About Last Night

“Just came out of surgery. He’s going to keep the leg.” Trent cleared his throat. “That was real quick work you did, getting him out from under that Bradley track so fast.”

Shane shrugged and spat into the dirt. “Just doing what Uncle Sam pays me for.”

“Yeah, well, most people Uncle Sam pays wouldn’t have known what to do with a guy screaming under a thousand-pound vehicle.” Shadows cast by the headquarters’ floodlights cut across Trent’s cheeks as he nodded toward the envelope. “Anything good in the mail?”

“Divorce papers.”

“Shit.”

“Guess my wife decided not to wait for me to get back to make things official. Like I deployed to the National Training Center just to keep her from running off with her shiny new lover.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. But he wasn’t irritated over the fact that his wife had left him for another man. He was irritated because she’d made him feel like shit when he should have been having a cigar because Morrell was going to be okay.

He was hot, tired, and dirty from forty-five days in this California desert paradise. Before today, he’d wanted nothing more than to pack all of his soldiers off to their wives and girlfriends, and then go home to try to save a few mementos from his dying marriage.

Funny how five years of marriage had finally ended with a whimper, and the only thing he’d spent the day worrying about was whether one of his boys would make it out of surgery alive and intact. Trent’s good news had sent that worry scrambling into the night, leaving only his failed marriage to occupy his thoughts.

Guess that had been part of the problem all along for him and Tatiana. He’d always been more focused on his men.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?”

Shane sighed as Carponti strolled up. In any other unit in the army, no sergeant would talk to his platoon sergeant or company commander the way Carponti did to Shane and Trent. For some reason, though, Shane let him get away with it. He was pretty sure it was because he’d never trained anyone who was better at infantry squad tactics at such a young age. Even in the middle of a firefight, Carponti would crack jokes while he maneuvered his fire team into position. He’d had Morrell laughing his ass off today as they’d carried him to the medical evac flight. Granted, the medics had Morrell so drugged, he hadn’t known his own name, but still, Carponti had a gift.

“My wife.”

“What, did she finally leave you? Good, now you can stop feeling bad about doing what you do best.”

“Dickhead, I’m getting divorced. That’s not exactly great news.”

“Hell yeah, it is. Your wife has made your life miserable for the last five years. She’s got her new man, you’ve got your freedom, and now I’ve got a designated driver whenever we go out to Ropers.” Carponti hopped up onto the hood next to Trent. “And speaking of which, Ramirez turns twenty-one when we get home. We’re christening him the first weekend we get back and it’ll get you back in the saddle.”

Trent snorted and choked on a laugh, and Shane hid his own wry grin. He’d love to go out with the boys, but contrary to what Carponti believed, it wasn’t as simple as sign the papers, get your life back.

“He’s right,” Trent said, still chuckling.

“About which part? Christening Ramirez?”

“About getting your life back. No one should make you feel guilty for leading our boys. You’re damn good at what you do. You make a difference and you know it.”

Shane glanced over at his longtime friend. “Does Laura still understand? You’re gone more than you’re home. H

ow many birthdays and anniversaries have you missed?”

“Laura gets it. She understands what we do.”

Carponti snatched the papers from Shane’s hand. “Laura sends cookies to NTC, unlike your wife, who sends this bull.”

“Ex-wife,” Shane corrected, and snatched them back.

“Put this crap away and let’s go smoke a cigar. Morrell’s going to be okay and that’s worth celebrating.”

“I’ll catch up in a sec.”

He pulled out the papers. Tatiana Garrison, Plaintiff vs. Shane Garrison, Defendant.

He stared at the formal letter, lit by the floodlights overhead. He knew the exact moment his marriage had stopped being anything but a farce.

It was the first time he’d missed her birthday. She hadn’t understood that he’d had no access to a phone or the Internet. She hadn’t understood that he’d spent that day and the next two days in the hospital with one of his boys, who’d been on life support after being hit by shrapnel. Oh, she’d pretended to be sympathetic, but she had never gotten over it, and Shane had paid for it every single day since.

Divorce.