Control?
Then how had he ended up out in the cold again like after his return from Rubistan? His fingers closed around the wooden knob at the end of the banister, light slanting through the hall window like the open load ramp of his plane.
J.T. clanked down the belly of the C-17, the Charleston sunlight blinding through the open hatch. Almost bright enough to wipe away the darkness of days spent in a hellhole cell before diplomatic channels cleared for him to come home.
Home.
An efficiency apartment not much bigger than his cell, except he had no one to blame but himself for landing there. He'd let his stupid-ass pride propel him when Rena tossed his crap on the lawn. How could he be so proud of her and so freaking pissed at the same time over the fact that she didn't need him?
J.T. slowed his steps, not in much of a rush to get out of the plane now, after all. He paused alongside Bo's litter. The flight surgeon, nurse and techs worked the transfer while the kid groused about not being allowed to walk out under his own steam—as if he could anyhow, all drugged up and casted during their layover and assessment in Germany.
As J.T. waited and watched through the open load ramp, Scorch cleared the load ramp first. Steps steady, the five stitches along his jaw the only visible sign of their ordeal. His sister, brother-in-law and baby niece met him with hugs and crying and a quick hustle off to leave all this behind for a family reunion.
Spike, in civilian clothes now that he was back on base and not in his overseas undercover role anymore, strutted straight into his waiting fiancée's arms. 1st Lieutenant Darcy Renshaw kissed him hard, unmoving and eyes shut tight while tears streaked free and fast down her face.
Happily ever after around this place still came with heartaches along the way. Only the strongest relationships survived.
Damn, but he'd hoped his and Rena's could be one.
He looked down at Bo, the lieutenant pale but outwardly cocky on the stretcher. "Do you need somebody to hang with you until you're settled at the hospital?"
"Are you kidding? Have you seen the hot new flight nurse over there? I'm figuring I'll need a bed bath before supper." He winked up at the flight surgeon keeping pace alongside. "Right, Doc?"
Bo laughed, a hoarse croak but damn clear about the need to keep things light, superficial, something J.T. totally understood. Too much emotion, adrenaline, anger rumbled around to be processed yet.
Spike and his fiancée broke apart. Arms around each other's waists, they strode away. Clearing sight lines to reveal something J.T. hadn't even dared let himself hope to see.
His family.
He'd been fairly certain Rena's big heart would bring her here, as well. But on the off chance it wouldn't happen, he hadn't let himself think about it. He didn't have room in his head to process even one more emotion—especially not disappointment.
He left Bo to the tender ministrations of the flight nurse and walked forward, his boots landing on the tarmac. American concrete. Relief tingled over him like the start of a sunburn. He was pretty sure his feet kept moving, because his family drew closer.
Then they were all in a group huddle of hugs and words he couldn't hear because the buzzing in his head was so damn loud.
One thing about that afternoon stayed clear. How Rena trembled, those emotions churning through them all, multiplying until it even rattled his teeth. If he hadn't been holding on, Rena probably would have fallen off her high heels.>"Don't look for a fight." He lifted her hand from his chest and pressed a kiss against her wrist, playing havoc with her heartbeat. "Let's both take time off from work, spend it with the kids and each other like you wanted before. I'd already decided during my flight tonight to take leave."
His concession surprised her, big-time, since it would involve dipping into her paycheck to finance the trip, a definite step forward for them. Enough to relent? Hoping that she could soften him up later on the counseling issue?
If only he weren't nipping at the sensitive inside of her wrist in an obvious, calculated effort to distract her. "And we would go somewhere. We would use our money to pay for it."
"Yeah, sure." He dropped her hand and made a big freaking production out of brushing away a few dead leaves from around the base of a begonia plant in the window. "Let's rent that cabin like you wanted to for Christmas. We can have that family time together once Nikki and Chris finish up exams."
He'd agreed, even if the prospect left him looking itchier than one of her kids after a roll in poison ivy. Why couldn't she stop reading something into the fact that his restless movements straightening things in the room took him closer and closer to the hall?
The vent by the door captured his attention and he stretched up to adjust the open/shut lever. "Or if the cabin thing doesn't appeal for summer, make whatever arrangements you want. Anything's fine by me."
His left foot landed in the hall.
"Since you're walking out the door, does that mean I get to throw something?"
That stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder. Turned. "Real funny, Rena. I'm trying to be accommodating."
"Accommodating? Sounds to me like you're trying to placate me so you can get the hell out of the room." Deeper breaths. "This is exactly what I'm talking about when I mention marriage counseling. We could probably use some family counseling, too, with Chris's situation."
"Well, hell," he snapped. "Didn't we get anything right?" Old habits slid into place too easily and she refused to let them take over. "I'll ignore that comment since I'm trying here. But it's obvious you're only agreeing to the vacation to placate me."
"You won." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Be happy."