“Yep, it’s the way things work. Plus, you look like hell. Rest up, and you’ll be on the next mission. We’ll see you in a few days,” Gunner promised, slapping Rocco on the shoulder.
“Take care,” Rocco said, “see you soon.” They never told each other to be careful, fearing that those simple words would somehow jinx the guys. And they definitely never said goodbye—it was too final.
“See you soon, man,” Gunner said. He walked to the door and turned to smile back at Rocco and nodded before he left. If Rocco had known that was going to be the last time that he’d see his friends—his brothers, he would never have stayed behind.
At about two in the morning, his platoon sergeant woke him to tell him that everyone in his platoon was gone—even Gunner. They had been ambushed while in town, and didn’t see the enemy before it was too late. Two of the guys had lived through the attack. Remmy died on the way to the hospital, and Simpson was able to report what had happened, but died in surgery.
Survivor’s guilt was a real thing. Rocco learned that the hard way. He asked to go home, and his platoon sergeant granted his wish, even offering him an early out. He took the honorable discharge and went back to America—back home to Maryland, where his family lived. He was broken but tried not to show anyone that side of himself, masking his sadness with booze and pills. Still, others saw the pain that he was masking, and when they couldn’t handle it, they took off. He lost his girlfriend and so many of his old friends around town, but he still had his family.
Rocco moved back in with his parents and younger sister, promising them that he’d find his own place and move out as soon as possible, but that wasn’t the truth. He ended up living with them for over a year until his father put his foot down and told him that it wasn’t normal for a twenty-eight-year-old man, who had seen combat, to be living with his parents. He knew that his father was giving him a nudge because he loved him, but a part of him felt as though his parents were abandoning him as his platoon brothers had. That was just his mind telling him lies. He had gone to the mandatory therapy appointments enough to know that much. Of course, Rocco did as his father asked and moved out into his own tiny apartment. He hated that place,and after the many lonely nights that he spent there, he became angrier than he’d ever been.
Rocco told his therapist that his anger was out of control, and she was the one who gave him the idea of joining a gym to work out his aggression. He stopped having nightmares every night, and for the first time, in a long time, he was beginning to feel like himself again—and that had everything to do with Luna Haskins. He was discharged from mandatory therapy over six months ago, but he chose to keep going to see Luna. He knew that if he didn’t, he’d fall down the deep hole that so many other veterans had. Rocco didn’t want that for himself, so he stopped drinking and taking painkillers to numb the ache and got his life back on track.
As soon as he walked into the gym that Luna suggested he join, he knew exactly how he wanted to relieve his stress and anger—boxing. Hell, he was good with any type of fighting, as long as he got to beat the shit out of someone—anyone. Rocco didn’t care who it was, as long as he got to pummel him. He just never expected “Him” to be a “Her.”
As soon as he walked into the ring to find that he was sparring with his therapist, he knew that he couldn’t let it happen. “Luna,” he breathed. He had in his mouth guard, and he wasn’t ready for her to laugh at him. She was acting as though the two of them in the boxing ring wasn’t a big deal—but it was. He had never hit a woman in his life, let alone his psychiatrist. He spat his mouth guard into his gloved hand and wiped the spit from his lips.
“Rocco,” she said in return.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I disclosed that this is my gym, right?” Luna asked.
“Well, yes, but that’s not what I mean,” Rocco insisted.
“Okay, what did you mean then?” she asked.
“I can’t fight you,” he said. “Why are you in the ring with me?”
“I’m confused, Rocco,” she breathed, “why can’t you fight me?” He knew that he should keep his mouth shut. Luna wasn’t going to like his answer, but he just couldn’t help himself.
“Because,” he said, defiantly raising his chin to her, “you’re a girl.”
“So, you noticed then?” Luna teased. During their sessions, she wasn’t at all like the playfully sarcastic woman standing in front of him. Luna was all business then, but now, she was like a bubbly teenager ready to have some fun. Although he had a feeling that hitting her wasn’t going to be at all fun for him.
“I won’t fight you,” he insisted.
“Okay, suit yourself. If you won’t fight me, there’s someone in line behind you who is willing to spar. Get out of the ring, Rocco,” she said. He looked behind himself to find some guy standing there, gloves on, waiting to take his turn. He didn’t look like he’d care too much about having to hit a woman. In fact, the guy looked like he was raring to go.
“He’s huge,” Rocco whispered to her.
“I have eyes,” Luna sassed, “I can see that for myself. If you won’t fight me, he will. I’m good with either of you, but I won’t just stand here. I need to blow off some steam, and hitting someone in the face does that for me.” Rocco looked over Luna’s tiny formand seeing her out of her office attire of a sleek pant suit had him rethinking everything.
“Fine,” Rocco growled. There was no way that he’d break one of his rules to never hit a woman. He didn’t care if the woman wanted him to hit her—he just didn’t have it in him to do something like that.
“Fine, what?” Luna asked.
“Fine, I’ll let the big guy behind me pummel you into dust. How do you want me to get you home? Should I sweep you into a garbage bag or should I hunt down a box to transport you?” Now it was his turn to be a sarcastic ass, but he didn’t care. He stepped out of the ring and stood on the side, looking for any signs of distress on Luna’s beautiful face, but he saw none. She had only been hit a few times, but had landed quite a few blows to the big guy that she was sparring with. Rocco had to hand it to her—the woman had skills.
LUNA
Luna was showing off a bit, but she couldn’t help herself. She was pissed that Rocco wouldn’t spar with her. She was used to guys at the gym turning her down, but for some reason, having Rocco tell her that he wouldn’t fight her just made her angry. So yeah, she was giving the big guy her best, even if she hurt like hell from the few blows that he had landed on her ribs.
For some reason, she loved boxing. Maybe it was the tomboy in her or the fact that she grew up with five brothers and her father. Her mom passed away when she was seven, and her father started treating her like one of the boys. She liked that he didn’t sugarcoat things for her. She loved that her brothers treated her like one of their own—sparring and fighting with her just like they had with each other. She had never been a girly girl, and even though Luna had nothing to prove, she still proved her self-worth every day to her brothers.
After she knocked out Van in the first two rounds, she stepped out of the ring and stood in front of Rocco. She knew that hersmile was smug, but she just couldn’t help herself. “You still afraid that you’ll hurt me?” she asked.
“Not so much anymore,” he admitted. “In fact, I’m a little bit afraid of you, if I’m being honest.”
