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The Brothers I Choose

By JD Hurst

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Chapter One
Ten Years Later
Brid was covered in sweat and dirt. The smell of gunpowder lingered in her nostrils as the UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter lifted off the ground and beelined for the Forward Operating Base. The team had been successful in their mission, but it had been a long and brutal battle, lasting most of the night. She was exhausted and desperately in need of a shower, but she was also proud of her team who had been steadfast and meticulously dedicated to emerging the victors. She looked around at the mostly sleeping team. She nodded in satisfaction, noting that none seemed injured beyond scrapes and bruises, and leaned her head back against the wall of the helo, the whump of the rotors overhead a comforting reassurance. She couldn’t let herself sleep though. Not until she’d seen her team safely returned to the FOB. Never let your guard down. That was the quickest way to get dead.
Brid turned and scanned the rapidly disappearing landscape below as the helo slowed in approach to land. The FOB appeared on the horizon, and she could see that it was bustling with activity even from a distance. She hoped that the United Service Organizations celebrity tour that had been inbound the day before when her team departed for their mission, had wrapped up their tour and moved on to their next destination. She had little patience for the hoopla that surrounded these tours, though she knew that the brief respite they offered to the deployed troops, was much needed by most of the inhabitants of FOBs and overseas bases. But as the helo hovered over the landing pad, she was surprised to see her boss, Colonel Fete, waiting for them with a very tall, broad shouldered and oddly familiar civilian standing next to him.
Her team had sprung awake when the helo slowed and as soon as the helo’s wheels touched the pad, they immediately spilled out, anxious to debrief and hit the showers, soon thereafter followed by racking out in their tent. Brid was the last to exit, having watched each of her teammates stop to say a few words to the boss and shake the hand of the man standing next to him. Charlie Edwards had bear-hugged the giant man. She approached reluctantly, though she recognized that the colonel was waiting for her. And she knew the civilian standing next to him. Callan. She stifled a groan even though no one could hear her over the helo’s noisy arrival. Though they had tried to stay in contact after college graduation, they had both been quickly overcome by the insane pace of their individual lives and hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in 8 years or so. Honestly, it had just been easier to let him go than continue trying to pretend that she saw him as one of her adopted brothers. That hadn’t stopped Brid from watching his professional football games though. She also snuck peeks at social media and press coverage of his activities on and off the field. She would never have admitted that out loud though.
“Lieutenant Colonel Faison!” COL Fete boomed as she stopped in front of him. “Congratulations on the successful mission.” He grinned.
Brid quirked a questioning look at him. In her Special Forces world, they all tended to call each other by their first names. The intensity of the often-clandestine missions they ran demanded that they adopt a more relaxed approach to their interactions with each other as a way to balance themselves. She couldn’t remember the last time her boss had addressed her by rank and last name. She reached to shake his outstretched hand, trying not to notice the hope and delight on Callan’s face.
“Sir. Thank you. It was a hard-won victory, but as usual, my team prevailed.” She stated matter-of-factly.
“Mr. Callan O’Donnell of professional American football asked for the opportunity to meet the team, though he and his USO tour were scheduled to leave last night.” COL Fete explained the presence of the civilian, who was decidedly out of place in the dusty and rugged environment of the tent city that composed the remote military outpost in the mountains of Afghanistan.
Brid turned stiffly toward her old friend, stifling the urge to throw her arms around him. “Mr. O’Donnell. Good to see you again.” She held out her hand and couldn’t stop the flashback to that long ago day in high school when she’d first met him.
Callan blinked, taken aback. His arms twitched at his sides as if he too were struggling not to engulf her in that hug that she’d loved so much when they were in college.
“LTC Faison. It’s been too long.” He seemed to settle on safely responding as formally as she’d spoken to him as he accepted her handshake. He was unsuccessful in hiding the gentle smile in his eyes.
Oh, those eyes! Those bluer than blue eyes that had tested Brid’s resolve to keep herself in the friend zone, every time she had looked into them. Electricity zinged between them as their palms touched and Brid nearly tripped over air as she dropped his hand and scrambled back to put distance between them.
“Again?” COL Fete questioned as his eyes darted back and forth between them.
“Sir, we’re old friends. We played football together at the Academy.” Brid smiled sagely.
“I shouldn’t be surprised, Brid. You’ve never been one to bend to the rules of society.” COL Fete laughed.
Callan visibly relaxed and laughed his agreement.
“Brid, let’s get that debrief knocked out so you can give Mr. O’Donnell the grand tour.” COL Fete said as he turned toward the tactical operations center.
He and Callan moved, but Brid stood rooted to the spot. Normally, Brid would never be tempted to question her boss, but she had to physically bite her tongue to keep from demanding why it had to be her to act as tour guide. She already knew the answer. Callan had likely requested her when he’d found out she was based at this FOB. That or COL Fete remembered her clearly stating during her last evaluation session that she intended to attain the rank of general and he had decided to start grooming her for the promotion immediately. Brid stifled another groan. Just her luck. She knew generals had to play nice with all sorts of important people, regardless of how they personally felt about a person, but she was too tired to start the long process today. The men continued on without noticing her hesitation, so she dragged herself after them, desperately trying to formulate an escape plan as she trudged over the uneven terrain. Which was ridiculous. She knew she wouldn’t turn away from this new assignment her boss had given her, regardless of the unusual nature of the “mission”. Besides, it was Callan. It would be good to catch up. Wouldn’t it?
Thirty minutes later, debrief complete, Brid found herself sitting across from Callan in the busy chow tent. Her team had smirked at her and slipped away to their tent for that hard-earned and much needed sleep. She was jealous. And uncomfortable, trying to eat with Callan watching her every movement. She paused with her fork midway to her mouth and glared up at him, not even trying to hide her annoyance.
“What?” She demanded with her mouth full of biscuit.
He grinned at her. Jerk. She scowled back.
“You must be hungry.” He motioned to her nearly empty plate, suppressing a laugh.
She looked down at the rapidly disappearing eggs, bacon, and cheese smothered gravy in front of her. She noted that Callan’s plate was still more than half full. She had always burned calories at a furious rate which could probably be attributed to her state of constant motion and a physical training regimen that made most men tap out. She wouldn’t start feeling bad about her swift consumption of large quantities of energy providing food just because some pro athlete commented on her process.
“It costs a lot of energy to win a firefight.” She stated with a shrug and maybe a bit too hard of an edge to her voice. She couldn’t deny that there was a note of accusation and challenge there too. She was mad at him for using his celebrity status to ask for special favors. She was mad at her boss for giving in. And she was mad because she was tired and needed sleep. But she was even more mad at herself for being delighted, even if secretly, that Callan had been looking for her and gone to some lengths to make sure he got to spend some time with her.
He ducked his head, acknowledging everything she hadn’t said. He picked up his fork and dove into his omelet, picking up the pace in an obvious effort to catch up to her. Good. She would get up and leave him sitting there if he wasn’t done when she was. She shoveled faster. They had always competed. Some things never changed.
A minute later, she pushed back from the table and stood with her tray in hand. Callan jumped up and copied her movements, instinctively knowing he would be left behind if he didn’t move out with her, though his half-eaten breakfast mocked him from the tray. She had to admire the way he held his head high anyway, despite the stares he got from the other diners as he scrambled after her. She hid a smile when he snagged his biscuit from the tray as he deposited it in the tray return window and stuffed half of it in his mouth. Impishly, she lengthened her stride, enjoying the sight of him trying to keep up with her while trying to chew the dry biscuit.
They rounded the chow tent, heading for the helo pad where COL Fete had arranged for them to catch a ride for an aerial tour of the area. It was quieter back here, away from everyone crowding in for breakfast and Brid realized too late that she had given them some privacy.
Callan reached out and tugged her to a stop immediately. Dangit. He’d always been in tune to their surroundings and never missed an opportunity. She didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to have a private conversation, but there she was, standing still, her chin tucked, and her eyes fixed on his obviously brand-new hiking boots that he must have bought for this tour through rugged environments.
“Why are you mad at me, Brid?” He asked gently without letting go of her arm.
Her eyes snapped up to his open and searching gaze. She was mad and she couldn’t, didn’t want to hide it. But standing there looking into those unshuttered azure eyes, the years between their last contact faded away and she wanted to forget the hurt of being forgotten by him and simply lean into that hug that she’d been longing for and slide right back into their familiar friendship without addressing the elephant in the room. But that wasn’t her style. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
“Because you forgot me.” She flinched when the truth dropped unabashedly out of her mouth.
Callan’s mouth opened in shock and dismay, but nothing came out. He started to shake his head in denial, but Brid wasn’t going to stand here and listen to him lie to her.
“I’m tired, Callan.” She turned to go. “It wasn’t very nice of you to request me as your tour guide when you knew I’d been out, fighting, all night.” She strode away.
Callan caught her arm again and tugged. She continued walking, not looking at him, but he dug in his heels and pulled her to a stop. A self-defense tactic flitted across her mind, but as mad as she was pretending to be at him, she didn’t want to hurt him.
“Brid, I never forgot you. I think about you every single day. I could never forget you and the impact you’ve had on my life.” His voice was quiet but filled with the truth.
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Then why did you stop writing to me? Why didn’t you ever reach out?” She felt like a petulant child asking the question when she knew she was just as guilty in severing the connection with the most important person in her life. She’d told herself lies about being busy, being in places without internet, being unable to tell him much about what she was doing, but in the end, they were lies. If she had wanted to badly enough, she would have been able to stay in touch. But then, so would he.
He drew a breath, and she glanced up at him. She could see him weighing his words, trying to decide if he should be honest or sugarcoat his answer. Irritation flashed through her.
“Don’t you dare give me your interview answers, Callan. This is me. There is way too much history with us for you to show me your pretty boy face.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and she squinted her best interrogation look at him.
He flashed that adorable boyish grin at her, and she had to fight to keep from smiling back. He must know the power that grin had over her. He’d always used it to deflect an argument or get his way.
“You think I’m pretty?” He asked mischievously.
Oh, how she wanted to let it go and slip into the playful banter they’d always shared. She pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow instead.
He sobered and heaved a sigh. “I wrote for a while…I didn’t know what to say anymore. You could read about me online if you wanted to…and I knew I couldn’t ask you anything about your life…I have about fifteen emails to you in my drafts…I just stopped hitting send…I’m an idiot…” He trailed off uncertainly.
It was a weak excuse and they both knew it. But it was true.
“I have sixteen.” She slid him a sly look.
He cocked his head quizzically for a moment then laughed. She chuckled.
“I’m sorry, Cal. I’ve been a bear this morning.” She paused, looking up at him dubiously. “And I’m sorry for losing contact with you. You’re right. I could’ve tried harder…I shouldn’t have taken the easy way…”
He shook his head. “You always were quick to man up and take responsibility. We never had a chance to learn how to apologize for our mistakes.” He shot her a shrewd look.
She was immediately uncomfortable, so she turned to continue their trek to the waiting helo. He stopped her again. He really had to stop touching her. It was distracting and she had never been able to afford distraction.
“Brid,” he ducked into her vision. “I’m incredibly sorry that I let you go without a fight.” His jaw clenched.
Her heart fluttered. What? He let her go. Had he been holding onto her as they grew up? Why hadn’t she known? Known what? That he liked having her as a friend? Good grief. She really needed to get out more. And she really needed to cease her lifelong fixation on this man. Her friend. Her best friend. Stop. Get back to work.
She shook her head. “Equally to blame, I guess. Truce.” She patted the tanned hand with the impossibly long fingers that rested on her forearm. He smiled softly and she nearly melted into the dirt at his feet.
“We need to get to that helo, or we won’t be able to take the tour today.” She grunted as she turned away. She couldn’t stop the flood of disappointment when he dropped his hand and fell into step with her.
*************************************************************************************
Brid introduced Callan to the pilot and the crew chief as they stood by the helo and waited patiently while everyone had their picture taken with him and got autographs. Fifteen minutes later, they were airborne, and she was pointing out interest spots through the headsets that they both wore. As the FOB they had departed from was on the edge of a hostile zone and a small city that tolerated the Americans fairly well, they were limited to a narrow stretch of airspace.
“What’s over there?” Callan asked, pointing out the window to a ridgeline of the high desert mountains that rimmed the valley that the FOB and city were in.
Of course, he’d noticed that they were flying back the same route that they’d flown over the valley floor. She tried to hide the automatic stiffening of her spine, but he saw that too. He sat back against the seat and shot an apologetic look her way.
“That’s…” She couldn’t say much but she wanted to answer his question even if only vaguely. “…my…’office’.” She grimaced.
“Sorry. I know better than to ask questions about things out here that haven’t been voluntarily offered as a topic of conversation.” He dipped his chin in chagrin.
She tilted her head questioningly. “How’s that?”
“That I know better? I attended a military school too ya know.” He cocked a half-grin.
She smiled skeptically.
“I’m actually still in the Reserves.” He admitted, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. She probably knew that. She had a way of knowing everything. He was the one who knew very little about her life. It probably seemed silly to this battle-hardened warrior who had been in combat just a few hours ago for him to be touting his service in the Reserves.
She looked a little wounded at his attitude. He didn’t understand how he could have offended her.
“Why do you seem ashamed of that?” She asked directly.
She never had pulled any punches, always cutting right to the chase, and demanding that he who was so unlucky to be a target of her questioning, answer just as honestly.
“I just feel silly pointing out that I play Army on the weekends, when my pro football career will allow it, while you’re out here every day fighting terrorism in a tangible way.” He shrugged and looked back at the distant mountains.
She followed his gaze and was quiet for a moment. She cleared her throat, and he looked back to her only to find her still staring out the window. He glanced at his clasped hands. Her slender, tanned, and calloused hands slid over his, spreading warmth through to his core.
“Hey. Full-time service isn’t for everyone. You are still serving, though I’m sure you don’t have to, and I’d bet your coaches are none too happy about the potential for injury when you’re on duty. You would be a fool to throw away your professional career to be a soldier full-time. You have a gift; Cal and the world would be a sadder place if we didn’t get to watch you tear up the football field.” She smiled proudly at him.
His chest swelled. He’d been applauded and lauded for more than a decade for his skills, but none had meant so much to him as her gentle encouragement. It struck him how wrong it had been that she’d been cast off by pro football all those years ago.
“You had the gift too. You were a better player than I ever could hope to be.” He accused.
She was shaking her head before he’d finished. “This is my gift.” She motioned out the window. “I was built for exactly this. I am exactly where I am supposed to be.” She said with solid conviction. “I’m glad that football ignored me. I cannot fathom doing anything but this, standing with my brothers, making sure they all get home alive.”
He stared at her in awe. He had known in high school that she was very different from the other girls. Actually, from every other human he’d ever met, but in his youthful ignorance, he had not been able to see the depth of her love and dedication to the team. He had not known the lengths she would go to ensure that the family she collected and surrounded herself with, remained healthy and happy. The long-ago conversation they’d had in college echoed through his thoughts.
“I can never beat you at anything, Brid.” Callan had playfully whined after another second-place finish to her in the 40-yard sprint. She barely looked winded as she grinned at him with her hands on her hips.
“Of course! You’ve known that since day one.” She smirked.
“Ha ha…” he pretended to scowl. “Seriously, though. I couldn’t even beat you to school. I had my dad drop me off a couple times on his way to PT and you were already there before 0600. Did you ever sleep in high school?” He groused as they headed for the locker room. The rest of the team had left the field ahead of them.
Brid had gone quiet, and her steps slowed. Callan subconsciously matched his pace to hers.
“That’s because I cheated.” She said softly.
What? There was no way. She was the most honorable and upstanding of them all.
“How do you cheat at getting to school first?” He laughed uncomfortably.
“I lived there, Cal.” She stated simply.
“What do you mean you lived there? Because we spent so much time there or…” He didn’t understand what she was saying.
“I was in foster care and the foster dad was…uh…” She swallowed hard and looked away. “Well, anyway, when freshman year started, I signed up for a sports team so I would have an excuse to be in the locker room and broke into an abandoned storage closet. The shelter downtown gave out free blankets and pillows, so I got those and made a little bedroom for myself at school. I learned how to avoid the staff, used the locker room for hygiene and ate 2 meals a day in the school cafeteria.” She shrugged. “I lived there. My foster mom didn’t care, she never came looking for me. So, technically I cheated.” She gave him a lopsided grin at the door of the women’s locker room.
Callan didn’t know what to say to that. He was horrified really, that she’d slept on the floor of a closet and only eaten 2 meals a day. And he was angry at her foster mom for not caring. He remembered that there had been no family for her in the audience at graduation but none of them had paid much attention to that since the entire team had yelled their heads off when her name had been called for her diploma. She had beamed at them so brightly from the stage, the room had seemed lighter and happier. He was disgusted with himself for not knowing anything about her away from the football field and classes.
“Not fair!” He offered a weak protest. He felt like a coward for shying away from the heart of what she’d actually said. “So, how are you cheating on the sprints now?”
She quirked a wry smile at him, knowing he was dodging the serious subject and opting to let him slide as she always did.
“I don’t have to cheat anymore. You’re getting slow and fat, that’s all.” She smacked his washboard abs playfully and sauntered through the door.
Later, they stood together in the cafeteria line with Charlie and Frank jockeying for attention with their funny stories. When Charlie grabbed Frank in a headlock and a small wrestling match broke out, Callan leaned close to Brid’s ear, trying to ignore her scrubbed clean scent, and whispered “I’m sorry you didn’t have anyone in high school, Brid.”
She’d looked up at his doleful expression and smiled brightly. “I had y’all, Cal. That was all I ever needed.”
She’d tried to tell him just how much everyone on the team meant to her, but he’d been too full of himself to fully grasp just how bare she’d lain herself in front of him. Looking at her now, he could appreciate the dauntless loyalty and magnanimous protectiveness that defined her.
Now, here she was sitting tall and straight in the troop seat across from him, calmly explaining to him how daily entanglements with deadly situations was what she was supposed to be doing, continuing the legacy of standing with her adopted brothers that she’d decided to do so long ago. She smiled serenely at him, and he had to force himself not to shake his head in wonder.
“Ma’am, we’ve been spotted. They’re firing!” The pilot’s voice crackled over the headset.
Brid instantly snapped into battle mode and Callan could only stare at her face that showed no sign of fear.
“Evasive maneuvers, Scott.” She said firmly as she reached over and tightened Callan’s flight harness. She sat back and pressed her spine against the seatback, so he did the same. Her hands clasped loosely in front of her, expectancy on her face. The air inside the chopper stilled for a split second then the helo plummeted into a roll to the starboard side. Callan’s stomach lurched into his throat as his body slammed against the harness and his pulse throbbed at his temples. Brid smiled reassuringly, still relatively relaxed. Admiration centered his gaze on her, and he let himself trust that this was no big deal. He heard the rocket scream past, much too close for comfort, despite the roar of the rotors. No big deal. No worries. Just keep your focus on Brid. Everything is fine. All good. The helo tipped almost straight up into a steep climb and Callan ordered himself not to pass out. Or puke. Neither would be acceptable with those kaleidoscope hazel eyes fixed discerningly on him. He tried to unclench his fists, but he may as well have been trying to pry open a locked jail cell.
“Give her some gas, Scott. Let’s go.” Brid’s voice was steady, but she had seen Callan’s lack of decorum and was trying to alleviate his stress. “Go ahead and divert to the airport. It’s not safe to head back to the FOB right now.” She added.
He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this shook up. He felt the helo pick up speed and a moment later they leveled out, thousands of feet higher than they’d been cruising during the tour and hopefully out of reach of the enemy’s handheld rocket launchers. He could hear the pilot talking to the air traffic control tower at the airport that Callan and the USO tour had flown into only the day before. A tension headache pounded at the inside of his skull. Brid patted his hand, and he instinctively flipped it over to press his palm to hers, wrapping his fingers around hers tightly. He already hated flying, even after 10 years of constant travel from one football stadium to the next, but now his negative feelings had just jumped to an entirely different level.
Brid regarded him solemnly but didn’t pull her hand away. Maybe flying wasn’t so bad after all. He’d have to find a way to get Brid to come on all his flights from now on.
“You act like this happens all the time.” He said hoarsely around a thick tongue.
She gave him that quick and open smile that’d he’d come to think of as her trademark and that he’d missed profoundly in the last decade. Seeing her smile was like a soothing balm to an open wound.
“It’s not uncommon.” She answered sagely. “We have the best pilots though. They always come through.”
Major Scott grunted his agreement over the headset and Callan wished he could laugh. He could barely breathe, so laughing was probably out of the equation at this point.
Twenty minutes later, the helo fluttered out of the sky to touch down gently on the tarmac at the airport, as if they’d not just evaded a rocket that had been meant to blow them into bits. Callan was thankful that their landing had been anticlimactic. He was still trying to regain his equilibrium. He fumbled clumsily with the harness, anxious to not only get out of this aircraft, but leave Afghanistan behind as well.
Brid gently pushed his hands out of the way and unbuckled the harness. Her fingers were warm and sent a tingle through him. Had she always been so touchy feely? Or had he never noticed before how lovely her touch was? He’d been every kind of fool than. She had been right there at his fingertips for 5 years. He’d relished being in her presence, but he’d taken it for granted too. He would never have believed it if someone had told them that they would go nearly a decade without seeing each other, much less speaking to each other. How had he gone so long without hearing from her? He’d talked to her multiple times a day in school and often late into the night. They had been so close! How had they drifted so far apart? Okay, that rocket scare had clearly scrambled his brains. She was a professional soldier who knew how to work the equipment and operate in the environment they were in. She was simply trying to help a clueless celebrity get free of the complicated equipment. That was all.
Brid hopped out of the chopper and stood waiting for him to join her on the tarmac. MAJ Scott and his crew remained onboard, the rotors thundering overhead. It would seem that the incident in the sky had created a new mission for the soldiers waiting for him to disembark and they were anxious to get to it. He tumbled out of the seat and nearly landed in a heap at Brid’s feet, but she snagged his arm and somehow managed to make it look like he’d been ducking under the rotor wash and moving toward the small jet that waited across the tarmac. Man, she was good!
She stopped at the foot of the small jetway stairs, and he turned to face her, dreading the goodbye he could see in her eyes. Now he didn’t want to leave Afghanistan. More importantly, didn’t want to part ways with Brid again.
“Hey, let’s not make it another 8 years, okay?” She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. Oh man. He really loved it when she looked at him like that.
A lump formed in his throat, so he just nodded numbly.
Brid reached for him with both arms open and he practically fell into them, wrapping his own around her tightly and entertaining the notion of not letting her go, rather wrangling her onto the plane and making her go back to the States with him. Yeah, right. As if he could make her do anything she didn’t want to do, and he knew she would never abandon her team, even if she could.
Brid pulled back far too soon. But she didn’t release him either, so he stood in the circle of her arms and tried to formulate his racing thoughts into intelligible words. And then, Brid pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips against his. His mind blanked and his only thought was that she’d never kissed him before. And he wondered why not, because everything else faded away when she did. The roar of the waiting helo that would take her away from him, the jet crew waiting patiently for him to board the plane, the heat radiating up from the pavement beneath his feet. She pulled away with an impish grin, tucked something into the pocket of his shirt, turned and sprinted to the chopper. He wanted to scream in protest. He took a step towards the chopper even as it lifted off the ground. “Brid!” he yelled.
She smiled, waving out the window. She mimed ‘Call me’ and he felt his head nodding without any prompting from him. The helo tilted and zoomed away.
He stood staring until he couldn’t see the chopper anymore. Then he stared a little longer. Brid had kissed him. He had never seen her kiss anyone, much less been kissed by her. His hand drifted to his pocket, and he pulled out the card she’d patted against his chest. The Special Forces patch was boldly centered on the business card and Brid’s contact information was neatly aligned in the lower lefthand corner. Phone and email. There was no doubt in his mind that he would not waste this information this time. She would get tired of hearing from him, he would use it so often. He would not lose contact with her ever again.
Brid kept her gaze fixed out the window, seeing nothing but the shocked look on Callan’s face when she’d kissed him. Why had she done that? That had never been a part of their relationship, though not for a lack of wishing on her part. She had known the parameters of their relationship and had never crossed the invisible line between them. Until now. She’d pretty much obliterated that cursed line with that one brash move. The familiar litany of reasons she shouldn’t have done that crowded in. She’d ruined their friendship. What friendship? They hadn’t spoken in eight long years. She’d lost him. She had never had him to lose, so there was that. The ridgeline that the rocket had come from came into view and she noticed that MAJ Scott had dropped down to barely skimming over the rooftops of the buildings below. She sat back and chanced a glance toward the cockpit. Not a single member of the 3-man aircrew had said a word to her when she’d jumped back onboard and even now, they were all eyes front and seemed to be sitting in shocked silence. The thought that she’d done something wrong niggled again. No one on any of her teams throughout her career had ever seen her as anything other than a consummate professional soldier. She was the leader of every team she landed on. They probably all thought she was a robot soldier, rather than the very real flesh and blood woman that she’d just shown herself to be. She flushed. This was foreign territory for her. Why had she done that? She wasn’t impulsive and she had never been inclined to “fan-girl” over any celebrity, much less Callan. She didn’t see him as the superstar athlete, but rather the classmate who had smash study sessions with her, the competitor that always pushed her to be better, the young man who had always had her back. He was Callan O’Donnell, teammate, and friend, not the most eligible bachelor in D.C. or the athletic shoe endorser that the world saw him as. And of course, the boy who had won her heart without trying, but she had never admitted that to anyone, maybe not even to herself. Until now. Suddenly, she knew why she’d allowed herself to act on the overwhelming urge to kiss the only man who had ever had a place in her heart that was different from her teams, her brothers. Because the last 10 years had taught her a thousand more things than she’d known before she’d left school. Not all of them were good things, but not all bad either. But above all else, she’d learned just how fragile humans were and just how quickly a life could be snuffed out without ever having been lived. Life was too short to ignore a second chance when it came along. She’d played it safe all through high school and college, determined to make something of herself and overcome her heritage, refusing to make a single mistake that might send her down the same path her parents had taken. Well, check that off the list. She had a meaningful career and had dedicated herself to building a family to love and nourish. She could stop being afraid that she would end up like her mother and father. She had to acknowledge that fear was too exhausting and required too much time and energy. She didn’t have the patience for it anymore. If God had crossed her path with Callan’s once again, she would seize the opportunity to at the very least, reconnect and rekindle their friendship. And if God had seen fit to bring Callan back into her life, she’d be nothing but grateful and hope that it meant she was now ready to receive the gift of love. She ignored the inclination to hold her breath, hoping that Callan might be the one who had love to give her. She had to have faith that God had not taken her love for Callan away after all these years of praying for that very thing, because He had always intended for them to be together. She would not hold her breath, but rather, ask him outright if he ever reached out to her.
Brid squirmed in her seat. She had a lot of audacity to read all of this into Callan staying behind at the FOB when the USO tour left. She wanted to chide herself for zeroing in on the most difficult, maybe even impossible scenario for the future, but she had always lived wide open, decisively walking into each new opportunity that came her way without ever looking back. Her past before high school was one that she fought to forget, choosing to focus on today instead. Her past since graduating from college had been harrowing and heartbreaking often, but thankfully in a different way than her childhood. She and her team, her brothers, had survived the night before and now she had today. And she had finally kissed Callan O’Donnell, her heart’s desire.
Even as the helo landed at the FOB and she watched her team, combat loaded, scrambling toward the pad, ready to head out on the follow-on mission caused by the rocket attack, she determined to look forward to tomorrow. Exhausted as she was, having not slept in 36 hours and not likely to sleep anytime soon, she couldn’t wait to get to a computer and check her email. She would hold out hope that Callan’s nodding head on the tarmac was a promise that he would reach out, that he would reconnect the tie that bound them.
The plane had barely taken off before Callan pulled out his phone and opened his email app. It felt foreign to him. He’d hired a personal assistant, years ago, and rarely looked at an email himself. Now, he struggled to work the tiny keyboard with his too-big thumbs, but he didn’t care. This would be the perfect way to ignore his fear of flying and pretend like he was still holding Brid’s hand. He typed in her email address and stared at the subject line. How should he title this? He couldn’t think of anything other than that all-too brief kiss, so he tapped “You KISSED Me!” and chuckled. He and Brid had always been honest with each other so why change tactics now?
“Brid,
I feel like I should start this with ‘It was so good to see you, I’m sorry we haven’t spoken in so long…’ but I really can’t think of anything besides that kiss goodbye. You KISSED me! I’m not upset at all…I’m happy about it! Well, I am upset about two things: It took you way too long to do that and it didn’t last long enough. ????”
He paused and smiled to himself. Hesitation filtered through him though as he corrected his spelling errors where he had fat-fingered the wrong letter. He should probably rewrite this. Give her an out if he had misunderstood her shocking kiss. He lifted his chin. Nope. He was not going to chicken out. Brid had been brave enough to scale that wall of friendship that had stood between them since day one, so he would be brave enough to acknowledge the moment and step into the future with whatever she could give him. Hopefully, it would be her heart.
“I’m so glad I got to see you. I really hope I get to see you again soon. Training camp starts in a few weeks, so I’ll be busy for the rest of the year and won’t be able to get away, but if you find yourself in the D.C. area when we’re in town, please let me know! I’d love to have dinner with you, though it might be a really late dinner after a game. Or we could do breakfast…whatever works for your schedule. I just want to see you again as soon as possible.”
He didn’t really know what else to say though he was loathe to close the connection with her, tentative and retroactive as it was.
“Anyway, thanks so much for giving me your email address! I don’t know when you’ll get this, but I’m going to write often, and I’ll text too even though I don’t know if your cell works over there. I’ll hope to hear from you whenever you get the chance to write back. I know you’re not often near a computer, so I’ll try to be patient. ????”
He stared at the blinking cursor at the bottom of the email. How should he close this? “Your friend?”, “Sincerely?”. No, that was dumb.
“Take care, Brid.
Love ya,
Cal”
They’d always said “Love ya” when they signed off with each other, so he would stick with that, though it felt a little like a copout when his heart was soaring off into the sunset with an entirely different definition of how he felt about her now. He paused again, his thumb hovering over the send button. If he sent this email as it was, it was a commitment on his part. Brid was not the kind of woman that a man could have a casual relationship with. Even their friendship had been intense, and he’d known she would always stand with him, never abandon him, never leave him dangling in the breeze. She’d been steady, reliable, dedicated. She’d always been the first one to show up when he needed someone, the last to leave at the end. If he sent this email, he was committing himself to be the same for her. Their schedules were just as insane as they’d been when they drifted apart. It would be incredibly difficult for them to find time to be together between her constant deployments and his football season and appearances at every celebrity event imaginable. Maybe he could bring her with him to some of those charity galas and celebrity sporting events. Probably not. She was one who made her living operating in the shadows. She wouldn’t be able to be on the grand stage of American society with him. Nothing had changed except everything had changed. He could date pretty much any woman he wanted to when he had the time, and it would be much easier to stick to the celebrity scene. Except he didn’t want to date any of those women anymore. He wanted to pull Brid close and snuggle down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a rented movie, like they had in college. Only then, he hadn’t had the courage to pull her close, though they’d often fell asleep on each other’s shoulders halfway through the movie. He could tailor his schedule to accommodate hers. It’d be nearly impossible, but he could do it. He would get his assistant on it right away. Stop going to the events where the cameras never stopped flashing and scale back to community involvement, endorsing charitable causes. He’d have to make sure that he only accepted invitations to events whose hosts would understand if he suddenly had to cancel so he could spend unexpected time with Brid. And he’d have to be secretive about his relationship with her. The press would have a fit. He grinned. He loved driving them nuts.
Well, it looked like he’d made his decision. He resolutely hit send on the email. He’d change everything about his life if it meant he could stand beside Brid whenever she had a moment to be still.
Three days later, Brid finally got a minute to sit down at a computer and log in to her email. She groaned inwardly when she saw that 547 emails awaited her attention but couldn’t stop herself from scanning for one standout email in particular. “You KISSED Me!” Leapt off the screen and stopped her racing heart. She didn’t recognize the email, but she had kissed exactly one person in the last several years, so she was pretty sure that the email wasn’t work related. She glanced over her shoulder before clicking on the only email that mattered to her at the moment. She was the only one in the computer lab, having opted to skip out on sleep again to ensure that she would have a little privacy when checking her email. She had tried to prepare herself for the possibility that Callan hadn’t written to her, but her heart had held out hope anyway. She was glad she didn’t have to figure out how to hide the keen disappointment she would have felt if her inbox had been devoid of the sweet little note she was now reading. She smiled when she saw that he dove right in, as she had expected he would. Neither one of them were very good dancers nor had they ever tap-danced around a touchy subject with each other. She remembered when he’d asked her about her ethnicity in their sophomore year of college.
“Brid, what race are you? I’ve been trying to figure it out for years. It kind of seems like God had extra parts left over from a bunch of races and mashed them all together and made you.” He cocked a half-grin at her, not even having the grace to be abashed at broaching what might be a sensitive subject with anyone else.
She laughed out right. She’d always loved the way he refused to censure himself. He wanted to know, so he asked the question. He arched a brow at her, demanding an answer instead of laughter. She sucked her cheeks in to squelch her mirth.
“Well, as near as I can figure, my dad was half black and half oriental and my mom was half Hispanic and half white, so I guess you pretty much nailed it.” She grinned at him. “I’m a bona fide American mutt.”
He had just let his gaze rove over her face thoughtfully, which did make her uncomfortable. She reached for a joke to break the awkward silence. “Do you need me to take a DNA test?” She tried to chuckle, but it came out flat.
“It looks pretty cool on you though.” He finally grunted.
She fell silent. He’d always been quick to tell her that she’d done a good job on the football field or in a military training exercise that she led but had never offered any comment one way or the other on her appearance. She was appalled that a simple, off-handed “compliment” from him had been able to stop her completely in her tracks and make her feel tingly all over. For the life of her, she could not come up with a witty comeback to make light of his out-of-character approval of how she looked.
“You said ‘was’ about both your parents. Is that why you were in foster care? Did they die?” His voice was low, as if he didn’t want to chance anyone overhearing their conversation.
She swallowed hard. She hated talking about them, about her childhood, about the things that drove her to seek perfection and control of herself, her situation. But she wouldn’t hold back now. This was Cal. He’d never repeated anything she’d told him in confidence and never picked on her about any secrets she may have told him. Which weren’t that many, but she had confided in him once or twice. And she’d just been appreciating his directness so she couldn’t very well complain about it now.
“They did. They both OD’d when I was six. In foster care until I moved into the school.” She grunted begrudgingly.
He looked taken aback at her curt response. “Hit a nerve?” He squinted one eye at her, chagrin pulling his lips into a taut line.
She dropped her chin to her chest and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Let’s just say I’m never having kids. Their legacy stops right here.” She pointed to herself, tasting the bitterness of her words on her tongue. An involuntary shudder shook her.
His eyes widened in dismay and her heart sunk. Dealbreaker before they ever had a chance to try. She wanted to take the words back but knew she couldn’t. She would never bring children into this world. Never.
“I want kids someday. Not any time soon of course, but I want to be a dad.” He tried to steer away from the heavy subject of her parents, but little did he know he only dropped her further into despair.
She had begged off another round of pool shortly thereafter and ran back to her dorm room to pretend to sleep, though sleep did not find her that night and many others when she thought of his response.
She paused, her fingers on the keyboard, ready to craft a response to Callan’s email. She knew from watching his career unfold online that he was still all about football. Okay, she might even stalk him a little bit on social media which is where she found pertinent details like his confirmed bachelor status. But he had emailed her, and they both knew that between her kiss and him reconnecting them electronically, he might be making a relationship status update soon. Was it at all fair to him to ask him to try and match schedules up when they could and build a very different relationship with her when he would not get to be a dad if they went the distance with each other? Was she walking him into eventual heartache by taking this step toward him? Her hands dropped off the keyboard. Maybe she shouldn’t respond. It was so selfish of her, longing to reach for him, pull alongside him and yet not be able to give him the one thing he’d said he wanted. She could only give him herself. How could that be enough for a man who had a wonderful relationship with his dad and wanted the opportunity to have the same with his own child? She should probably just walk away now. Her stance on kids was non-negotiable. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. And she didn’t want to. She was career Army. She intended to reach 4-star general if her body held out long enough and that too was non-negotiable. She had dated a few men here and there, but never for very long. Most couldn’t keep up with her drive to succeed and none of them wanted a part-time girlfriend who loved her job and her teammates far more than she ever could them. And who was steadfastly in love with her high school best friend. Of course, she never told them that. She never told anyone that, much less the rare first date. She started to push away from the computer, reaching for her access card in the reader but froze. That would be the coward’s way out – run away before they even tried. Save herself the pain of rejection when Callan found out she physically couldn’t have children and wouldn’t entertain the thought of adopting. No, she wouldn’t about face because the odds were stacked against them, and it would be difficult to build a relationship. She sank back into the chair and her hands plunked back onto the keyboard. Her life especially, was much too short to chicken out. She would reach for him, have that tough conversation, and let him have the opportunity to choose. It was not her job to make decisions for him.
“Cal,
I did kiss you and you’re right. It took me way too long to do that. I liked it! Maybe we could look into that happening again someday soon. I’m happy to let you take me to dinner, breakfast, lunch, coffee…whatever. But you’re paying, Mr. Big Bucks ????”.
She smiled. They’d had an ongoing competition in school, trying to get the other to pay for their meal. Cal would know that she wasn’t trying to exploit his decidedly heavier bank account than her own. She made a very healthy living as an officer in the military, halfway through the rank structure and completely debtless, with no financial responsibility to anyone besides herself. She shared an apartment with another female officer downtown back in the States but not because she needed help with the rent. She needed someone to keep her two houseplants alive when she was gone, which was all the time and her roommate, a junior officer just starting her career did need help with the rent. It was a great arrangement that worked well for them. Especially since their paths rarely crossed.
“You know I don’t take this lightly, Cal. I’m not playing games. We’ll need to have a very real conversation whenever we get a chance to connect. I hope that’s soon. We may be rotating back in the near future. Charlie and Megan are having a baby soon, so I’m trying to get another team to come out and cover down for a while. We’ve been out for a bit and it’s time for us to head to the house for a few.
I’ll study your game schedule and try to make it to one this year.
Kick butt and take names!
Love ya,
Brid”
She frowned at the copied sign off. She wanted to spell it all out, not just toss his same farewell back at him, but she forced herself to ease into this. No sense in sending the poor guy running, screaming in terror. Hopefully, she would get the chance to tell him what she’d been biting back for more than a decade.

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