What Part of Marine Don't You Understand - By Heather Long Page 0,29
he won the election and he’s a junior Congressman from Texas, so—give him thirty-two more years and he’ll be leading all those committees he’s battling with right now.”
“Ha, I bet he does it in sixteen.” Or less. Brent didn’t give up.
“Probably.” Ryleigh’s tone was very dry. “But I didn’t call you to talk about your brother. Charlie ratted you out.”
“Of course he did.” As close as the brothers were, Brent probably knew ten minutes after she and Charlie hung up. Surprisingly, Brent hadn’t called her on it already.
“I twisted Brent’s arm to leave you alone.” Saved by her sister-in-law. Yes, Naomi loved her for a reason.
“Thank you.”
“Any time. But does that earn me some capital to ask questions?”
She laughed. “His name is Matt. He’s a Marine, retired. He got hurt in Iraq and he’s coping with some issues, but he’s a great guy—really sweet and so much fun.”
“Sweetie, you know I’m not going to discourage you but….”
Naomi bit her lip. “Ry—I get it, you’ve been here. You were here when Brent came home and you went through hell with him.”
“Yeah. I don’t want you to get in over your head or get hurt. If his issues….”
“I don’t care. I mean I do, but we all have problems. We all struggle with life and maybe—maybe I haven’t been through the war the way he has, but I’ve been through it on this side, just like you. I want to be there for him, I want Matt to know he has someone in his corner.”
“You never do anything halfway do you?” Indulgent affection softened her tone.
“Do any Sparks do anything halfway?” It wasn’t in their genetic makeup. She was in love, flaws and all.
“No. None of you do—exasperating and beautiful family that you are.”
“Hey now, Mrs. Sparks, you need to include yourself in that, too.”
“Oh, without a doubt.” Ryleigh’s lighthearted tone sobered. “If you are determined and I know you—you are—call me if it gets bad. You don’t have to do this alone…there are a lot of organizations out there for families like us and I want you to write these down.”
Naomi listened intently, and after five minutes she dug a pencil out of her purse and jotted notes onto a pad of paper. Her respect for her sister-in-law used to be high.
By the time the call finished, it was immeasurable.
***
Airports sucked.
Matt hated dropping her off in the morning. Hated it even more than the press of people rushing in to make their early morning flights. Naomi insisted he drop her off at the curb, which he hated. But his fluctuating mood and fraying temper warned him against pushing himself any harder.
He kissed her goodbye and watched her disappear inside with her overnight bag. Unfortunately, he couldn’t and didn’t relax until she’d texted that she arrived in Nashville. His pacing nearly wore a groove in James’ carpet. It frustrated him that the act of getting out of the truck proved so difficult. Jethro stayed with him, but even the dog seemed to miss Naomi and looked for her in the park when they went for their run.
She called at noon but didn’t have more than a few minutes to speak. The recording was going well and her enthusiasm bubbled through the phone at him. The dappled sunshine in his day went away when they hung up. He focused on getting the last of his paperwork filled out, had lunch with the guys, and took another run in the afternoon.
The hours between dropping her off and her return flight stretched out interminably. James brought a service vest around for Jethro. The outfit would allow Matt to take Jethro into the airport to wait for her—and he had every intention of being inside when she exited the secure area.
A sketchy dinner of frozen burritos and another run for Jethro killed an hour. A shower and bad science fiction movie killed another couple of hours. Her text galvanized him.
On flight. Barely. Have to shut off phone. Lots of news. Can’t wait to see you.
His phone vibrated a second time.
Okay.
He grinned. He attached so much value to that one, stupid little word.
“Woo hoo. She’s on her way, boy. You want another walk before we drive?” The flight would take a good two hours, but he wanted to be there.
And he would be there when she walked through those doors.
Late night at DFW airport was thankfully quiet, with curbside check-in closed, as were most of the counters. Airport security spread thin, but present. Matt found a spot