Mending Hearts (The American Soldier Collection 11)

Gabe ran his fingers through his hair and banged his fist against the wall.

Jaxon was right. He wanted Alana, too, and he might not be able to stop himself from participating. But come tomorrow, he might just push her away again for her own good.

* * * *

Alana listened as the men talked about how much of a hardass Jaxon was as their commander. She couldn’t help but smile and take in the man’s body as he ate his dinner or took a drink from his wine glass, ignoring their teasing. The muscles in his neck flexed, and he seemed to relax a little with his sleeves rolled up and his muscles bulging.

He was definitely still their leader in a lot of ways. A hand gesture, an expression, a look in his eyes and the others responded without thought, just instinctually.

It made her gain a greater respect for their service as Marines, as well as giving her a great respect for Jaxon. He was a commander like her father had been.

“I have a lot of respect for you, Jaxon, as I’m certain your men here do. It takes a special man to remain in charge and calm during the heated missions you guys just described,” Alana told him, and he held her gaze from across the table. He almost looked embarrassed.

“Don’t give him so many kudos, Alana. There were times he wasn’t so calm and collected,” Geno teased.

“Like when?” Jaxon asked.

“Ah, let’s see, that night we jumped from the chopper and the new troop fucked up the location. We landed in a swamp full of shit and overflow from the small shit town’s sewage system. So not state-of-the-art,” Geno told them.

“Ah fuck, I remember that. I smelled like, well, bad for days,” Gator said, trying to not curse so much in front of her.

“That’s terrible,” she said, and they all gave their thoughts of on their memories of that day.

“Yeah, he wasn’t so pleasant, let me tell ya,” Jeb added about Jaxon.

“Well, from what you describe, that sounds understandable. How could anyone keep calm when a troop screws up like that and makes you fall into a swamp of—”

“Shit,” Jaxon said, and they all chuckled.

Alana looked at him and smiled.

“It’s not easy being in charge of a troop of men and women. Their lives depend on you and your judgments, your decisions and orders. I’m sure people aren’t lining up to be commanders in the Marine Corps.”

“You sound like you know what it’s like,” Jaxon said then took a sip of wine and held her gaze.

She glanced at the others, and they were all watching her, listening to her, except for Gabe. He was trying so hard to ignore her.

“Well, I kind of know first-hand what it’s like. My dad was a commander in the Old Breed for most of my childhood and teenage years.”

“The first Marine Division? He’s one of us?” Gator asked, sitting forward in his seat.

“Was one of you. He died five years ago,” she told them and lowered her eyes to her lap.

“I’m so sorry, Alana. Was it during active duty?” Geno asked her.

She shook her head. “A drunk driver and his friends smashed into my parents’ truck on the highway leading into Scrantonville. They were on their way home from my dad’s friend’s fiftieth birthday dinner. I was told they died instantly.” She glanced over at Gabe.

“The driver was three times over the blood alcohol limit. He shouldn’t even have been conscious, never mind driving,” Gabe added, and she looked up at him and held his gaze. He’d been there for her during that time. He left for the Corps a year later.

“That’s just insane,” Gator said and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled at him.

“My dad was a tough man, a true Marine. He was proud of this country and of his service. My mom loved him so much too. It was hard on her, and on me, but we survived those times when he was away. My mom even got angry sometimes, I think because she was lonely, but then he would return from a mission or a tour and she was all happy and smiling again. I know he lived a full life. I just wish I could have had more time with him as a civilian,” she confessed.

“Did you have any other family around? You know people to help you? You had to be about eighteen,” Jeb asked her.

“I had friends and the townspeople. I had Gabe and his family.” She glanced up at him. The others did too, and they looked surprised.

“Scrantonville was like that. If anyone needed anything or someone was in trouble, down and out, the people in town came together in support of one another,” she told them but held Gabe’s gaze.