Once and For All: An American Valor Novel (2 page)

Or more like one devil in particular.

“Hello, Danny.”

If she had any lingering delusions his words were meant for her and not his brother, they quickly disappeared. His gaze shifted to her, then to Michael, and back to her. Confusion gave way to realization then surprise.

“Long time, no see, huh?” She smiled so hard it was a wonder her face didn’t crack. And before she realized what she was doing, she leaned in to give him a quick hug. Although she couldn’t remember the plan, Bree was pretty damn sure this wasn’t part of it. But she recovered quickly and pulled away, giving him a little finishing pat on the arm. The kind of gesture typically reserved for old schoolteachers or distant cousins you haven’t spoken with in a million years. To be honest, he didn’t deserve that much affection, but she was trying to be the bigger person. Let bygones be bygones and all that crap.

Nope, no hard feelings here. No deep-seated resentment that had been festering in her heart for years.

Bree took a deep breath and turned her attention back to Michael. Even heard herself ask a million questions about who knows what and not really hearing the answers. Occasionally, she’d glance in Danny’s direction so as not to appear rude, but she purposely avoided looking at him too long; otherwise he’d realize the effect he still had on her.

She jammed her shaking hands into her pockets. Kept her words clipped and short to hide the tremor in her voice. Although she focused on Michael, her skin prickled under the weight of Danny’s stare. She could practically feel all the questions waiting on the tip of his tongue. Things she didn’t want to talk about with anyone, but especially not with him.

Bree glanced at her wrist only to realize she didn’t wear a watch. Hopefully neither noticed. “I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve got to go. It was nice seeing both of you.”

She smiled and grabbed her cart, ready to make a hasty exit.

“What about your cheesecake?” Mike asked.

“I shouldn’t be eating that anyway.” She waved goodbye as she rushed toward the closest aisle.

As her luck would have it, the bakery was located in the far back corner of the store. She raced toward the front door, blazing her way through the maze of shelves and freezer cases. In the detergent aisle she abandoned her half-f cart due to a temperamental front wheel that only slowed her down. Her eyes burned from unshed tears, and Bree could only hope to make it outside before the inevitable meltdown began. With the front entrance in sight, a sense of relief washed over her.

Right until a hand captured her elbow.

D
ANNY GRA
BBED HOLD
of one arm and when she spun around, he took advantage and grabbed hold of her other arm, as well. “I need to talk to you,” he said, tugging her by both elbows from the main aisle into one stocked with charcoal and citronella candles. He had only a matter of minutes, seconds maybe, before someone walked by and alerted security.

He quickly assessed the woman in front of him. Brown stubble peeked out from beneath an awful-looking hat. Her clothes hung off her slight frame. She’d always been thin, genetics giving her a dancer’s body, but this wasn’t quite right. And there had always been a brightness in her eyes, a glow about her. That was missing, too.

“Is everything okay with you?”

“I’m fine. Now, if you don’t mind—” She attempted to free herself from his grip, but he held firm.

“You’re hardly fine. You look like hell.”

His words definitely lacked finesse but would have to do for now. She didn’t look like she’d just had a bad night or even a bad week. She looked sick. Frail. He probably hurt her just by wrapping his fingers around her elbow. Hell, he’d likely bruised her already. His stomach rolled at the thought of physically hurting her.

Danny relaxed his grip, hoping she wouldn’t run away. Not just yet, at least.

“I’ve got to give you credit, Danny, that’s one hell of a pickup line.” She took advantage of his eased grasp and pulled her arm free. “Do you use that on all the girls?”

“I just want to know what’s going on. Is it . . . ?”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the word
cancer
aloud, although the lack of hair indicated she was likely a chemo patient. It was his best guess. But one thing was certain—he’d definitely pissed her off.

Bree stepped closer now, anger flashing in her eyes as she stared up at him. “You have some nerve demanding answers from me.”

“I get that you’re still angry, but this is different.”

“Really?” She must have said it far more forcefully than intended, judging by the way she looked around to see if any onlookers had gathered. She composed herself and began again, poking him in the chest with her index finger. “Who do you think you are?” Another poke. “I haven’t heard from you in ten years. Ten. Years.” She punctuated each word with a jab. “But it shouldn’t surprise me in the least. You always did have far bigger balls than brains.”

Like a prizefighter surprised by a swinging left hook, Danny rocked back on his heels, stunned she would say something so cruel. By the time the initial shock wore off, she’d escaped through the automatic front doors. He started after her, determined to chase her down a second time. Only this time it was Mike who stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let her go, Danny.”

He tried to pull free from his grasp, but his brother’s vise-like grip only tightened. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Quit being so goddamn stubborn and listen to me a minute,” Mike said, his voice low and threatening. “In the middle of the grocery store is not the place to have that kind of conversation.”

Danny stilled and turned to look his brother in the eyes.

“You know what’s wrong with her.”

Mike nodded. “Like I said, this is not the place. Besides, we have shit to do.” He shoved the cart at his brother and with a look that could kill, silently commanded him to head in the opposite direction.

Reluctantly, Danny obeyed, pushing the cart with one hand as he rubbed at the place where she’d jabbed him repeatedly. It hurt like hell. Like she’d stabbed him with a dagger instead of a bony little finger. And he’d acquired more than one Purple Heart during his time in the army, so he knew pain.

Or maybe that pain in his chest had less to do with her finger poking and more to do with ten years of guilt.

Chapter Two

H
ER HAN
DS SHOOK
with such force it took three tries just to get her car key into the ignition. Bree swiped away the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, angry that after all this time Danny still had the power to make her so damn . . . angry.

How many times had she rehearsed that scenario over and over again in her mind?

She’d decided long ago to not let the eighteen-year-old whose heart was shattered into a million pieces come to the surface. To keep that girl stuffed deep down inside to prove she’d moved on. To show that he couldn’t hurt her anymore. To show him her life was fabulous and he no longer had an effect on her.

But her life wasn’t fabulous. It was pure crap. No amount of rainbows and unicorns could fix it at this point.

She slammed on the brakes for a red light and screamed at her own stupidity. Even gave the steering wheel a few well-deserved smacks with the palm of her hand.

Ten years. Ten years since she returned from an afternoon lab only to find out from his roommate Danny had packed up his things and left school. No note. No text message. No email. Nothing.

And he didn’t just leave college and return home to Myrtle Beach. No, he went all extreme, joining some gung-ho division of the army. Jumping out of airplanes, toting a machine gun. Going as far as halfway around the world and into a goddamn war zone to get away from her.

Obviously, the universe was having fun at her expense, dumping pounds of salt into that ancient wound, because Danny had definitely improved with age. Oh hell, this morning he looked like something the cat dragged in and smelled even worse, but the fates had been very kind to him. Little creases at the corners of his eyes. The dark beard covering his jaw. A small scar slashing his brow added to his manly ruggedness.

Even his voice was deeper, more mature. Although her memory might be playing tricks on her, he seemed bigger, taller even. And from the breadth of his shoulders and the look of his hands, he was stronger, too, with a chest as solid as a brick wall. She had an aching finger as proof. The teenage boy she once knew had disappeared and been replaced by something new and improved.

And what did he see when he looked at her for the first time in ten years? Obviously nothing good. His reaction had been one of shock then pity.

And that made her blood boil. How dare he pity her.

She pulled into the garage of her parents’ home and stared in the rearview mirror at the house across the street where Danny used to live. The same one where he was now staying. She had no idea how much longer he’d be in town, but odds weren’t in her favor he would just leave her be. She’d thrown down the gauntlet and Daniel Patrick MacGregor had never been one to back down from a challenge.

Hitting the garage remote, the house slowly disappeared from view as the door lowered to the ground. Bree headed inside, her mother greeting her at the back door as she opened it.

“Can I help you carry some things in?” she asked while drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Nothing to bring in.”

Bree scooted past her mother, not yet ready to rehash the morning’s events.

“I thought you were going to the store?”

“I’ll go back later.”

She grabbed the ibuprofen from the cabinet by the sink, the dull ache behind her eyes now reaching epic proportions. After swallowing two small tablets with a single drink of water, she headed for her bedroom.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart? You look flushed.”

“Fine,” she said, ducking out of her mother’s reach. Twenty-eight years old and her mother still wanted to check her temperature with the back of her hand.

“Are you sure? You’re not running a fever, are you? Your immune system still isn’t where it needs to be. You need to be careful—”

“I’m fine, Mom. I swear. Just going to lie down for a bit.”

Bree darted upstairs, escaping to the relative peace and quiet of her bedroom. She closed the door behind her, sighing in relief to see her mother wasn’t hot on her heels.

She loved her dearly and wouldn’t have survived chemo treatments without her, but sometimes her mother’s care and concern was too much. Suffocating. And despite her best intentions, she was always reminding Bree that she’d been very sick, when all Bree wanted to do was put it behind her.

For now, she’d settle for crawling into bed and trying to forget the morning ever happened. As she closed the blinds, a familiar old truck pulled into the driveway across the street. The door flung open and booted feet hit the concrete. Instinctively she jumped back from the window, not wanting Danny to think she’d been standing there, watching, waiting all this time for him to return home.

Bree held her breath and with the tips of her fingers lifted a single wooden slat so she could peek out. The old truck’s passenger door sat open wide, but there was no sign of either brother. The screen door swung open and Danny bounded down the porch steps, reaching the truck in four long strides. He grabbed the last few grocery bags from the floorboard and shoved the door closed with his elbow. On his way back into the house he suddenly stopped and turned to look across the street. At her house. At her bedroom window.

Despite peering through a tiny gap no wider than an inch, she knew he could somehow see her. She could feel his gaze locked on hers. But he didn’t drop the grocery bags on the front porch or storm across the street toward her. Instead, he just stood there. His expression completely unreadable.

Surely he wouldn’t march across the street and start things up again right now? He wouldn’t dare.

Oh, but he would.

Maybe he expected her to do something. Wave. Stick out her tongue. Flip him the bird. Instead, like a deer caught in a hunter’s sight, she stood frozen, unable to will herself away from the window. Then he did the very last thing she expected him to do.

He smiled.

A smile so wide, so bright, she hadn’t seen the likes of one in over a decade. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she’d missed that smile desperately and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Finally, Danny looked away, breaking eye contact, releasing her from his spell. As he turned to go inside, he shook his head, apparently unable to believe it himself.

For a long time after he went inside, Bree stood there looking out the window. And the more she replayed it in her mind, the more she began to wonder if she’d imagined the entire thing.

Only one thing was for certain—things between them were far from over.

D
ANNY SHOWERED, ATE
and tried to rest, but each time he closed his eyes her face was there in front of him, haunting him. Finally, he gave up on the idea of sleep and wandered into the living room where his dad and brother had just returned from their round of golf. If he had hit the links with them, maybe he could’ve cleared his head for a few hours. But it wouldn’t have been that easy. After all, ten years had passed and he still hadn’t been able to completely shake her from his thoughts.

His first year in the army, he hardly had time to eat and sleep, much less think about Bree. Fourteen weeks in Infantry OSUT. Another three weeks in Airborne, followed by a month of hell known as the Ranger Indoctrination Program. From there he was assigned to 75th Ranger Regiment’s 1st Battalion in Savannah, Georgia.

But he wasn’t there long enough to settle in. Instead, by the end of the week, he was a newbie on patrol in Iraq. Kicking in doors. Blowing shit up. His training an extreme version of sink or swim. Suddenly he was a scared shitless nineteen-year-old doing his damnedest to follow orders and stay alive.

Twenty-seven weeks later 1st Batt returned stateside and Danny had his first mandatory block leave. Then with the freedom to go where he wanted and do what he wanted, he felt lost. His only guidance came from his squad leader.
“Stay out of jail and, for the love of all things holy, wrap it up no matter what she says.”

Good, solid advice, for sure, but not very helpful for a kid needing direction. So he packed his duffel and borrowed a car, intending to drive home to Myrtle Beach. Instead, he found himself on campus at the University of South Carolina.

He had no plan. No idea what he was going to say when he found her.
If
he found her. He had since lost her cell number and didn’t know where she lived. Hoping she still majored in finance, he figured the business building was his best bet. Finding a comfortable place to sit, he prepared himself to wait hours, days, if necessary. Only it didn’t take anywhere near that long. Within thirty minutes she came out the main entrance, smiling and laughing with a group of friends. Danny rose to his feet, picked up his backpack from off the ground. In that brief moment he looked away, some guy he didn’t recognize appeared from nowhere, draping an arm over her shoulder and kissing her cheek.

And that was that.

He was too late. Waited too damn long to try and make things right and she’d moved on without him. And he had no one but himself to blame.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Footsteps pounded across the living room’s wooden floors. “What’s with him? Just standing there staring out into space.”

Danny turned to see his father, Mac, settle into his favorite chair, careful to not upturn the plate of food he held in one hand or the beer in the other. Since he now directed his attention to the television, Danny assumed the question to be rhetorical. He turned back to look out the large picture window and stare at the house across the street.

“We ran into Aubrey at the grocery store,” he heard his brother say.

Only then did Danny turn back again to look at the two of them. His father nodded in understanding and took a bite from his sandwich. He chewed thoughtfully as if in deep contemplation then washed it down with a pull from his longneck.

“Goddamn cancer. Although she’s doing much better now. Pete said she’s out of the woods for now, mostly because they caught it sooner than last time.”

Last time?

The words hit him like a round to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs and his weight off his feet. Danny moved to the end of the couch and sat down, waiting for the shock to wear off. But soon the shock was replaced by rage.

“Bree’s had cancer twice? Which I assume means she’s gone through chemo and whatever the hell else twice. And no one thought to tell me?”

Mac shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to tell you, but—”

Danny held his hand up, silencing his father. He didn’t want to hear excuses. He wanted answers.

“Is that why she’s back in Myrtle Beach? What about her job in Columbia? I remember you talking about this great job she got after graduation.” Danny waited as his father and brother exchanged a knowing glance, the kind that only meant more bad news. “What about her job in Columbia?”

Mike folded his arms across his chest, refusing to succumb to Danny’s questioning. So again his father answered. “She was laid off a few years ago.”

“Because of the cancer? They can’t do that. She should sue their asses for wrongful termination or something.”

“The second diagnosis came after. But your brother understands these things far better than I do. All I do know for certain is things have come a long way since your mother—”

Now his father fell silent.

Lily MacGregor had been dead twenty-three years and his father still couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

Danny looked to his brother. “I understand Dad knowing and not saying anything, but how long have you known?”

“From the get-go,” his brother answered nonchalantly. “Bev sends care packages on occasion and she always includes a letter filling me in on all the goings-on. Kind of like those Christmas letters Aunt Grace used to send each year.”

Danny held up a hand to stop him. His head was spinning as he tried to process all this information at once. “Bree’s mom sends you care packages?”

His brother shrugged as if this was no big deal. “Has from the time I was in medical school. Last one came around Thanksgiving while we were in Afghanistan. Had these really good oatmeal cookies with cranberries and nuts and stuff.”

What. The. Hell?

“Does she always send you cookies?”

“Not always. Sometimes it’s brownies. Sometimes cupcakes. Depends on where I am at the time. If she’s sending it overseas it has to be vacuum-sealed. And that would really mess up the icing on cupcakes.”

Danny’s jaw went slack from the shock of it. He looked to his father, who shook his head. No point in looking for answers from him. He glared at his brother. “You mean to tell me Bev’s been sending you cookies for what . . . eleven . . . twelve years? I never got any cookies! Why the fuck didn’t I get cookies?”

Mike grinned then took another drink from his beer, making him wait for an answer. “Might be a wild guess on my part, but could it be you broke her only daughter’s heart?”

Danny clenched his fists. It took every ounce of self-restraint to not wipe the smug look from his brother’s face. Even so, that wouldn’t do any good. This conversation needed to be with someone else. He turned on his heel and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?” his brother called after him.

“Where do you think?” Danny yelled back as he crossed the threshold. “I’m going to get answers.”