It should’ve felt like victory, but instead, Jock’s mind churned, the words blurring into the heat of another place, another time.The desert stretched out before him, something he could see.Blown sand stinging his eyes, something he could feel.And the weight of the air thick with the coppery tang of blood, something he could smell.His unit was scattered across the ground, their blank stares accusing.You didn’t think, Jake.Now we’re dead.The voices were as clear as they’d been years ago, layered over the memory of Maynard’s whimpers in that alley, the chemical stench of his burns blending with the imagined smoke of Fallujah.Jock’s grip tightened on an earthenware mug, his breath catching as the room tilted.
The mantra ran through his mind.Something I can see: Maynard’s eyes, blue and brown, steady on him.Something I can hear: Tank’s snorts of excitement.Something I can feel: the sun’s heat on my back.He repeated the steadying mantra, forcing his focus back to the present, but the ghosts lingered, their weight pressing against his ribs.Calder’s arrest had ripped the scab off an old wound, and the parallels of helplessness, cruelty, and survival were too sharp to ignore.
Maynard whined softly, lifting his head, and Jock slid to the ground beside the pit bull.“Hey, boy,” he murmured, running a gentle hand over the rich cream fur between Maynard’s ears.The dog leaned into the touch, tail thumping strongly, and Jock felt a flicker of calm.“You get it, don’t you?Keepin’ on, no matter what.”Maynard’s gaze held his, trusting, and Jock’s throat tightened.This dog had survived hell, just like he had.They were both still here, still fighting.
He picked up his phone and texted:
*Hard to believe it myself, but I’ll pass for now.Let me know how it shakes out.Thanks, brother.*
It wasn’t cowardice, he told himself.It was choosing what mattered—being here for Maynard, being whole for Silly when she stepped off that plane.Calder would get his, and Jock didn’t need to be in the room to know it.
As Tank and Maynard wrestled gently in the grass, Jock pulled out his phone and sent Silly one last text and a photo of the dogs:
*Calder’s in custody.It’s done.Hurry home, baby.We’re waiting.*
He pocketed the phone and crouched beside the dogs, letting their warmth and trust chase the last of the ghosts away.
For now, he was exactly where he needed to be.
***
Silly
The sound of the airplane engines had been a constant companion for the past few hours, paired with the low human drone of a crowd of people herded into a small space.Fiddling with one of her dermal implants, Silly stared out the window at the patchwork of clouds below.
She’d spent the show immersed in a whirlwind of ink, artists, and inspiration.She’d gone from watching the industry’s best voices host panels on new techniques, sitting on a panel or two herself, to late-night chats with old friends like Lena, and even those so-public client sessions where she’d pushed her skills to the limit.
But now, with the plane descending towards New Orleans, all she could think about was home.Jock’s strong arms wrapping around her, Tank’s heavy head leaning against her leg, and Maynard’s mismatched eyes gazing up with that tentative trust she’d only seen in photos.
Silly shifted in her seat, her carry-on bag tucked under the seat in front of her, stuffed with sketches and samples from the show.The design for Maynard’s eyes was incredibly fierce, a protective piece she’d finalized during this morning’s downtime, already imagining it on Jock’s skin.It wasn’t just art; it was a symbol of their growing family, a testament to the way Jock had opened his heart to a broken dog, much like he’d opened it to her.Like she knew he’d open his heart to other options.
I just gotta get over myself and bring the topic up.Babies won’t happen without planning.I’ve had an IUD for years.Maybe I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant even if we were trying.Do I want to try?Yes.I just need to talk to Jake.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the texts and pictures he’d sent over the five days she’d been gone.The latest one, from this morning: Maynard and Tank piled on the couch, Jock’s hand in the frame giving a thumbs-up.
*Boys are all ready for you, baby.Hurry home.*
A smile tugged at her lips, warmth spreading through her chest.God, I miss him.The show had been energizing, a reminder of why she loved her craft, but it had also highlighted the ache of separation.Late nights in the hotel room, sketching alone, she’d found herself reaching for the space beside her, somehow expecting Jock’s warmth.Instead, there’d been cold sheets and the distant glow of the city lights.She’d texted him vulnerabilities she rarely voiced.About how the crowds sometimes overwhelmed her and how she worried about him spiraling without her there.His responses had been quick and heartfelt.
*You’re my rock, Silly.Can’t wait to hold you.*
The plane jolted as it hit a pocket of turbulence, and Silly gripped the armrest, her thoughts scattering.She wasn’t afraid of flying, not really, but the bump reminded her of life’s unpredictability.Like finding Maynard in that alley, or how Jock’s PTSD flares could strike without warning.Resilience, she thought, echoing the themes from a panel she’d joined on tattooing as therapy.Artists sharing stories of clients inking over scars, turning pain into beauty.Her stories about creating shields for cancer survivors’ bodies so they could take back their own agency.It mirrored Jock’s journey and now Maynard’s.She couldn’t wait to share it all with him.
The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom, announcing their descent.Silly’s heart quickened.Soon.She imagined Jock waiting at the airport, his tall frame easy to spot in the crowd, that crooked smile breaking through his stoic exterior.They’d drive home, windows down, his hand on her thigh, catching up on the little things.Then, the dogs, from Tank’s enthusiastic greetings to the expected cautious approach from Maynard.She wondered if the pit bull would remember her scent from either the brief interactions when he was still at the vet’s office, or more probably, the house.Be kinda hard not to smell me at my own home.
As the wheels touched down with a thud, Silly exhaled, gathering her things.The taxi to the gate seemed eternal, passengers shuffling like zombies.She powered on her phone, and a flood of notifications pinged.There were clients looking to book sessions, Lena sending a meme about con hangovers, and one that mattered most.
*Landed?I’m here.Can’t wait to see your face.*
*Only just.Be out soon,* she texted back, her fingers flying.
The deplaning line moved slowly, but her steps quickened once free, weaving through the terminal with purpose.Baggage claim was a zoo, but she spotted him immediately, his tall frame holding up a pillar, arms crossed, his Incoherent MC vest catching the light.His eyes lit up when he saw her, that smile spreading wide.
“Jake!”She dropped her bag and ran the last few steps before launching into his arms.He caught her effortlessly, lifting her off the ground in a spin that made her laugh.His scent enveloped her, leather, grease, and that faint musk of him told her she was home in an instant.
“Missed you so damn much, baby,” he murmured into her hair, setting her down but not letting go.His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks before he kissed her, the caress deep, unhurried, right there in the middle of the airport.Whistles from passersby made her blush, but she didn’t care, melting into him.
“Missed you more,” she whispered against his lips, pulling back just enough to look at him.His eyes held that warmth, but she saw the shadows, too, the ones that spoke about the fatigue from solo dog duty, the lingering edge from the Calder hunt.“How are the boys?”
