Rewriting Yesterday Page 5

  The waitress approaches the table, so we spend a couple of minutes placing our orders. As she leaves, Caleb reaches over and takes my hand again but this time he gently holds it, rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb.

  "Do I make you uncomfortable, Frankie?" he asks whilst continuing to draw the maddening circles. I squeeze my legs together and try to stop myself from thinking about what his hands would feel like somewhere else on my body. I’m very aware of the three of them looking at me now. He watches me squirm, and I can tell by the gleam in his beautiful eyes that he is not sorry for making me nervous at all. In fact, he is enjoying this far too much, and it's that thought that clears the fog. I sit up tall, keeping eye contact, and just lay it out straight. I never was very good at playing games.

  "You make me feel a lot of things, Caleb, but I'm not sure that any of it's good. I think it's obvious I'm attracted to you. Show me a woman with a pulse who wouldn't be, but to be honest I'm not sure how I feel about it. Sure, you might look pretty on the outside, but all wrapping paper is designed to draw you in. It's what's inside that pretty packaging that matters. I have now met a couple of versions of you. The flirty, imposing figure before me and the remorseful gentleman from last night. Before that, I had the sneering ass from Gino’s and my personal favourite, the wanker version from your solicitor’s office. So, which one is the real you? I’ve got to be honest, it’s hard to keep up. I think you need to pick a theme and stick with it, because quite frankly, you are giving me emotional whiplash. Do I think there are redeeming parts to you? Absolutely, or I wouldn’t be sat here, but I can’t deny the part that’s screaming at me that you have an ulterior motive for inviting me here under the guise of saying sorry.”

  Interesting, now he looks uncomfortable. Is it because I called him out or is something else going on?

  "I was a dick yesterday, and although I’ve apologised, it warrants saying it again. I’m sorry about how I acted and the things I said. I lashed out, and you didn’t deserve to be the recipient of all that anger. Just give me a chance. I really do want to get to know you better and sort everything out without any animosity. You want that, don't you, sweetheart?"

  Half-truths. I'm not getting the full story here. I am good at reading people and I know for a fact he is hiding something. The question is what?

  "I am not your sweetheart, Caleb. You don’t know me well enough to call me pet names. It just makes you sound like a douche."

  I jump when Sam throws his head back and laughs.

  Do not drool. I repeat, do not drool.

  "Let's just enjoy our lunch, get to know each other a bit, and leave any discussions about money or my father for another time."

  So that's what we do, and they make it surprisingly easy, drawing me in with their attentiveness and relaxed demeanours to the point where I forget that anyone else around us exists. I look at Caleb and sigh. It is when he is like this that I can see elements of Joe shining through.

  * * *

  SAM

  The three of us track Frankie’s ass as she sashays out of the glass doors and heads off into the bright April afternoon sun. There is something about this girl that pulls me in, and it looks like I’m not the only one.

  “Damn, Caleb, I can almost understand your case of foot-in-mouth syndrome now. She is gorgeous,” Ryan tells him.

  “What do you think, Sam?”

  They are both watching me, waiting for a response, but what can I say? She is beautiful, that’s true, but there are shadows in her eyes. I want to wrap my arms around her and slay her demons, but at the same time, I feel like I should push her away, because this girl, well, she is dangerous with a capital D. She has the ability to bring a man to his knees, and it has nothing to do with her charm and grace. She is the kind of girl that men like me fight wars over, but I will be damned if I let her get between me and my brothers.

  “She seems nice.”

  They are quiet for a beat before Caleb bursts out laughing and Ryan starts ribbing me.

  “She seems nice? What the fuck, Sam? Are you ten years old? Jesus, I don’t know who I feel sorry for most—you or Caleb.”

  “Hey, dick!” Caleb punches him in the arm.

  “Knock it off. I need to know what we are going to do about her.”

  “I tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to get her number then take her out, and then I’m going to see if I can get a taste of those luscious…”

  “Shut up, Ryan,” I snap. I don’t know if I’m pissed off because he is running his mouth or because I’m picturing myself in his place.

  “She’s beautiful, I get it, but until I get some more information on her nobody is touching her. This is what we agreed to, so keep your dick in your pants and try to use your big head for a change.”

  “All right, no need to be so fucking touchy,” snaps Ryan.

  “What the hell is wrong with you both? Oh, shit! You like her, too. I mean, we all like her, obviously, but we all want her? How’s that going to work, draw straws?”

  “I swear to god, Ryan, if you keep talking I’m going to remove your teeth. Let's see how pretty she finds you then. We wait to see if I can dig up anything else on her and go from there. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” they echo.

  Chapter Six

  RYAN

  I walk into the soldier centre, as it's affectionately dubbed, knowing damn fine that Sam and Caleb would shit a brick if they knew that I was here. Well, tough. They might be happy to stick their heads in the sand, but I prefer to go after what I want.

  I slide off my shades and hook them into the front of my cleverly disguised as a responsible adult t-shirt while taking in my surroundings. White walls dotted with huge pieces of abstract artwork, and charcoal carpeting broken up by a ridiculously oversized leafy green plant in the corner make up what must be the reception area. A row of empty chairs to my right is sat perpendicular to a high glass desk, but the area is devoid of people.

  I can hear laughter and talking coming from down the hall, so I make my way towards the sound. The corridor is longer than I thought it would be, judging by the size of the building. Each side has multiple rooms, which I assume are treatment rooms and rooms for therapy sessions. The end of the hall gives way to a large gymnasium, where a group of people in the back are playing wheelchair basketball, and two men are working out on the gym equipment in one of the corners.

  Giggling draws my attention to my right, and that’s where I spot Frankie laughing with what I can only describe as a giant of a man. I can’t hear what he is saying to her, but whatever it is has Frankie doubled over, clutching her belly in hysterics. I feel like I should buy him something to say thank you when she doubles over again, showing me just what her mother gave her.

  She is wearing skin-tight black leggings that leave nothing to the imagination—not that it would matter, as I have an excellent imagination—and a multi-coloured racerback tank top that has me checking to make sure no one is watching me so that I can adjust myself.

  The beast spots me and nudges Frankie, indicating my direction. As soon as she sees me she smiles a wide genuine smile before heading my way.

  “Hi, Ryan. What brings you to my neck of the woods today?”

  “A bit of recon, actually.” It might not be the whole truth, but I don’t want to freak her out just yet. “A friend of mine was injured on his last tour. The vehicle he was in hit a mine and he was hurt during the explosion when a piece of metal got lodged in his back, causing a lot of damage. He has had multiple surgeries, and the doctors are positive that with the right physical therapy he could make a full recovery, but he is struggling at the minute. He doesn’t have any kind of support system where he is now, so we are looking to relocate him here.”

  “I will get Steve to take all of the details down, but I can’t see it being a problem. The trick is making sure we are a good fit for him. Do you have a copy of his medical file for the doctor to review?” I nod yes. “Excellent. Give everything you
have to Steve over there, and I will give you a call, okay?

  “Wait. I was wondering if you would like to grab a coffee or something.”

  Damn, did that sound as cliché as it did in my head?

  I look at her quirked lips. Yes, I guess it did.

  “I would but I’m about to head out and organise something for Jacob's birthday. It's in a few weeks so I need to get it sorted.”

  “Do you want some company?”

  She looks a little taken aback by my offer but gives me a little grin.

  “Sure, I would like that. I’m just going to get changed. If you want to give that stuff to Steve… and then I will meet you out front.”

  I’m lost in a daze of her ass in those leggings, or more precisely the thought of me sliding those leggings over her ass before I bend her over, when a deep voice jolts me back to the present.

  “Can I help you?” Christ, I thought Sam had a deep voice, but this guy could give Barry White a run for his money.

  I pull the flash drive with my friend’s information from my pocket and hand it over, noticing for the first time that this guy is an amputee, his left arm ending just above where his elbow should be.

  “Frankie told me to give this to you. It's my friend's medical and personal information. We are looking to relocate him, but he needs somewhere to attend therapy and physio sessions."

  “Amputee?” he asks.

  “No, spinal injury.”

  “Gotcha. I will get this to the doc, and if he gives it the okay, then we will sort the rest out for you and give you a call. You know Frankie?”

  “We've just met yesterday. A friend of mine, Caleb, introduced us.”

  His face shuts down at the mention of Caleb. Wow, my friend really knows how to make an impression.

  “I’m not sure what you want with her or what that prick's problem is but if either of you hurt her, I will show you how much damage a one-armed man can do, understand?”

  “No worries. She seems nice, that’s all. I’m not here for any nefarious reasons.”

  “Well, keep it that way.”

  He strolls over to the two men working out and I leave him to it as I head outside to wait for Frankie. Hopefully, she won’t take too long, because it’s hot as Hades out there.

  Surprisingly, she is already there when I make it outside. She has swapped her workout clothes for denim cut-offs and a t-shirt that reads ‘normal people scare me'. I can’t help the big grin that spreads across my face. This chick is something else, and totally on my wave length.

  “Nice shirt.” Her returning smile is just as big.

  “Do you want to take my truck? I can bring you back here when you’re ready, okay?”

  “If you're sure, then yes, that would be great.”

  I open the door for her and can’t resist slipping my hands around her waist and lifting her up into the cab. She gives a little squeal, which I ignore before shutting the door and climbing in my side.

  “Where to?”

  “There is an outdoor arena about ten miles from here that specialises in high wires, rope climbing and zip wires, that kind of thing. I thought he might like that.”

  “Sounds fun. It's cool that your boss lets you leave for things like this.” I shift into gear and pull out but look over at her when I realise that she has gone quiet. “Did I say something wrong?”

  * * *

  FRANKIE

  I squirm in my seat. It's not that I’m ashamed. Far from it. I’m incredibly proud of the centre and all the challenging work I have put into it. It’s just that it can change people’s perceptions of me.

  “I am the boss, Ryan. I thought you knew. Joe and I opened it about four years ago.”

  “Wow, I had no idea, Frankie. I mean, I knew you volunteered here but I had no idea that it was yours. That’s awesome. What made you guys decide to open a centre for vets?”

  “Before I began working here I used to volunteer at the homeless shelter over at Riverdale, and Steve used to come in for a hot meal. He had been living on the streets for about two years by then. He'd been injured in Afghanistan, and when he was discharged he struggled to adjust to life outside of the military. He had P.T.S.D., survivors’ guilt, and along with dealing with losing his arm, everyday was a struggle. He was always polite, but he was quiet, a loner, if you like. He threw out this major back-off vibe, and honestly, he was completely unapproachable.

  "One evening, a guy who was looking for his next fix tried to rob the shelter. I mean, who in their right mind tries to rob a homeless shelter? Anyway, this guy grabbed me and twisted my arm up my back. Next thing you know, I’m free. Steve had knocked this guy out with one punch and I hadn’t even seen him move. After that, we sat and spoke every time he came in, and we got close. He told me how he felt lost and less than a man. How he had always wanted to be a soldier, and now that it had been taken away from him he didn’t know where he fit in. I got talking to Joe about him, and he came to meet him. Joe pitched him his idea about a centre for soldiers who had been wounded or who were struggling to readjust, and it kind of took off from there. When we opened, Steve was the perfect man to be the face of it. He had walked in their shoes himself, and he was still here, fighting the good fight. It also served to give Steve a purpose. He said it felt like it gave him back his identity. That was when Joe started trying to reach out to Caleb."

  “Yeah, I’m not touching that topic, Frankie. That’s between you and Caleb.”

  I look up at him and nod. I get it. It wouldn’t be fair to put him in the middle of something like that.

  “This the place?”

  I look around at the thick trees and spot the sign leading into the carpark.

  “Yes, this is it.”

  Ryan parks, and before I have even taken my belt off he is out and opening my door. He offers me his hand and helps me down, manoeuvring me closer to his body so that he can close the door. He still hasn’t let go of my hand, and we are standing now chest to chest. I look up to see him gazing down at me with an intense look upon his face.

  “Maybe we sss… should…” Jesus, when did I develop a stutter? My heart feels like its beating a million miles an hour as he leans down towards me.

  “Ryan.” Someone’s shout has us jumping apart like we have been electrocuted.

  I spin around to find Sam bearing down on us, and he does not look happy.

  “What are you doing here, Sam? I thought you and Caleb had stuff going on today?”

  Okay, is it my imagination or is there some kind of atmosphere here?

  “I could ask you the same thing now, Ryan, couldn’t I?” Sam asks, making it sound more like an accusation than a question. “I’m here because the owner, Ryder, asked for some help setting up the new paintball site over there.”

  “Shit!” I mutter. I didn’t realise there was paintballing here. I look up to find Sam’s lips twitching and Ryan chuckling. What the hell is so damn funny?

  “Problem?” That’s Sam, a man of many words. I sigh.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t realise that this was a paintball site, too. I’m not sure how Jacob is going to feel about that.”

  “I would have loved a paintball party when I was a teenager,” Ryan answers with a shrug.

  “Jacob isn’t your average teenager. When he was little his dad shot and killed his mother in front of him. Whilst I know paintball isn’t the same, it doesn’t mean that Jacob will process it that way.”

  “Shit.”

  My turn to smile. “Exactly, Ryan.”

  “Ask him?” Sam grunts out. I wonder if he speaks in whole sentences around other people or if it’s just me.

  He is right, though. I can’t book anything until I know how Jacob feels.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan, for the wasted trip, but thanks for bringing me.” I turn back to the car and wait as Ryan opens the door for me. I jump when I feel hands on my waist again, startled to realise that it's Sam lifting me and seating me inside. His hands are huge and almost span my entire wa
ist. I take a moment to appreciate the lack of fear I feel from this obviously intimidating man. Sam climbs in the back, and after Ryan straps in, we head back to the centre.

  “Didn’t you drive here, Sam?” I ask as it is quite a trek back to town.

  “Caleb dropped me off.”

  The atmosphere is starting to feel tense again. I glance back at Sam, but he is staring at the back of Ryan’s head. Ryan is gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are turning white. I’m not even going to try and figure out what their problem is. Men are fickle creatures and way outside my expertise. I turn the radio on and close my eyes, losing myself in the music, and before I know it we are back at the centre.

  Ryan hops out and makes his way round to my side before opening the door and helping me out, but instead of the moment we shared earlier, things seem awkward now.

  “Well… Thanks again, Ryan. I will see you around. Bye, Sam.”

  As I head back into the centre to grab my bag from my locker, I wonder—and not for the first time—just what I have got myself into with these guys.

  Chapter Seven

  CALEB

  I can hear them bitching at each other before they even make it into the living room.

  “Guys, what’s going on?”

  Sam grabs a coke from the fridge before slamming the door, cracking it open and drinking it down in one. I can see that he is trying to compose himself.

  “Dick-face over here decided to go and see Frankie despite what we said yesterday. They were looking mighty cosy from where I was standing.”