Bronx Page 3

The woman standing next to him with dark curls and pale green eyes clucked her tongue. "There's nothing worse than cancer."

  "Oh hey, Jack, this is Mixx's cousin, Vera."

  "Right." I shook her hand. "You're the Vera going into law school. Congratulations."

  "Thanks." She had a bright white smile like her Aunt Atalia.

  "Are you going out on the boat?" Kingston asked.

  "Nah, think I'll take a swim first. I need to loosen up before I wakeboard. I slept on a chair all night, and I'm feeling about a hundred years old." I popped open the soda and shot it back.

  "Are you swimming out to the island?" he called as I headed toward the water. "I'll time you."

  "Not going for any records, just a swim," I called back. I pulled off my t-shirt.

  Angus let out a whistle that could be heard all the way across the lake. "Look at those pecs and abs," he cooed. "Pretty boy Bronx is showing off his stuff."

  I gave him the appropriate finger, waded in a few feet, then dove under. The cool water washed over me, sending me into my water world, a world I knew almost as well as the world inside a horse paddock. At least swimming only gave me earaches. Colt breaking left me battered, bruised and grinning like a fucking jack-o'-lantern.

  I surfaced for a breath and broke into a freestyle stroke. The island, the mound of land with overgrown shrubs and a few rustic benches, looked deserted and shady. The perfect landing place to clear my head from the last few days. Watching Carly pack had been as satisfying as it was gut-wrenching. We'd sort of grown up together, spending our early twenties laughing, learning and fucking . . . a lot of fucking. It was probably the sex that had kept us trying to keep things together. And, in the background of her sealing up boxes and making arrangements with her friends to lease a room, Mom had called a hundred times to give me updates on what the doctors were advising. It had been a rough few days, and the news from the operating room only made it worse.

  The brisk swim had gotten my heart rate up and my pulse roaring, but the lead weight of the last few days made me feel as if I was moving through the water dragging a block of cement behind me.

  I reached the shore of the small island and climbed the rocks to the softer sand. The beating sun had made the dry sand so hot, even wet, my feet couldn't stay in one place. I hiked through the lush shrubbery, growing wild and undisturbed, in the center of the island and found a spot higher up where I could see the lake and the shoreline. I could see everyone partying on the beach and in the water but they couldn't see me behind my cocoon of greenery. I leaned back on my palms and dug my feet into the shade-cooled sand. A slight breeze floated across the island, fluttering the green landscape and briskly drying my wet skin.

  "You've invaded my peace and quiet, but I'll forgive you because you look as if you need it more than me." A pair of long, tanned legs pulled up next to me. She sat down, gently, gracefully like someone who did ballet for a living. Her bikini looked snow white next to her bronze skin, perfectly sun kissed and smooth as silk. Her long fingers tucked her shoulder length, slightly wet hair, tawny or dark gold, depending on where the light was hitting it, behind her ears. Even her ears looked as if some artist had set out to the paint the perfect woman from head to toe and had paid special attention to every detail, even her ears. And all the perfection was nearly forgotten when one looked into her large brown eyes.

  She bent her long legs and leaned back on her hands to be even with me. "Beware," she said with a hint of a smile, a hint that assured me the full blown one was nothing short of breathtaking. "I told myself I just needed a break from the noise and that I'd just swim out to the island for a short hike. I've been here thirty minutes. I think there's some mysterious force on the island keeping me captive here, and frankly, I don't mind." She stretched out her long legs. I had to drag my gaze away from them. "So . . . tell me—girlfriend problems?"

  She had me tongue-tied like an idiot, but I managed to finally take a breath. "Not anymore," I said.

  She laughed and it was a sound I wouldn't soon forget. Her brown eyes grazed over my expression, and she bit her bottom lip lightly. "No, I was wrong. It's grief. I've seen it enough to know." She reached up. "Took me a second to see it because it's all up here on the forehead." She reached up, and I found my breath catching in my throat again. Her fingertips lightly brushed aside the long hair plastered on my forehead from the swim. It was just a casual gesture, but I felt her touch deep in my bones. Was the flowery scent coming from her or the landscape? It had to be her. Even nature couldn't have such a sweet fragrance.

  "You can see grief in people's foreheads?" I asked.

  She squinted at me for further assessment. "I'm right, aren't I?" The music across the water switched from the hard core, bass pounding stuff to Creedence Clearwater Revival. Her face turned toward the party. It occurred to me I was cataloguing every detail about her, capturing the moment to be savored later, when things were shit again. Her profile was symmetrical with only the slightest bump in her nose to disturb the precision, a detail that only made her more beautiful. "Finally some decent music," she said softly.

  "I agree." I was certainly bound to wow her with my commentary, I thought wryly. I couldn't seem to find words or thoughts or my breath, for that matter.

  Her face swung back toward me, and it took me a long moment to recover. She was close, not as close as I would have liked, but I could see, clearly, the tiny spray of freckles on her nose. "So am I right?" she asked. "About the grief?" She leaned back farther on her hands and turned her face up to the ribbons of sunlight seeping through the canopy. "You're in luck, the doctor is in." She sat up again. "Actually, I'm not a doctor. I'm much better than that. I'm a nurse. I see your raised brow. It's true though. Doctors, they live in this vacuum. All they see are the tests and the numbers and medical books. Nurses see the human side of pain and illness. We can look past the tests and numbers to see what's really going on. That's why I recognize the grief in that forehead. I've seen it more times than I ever wanted to."

  I smiled. It was the best response I could come up with in my state of delirium.

  "I like that smile," she said. "It's real, genuine."

  I nodded and told myself this amazing moment was going to be lost forever soon, and I would remember sitting through it like a dumbfounded fool. "The grief you see is genuine too." My own voice seemed a little distant, unfamiliar. Was it the woman sitting next to me? Or was it because I was about to talk about it, the raw emotion I was feeling over Vick's illness? "My dad was recently diagnosed with cancer. They operated yesterday, took out a lot of his insides." I stared down at my feet, absently digging their way into the sand as if my brain was no longer controlling them. "You're right about the doctors. They unloaded a lot of bad news on us, gently, politely, but they didn't seem to absorb the impact their prognosis was having on us, my mom." I brought my feet closer and rested my arms on the tops of my knees. "I've seen her go through some pretty heavy stuff in my life, but it looked as if her own life was draining away with each layer of bad news."

  I still didn't know her name. I was still trying to figure out if she was real or if my desperate mood had just conjured her up. She placed her hand on my arm. I had no idea how much I'd needed that human touch until her soft, warm palm covered my arm.

  "Look, I'm going to tell you a few things, if you're ready. I won't be able to tell you don't worry, your dad will be fine because that is not generally how this cancer thing works. Right now, you're seeing your dad in a hospital bed hooked up to machines and looking as if he's just one step from the grave. That's how everyone looks after major surgery. Is your dad a strong guy? Was he in good shape going into this?"

  "He lost some weight because of the stomach pain he was having but yeah"—I nodded—"he was the best damn horseman. He could outride anyone."

  "That's good. That'll help. Right now things seem extra bleak," she continued. She had my undivided attention as I absorbed and memorized the sound of her voice like it was my new favorite so
ng, even if the lyrics weren't everything I wanted to hear. "Your dad is going to recover from the soul sucking surgery, and they'll put him on some kind of therapy, whether it's chemo or radiation or both. In fact, there are new things being tried every day, clinical trials. There's far more hope with a cancer diagnosis than there was even five years ago. He's got some good days ahead still, no matter which direction the disease goes. There'll be remission, glorious remission. It'll give you back your dad. I can't tell you for how long, but for a period of time things will feel right again. This feeling of dread won't stick around forever. Cancer is definitely a day by day disease. No sense in dwelling on the future when you have an amazing day in front of you."

  Her words sank into me, into my chest. It was the first time since the diagnosis that I felt as if my emotions weren't heavy with anger, sadness. I wasn't entirely sure if it was a glimmer of hope, something she'd sparked with her reassuring words or if it was just a better way to deal with what I was feeling. Either way, she had turned my mood and my day around.

  "Thank you," I said. "After everything I've heard in the past week, every passing attempt at sympathy or advice, every I'm so sorry about your dad, that little talk was profoundly comforting. It was real, not sugarcoated, yet it makes me feel like we can get through this . . . one day at a time, like you said."

  She dusted off her hands by swiping them past each other. "Then, my work here is done."

  I was just about to introduce myself when loud laughter and screams pulled our attention to the party on the beach. The wild laughter was centered on the bow of Topper's boat. Gabe, better known as Helix for his spinning descent from a jump, had joined his best friend Bulldozer with the women at the bow. Helix and Bulldozer were close like King and me. They grew up together.

  "Those two clowns are inseparable," she said, the woman whose name still eluded me but who had changed my entire day, my entire outlook with her words . . . and her face . . . and her legs. "Gabe finishes Adam's sentences. Neither of them can make a life decision without consulting the other." She pointed toward the boat. Bulldozer had climbed onto the rim of the bow. He beat his chest like Tarzan and bellowed into the air.

  "Now he's going to show off by somersaulting into the water," she said, blithely. Right on cue, Bulldozer lifted his massive frame into the air. He tucked and rolled and landed in the water with a splash that soaked his captive audience. The two women, including his wife, I assumed, shrieked and dove in after him.

  "Next, he'll use his newly gained fame as an excuse to lift one of the women onto his shoulders, so she can shriek further with delight." Again, as if she had time traveled ahead to witness the scene, Bulldozer breached the water's surface like a massive whale right beneath the blonde. Her legs wrapped around his neck as he held tightly to her thighs.

  I turned to her. "Seems like you know Bulldozer pretty well." I stuck out my hand. "By the way, I'm Jack, Jack Devlin."

  She smiled and nodded in recognition. "Ah, the famous firefighting cowboy. Bronx, right?"

  "Yep." I was absurdly glad that she had heard of me.

  Her fingers wrapped around mine as she shook my hand. "I'm Layla." She winked. "Mrs. Bulldozer."

  The breath was swept out of me again, only this time for a whole other reason. I had either just gained massive respect for Bulldozer, or I'd just learned to like him even less.

  Layla laughed. I had a name now, an awesome, lyrical name to go with the incredible woman sitting next to me. She belonged to Bulldozer. That was the short, clipped sentence that was now on a continuous loop in my head. She fucking belonged to Bulldozer. Only, could anyone ever really possess an angel?

  "I did not expect that reaction when I introduced myself," Layla said.

  I smiled, feeling more than a little embarrassed. "Sorry, just didn't put the two of you together. And then—" I glanced toward the water where Bulldozer's head was still sitting between the blonde's thighs.

  "Yeah, he sometimes forgets he's married," she said dryly. "But then, I knew he was kind of a jerk when I walked down the aisle toward him. He did look sensational in a tux though, which helped me push the jerk part out of my head for that moment. And since you're not trying to debate me on that point, I assume you have the same opinion."

  "Bulldozer has his moments, but I'd trust him with my life up on the mountain. He's one helluva firefighter."

  She pushed her feet into the sand. "Very diplomatic. We were high school sweethearts. He was the captain of the football team, and I was a cheerleader, so as you know from every teen movie ever made—it was destined. Didn't really want to be that girl, the one who cheered at games and dated the team star, but it was what my mom and dad expected. They sort of had my whole life planned for me at birth. And they were good friends with the Raffertys. You could almost say it was a planned marriage. Funny though, the parents are no longer friends."

  "Interesting. I know Bulldozer mentioned something about marrying his high school sweetheart." I looked toward the water again. The blonde had jumped off Bulldozer's shoulders, and he heaved himself back into the boat.

  "You thought the pretty blonde was Layla," she added.

  "Yeah, guess I did."

  "Well, considering she was basically sitting on his lap while on the boat—" she started. The boat fired up, temporarily muting our conversation. Topper pulled the boat out into the water. It seemed they were heading across to the island, our island. Suddenly, I wished I was in one of those lost on a deserted island scenarios. It made me laugh.

  Layla tapped my foot with her own. "I knew our marriage was comical but . . ."

  "No, really, I wasn't laughing about that. I was just thinking that I've now answered the proverbial question—" I turned to her. The brown gaze caught me off guard a second, and I temporarily lost my train of thought.

  "What proverbial question?" she prodded. The boat motor and Bulldozer's voice were getting louder.

  "If you could pick one person to be stranded on a deserted island with—" I didn't finish. She knew my response.

  Her toe rubbed against my foot teasingly. "Huh, you're right. I think that answer is easy now."

  The boat horn startled us out of the rather intense magnetic gaze that had held us briefly together.

  "Come on, Tiger, I'm hungry! They're starting the barbecue," Bulldozer bellowed toward the island in his usual megaphone style voice. He couldn't see us behind all the foliage.

  Layla stood up and brushed the sand off her bottom. "Need a lift across?" she asked.

  "Nah, think I'll stay here awhile longer, then swim back."

  She trotted off through the shrubs. From my vantage point, I had a stealthy view of the island's shore and the boat. Bulldozer didn't seem to have a smile for Layla as she emerged from the shrubbery. If I was in his shoes, I'd be grinning like a love-struck fool every time I saw her. Her impossibly long legs glided along, slender hips swaying as she strolled toward the boat. Just before reaching it, she glanced back toward where I was sitting. It was hard to know if she could see me, but I could absolutely see her. She pushed a hair behind her ear and a faint smile crossed her lips. It was another second I'd keep forever, clear as day, like every second of the past fifteen minutes.

  Bulldozer leaned over the side of the boat and swept his massive arm around her small waist to haul her on board. The boat turned around and puttered back to the beach. I could still see her white bikini in the distance as she climbed off the boat. I'd already memorized the rhythm of her walk. And her voice, well, it was seared in my mind for eternity.

  I stretched all the way back on the sand, lifted my arms and rested my head on my hands.

  "Fuck."

  5

  Present

  Sewing machines whirred in the back room as parachutes were being inspected for damage and repaired. Helix was leaning against the lockers, staring at his phone when I walked into the room. His pink puckered arm indicated yet another tattoo added to the sleeve of tattoos covering both arms. After his best friend
, Bulldozer, died on the mountain, he drastically changed his appearance, shaving his head close and keeping it that way. The tattoo obsession had started before the accident, but it really gained steam after we buried Bulldozer. He'd even gotten an actual bulldozer inked into his right shoulder blade. The date of Bulldozer's death was etched in black ink beneath it. Helix and I had been thrown together on the mountain many times, and we worked fine as a team, but we'd never become friends because Bulldozer and I were never friends.

  Kaos stomped into the locker room, hard and loud, his usual gait. The lockers vibrated. Helix pushed off of them. "Shit, you overgrown yeti, you're making the whole room shake." Kaos was one of the few people who had to duck down to see inside his locker. He reached inside and grabbed out a rubber band for his long, dark hair. He pulled back the top half and secured it to be out of his face. It was a hairstyle that only fortified the massive Highlander aura.

  "You just need a kilt," I said as he finished with his hair. "And the accent," I added.

  "Fuck, I wish I had that accent. Women love it." Kaos ducked down again to check out the mirror at the back of his locker. "Never mind, the accent isn't necessary. They love me anyway." He slammed the locker shut. The whole room shook again. "I hear the weather's going to be nice for the memorial service." His comment was directed at Helix.

  Just bringing it up caused Helix to frown and shake his head. "Can't fucking believe it's been a year. It still feels too unreal to me. Keep expecting his big booming voice to call me from the back room."

  "Yeah, it sure as hell is different without him." Kaos walked over and clapped Helix on the shoulder. He lumbered past me. "You going to the service?" he asked, casually. It was a question that grabbed Helix's attention.

  I glanced fleetingly at Helix, then turned back to Kaos. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Why the hell wouldn't I go to the service?"

  Kaos lifted his giant meaty hands in surrender. "Don't get touchy. Just wondering. I mean, after the fight and all, just thought—"