpy in my running shorts that bunched
in the middle and old UCLA t-shirt with a hole in one of the armpits.

“So are you
ready for the deployment?” Danielle asked as she began her leg stretches.

I froze.
“What deployment?”

“Didn’t
Henry tell you?” she asked, a look of trepidation crossing her face. “The
squadron is leaving in two weeks.”

“What?” My
heart, which was already trying to recover from running too fast, was now thundering
again. “How long have they known?”

“Mike knew
two months ago,” she said with an apologetic shrug.

I tried to
rack my brain for reasons why Henry wouldn’t tell me about the deployment and
only one thing came to mind. “They’re headed to Afghanistan, aren’t they?” I
asked through the lump in my throat.

Danielle’s
shoulders slumped. “Why wouldn’t he tell you? Aren’t you roommates?”

My nose was
flaring unattractively, I was so mad. “Yes, we are.”

“I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to stir up trouble.”

I gave her
the feeblest smile I could manage under the circumstances. “It’s not your
fault.” I said my goodbyes and headed to my car. Henry wasn’t going to have the
chance to die in Afghanistan like my brother because I was going to kill him
first.

2
 
|
 
LOCK AND LOAD

I wasn’t
overreacting to the news of the deployment.
 
At least,
I
didn’t think so. It’s
just that, when it comes to secrets, Henry and I haven’t had the best track
record. First there was the Bobby Santos incident in high school. Bobby was a
sweet—if a little too shy—guy who had solicited Henry’s help to ask
me to the senior prom, knowing that Jason would have likely said no. Somehow,
Henry had managed to forget to tell me, and I’d only found out about it after
the event, when Bobby’s cousin confronted me in the hallway for standing him
up. Henry had apologized, saying he simply forgot, that he had other things on
his mind. Forgot, my ass.

Then there
was the secret to end all secrets, the one that almost prompted me to move out.
Henry had known about Jason’s death pretty much the same day it happened, but
he didn’t tell me until much later, when the official word came out and family
and friends were notified. He told me he was trying to protect me, that he
wanted to delay the moment when my life changed. Now I’m able see it for the
thoughtful gesture, but back then, I had been so livid I had left without a
word and hadn't come back from California for an entire week.

To this
day, I still wondered how he managed to act normally and not give away the secret
that his best friend had been killed in action. Henry, it appeared, was a very
convincing actor.

So really,
I wasn’t overreacting when, on the way home from the park, I ran a red light,
nearly rammed into the slow-moving apartment complex gate, and parked my Prius
like a drunk driver. I tore up the concrete stairs of the building and entered
our apartment, slamming the door behind me. “Henry!” I shouted. I stalked over
to his bedroom and pounded my fist on his door, relishing the idea of
aggravating his hangover. “Henry Mason Logan, you get your ass out here right
now!”

His door
opened a crack and he peered out, his face a scruffy, rumpled mess. “What the
hell?” he croaked.

“Are you
deploying to Afghanistan next week?”

The sleep
slid off his face immediately. “Yeah.”

“Were you
planning on ever telling me?”

“Yeah.
Eventually.”

“When? On
your way onto the plane?” I willed the tears back. “Why didn’t you tell me? I
thought we were friends!”

He threw
open the door, looking weary. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” He took a step
closer, but I stepped back.

“I think a
Hey,
I’m going to the place where your brother died
would have sufficed.”

“That’s
exactly why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d freak out.” He ran a hand through
his short, dark hair.

“How can I
not freak out? Jason went there and never came back!” My entire body was
shaking from the effort of trying not to cry. Henry had seen me cry plenty of
times before, but somehow it seemed important that I kept my cool now.

“What
happened to Jason won’t happen to me.” He approached me with outstretched
hands. “Elsie…”

“I don’t
care,” I said, evading his touch. I was being unfair; I knew this, and yet I
couldn’t stop the hysteria from taking over. My control evaporated and the
tears rushed down my cheeks in rivulets. Jason’s death was a mark on my heart
that would stay with me forever. I can’t even begin to imagine what Henry’s
loss would do to me too. “Is there any way you can get out of it?” I whispered.
“Please?”

I felt like
a selfish moron for asking, but I couldn’t help it; I was nearing desperation.
If Henry went to Afghanistan, he would never come back—sure as cancer, I
felt the certainty lodged deep in my gut.

Henry’s
dark eyebrows drew together as he shook his head. His jaw was stiff when he
said in an irritated tone, “You know I can’t.”

“But—”

He took
hold of my arms. “Listen to me, Elsie. I
can’t
. It’s not possible,” he
said firmly, then added in a softer tone, “but I would if I could.”

I couldn’t
say anything, didn’t even know what I’d say if my vocal chords weren’t tied up
in knots, so I walked away and hid from the truth in my bedroom.

I didn’t
talk to Henry for the next twenty-three hours. I needed a little time to cool
down, to think through my anger to keep from saying things I would really
regret.

I couldn’t
decide which hurt more: the fact that he was headed to the place that claimed
my brother, or the fact that he didn’t tell me.

Anger and
fear—mostly fear, if I was being completely honest—roiled inside me
in waves. If I saw Henry, I didn’t know if I’d want to plant a fist in his
stomach or if I’d want to grab hold of him and never let go out.

He was up
before me the next morning, waiting in the kitchen with an olive branch in the
form of a perfectly made cup of coffee. But I brushed past him and made my own
in a to-go cup, not bothering to say goodbye before I walked out the front
door.

I stayed at
work until seven-thirty and ate dinner with a co-worker before I finally
decided to go home. Henry had fallen asleep on the couch, a book lying open on
his stomach.

I crept
closer out of curiosity and saw the book’s title:
The Art of War
by Sun
Tzu. How apt, since we were in the middle of a battle of our own.

I meant to
leave but something about the way he slept compelled me to stay, how his
eyebrows were drawn together even in sleep, his mouth pursed in a thin line.
For a minute, I set aside my anger and remembered the very first time we met.
We had just moved to Monterey after Dad retired from the Air Force, so Jason
was the new kid at the high school. Henry had introduced himself at the lunch
line and invited Jason to sit with his friends. Not too long after that, Henry
came over for dinner.

I was still
in junior high then, all sass and gangly limbs, with curls that always frizzed
by the end of the school day, so I was not prepared at all when the boy of my
dreams walked in through the front door after my brother. Henry sported dark,
unruly hair and a quiet intensity to match. He didn’t smile much because of his
braces, which gave him a sullen mien, but he was good-looking even then. To my
teenage eyes, he was hotter than anything Tiger Beat had to offer, hotter even
than Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

“Your hair
is out of control,” he told me as we shook hands.

“Yours is
worse,” I said without hesitation.

He smiled
then, all braces and crinkly eyes, completely transforming his entire face. Just
like that, I was a goner.

His long
hair and best friend are both gone, and whatever Henry and I had left in common
was fast dwindling. And now, the one thing we had for sure, the trust, is being
put to the test.

I wasn’t a
complete unreasonable dumbass though. I knew that families said goodbye to
their loved ones every day, that I wasn’t the only person in the world in this
situation. Plenty of service members were gone for a year at a time—missing
birthdays, anniversaries, even the birth of a child—and I certainly
wasn’t the only person in the world to lose a loved one to the war.

I
knew
this, and yet my heart would not stop aching anyway. Henry was leaving next
week. I’d be alone in this apartment with only my fears and bad dreams to keep
me company.

Henry made
a little sound in the back of his throat, a cross between a moan and a growl,
but he remained asleep. I felt the last of my anger melt away when the crotch
of his jeans started to stir, but before I could even see where
that
would lead I nudged him awake. “Henry.”