One by one, the uniformed military men disembarked from the chopper, their thick-soled boots landing on Texas soil for the first time in months. Then I saw him. Patton, my stepdad, in head-to-toe camo. He climbed from the helicopter a little more slowly than the others, then stopped and squinted in the harsh glare of the midday sun, looking around like he was almost surprised to be home again.
Overcome with excitement, I started to drop everything and run into his arms. I felt like a little girl again, and I wanted nothing more than to throw my arms around my stepdad's brawny neck and let him give me one of those bear hugs I had missed so much since while he was gone.
I took a step forward, but something held me back. Something completely stupid and all my fault.
My stepdad's gaze found mine. His blue eyes flashed with excitement, but to my horror, the warmth in his expression immediately turned cold and formal. The stern disapproval on his face twisted my tummy into knots. I wished I could sink into the ground, disappearing forever.
This reunion was going to be awkward.
Hesitating for just a moment, he reached into his pocket and found a pair of dark sunglasses to shield those blue eyes that had always killed me, ever since I was a little girl and he and my mom got married.
///
Patton had always been in great shape, and my friends had been voting him the most handsome dad at sleepovers since junior high. But this was different. War had chiseled him into even more of a man. With his wide shoulders and tapered waist Patton's body perfectly filled his desert fatigues.
Patton strode forward. I had always liked the way my stepdad walked, and his gait had not changed one bit during several months of fighting in Iraq. He marched like a man with purpose, standing upright, his burly chest thrust forward and his wide shoulders thrown back, like a proud and highly decorated officer of the National Guard. He was still the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on.
When he was just a couple of feet away from he, he removed his dark sunglasses. My heart nearly stopped beating when my eyes met his cold stare.
"Evie," he said.
"Hi, Daddy."
He just stood there, face to face with me, and I felt incredibly small. Like a deer frozen in the headlights of those icy blues, I did not dare to move a muscle. He looked me up and down, his eyes raking over the recently developed body that I was still getting accustomed to. Finally breaking through the tension, my stepdad reached in and gave me a quick hug.
I nestled my cheek against my stepdad's firm chest and breathed his comforting and instantly familiar scent. The touch of his hands felt electric as always, sending tingles from the small of my back that raced up and down my spine.
"Thank you for coming to get me," he said. "Let's get the hell off this base."
For a second or two, everything felt right again between us. But then he pulled away from our embrace, and the feelings of disappointment washed over me. That was the best greeting I would get from the man who was, for all intents and purposes, my father? We weren't biologically related, but Patton felt more like a dad than my real father ever did. When my mom died a few years ago, Patton had stepped forward and selflessly raised me like his own.
Then Uncle Sam called up his detachment and sent them to war, leaving me to fend for myself during my senior year of high school. Now I was eighteen years old and all grown up. A little too grown up, it seems.
Oh, well. All I knew was that Patton was home for two weeks. He hadn't told me why the military had given him leave from the war, but that didn't matter to me. I would use our brief time together to try to make things right between us.
Patton marched away from the whirring helicopter and the small crowd that had gathered around it, and I practically ran to keep up with his long, fast gait. We rounded the corner of the commissary building, and my stepdad's mouth dropped, then spread into a wide, silly grin. It was good to see him smile.
"You brought my truck," he said. "You learned to drive a stick? And you drove all the way from Austin?"
"A small sacrifice for my war hero," I teased, tossing him the keys.
Patton grabbed them in one hand and turned his attention back to the old pickup. He tossed his duffel bag in the truck bed, then ran his fingers down the rough, rusty paint, savoring the touch of his prized possession. I didn't know anything about cars and trucks, but sometimes I wondered whether Patton loved that old clunker more than he loved me. The engine was completely rebuilt, although he had refused to update the aged exterior with slick new paint.
"Talk about a sight for sore eyes." Patton clapped his palm against the metal, like a normal person might pet a good dog. "Good old farm truck. You know, this belonged to my grandpa when I was a little boy. Grandma gave it to me when I was sixteen."
"No! You're kidding!" I said with feigned surprise. The truth was I had heard the story a thousand times, though his grandparents had died long before I entered the picture.
"Very funny," he deadpanned. "Get in the truck, you little brat. Let's hit the road."
II.
Patton slid behind the wheel of the pickup and I hopped in beside him.
Teasing and joking with him had felt like old times. When I was younger he often seemed like more of a fun uncle than my parental guardian. Even when Mom died, when both of us were heartbroken and grieving, he managed to remain upbeat for my sake.
I hoped the levity would continue, but Patton grew silent again as we left the military base and began the hour drive back to Austin. He mostly kept his eyes fixed to the road. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, admiring his rugged jawline and close-cropped, golden-brown hair.
I was studying his features and lost in thought when he turned and caught me looking at him. He gave me a searching look that seared into me, forcing me to turn away.
///
As we rode in silence, my mind wandered to that moment just a few weeks ago when I had made the mistake that jeopardized my entire relationship with the most important man in my life. Like I said, it was all my fault. But you could also blame the second-most important man in my life, my boyfriend Chase.
Chase is nineteen, but he still lives with his parents. I don't blame him. They have a huge house and a swimming pool that's bigger than my backyard. It was a lazy June afternoon a few weeks after my high school graduation. Chase's dad was at the golf course, and his mom was wherever she went during the day. They had inherited a Texas oil fortune, and none of them had worked a day in their lives.
Chase was sleeping off a hangover in one of the lounge chairs beside the pool. He had wrapped a beach towel around his face, shielding his eyes, as his pale, narrow frame soaked up rays from the Texas sun. I was swimming in the deep end, letting the water cool my body, when my phone started ringing. I had left it on the chair next to Chase.
"Phone!" Chase moaned through the towel covering his face. "Hey! Phone!"
"Just let it ring," I said, my face bobbing above on the water.
"Oh, my head! God damn it! Answer your fucking phone!"
"You know I'm in the pool, right?"
The phone stopped ringing. Then it started again.
"Fuck," he screamed.
Still lying on his back, Chase reached for the lounge chair next to his, fumbling for the ringing phone. Instead of simply hitting the mute button, I watched as he threw my phone in my general direction. It hit the water with a splash and sank like a stone. My jaw dropped and my eyes widened in astonishment, too dumbfounded to speak. Then I got mad.
"You asshole! Why would you do that?"
"Should have answered it," he muttered.
I sucked in a deep breath and dove down as far as I could, scooping my poor phone off the bottom of the pool. When I came up for air I saw that it had already been fried. There was no saving it.
"You ruined my phone!"
Chase sat up and removed the towel from his head.
"I thought you were gonna catch it," he said.
"Yeah right," I fumed. "You know what? I'm out of here."
I swam straight for the closest metal ladder. I was so angry I had to get out of that pool as soon as possible. I had to get away from Chase before I really snapped. He could be such a jerk sometimes.
Chase paced around the pool and was waiting for me when I reached the top of the ladder. The hot Texas air felt unbearably chilly on my wet skin as beads of pool water dripped from my long hair and skin.