“Of course not. Take your time.”
Lacey darted out the café’s entrance, her pulse racing. “Jack? What is it?”
“Lacey.” Jack’s guarded tone did nothing to soothe Lacey’s nerves. “I have some information on Mick’s team. It’s not good, but I’ll tell you straight off that I don’t have the complete picture yet.”
Lacey leaned against the wall to brace herself.
“I heard from a contact at Bagram Air Base that they treated a few SEALs about a week ago. They were in critical condition, and flown to Landstuhl for more treatment.”
“Landstuhl?”
“In Germany. They patch you up best they can in the field and then send you there if you’re still in bad shape.”
“I have to go there, Jack.”
“I don’t even know if Mick was one of them yet. I’ve called, but they won’t release information to me. I know a few people there, but haven’t heard back from them yet because of the time difference. I should know something tomorrow.”
Lacey felt helpless. “I have to do something, Jack.”
“They all may be fine now, or even headed back here to the Naval Hospital in Bethesda by now. I don’t want you going anywhere until I find out more. I probably should have waited to tell you, but I knew you’d want to go to him if he is in Germany. I thought some extra time to make arrangements might help.”
Lacey pressed her eyes shut, willing away the tears. “You did the right thing by telling me. I’ll dig out my passport and get someone at work to cover for me at my closing tomorrow if I need to fly out before then.” There was a brief silence between them, enough time for panic to grip her like a vise closing up on her heart. Control was slipping away. “I have to go, Jack. Please, please call me the instant you know anything more.”
“You know I will.”
Snapping her phone shut, Lacey wiped a tear from her cheek.
Her arms ached, desperate to hold Mick again, to feel his warmth beside her. Oh, God, to turn back time to that last night together and give her the chance to say how sorry she was, rather than run away.
She shook her head. Suddenly, his forgiveness—his understanding—wasn’t nearly as important to her. She just wanted him alive.
She just wanted him home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Anyone who ever complained about flying coach should take a transatlantic flight on a C-17 military cargo jet.
Belted into his seat, the roar of the engine shook Mick’s body like an industrial-sized paint mixer. Even with his noise reduction headphones, he was still certain he’d be deaf before they touched down at Andrews Air Force Base at 1700 hours.
Maybe that was for the best. If he were deaf, he wouldn’t be able to hear Lacey when she told him to get lost. He could imagine her now, standing at her front door, her lips forming the words as if in a silent movie. “Take a hike, loser.” After the way he had treated her, he wouldn’t blame her.
Of course, she wouldn’t be that callous, he thought. Not Lacey. She was too caring. Too protective of other people’s feelings. She’d say how happy she was that he was alive, and thank him kindly for stopping by. Then she’d gently send his broken-hearted self on his way.
Sweet Lacey. Thoughtful, kind Lacey. Completely opposite from how he viewed her that last time they were together.
What a judgmental bastard he had been. Okay, maybe it was a little weird that she crashed funerals for a living. And he wished that she had told him on her own. But they would have worked things out if Captain Shey hadn’t shown up on his doorstep the next day. That’s what couples did, right? They had arguments, and then they worked things out.
He nodded to himself, then winced when his body jolted from turbulence.
There’s something about a fourteen-hour flight home from a war zone that gave a man plenty of time to wish he had someone waiting home for him. He had never felt that way before. It used to be that after a deployment, all he had wanted was a soft bed, a change of clothes, and about eighteen hours of solid channel flipping on his TV. And a steak. God, yes. After nothing but freeze-dried MREs, a good prime rib would send him into ecstasy right now.
Most of his deployments had lasted longer than this one. He was lucky this time. He had lost a few days getting patched up at Bagram, but didn’t have to go to Landstuhl.
He couldn’t say the same for the other guys on his team. But they were stable now, and sounded in good spirits in their last phone conversations with Mick. That was enough good news for Mick to get the hell out of there.
And back to Lacey.
Now if he had only one ounce of luck left, he would use it up standing in front of Lacey, begging for forgiveness.