“Yeah, guess I do.” The beer and oblivion had seemed so appealing until the reality was right here in front of him.
“Your memory get killed over in that desert?”
The man’s thick Texas drawl rang a few warning bells in DJ’s brain. DJ frowned. He’d only known one guy— “Lane?”
The other half of that troublesome teenage summer when Granddad had nearly killed DJ stood there, proud as can be.
“About danged time you woke up.” Lane grinned and slid into the seat across from DJ without waiting for an invitation.
They shook hands over the scarred table as DJ’s brain filled with a wave of memory. This couldn’t be good. Not good at all. But he leaned back in the booth and looked at the man who’d been a boy the last time he’d seen him.
A very drunk boy if memory served. DJ smiled.
Lane took off the worn cowboy hat, setting it on the table. He looked rough around the edges. DJ hadn’t seen him in a couple of years, since the last time he’d come home before his last deployment.
“So, how’s your family doing?” Lane asked.
DJ smiled. “That’ll take a couple of hours. Next topic. How’s your dad?”
“Fair enough.” Years ago, probably at this same table, they’d sworn to keep their messed-up, convoluted families out of their intent to have fun. Seemed not everything had changed over time.
“So, whatcha doin’ here?” Lane looked up. “Haven’t seen you since you got back. Heard you were injured.”
“Yeah. Trying to heal.” DJ didn’t want to go into details and the waitress came over just then and saved him from doing so. He bought a round, but DJ realized he’d lost his appetite for bars and hangovers. Lane’s appearance reminded him of how miserable the aftermath always was. They’d nearly killed each other too damn many times.
They drank their beers slowly, in silence. “Damn, we’re old,” DJ finally said.
Lane laughed. “Speak for yourself, old man.” He became serious quickly. “I guess I’ve spent too much time sobering up my dad lately. Takes the fun out of it.” When the waitress returned, Lane ordered a round of coffee and they both laughed.
“Here’s a surprise for you.” DJ leaned forward on the table, hoping to take some of the pressure off his back. The bench was hard. “I got a kid. He’s eight.”
Lane stared. “No kidding.” Something other than surprise flashed in Lane’s eyes, but DJ couldn’t tell what it was. “How’d that happen?”
“The usual way.” DJ shrugged. “He’s staying with us at the ranch house. You should come meet him sometime.”
“I might do that. I’ve been meaning to get over to see Wyatt. So, when do you go back?”
Damned reality. “I’m not.” DJ hadn’t told anyone about the doctor’s final decision. He hadn’t called Wyatt or any of his siblings. He’d come straight here.
“What?”
“They just told me today. I’m being medically discharged.” There, he’d said it. It didn’t sound nearly as bad as it had echoing around in his head.
“That’s why you’re here tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“That it?
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just seems like a stupid reason to be drinking.” Lane stood, grabbing his hat from the table. As if uncomfortable with the conversation and needing distraction, he gathered up the empty bottles and placed them on the bar.
The door opened just then and a much older, worn version of Lane stumbled in.
“Ah, right on time.” Lane turned back to DJ. “Go home to your boy. Now you’ve got the time to be a dad.”
The one thing that had made them such good friends as boys was the fact that they’d each grown up with a single parent. Lane’s mother had died the same year as DJ’s dad. But where Mom had taken up the reins, Lane’s dad dived into a bottle. Apparently, nothing had changed.
DJ watched them leave, knowing any offers of help wouldn’t be appreciated. Instead, he stood and headed out to his motorcycle. Lane was right.
He headed home, where he should have gone in the first place.
Twenty minutes later, headed toward the front steps of the ranch house, DJ heard a voice quietly echo in the darkness. He stopped and listened for a minute. Nothing. He needed to get to bed. Even if he wanted to he couldn’t sleep in. Life around here started just after dawn in a loud, raucous, let’s-get-to-work way.
Most days, DJ liked that. He’d learned, early on in the military, to find a way to fill the void, to keep his brain busy and away from the what-ifs.
And there were plenty of what-ifs these days. What if the military actually medically retired him? He laughed. That wasn’t really a what-if anymore. They were going to. It was only a matter of paperwork and time.
What if Tammie never returned? Was he ready to support a kid for ten or more years? How? His wounds were still healing. Would he ever be able to hold a job? What could he do to earn enough to support himself and Tyler?
His head spun, not from the two beers he’d nursed through the visit with Lane, but from pushing himself so hard. From exhaustion. He tried to focus on the steps in front of him.
DJ heard the voice again. He hadn’t had that much. Two beers did not constitute drunk. His muscles had stiffened up on the ride home so he moved carefully, walking over to the side of the house.
There wasn’t anyone there. A noise, something cracking, sounded overhead. He looked up and saw something—someone—in the old cottonwood tree.
Tyler.
“I can see you,” he said softly. No response. “I can still see you, son.” DJ leaned nonchalantly against the corner of the porch rail. He didn’t want to startle Tyler. Despite the fact that DJ had climbed that same tree often enough as a kid and knew it was fairly safe, Tyler was still perched a good fifteen feet up.
“Am I in trouble?” Tyler mumbled.
“Depends. Why are you in the tree in the middle of the night?”
The silence stretched out and DJ let it. He’d learned patience was important with Tyler, especially when he was thinking.
“I like the tree. I was lookin’ at the stars.” A long silence again. “Mama likes stars. Says they look like jewels.”
DJ took a deep breath. “Why don’t you come down and look at them from the porch with me?” Closer to the ground.
Tyler seemed to be thinking again, and then DJ heard movement. He went to stand beneath the tree just in case Tyler fell, then laughed at himself when Tyler hopped down and crawled back over the windowsill and into his room. A few minutes later, the screen door squeaked open softly.
If nothing else, Tyler was unpredictable. He climbed up onto the porch swing and set it slowly in motion. DJ took a seat across from him in one of the wooden rockers.
“Did you think about the dirt bike?” Tyler grinned.
“I’m still thinking about that.” He ignored the crestfallen look. Diplomacy had never been DJ’s forte, but he drew on every memory he had of Wyatt’s and his friend Colin’s skills. He’d worked too hard to gain Tyler’s trust. He didn’t want to screw it up now. “Besides, if I told you my decision, what kind of birthday surprise would that be?”