What Part of Marine Don't You Understand - By Heather Long Page 0,3
the volume being turned up and down.
He wanted to vomit.
Opening his eyes, he met James’ solemn gaze. “I’m seriously fucked up.”
“No. You’re only a little bit fucked up. But you’re talking about it now.”
Exhaling a shuddering breath, he scratched alongside Jethro’s neck. The dog appreciated the attention and leaned into the affection.
“Why now?” He swallowed the urge to be sick, the cold sweat leaving him fevered and chilled at the same time.
“Because you’re ready now.”
“Is that going to be my reaction every time I hear a big group of people?”
“No.” Doc shook his head. “Because we get better and I can help you.”
Chapter Two
“Naomi, call for you.” The shout from downstairs intruded through the fifteenth audition tape she tried to review. Grateful for the interruption, she hit the spacebar on the laptop and bounced off the bed. Her roommates wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t someone important.
She glanced at the caller ID on the cordless and laughed. “Hello, Congressman Pain in the Ass, how is Washington today?”
Her eldest brother graduated Annapolis, served three tours in Iraq, returned home a wounded veteran with one leg, and threw himself into public service. His recent election to the House of Representatives added another kudo in a long line of damn-isn’t-my-brother-awesomeness.
“Good morning to you, Sassy Sparks.” He would never let her forget her obsession with the Spice Girls.
“I’m busy, government stooge, what do you want?” But she grinned and stretched onto the bed. Checking her list of songs, she sighed. A dozen more to review and none thrilled her. She really wanted her first album to touch people and not be the same tired tropes rehashed over and over again.
“I need a favor, brat. So stop staring at your computer or plucking on your guitar, and listen to me.”
“Of course you do and I do not pluck on my guitar. I play it.” But she rolled onto her back obediently and stopped staring at the song list. It made her crazy anyway. “Whatcha need?”
“You remember Luke Dexter?”
The name sounded familiar.
“Nope.”
“Captain. Marine. Tall.”
She snorted. “Brent, you do realize that most of the Marines I know are taller than I am, right? You included?” Four brothers, her father, three uncles, two cousins, and all of her grandfathers were Marines. She couldn’t turn around without tripping over one.
“Luke Dexter, the guy who started Mike’s Place in Dallas? You went with us to the grand opening ceremony.”
“Okay. I remember Mike’s Place.” The facility sat on a gorgeous campus that mingled military and civilian in a seamless blending. The swanky party to celebrate its opening for veterans and their families had been pretty fun, too.
“Great. They’re planning some fundraising events over the next few months, and I am scheduled to attend, but….”
“You can’t?” It was a guess.
“Unfortunately, it’s just a matter of bad timing.”
“You know they have golf courses in Texas.” He’d never cancel if he could help it, but she liked teasing him.
“Actually Ryleigh might be ovulating and….”
“Oh. Stop!” She let out a squeal. “Too much information.”
He laughed and she scrubbed a hand over her face, the idea permanently burned into her brain. She would need bleach to get it out. “I will go. I promise. Just never mention why you can’t again.”
“You are the best. I’ll have my office book your tickets and make all the arrangements.”
“No problem. Really happy to help.” They chatted for a few minutes more and then he had to go to a meeting. Sitting up, she tossed the handset onto the bed and looked at the song list again. Her producer sent a wide variety of songs and themes available. But none of them touched her. Hitting play on the next one, she grimaced.
Yeah, she definitely needed to find something different for this album.
***
Trailing after the dozen others touring the facility, Naomi absorbed the information the guide provided. She admired the fact that despite the escort, they didn’t intrude on any of the group therapy sessions. A scarred veteran named Logan Cavanaugh led the physical therapy tour—she wrote the name down on the pad of notes she compiled for Brent. A position paper she planned to write in trochaic tetrameter, it would drive her brother nuts and fulfill her promise at the same time.
A win-win in her book.
If the idea of Mike’s Place impressed her during the opening ceremonies, her current visit left her floored.
“Miss Sparks?” A woman beckoned her away from the group. “I’m Rebecca—”
“Ranier, I remember.” They shook hands and Naomi smiled. “Sorry, I was a little caught up in