Prologue
Two fuckin’ years.
Two life-altering, fuckin’ years of nonstop shitstorm since my wife, Claire and I started walking this goddamn road to hell. There isn’t any fire and brimstone at the end though, more like ice. Cold, empty, barren wasteland wherehappily ever afterdoesn’t give a shit about you because it doesn’t exist.
She’s so weak, she can hardly move anymore. Nine years of infertility to be given our miracle, only to have it all fuck turned up-side down six years later with a diagnosis that robbed us of the future we had planned together—the future we’d dreamed oftogether.
I’m beyond feeling at this point. Shock probably, denial. How in hell’s name is the woman who promised me’til death do us part—leaving me at thirty-nine years old? That line is a crock of shit. They made it sound like we’d die together when we were a hundred and one—or at least eighty something, for fuck’s sake.
Claire is my life. She was the mechanic thatoverhauled my entire fuckin’ soul after Iraq. When I got home I had nothing, except a few buddies who were just as fucked up as I was. I’d seen things no mere mortal could watch, but apparently I could do it and survive—barely. Couldn’t decide if I was the lucky one, or if I’d rather be one of the brothers who didn’t make it on the plane home.
Kids were the worst, women were almost as bad. Body parts strewn from being blown up, acid poured on little girls, women being hoarded and raped by hell knows how many sick bastards that believed it was their right. I saw it all. One night, me and some of my team decided we’d had enough. We waited until dark and snuck into the home, if you could even call it that, where we knew those sick motherfuckers were sleeping and slit their throats. Never told a soul, never got caught either.
The VA doctors kept referring me to therapists. I went a few times but all they did was sit there cross-legged, glasses on their noses saying stupid shit like—how do you feel about that?
How did I feel about that?Oh, I don’t know Larry; I feel pretty shitty about what I had to see, but not really at the same time because in the end we fuckin’ doled out justice!
No, I couldn’t say that. So instead I just sat there and nodded my head or made up some bullshit so I could get the hell out of the tiny, holed up room I was suffocating in for the hour I had to stay. The bar was better. Liquor was medicine—there were pills too. One night I threw them both back and landed in the emergency room, that’swhen I met her. My buddy Dave stopped by for whatever reason, saw me passed out and threw me in his truck.
When I came to, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. She was leaning over me when I tried to open my eyes, and things were hazy. She was glowing with a halo over her damn head. Swear to god. Light blonde tresses and white scrubs, blue eyes and she smelled like cupcakes. I don’t know if it was her perfume or if I was just starving and she looked good enough to eat, but I didn’t care.
I don’t even know how she understood my words. I probably sounded like I was speaking a foreign language, but I think I asked her name. She told me, but I heard nothing exceptAngel.So that’s what I’ve called her from day one.
I’ve sat here for hours, next to our bed, holding her hand, just like she did mine that night in the hospital. Except we’re at home, and there’s no pulling her away from death’s door. It’s December, snow is falling outside the window and I know it’s supposed to feel peaceful, but I feel dread.
Her lashes flutter, and I catch the crystal of her blue eyes as they open. Her voice is as weak as she looks.
“Hey, baby… I thought I told you to go be with the girls, you don’t need to watch me sleep.”
Oh, but I do. I don’t know how many more times I’ve got left.
“I know, but I wanted to, angel.” I lower my lips to kiss the hand I’m holding. She tries to sit up and reach for me but I tell her to lay back, I’ll come to her. I move to sit on the side of our bed, gently lifting her into my lap as Icradle her in my arms. Her own arms, although weak, are strong enough to wrap around my neck as she looks into my eyes and whispers with what little voice she has left,
“Someday, when you find another woman, because you will… Love her. Love her like you loved me and so much more than that. You’re young, Chris. The girls are young, they need a mother. Don’t live your entire life mourning me, I’ll never forgive you if you do.”
Damn her selflessness. I’ll never forgive myself if Idon’t. I lift my first two fingers gently moving the pieces of her once beautiful hair, away from her face. “You were my angel sent to find me,and I don’t want a second chance at love. I can raise the girls, they’ll be just fine. You’ve given them everything they need…”
What a fuckin’ man thing to say.I don’t really know if she’s given them everything they need. I’m probably just trying to make myself feel better. This entire thing is just—straight bullshit, that’s what it is.
Claire puts a finger to my lips. “No… Chris, baby, promise me you will be open to love. Promise me you’ll think of me and rememberus—but don’t lock your heart up, there’s room for more. I’ll scoot over, okay?”
She’s insane, delusional. The cancer’s affecting her logic. There’s no way in burning hell I’m going to make that promise. So I just nod, acknowledging that I heard her. I know it’s getting close, but I still hold on to hope that we have more time. The hospice care nurse will stop by soon to check on her and do a light exam. She’s always positive and upbeat with us during her visits, and somehow it makes death feel a little less imminent. Though, I know it’s a lie.
The nurse came and went, and now I’ve got to do the most bittersweet part of our day—bedtime. Adelaide and Evolette, our girls, are upstairs playing in their room. It’s like I bring them in every single night to say goodbye one last time. I hate it. My guts twist when I call them down the stairs. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching my two little princesses hug their mama, then say their prayers with her. But my heart fuckin’ breaks all over again, every damn time I see her, desperately kissing them both from head to toe the way she does every night. She says she never knows when it will be the last time, so she makes her kisses count. I don’t know if the girls fully understand, or if they do and simply use defense mechanisms to keep their hearts safe. Addie’s eight, Evie is six. The echo of their laughs and giggles ring in my ears as I watch all of them together. I wish I could join them on the bed, but I just don’t know if my heart can take it tonight.
I wake up, in our bed holding Claire. I sat in that damn rocking chair for an hour while my three girls fell asleep. I carried Addie and Evie up to their room, one at a time, and placed them in their own beds so there would be room enough for me in ours. I changed into a pair of loose shorts and pulled on an old T-shirt before slipping under the covers next to my beautiful angel.
This morning, as I hold her frail body to mine, I weep. Every night I whisper how much I love her as we both drift to sleep. I didn’t know it a few hours ago, but I’d kissed her lipsgoodnightfor the last time.
Chapter One
The porch of my 1920s farm house is where I spend most of my mornings. The porch attached to the house that I grew up in, the one I bought back from the state of Montana after I got home from my last tour overseas… The tour that got me medically retired.
My buddy Dave and I were breaching the entrance of an enemy compound and it blew before we could move. We both turned around, but the blast hit us from behind. Traumatic brain injuries for us both. I had a headache for months, vision was blurry and I walked like a damn drunk until I got out of physical therapy.
I stretch and pop my back as I look over my acreage. My parents loved this place, even if they never had the finances to make it what it is today. They died in a car crash when I was fourteen. I wish they could’ve known my girls… I wish they could’ve known the love of my life.
I can see Toby, my ranch foreman, jogging up to the house with a stack of papers in his hand. Probably more applications for new hires. Some of my bunk boys aremoving on. It’s not that they don’t like it here at Silo Springs Ranch, a lot of them just get antsy. Cowboys like to roam and wander and switch up the scenery now and then.
