a losing battle (free at last Book 2) Page 4

  I don’t know, I’m kind of navigating through this blindly, but I think it’s also a sign of growing up. When you recognize it’s more important to rely on yourself than to listen to others. There’s no single path that makes everybody happy. Instead, there are hundreds, if not thousands of paths, and it’s your task to find the one that makes you happy. I like the idea that maybe I’m not making a mistake, as Dad’s trying to tell me. Just because his path is different than this doesn’t mean it’s better than mine.

  And at the end of the day, everybody has to be happy with their own life.

  It’s like a changing of the guard. The vertical connections you have with your parents become less important, while the horizontal connections with friends, siblings, and partners become more important. Maybe it’s okay Dad’s view on this is different.

  One quiet night on base, I call Dad. The phone rings for a long time before he answers. I don’t know if he lets it ring so long on purpose. But I do wonder.

  “Hey,” he says. His voice sounds somewhat small. Not like the powerful and successful businessman I know him to be, not as awe-inspiring as I remember him, even in spite of all his affection.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say, and since I can’t think of anything better, I add, “How are you doing?” Fuck, I should have thought that through. Hell, I should have thought about what I was going to say before I picked up the phone.

  He snorts condescendingly, which hurts. “How do you think I’m doing, Hunter? My son’s volunteered to become fucking cannon fodder.”

  Okay, I should have expected that, but it still sucks that he can’t respect me and my decisions.

  “I know you don’t understand…”

  “You can say that again! I don’t get why you’re doing this! You’re from California, for God’s sake! What kind of redneck crap is this, goddamnit?”

  Wow, I never thought he was such a snob. “It’s my decision, Dad. And you should be in my corner.”

  “You want me to support your suicidal behavior? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  Okay, this was obviously not a good idea. It’s the exact same conversation that happened at home last summer.. Maybe the whole thing isn’t dead and buried yet. Great.

  But, then again… Shouldn’t I expect to be taken seriously? Maybe that’s the problem. Dad was never the kind of dad who didn’t take us seriously. From the very beginning, he trusted us and respected us. And we have never given him reason not to (apart from the stupid stuff all boys do). This is really the first time I’m not doing what he wants me to do in an important situation. For the first time, I’m doing my own thing.

  Neither of us can deal with this shift in roles. That’s the problem here. He can’t because he doesn’t know how to react to a situation where I don’t need him anymore. And I can’t because I don’t know how to react to that either.

  We’d have to rebuild the foundations of our relationship to fix this. But if you’ve followed a certain pattern your entire life, it’s difficult to leave it—even if it’s the right thing to do. Well, I guess at some point everybody has to leave their parents behind, to a certain degree. That degree is just going to be greater for me than most people.

  “Can’t we talk about this properly?” I ask.

  “If you’d decided to become a porn star, we could have talked about it properly. This decision is outside the realm of rational judgment, so I don’t see anything to talk about. Our door will never be closed, son, but I can’t support this craziness.”

  For a long moment, we’re both quiet, because his words have cut the possibility of conversation short. Then he hangs up.

  I run my hand over my short hair. Wow. That went great.

  “Hey, man, I’ve been looking for you!” Killian’s voice comes from behind me. When I don’t react, he asks, “Is everything okay?”

  Macho culture forces me to say, “Everything’s great.” But, actually, what I really need is to talk to someone like I could talk to Devon back in high school.

  “I have to make another call,” I say, and Killian nods.

  I dial Carey’s number, but he doesn’t pick up. I could call Shane. He knows everything about me. But somehow it doesn’t feel right.

  Almost automatically, my fingers dial a number.

  “Hunter?” Shortly after the dial tone subsides, Mac says my name with that dark, husky voice that turns my mind into a juicy porno.

  “Yup.”

  “How are you doing? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Should I—”

  “Take a deep breath,” I interrupt her.

  I can hear her do that before she says, “I’m so glad you called.”

  “It’s good to hear your voice, babe.”

  “Yours, too.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sitting on the porch.”

  “Is Dad there?”

  “No, he’s in New York.” She sounds sad—or am I imagining it because I want her to be unhappy with Dad?

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm indeed.”

  “Mac…”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you happy?”

  I didn’t mean to ask her that. It just came out. I bite my lip, curiously awaiting her reply—and at the same time fearing it.

  “I think you know the answer to that,” she says softly, glumly.

  That is the best and the worst answer she could have given me. Good because it gives me hope. Bad because I don’t want to see my girl sad. Ever.

  “Mac… Listen… I—”

  “Don’t.”

  “What?”

  “Whatever you were going to say, don’t say it.” Her voice is pleading. I can’t turn her down, so I stop talking.

  After a while, I hear a small sob. It breaks my heart.

  “Don’t cry, babe. Please don’t cry.”

  I never meant to ask her if she was happy. But now I regret it even more…

  “I can’t do this,” she whispers.

  “Do what?”

  “It’s like being torn apart.”

  I swallow. “Do you want me to stop calling you?”

  “I don’t know…” Her voice sounds so lost I realize she really doesn’t know.

  I close my eyes. “Okay. I’ll stop calling.”

  I can hear her crying, but she doesn’t say anything else.

  When I can’t take it anymore, I hang up. I’m such a fucking masochist, it’s ridiculous.

  Combat training is going to turn us into entry-level infantry Marines. So that we know what we’re doing in a combat situation. Our areas of training in MCT will include weapons, explosives, land navigation, radios, grenade launchers, and—my favorite—martial arts, or to be more precise, the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program.

  I’ve already done some training with Shane, but this is harder than anything I’ve ever done. We learn how to defend ourselves without weapons, sometimes using everyday objects. We also learn to handle our weapons, but, once again, team-building and mental strength are top priority—recurring themes throughout our Marine training. After all, the Marines are an elite unit, and only the best make it through the training process.

  I’ve trained in different martial arts styles before, but this program combines the most effective techniques of all worlds: jiu jitsu, krav maga, aikido, boxing, kick-boxing, taekwondo, and many others are combined into a highly effective fighting style that can save lives.

  It takes a lot out of us, but honestly, it’s awesome fighting your buddies and rolling around in the dirt to learn all the grabs, throws, and blows. And I’m not the only one loving it.

  All in all, the MCT takes twenty-nine days. After that, we’ll move on. Killian and I are still determined to join the Combatant Divers.

  There’s one thing you have to get used to as a soldier. You really do. Otherwise, you’re finished. You have to get used to saying goodbye. In every part of your training, you meet new people. On every mission, you meet people you like, but you have to be able to let them
go. Every single time. There’s one good thing about that: You make friends all over the world.

  6

  Mackenzie

  “Hey, Mac,” Shane says as I walk in.

  “Hey.”

  “Have you heard anything from our boy?” he asks, following me into my office. Hunter and Shane have become friends, and Shane is kind of like a mentor to Hunter now. And I’m glad he has such a positive role model in his life. Not that Carter isn’t, but sometimes he can be very cold and rational, whereas Shane has a lot of love in him. Which is why he founded this center in the first place. He’s a great person, always standing up for others, especially those who can’t stand up for themselves. Having him for a friend makes me very happy. And Hunter has changed a lot in the year and a half we’ve known each other. The teenage asshole has turned into a good man. I know he’s going to follow this path he’s chosen, but it’s still a good idea for him to have male role models to remind him every now and then what being a good man truly means.

  I shake my head. “Not since that weird phone call.”

  “Weird?” Shane repeats.

  I shrug. “I have no idea what was going on with him, Shane, really. He called me, and I had a feeling he was going to tell me how he feels again. I asked him not to, and then he asked me whether I was happy…”

  Shane nods understandingly. “But you’re not.”

  I raise my arms in defeat, just to drop them again immediately. “I’m happy with Carter.”

  Shane crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Are you?”

  I want to say yes, but I just can’t lie to him. “I don’t know.”

  He nods slowly. “Leave Hunter out of the equation. Just think about you and Carter. Are you happy with him?”

  This time, I shake my head.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “But I want to be happy with him…”

  For a long moment, Shane is quiet. Then he says, “Hunter called me yesterday.”

  My gaze snaps to his. “How is he? What did he say? Is he all right?”

  Shane smiles at me. “Are you sure you’re not in love with the guy?”

  I’m shocked he could even think that. “Yes, I am sure, Shane. I love Carter, and you know that.” Okay, maybe I just confessed that I’m not overly happy with him, but still…

  Shane cocks his head. “I know you believe you love Carter.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He shrugs. “You have to find out for yourself.” He walks to the door.

  “Shane!”

  “Yes, sweet?”

  “What did Hunter say?” I ask, despite knowing the smug look I was going to get.

  Shane turns and sits down before giving me a broad smile. “He finished Marine Combat Training and is starting his FORECON training. He has to undergo all different types of specialist training. First, he has to train as a Reconnaissance Man, then he can join the Combatant Divers. He’s hoping to get into BUD/S.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Basic Underwater Demolition. The SEALS training program.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But he’s a Marine. And the SEALs are part of the Navy.”

  “Yes, but the different special units are also fed by the other military branches. To get into FORECON, you have to pass Navy Airborne School, for example. Once you’re part of a special unit, you can also enter the Army Ranger School and others. After all, we’re talking about the toughest soldiers in the world here.”

  I wrap my arms around myself. “Whenever I see movies about the SEALs, half the soldiers end up dead in the water.”

  Shane nods. “BUD/S is no joke. But neither is Hunter. He’ll get through it, Mac.”

  “And then? They’ll make him go to Iraq or Afghanistan.”

  “Probably.”

  “But do they even need divers in the desert?”

  His smile is full of pity. “‘Combatant Diver’ is just a special skill he’s going to have. He’ll also be trained as a paratrooper and a Reconnaissance Man. He’ll be part of an elite unit that can be dispatched anywhere.”

  “What if…”

  “Don’t think about it, Mac. He’ll come back, because he has a reason to.”

  “What reason?”

  Shane looks at me. “You.”

  “But—”

  “No but, Mac. We both know it. But you really need to think about whether you want him or not. Whether you’re with the right Tilman or not.”

  “Why are you on his side? You like Carter,” I remind him.

  Shane nods slowly. “Yes, I like Carter. He’s a good man. But I think you’re just one love in his life. But to Hunter, you’re everything.”

  “That’s way too much pressure,” I whisper.

  He puts his hand on my knee. “Hey, nobody said you have to decide right now. Hunter has a long way ahead of him. It’ll be a few years before he finishes his training, and who knows how many times they’ll send him to the Middle East? You have time, but…”

  “I think I’m giving Hunter mixed signals,” I admit.

  Shane raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

  “Stop it. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

  Shane grins. “He kept going on and on about your kiss and your breasts.”

  “Hey!” I say. “Hunter says tits.”

  Shane laughs. “He does, and he is obsessed with yours.”

  I blush a little, but the thought of it makes me happy. Oh, God, mixed signals… I need to work on that. “Shane?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “What if I can never love him like that? What will become of him?”

  Shane leans back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Hunter’s young. Maybe he’ll find another woman he can love like that.”

  He doesn’t actually sound convinced, so I ask, “Do you think that’s going to happen?”

  He snorts. “No, sorry, sweetheart. No, I don’t. I think you are the love of his life.”

  “So he’s going to be unhappy for the rest of his life?” I ask, hurrying to wipe away my tears.

  Shane shrugs. “Not if you realize you love him, too.”

  “He slept with Brittany.”

  Shane gives me a surprised look. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Didn’t he tell you?” I ask, feeling something like hope flutter through my chest. He told Shane he kissed me, so wouldn’t he have told him about it if he’d slept with her? God, why am I reacting like this? I love Carter! I’m sure I do. I care about Hunter, but…not like this…

  “No,” Shane says firmly. “When do you think he did that?”

  “On his eighteenth birthday.”

  Shane squints, trying to remember. “The only thing he told me about his birthday was that you made him a cake, he called you baby, and he got really drunk at a party before you put him to bed and checked out his dick.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathe. “He knows about that?”

  Shane laughs. “You can’t believe how happy the little bastard was about it!”

  My cheeks are on fire. “I was hoping he hadn’t noticed.”

  “Mac, seriously. If I’d told you all that about anybody else, what would you think was going on?”

  “That the person was in love…”

  “I rest my case.” Shane walks out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  I’m not in love with Hunter.

  Or am I?

  No, no. I love Carter. I most definitely do.

  I’m sitting at my desk working on the speech I’m supposed to be giving in a few days’ time. This is the first step toward helping a lot more women. I’m speaking at a joint event held by several different organizations in California. There will be politicians and sponsors there, and we’re hoping to raise awareness about our cause.

  To us, it’s about educating people. Showing people that girls and women must never be blamed for being raped. They aren’t “asking for it” as so many men
claim. Especially men who are part of the movement they call neomasculinity. The movement is a joke. White, heterosexual men are the least discriminated group that ever existed. And, honestly, they’re just misogynists.

  One of their ideas is to legalize rape in private quarters because they believe, most of the time, it is not actually rape—that women are just later embarrassed to have consented to it and therefore claim they’ve been raped. In their eyes, a man has the right to fuck a woman if she goes home with him. According to that theory, the only way not to get raped is not to be alone with a man.

  They don’t even see how sexist this is against themselves, since it implies men are incapable of controlling themselves. Their urge to fuck is so strong they simply have to jump on anything they find inside their home. Seriously—have you ever heard of something called free will?

  It’s disgusting how they’re denying women their rights—trying to sell people on their ideas in order to legalize rape, all the while claiming they only want to protect women with it. But the representatives of neomasculinity are not just misogynists—they’re also misandrists. So many people don’t understand his. But they completely and utterly deny men the respect of free will, denying that they have the ability to treat women properly. They’re denying men their right to make good decisions. They’re removing the whole concept of men’s free will!

  And what kind of people believe that a man does not deserve real love and affection, real interest and arousal? Why do they believe men can’t convince women to sleep with them because they actually want to? Is it just me who finds this belief profoundly misanthropic?

  Not to mention it’s a highly dangerous approach to say women are the ones responsible for preventing rape. Instead of telling women how to behave, men should understand just how wrong rape is. Not because we consider every man a potential rapist, but because we have internalized values like gender equality. Women are not worth less than men. And neither men nor women should believe they are.

  In the whole debate about rape culture, people tend to forget that human beings have free will. We are not bound to follow our animal instincts. We can decide whether to do something or not. Anybody who claims differently is spreading ideas that are not just misogynist but also misanthropic.