Up in Flames (Crash and Burn, Book Two) (A Military Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

like this, and I’ve been…fighting it for so long, and it’s all done.”
    “Yeah, it’s been hard on all of us,” I tell him in a soothing tone, trying to decipher his confusing words. Mom and I struggled so much when I was growing up, but I still miss her. It’s so fucking weird being at home, expecting her to be in a room when I turn the corner. My first couple of days back, I felt like she was haunting everywhere I went. “But running away doesn’t solve anything. Come home. Let’s talk about it. We’ll figure it out—”
    “Do you know what it’s like to love a woman and know you’ll never—you won’t have that person ever again? Never see her or touch her hand or drink coffee with her?” Dad’s slurring words grow rough, and I can hear his emotions manifesting into anger. It’s clear to me he’s been bottling this shit up for so long, he doesn’t know how to deal with it.
    “Where are you?” I repeat. “Let’s meet up. Are you in the area? I’ll drive to come get you. Stay put.” I pause and press on the one thing I hope will get him to listen. “Dad, we really need your help with the bar. The remodel is gonna start soon. We got the design in, and it’s great, but Xander needs your input.”
    “You’re not…you’re not listening to me.” He sounds mulish, and I swallow a frustrated sigh. It’s hard enough sometimes dealing with my dad when he’s sober. The infrequent times he’s drunk, his belligerence is frustrating. “I can’t do it, not anymore. I don’t give a shit about the bar. What does any of it mean without her?” His voice breaks on this last word, and I feel my heart crack at the evident pain.
    “I’m sorry, Dad,” I say, reining in my irritation. Patience, I tell myself. I can’t deal with him like I’d deal with a sober person. “I know you’re hurting. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come and just listen. You don’t have to come back with me if you’re not ready.” Even as I say those words, the part of me that’s still a kid on the inside flinches. Your dad is supposed to have his shit together. Mine seemed like he always did, but I guess that was just a façade.
    I’m seeing the real Dad behind the veneer, the one who’s drowning in his agony for his wife, and it’s brutal.
    My voice softens. “Please. Let’s talk, okay?”
    There’s a long pause on the other end, followed by a raspy sigh. “Not right now, but…soon. I should— I gotta go.”
    “Dad—”
    The click on the line tells me he’s already hung up. Shit. I drop down to sit on the brick wall and rest my hands in my lap. How is it one part of my life is finally getting under control and the other part starts spiraling like crazy? How do I deal?
    It’s hard to tuck all my rampant emotions back inside, to enter the bar and smile and pretend like everything is fine. At some point, I’ll pull Xander aside and tell him what’s going on. Between the two of us, we’ll work something out. And when my shift is over, I’ll reach out to my best friend, whose comforting arms are all I can think about right now.

Four

Cole
    M y feet are sore as fuck. Funny how even six months out from service, I’ve gotten used to not standing for hours on end. Working the bar is bringing all that back.
    I sigh and kick my bare feet on the plush leather ottoman, flex my stiff toes and my aching arches. It was a long fucking day, and I’m whupped. I just need to close my eyes for a moment and try to shut out the sound of Dad’s voice from our earlier conversation, which won’t stop echoing in my head.
    Should I be doing more to find him? The answer comes to me instantly—yes. This sitting-here-and-doing-nothing bullshit is frustrating. I have an old buddy from the service who lives in New England and could help me track Dad. Plus, Xander seems as concerned as I do; given how he usually doesn’t get overdramatic, the fear in his voice about Dad’s behavior hit me hard. I didn’t bring up the idea