Fall Out (Against the Tides #1) (2 page)

FOR THE PAST eight months I’ve lived as if I were single, minus the Skype sessions and love for Brett. I put stuff wherever I wanted it, slept on whatever side of the bed I wished, and did things my way. Now I have to change back into wife mode. Usually I don’t let myself touch anything until I know he’s on the plane and on his way home to me, but, thanks to a little pushing, I forced myself to do it early. This time I made myself do things differently and act like Brett is just on a trip instead of in an active war zone for two more days. Mainly because my best friend has been on my case about it since we found out when he was coming home.

“Quit worrying,” Emerson chuckles from behind me.

“Not worried,” I mumble, lying my ass off.

She leans back against the doorframe, tucking her thumbs into her pockets and I turn around so she can’t see my face. “Mhm, you think I’m stupid. Honey, I’ve known you for going on ten years so don’t be an asshole. I know when you’re lying. When you’re worried you get this weird look on your face and you stare out into space.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Em.”

Sarcastic comment in 3...2...1…

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t have the slightest clue what it’s like to wonder if someone is going to make it home safely from a war zone.”

Turning back around, I stare her down from across the room. Casual looks good on her and she knows it, even if she is being an asshole. Instead of the usual uniform, her loose black hair, tight jeans and low cut shirt accentuate everything about her, including her sassy attitude.

“Don’t lay that shit on me, Emerson. You chose to do what you do. You chose to enlist and you chose the path you took once you did. You always wanted to protect everyone with a gun like the boys, but you took it a step further and decided to protect everyone from the shadows. That was you calling the shots.”

She watches me for a second with a blank look on her face before finally speaking again. “And you didn’t?” she asks. “I was at your wedding, Ari, it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t arranged. You chose to marry Brett knowing what he did for a living.”

“You don’t have a choice when it comes to who you fall in love with.”

“Good point,” she says, nodding. “But you have it in your head that if you start getting ready for him and getting excited about him coming home before he’s on that plane, that something bad is going to happen. You’ve got to get out of your own head. You can’t keep putting your life on hold.”

I should believe her—I know I should—but something in the pit of my stomach feels off to me. Just as I’m about to say something, someone bangs on my door. I push past her, carrying the wine glass that I’ve been mindlessly drying for the past few minutes. Pulling back the door, I come face to face with two solemn looking men in dress blues and my stomach drops to the floor along with my heart. The glass slips from my fingers, shattering around my bare feet, and Emerson rushes from the kitchen.

Both men remove their hats, tucking them beneath their arms. I should brace myself, sit down or something, because I know the second they start talking I’m going to wish I had, but I can’t move. The one on the left opens his mouth, his eyes lock onto mine and I can’t breathe. Emerson attempts to grab my hand but I pull away.

“Mrs. Coleman?” I try to respond but when I open my mouth the only thing that comes out is a strangled moan. “We’ve been asked to inform you that your husband, Staff Sergeant Brett Coleman, was killed in action at zero nine forty-five on May third two thousand and fourteen.” I zone out as he keeps talking, saying something about a search and rescue mission going wrong.

“Two days,” I mumble, somewhat finding my voice and cutting him off. I know my face is covered in tears—I can feel them—but I don’t bother trying to dry them. “He was coming home in two days.”

This feels different than it did in my nightmares. I figured since I’ve heard this whole speech so many times before while I was sleeping, that I've stood beside wives who have gotten it, that I would be able to handle it better than this. I was wrong. The numb feeling combined with feeling like my heart is shattering is beyond anything I ever could have expected. Somehow, I force myself to start listening again because he is still talking.

“On behalf of the Secretary of Defense, I extend to you and your family my deepest sympathy in your great loss.”

“Oh, honey,” Emerson cries from behind me, but I can’t look at her. Her hand comes down on my back gently. I know she’s only trying to comfort me, but I snap.

“Get. Out,” I grind out.

“Ari,” she starts, but I cut her off by grabbing her arm and forcing her out the door. The man that has stood silently as my life began to crumble, finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Ma’am, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone right now.”

“You don’t have a choice. You can either leave, or I will figure out a way to personally remove you.”

“Ariana!” Emerson yells as I reach for the door but I don’t pay her any attention.

The door slams shut, leaving me alone and in complete silence. It’s something I should be used to by now, but this feels different. This silence is deafening instead of comforting and I don’t like it. Forgetting about the shattered glass around my feet, I step back and feel a piece tear through the heel of my foot. The pain is minor compared to the splintering ache that is exploding in my chest like a grenade, but I focus on it, begging for it to get worse. It’s the only thing I want to feel, the only thing I want to be real, because this hurt is going to last a lifetime. I welcome the pain, I dare it to do its worst and take me right along with him because without the hollow feeling in my chest right now, none of what Brett and I had would have been real.

TO SAY I’VE shut down would be an understatement. I’ve disconnected myself from life entirely. From everything and everyone, even from myself. I won’t answer the phone, I ignore people knocking at my door, and I stay in the darkness of my room hidden from the outside world all together. Alone and lonely.

Today I have to force myself out of the house to face the world so I can lay my husband to rest. If it hadn’t been for the note slipped through the mail slot on the front door I never would have known the funeral was today. It’s obvious by the way they are handling this that Brett’s parents are so much stronger than I am. 

The car service that has been hired to take me to the cemetery pulls into the driveway just as I push the last pin into my hair. Sliding my sunglasses into place, I take a deep breath and pull the door open before the driver has a chance to knock. Without hesitation—and thankfully no small talk—he turns around and heads to open the back door of the car for me. I slide in and let the soft leather wrap around me as the door closes, leaving me in silence again.

It doesn’t take long at all for us to arrive at the cemetery and even though I wish I could stay hidden in the back of this car for the rest of the day, I know I need to be here. I have to show everyone that I’m here to say goodbye even it kills me and is the last thing on Earth I want to do. 

As soon as the driver pulls the door open, a large calloused hand reaches in to help me out. I hesitate before slipping my hand into his and as soon as my feet are on the ground, Brett’s father, Carl, pulls me into his tight embrace. He buries his face in the top of my head, sniffling as he holds me close. My arms hang loosely by my sides, because even though I want to wrap them around him and keep him close, I can’t get them to cooperate. It’s hard to watch this big tough man break down and not even be able to comfort him because I’m hurting too much. I feel like this is all my fault even though I know that is completely absurd, but how can I tell them that?

I just feel dead inside…

When he finally releases me, I take my seat, front and center, even though I would rather be hidden in the back out of the way. I don’t like having people watch me break down and I know it will inevitably happen sooner or later today. I just hope I can make it until I’m finally alone again before it does. People try to shake my hand, to hug me and offer condolences and, instead of accepting them graciously like I know I should, I stay seated in my chair and stare straight ahead at the casket. The bright colors of the American flag draped over the top is a stark contradiction to the gray sky and the way I feel right now.

Emerson—even though I kicked her out and haven’t spoken to her since—stands directly behind me. I can’t even bring myself to turn around and apologize to her for being an ass, because part of me is afraid that I will punch her in the face. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have started getting excited about him coming home. If it weren’t for her, the superstitious part of me wouldn’t feel like it is all my fault for jumping the gun. Right now, I would be in Brett’s arms and everything in my world would be right. Instead, I have the sick feeling that nothing will ever be right again.

Not that I deserve it to be...

Her hand rests gently on my shoulder for about two seconds before I shrug her off. The only person I want touching me right now is the one person who will never be able to touch me again.

My attention fades in and out but it isn’t until they begin folding the flag and the first round of shots ring through the air that I am forced back into reality. It’s then that I realize that the nightmares I’d been having have come to life. By the time the last set of shots are fired, I’m falling apart worse inside than I ever had before. Everyone is a sea of blue and I can’t focus on any of the faces around me. It isn’t until one soldier drops to his knee in front of me to present me with the flag, that I realize who it is. My breath gets stolen from my chest and the tears finally break through when I focus in on Knox’s face. His tear-filled eyes and clenched jaw break me. He opens his mouth to speak and his voice wobbles but he somehow manages to pull through.

“On behalf of the President of the United States, the Commandant of the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s service to this country.”

The sob breaks free from my chest before I can stop it. I can’t do anything but accept what he’s giving me and know that it’s the last piece of my husband I will ever get. Knox stands to his full height, towering over me, and salutes. With his back rigid, jaw clenched again, and shaking hands, he turns away from me and returns to formation. 

I want to chase after him but I know I shouldn’t. I’m not even sure what I would say. He’s been our friend for years, since before Brett and I ever got together. I want to scream at him, to hate him, and to pull him close at the same time. I love Knox, he’s always been there for me, but part of me wants to scream and tell him that it shouldn’t be Brett in that box right now. I shouldn’t be a widow. He should have brought him home with him, breathing and able to hold me. I need my husband to wake me up from this nightmare, to kiss me and tell me everything is all right. The other part of me knows that it wouldn’t be fair to tell Knox all that. I know he’s hurting too. His eyes connect with mine through my sunglasses from across the site and I wonder if he knows I’m staring back.

Brett’s mother sobs from beside me when she’s presented with his Purple Heart. I can’t bring myself to look, I can’t even listen anymore because if one more person tells me that they are grateful for my husband’s service to his country, I’m going to lose my shit on them and end up being escorted from the cemetery. As soon as everything is presented, and I finally regain the ability to pull my attention away from Knox, I rush away from the gravesite even though I know I shouldn’t. 

The words “fall out” are yelled loudly from behind me, they ring through the air and wrap around me, causing me to hesitate and my feet to stumble for a second. Every time they’ve been yelled before in my presence has always represented something good in my life. A moment when the love of my life would be able to leave formation and allow for me to touch him and make sure he really was there. Now it’s a stabbing reminder that I’ll never have it again.

It’s a slap in the face of cold, hard reality. He’s gone.

I WATCH ARIANA rush away from the gravesite and disappear into the back of a black car from the corner of my eye. My mind and my entire fucking heart scream at me to run after her, but my body doesn’t move, remembering every single bit of training I've had since I enlisted. My feet stay rooted to the ground until they finally dismiss us, but by then Ariana is long gone. 

Instead of hanging around to express my condolences to the family of my best friend, I do what I’ve been doing since I got home: I slide in behind the wheel of my truck and run away. As I drive, the world rushes past me so fast that it’s all a blur. It’s the same way everything looked as I watched Brett die. Even though I know the world around me wasn’t rushing by then, it seemed like it was as I watched him advance about fifteen feet in front of me. One second my best friend is alive and excited about going home to his wife, and the next he’s on the ground with a bullet hole through his neck. Everything was a frenzy after that. My first instinct was to dive and pull him to safety without covering my own ass first. Thankfully, I had some good men behind me that picked up my slack as I pulled my already lifeless best friend out of live fire and attempted to save him.