Chapter 2

* * *

GIDEON

Gideon was grinning as he stared out the back of the plane. This was probably part of his favorite thing about being a Ranger – the jumps. Sure, there was excitement when it came to missions, all the glamour that came with wearing your uniform into a building and the ladies. Oh man, the women loved the patch, the camo, and the body that went with it. He always had a girl on his arm, always had a date, and never once looked at any of them twice, because there was no reason to.

Life was good, but being a Ranger and single made it that much better. Forget the Olympics, billionaires, or being a doctor – if you lined any of them up with a healthy, Army-strong, sexy single man with enough swagger to fill a stadium, he and his buddies would be selected anytime, anyplace, hands down – and women knew it.

Guys like him were the reason that people played that TikTok game, ‘Marry, Love, Kill'… cause he and his boys fit all three. They all wanted to marry him. They all wanted to sleep with him, and they all wanted to kill him when he ditched them in the morning, never calling them back. And no matter what they chose, no matter the selection, no matter how angry they got – not one lady was ever disappointed with her choice.

"All right, brothers… let's line it up!" he hollered and knew that the air buffeting them all wildly within the cabin of the plane swept away his words. Gideon was giving signals at the same time as he spoke. His team, his brothers, his makeshift family were standing there, knees bent, goggles and helmets on, tense and ready to go.

They were almost on target, and he waited for the signal before dropping his arm. The faint sounds of their excitement echoed beyond their radios as they leaped from the opening into nothingness with a spectacular view of the landscape from their position.

This was a HALO jump – high altitude, low opening jump. Honestly, these didn't bother him too much because there wasn't much difference between 15,000 feet and 3,500 feet. Your body still dropped like a weight, and terminal velocity was at 120 miles per hour. As one of his instructors told him in class, ‘Ranger, the splat is where it's at, son. It doesn't matter if you're a shower or a grower; we all still make the same pile of mush when you hit Mother Earth'… and that was eye-opening.

There was nothing like this feeling of adrenaline, knowing your life was on the line and dependent upon the person that packed your chute. Whether it was in the field knowing someone had your back covered or folding a piece of material, you had to have that absolute faith in your team giving it their ‘all' because less than that was unacceptable. They always lined up in the plane, checking each other"s packs, making sure clips were secure, and it was a way to look the other man in the face before you faced death.

Gideon laughed as some of the guys held up one pinky and one pointer finger, making a fist like they were rock stars, before jumping. Others would take a wild rolling flip out the back – and some would simply open their arms and fall forward like a trust fall, but face first. As each man jumped, their harness would give, breaking free from the chute and dangling from the line that ran from the front to the back of the cargo area, and he hesitated as he saw the last of the line coming up quickly.

It was ‘Go' time!

No one would see him jump this round, so there was no reason for the fancy, fun flips so he simply walked right off the edge into nothingness and sighed. He'd done this so many times you would think it would become monotonous or boring, yet each jump, each moment, brought a new rush. Some of the goofballs below were making a circle like they were acrobats, others were pretending to be sleeping, while a few of the newer ‘kids' were downright serious, making their way to the ground where a massive painted marker was for this drill.

Yup. The goal of this drill was to stick your target and pretend you were among enemy fire. HALO jumps were used to infiltrate the enemy silently in a quick manner. You didn't want to give them time to see your chutes. It was basically ‘drop like a hot rock – and then kick-butt.' There were obstacles on the field and clearings all around to help the landings if one of the newbies made a mistake.

People always asked Gideon if he was scared to jump from a plane – and the answer was a definitive ‘NO.' Parachutes always opened 99% of the time. If something happened and it didn't open, then you had a backup system that would deploy the reserve chute in cases that you were unconscious or injured. Something would carry your carcass downward now whether it worked great was another matter. Oh, he had no doubts that his parachute would open, but the operation was a different story.

The odds were not as good when it came to operations. One in a thousand parachutes would ‘fail to operate perfectly,' and that could be anything from a snarled cable to a frayed cord to a delay on the release – which is why he was going last this jump. He was the ‘old man' of the group. If someone was in trouble, he was going to head in their direction and talk the newbies ‘down' from a panic or help them.

"Coming up on altitude… let me see some deployments," he called out into his radio, and just like desert flowers popping up from a cactus after the rain, you could see the pillowy pockets unfurling below him, almost like starbursts. Each would pop, uncurl, and stretch before catching the air and inflating fully, slowing them immediately.

Gideon pulled his cord and cursed.

He had a premature line release that sent him violently to the left as half of his chute started to ascend above his head, catching the wind while the other half lay limp and flapped in the wind. He started to try to take corrective action and could hear the other soldiers in his unit calling out, but no one would be coming to his aid. Their chutes were already fully deployed and carrying them to the ground. No, he had to get his open or pull his reserve to slow his descent.

Calm down and think!

He was still falling at the strange angle being carried by sharp winds toward the field in the distance – and sincerely grateful there were no trees or houses near the practice landing. It wouldn't be the first time he ended up in a tree, but that wasn't ‘enjoyable' that time, either.

Low and slow… c'mon, baby…

And deployed the reserve chute, not taking any chances. Thankfully, he watched it unfurl above him, catching his body, but he was still falling much too fast.

"Awww crap, this is gonna hurt," he groaned as the ground rose up to meet him violently.

* * *

Blinding lights and pain caused Gideon to groan in a guttural manner as he faded in and out of consciousness, desperately trying to hold on and focus on something around him.

"He's coming to…"

"Beck, can you hear me?"

"Someone get him back under… Are y'all butchers? This man's in pain. I want him sedated now and in surgery ten minutes ago."

Gideon felt himself slipping under, welcoming the cool, inky blackness that swallowed his soul rather than the fiery pain that seemed to be racing along every nerve ending.

* * *

It was nearly three days before Gideon awoke fully. He was in enough pain to make him immediately start to groan but not enough to cause him to pass out cold again. Yeah, he remembered fading in and out the last few days, blissfully high on morphine and who-knows-what else.

"Gideon? Hey baby, it's Mama," a voice said from nearby, full of tears, and he tried to open a single eye, hoping that the bright lights wouldn't hurt his head as much. "Shhh. You are going to be okay, baby."

"M-Mom?"

"I'm right here, sweetie. Austin flew me in when we got the call. Your Daddy is talking to the doctors right now, but he'll be so glad you are awake."

"H-How bad is it…" he said hoarsely and felt someone touch his other hand, causing him to slowly turn his head. He saw his sister Giselle's husband, Austin, standing there, looking at him with candor and sympathy as the man grasped his hand in a brotherly grip, holding him tight.

"You're gonna set off metal detectors from here on out, brother," Austin chuckled tearfully. "But you missed your face, so you'll still get girls."

Gideon tried to laugh because only the twerp would say something so dumb, so true, and so out of place to lighten the mood. He heard his mother whisper something under her breath as he nodded slowly.

"Bad, huh?"

"The leg bone is connected to the hip bone – but barely."

"Austin!"

"What?" the spiky-haired man uttered openly. "He doesn't need sugar-coating on it. The man wants to know if life's going to be the same or if it's gonna change, and these are the questions I'd be asking if the shoe was on the other foot."

He held up a hand and whispered behind it.

"Foot is intact somehow, but you broke your femur in two places and fractured both bones near the shin. Your noggin took a hit, but your helmet is the reason you're alive, oh yeah – and you've got two bulging discs in your lower back now. I know that because they've been poking your toes for reaction the last few days to make sure the nerves weren't damaged. Other than that, it's a peachy sort of Saturday morning."

Saturday?

He thought it had been three days, but it was closer to a week. Austin released his hand, giving him two thumbs-up and grinning – causing Gideon to smile painfully as he closed his eyes. The skinny man had obviously been crying and was putting up a front. He couldn't imagine his mother and father's reactions, nor his sisters.

"Giselle… knows?"

"Oh yeah, she said if you made it, she'd break your other leg for scaring her. That woman is little, but her temper is huge. Threatens me with dull needles when I get outta line."

"Beck… family… trait…"

"Don't you worry about a thing, Gideon," his mother began, and he turned toward her slowly, grateful they were there. "You'll come home when you are stable. Your father and I can drive you to the VA hospital for your appointments. The discharge papers will give you unemployment for several months plus when you file for disability, then you can…"

"Wh-What?"

"Baby, you are coming home with us and…"

"Actually, Mama Beck – can I talk to Gideon for a few minutes alone?" Austin interrupted quickly, smiling. "I was going to call Giselle, but I think ‘Man-talk' needs to happen first… no offense."

"Are you kicking me out of my son's hospital room?"

"When you put it like that, it just sounds awful… but yes," Austin grinned. "Five minutes, please."

"I'll get some coffee and be back in a few."

"He's not going anywhere."

Gideon cursed under his breath grimly because it was true. If what his mother was saying was accurate, the Army had gotten word of the extent of his injuries – and booted him. It was obviously bad because this wasn't a military facility. He would be a liability with bulging discs and other issues that might crop up as a result. He'd heard of people having permanent nerve damage resulting in loss of use but alive. He was alive and going to be considered disabled at thirty-five years old.

As soon as the door to his room closed, Austin's head swung around.

"Hear me out before she gets back in here because she'll flip her lid," he began in a rush, surprising Gideon. "Let her think what she wants, but you do not have to go home. Your mother will smother you and treat you like an invalid. You aren't – and she means well, but Giselle has pulled some strings for you."

"Like what?"

"She's got a good friend who was a medic in the Army who lives on a ranch in Wyoming now. He's got a cabin you can use, so long as you don't mind bunking up with Chris. No rent, no hovering mamas, and no one to keep reminding you of the changes. It's a fresh start, my friend, and if you want to do it, I'll fly you there myself."

"Is there anything else wrong with me? My leg…"

"Nasty concussion, spleen swollen, but it's gone down so they didn't have to remove it, some internal bruising, so I'm guessing you feel pretty rough…"

"You have no idea," he choked, smirking. "Try not to make me laugh – please?"

"Sorry. But yes, I think that's it. Just watch the bulging discs for any numbness in your toes or legs. I'm sure the doctor will be in soon, but I wanted to give it to you straight."

"Thank you."

"Hey, it's gonna be okay, and we"ll take care of each other," Austin smiled. "I had someone give me a pep talk once, saying the things I needed to hear even if I didn't want to… and I realized that it was done with tough love. You don't need to be coddled by your mom – you need space – and by all that is holy, do not tell Mama Beck that I said that."

"I won't," Gideon promised, looking at his brother-in-law. "And thank you."

"You bet."

Austin stood up and yawned, nodding.

"I'm not going to be able to drag your mother and father from your side for a few days – plus Giselle is a basket case. I'm going to go home, calm her down, and call you in a week to see what you want to do."

"Just be here," Gideon said grimly. "I don't want my mother hovering over me like I'm a child every time I wince, grunt, or struggle with those crutches propped in the corner of the room. I'm assuming that is my new mode of mobility for the next several weeks or months until this cast comes off."

"You got it – and I'll be back soon."

"Thanks."

* * *

Gideon was never one to sit idly by or let himself slump down into a funk, but these changes sure tested his limits. He couldn't get comfortable. His leg always ached, and the medicine made him nauseous which was ironic because he'd been accused in the past of having a cast-iron stomach several times by his friends. If nobody else would eat it, he'd pick it up and sample the unidentifiable dish. Life is an adventure, why not live it to the fullest?

Except his adventure was coming to a significant crawl – if not a ‘stop'. The crutches bothered him, and while he loved his parents dearly, he had to draw the line yesterday and ended up hurting his mother's feelings.

"Open your mouth, baby…" his mother began, taking over and rolling his tray away from him, cutting into his baked chicken like he was three.

"Mom, I can feed myself."

"You should probably rest. They talked about doing physical therapy for you this evening, and I don't know why they keep insisting you need to get up and move around. Your leg is injured. In fact, I think we should probably put a pillow under your heel or…"

"Mom, I'm going to do what the doctor says because I'm getting out of here as soon as possible."

"Oh, I know," she said, ignoring him and continuing to remove his chicken from the bone as he reached for the tray again – and she slid it away. "Your father flew home last night to get your old room ready. Gary is coming over and getting a few things that he had in there from when you two used to share a room. Remember that? Y'all used to play soldiers and…"

"I'm thirty-five, and I am a soldier."

"You are a veteran," she stressed gently, smiling at him, and paused. "Want me to cut the corn off the cob for you too, sweetie?"

Gideon paused, took a deep breath, and hesitated. He was perilously close to blowing up only because he was feeling like a child and struggling with all of this – not because he was truly mad at his mom. Remember that, he thought calmly.

"Listen to me when I say that ‘I love you, Mom,' but you and I are about to have a few choice disagreements," he said bluntly, not looking away from her surprised face. "I am a soldier and will always be one in my head, heart, and soul – so don't dismiss me. I am old enough to cut my own food and eat it by myself. I do not need a pillow under my heel – and I absolutely need my physical therapy because I'm getting the heck outta here as fast as possible to figure out what to do with my life next."

"You're coming home…" she interrupted, confused that this was even up for discussion.

"Actually, I'm not," he replied firmly, not backing down. "I'm going to visit someone in Wyoming who has a cabin for me to stay in – and I'm going to recoup there. If I come home again, it will be to visit and say ‘hello.' I'm sorry, Mom, but I haven't been home since I was eighteen, and I don't plan on letting a little inconvenience completely take me down."

"Inconvenience?"

"Inconvenience," he repeated bluntly. "This – all of this – is just a speed bump in the road of life, and while it's not fun… it just is. I'm going to get past this, figure out what to do next, and throw myself into it bodily."

"Just like you did out of the airplane?"

"Yup," he quipped, knowing she was also getting a little testy. Her cheeks were turning ruddy, and she wouldn't look at him now. "I'm going to laugh, enjoy my life, and if flinging my body out of a plane gets me the thrill that I need to feel satisfied… then so be it."

"You could have killed yourself, Gideon," his mother whispered tearfully, rolling the tray of food to him and putting down the utensils. "You don't know how it felt to get that phone call and…"

He laid his hand on hers.

"Mama," he began softly. "I'm not dead. I'm injured, lonely, and feeling a little lost. I always wanted to be a ranger – and now I'm not. I need to figure out what the next part of my life looks like for me so I can be happy."

"You could do that from home."

"I could," he agreed gently. "But I'm not."

Her weathered eyes met his, and he nodded, smiling softly.

"It's going to be okay, and I promise to call to let you know how I'm doing. Now that I'm not going to be on missions or deployments, I'm sure things will be different. I want to breathe some fresh air, get some peace and quiet, or make some friends – who don't jump out of planes."

"All right," she chuckled tearfully, patting his hand. "Stop panicking, Mama… right? You're a big boy now?"

"I'm a big boy now," he smirked, fighting back a laugh and waving her over, hugging her tightly. "I love you – and yes. Can you cut the corn off the cob for me?"

"Why, you ornery little booger…"

"Some things never change, do they?"

"No, they don't," she said.

Gideon preened innocently and batted his eyelashes impishly, knowing it would make her laugh again. He really didn't need his corn cut off the cob, but if that would make her feel happy and needed, then he would give in. He was putting his foot down regarding Austin's offer to fly him to Wyoming and taking this chance to get away while he could.