When Afghanistan vet Lincoln encounters wellness counselor Lexi, he knows he’s found the one—but the ghosts of his past may get in the way of his goal to build a bright future.
Age Rating: 18+
Cowboy Boots and Combat Boots by Riley Maylon is now available to read on the Galatea app! Read the first two chapters below, or download Galatea for the full experience.
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1
When Afghanistan vet Lincoln encounters wellness counselor Lexi, he knows he’s found the one—but the ghosts of his past may get in the way of his goal to build a bright future.
Age Rating: 18+
Original Author: Riley Maylon
“Link!” I screamed. “Link! Stop!”
The alley behind the bar was dark—the only light coming from a high window in the wall.
It illuminated Lincoln’s muscular shoulders as he leaned forward, his arms corded with tension, his hands tightening.
“Link, you’re choking him! You’re going to kill him!” I shouted, my pink painted nails digging into Link’s arm as I tried to drag him off.
My heart was thudding hard.
His face was red, the veins were popping in his forehead, his eyes were squinting, and his lips were pulled back from his teeth.
“Link! Please!”
My God…
He’s going to kill him!
***
Two Months Earlier
The high whine of the plane landing made the skin on my arms prickle.
This is it. This is really happening.
The cabin jostled as the wheels hit the landing strip, the sound of rubber on tarmac raising my blood pressure even more.
Nashville.
I was home.
My blood pressure spike had more to do with mixed feelings of anticipation than with any fear of flying.
Home after five years, and a couple of tours of duty fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq.
Honorably discharged. Done.
I was a civilian now.
The plane was taxiing. People around me pulled carry-ons from behind their seats onto their laps.
A tawny-skinned, bearded man was putting away toys as his little boy bounced up and down in the seat across the aisle from me.
On the guy’s other side was a brunette applying lipstick using her phone’s camera as a mirror.
Will I have what that guy has someday?
A family.
A normal life.
How did he get so lucky?
Sitting across the aisle from him, I felt like I oughta have matches to sell, looking in a house’s window on an icy winter day.
A warm, happy family inside.
Me, alone, on the outside.
The plane stopped rolling and the seatbelt light winked off.
People started standing, going for bags in the overhead bins.
Everyone had somewhere to be, but I was in no rush.
We’re here.
Now what?
***
As I stood at the baggage carousel, weariness crept over me and my eyes began to droop.
I was half-asleep on my feet when an arm swung around my neck.
Jerking to full alertness, I grabbed and threw my attacker over my shoulder.
He landed hard on the linoleum, letting out a loud “Oof!”
People shuffled back, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted security personnel with walkie-talkies up to their mouths.
Blinking down at my attacker, his face resolved into clarity; I made a snorting noise.
Reaching a hand to help my assailant up, I said, “Aw, hell, Rowan. You better never sneak up on me like that again.”
There were smiles and even laughs from the onlookers then.
Rowan Jefferson, my little brother, straightened his shirt as he stood and rolled his eyes. “Kinda overreacted there, Link.”
The security personnel eased back.
I grabbed Rowan in a bear hug then.
I could hear a murmur in the crowd—and even scattered applause.
It helped that I was wearing fatigues, I knew.
Rowan clapped me on the back, and I squeezed a little harder. It was so good to see him again.
“Okay,” he choked. “Can’t breathe.”
Releasing him, I beamed at my little bro.
He was a good-looking guy—took after our Mama—with blond hair and fine features. We didn’t look much alike except for our dark-blue eyes.
I resembled our father more, with dark hair and a more rough character to my face.
What’s Dad going to say when I tell him I’m back for good?
It was something I’d been worrying about since I’d gotten my discharge papers.
The Dad-worry would keep a while longer. I just wanted to get the smell of airplane out of my nose for now.
“Welcome home, Link,” Rowan said, returning my smile. “You ready to get out of here?”
Lincoln had bulked up even more since the last time I’d seen him, which was two years earlier when he was recovering from a combat injury at a hospital in Germany.
“Were you spending your days doing chin-ups or what?” I asked as we crossed the parking lot.
Link snorted. “Something like that.”
It was brief, but I saw darkness move behind his eyes.
In Germany, I’d already become worried about what his experiences were doing to him.
Anxiety spiked, but I pushed it down.
Plenty of time to get into his mental health status once he was settled in.
A few steps ahead of me, Link stopped short.
I grinned. I knew why.
Link’s hulking F250 truck, the black paint job shining after I’d taken it for cleaning yesterday, waited patiently for us.
Sucking in his breath, Link walked around the truck, fingers hovering just over the glossy paint, as if he couldn’t bear to smudge it.
“Reunited at last,” I joked.
Link glanced at me with a grin. “Brother schmother. She’s what I came back for,” he teased back.
“It’s an epic romance. I won’t try to stand in the way,” I said.
Link stowed his bags in the massive truck’s back seat and sat behind the wheel. I’d barely shut the passenger door when the engine roared to life and Link gave me a delighted look.
“What?” I shrugged. “I promised you I’d take care of her.”
We were on the highway in seconds, dodging through traffic like Link thought this was the Indy 500.
“Whoa, there, soldier. We don’t need to outrun the enemy here,” I said, then closed my eyes, wishing I could sink into my bucket seat and disappear. “Sorry, Link. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Link shook his head. “It’s fine.” He eased up a little on the gas, but not enough to let me really relax.
“Food first or shower?” I asked, trying to push past the awkwardness.
Link considered this. “Shower, I guess.”
“Okay then, take the I-440 west exit, should be coming up in fifteen minutes or so.”
“Will do.”
After a shower, a meal, and a nap, I was feeling like a new man.
Rowan had a one-bedroom with a lot of light. I was camped out on his couch for the foreseeable future.
“We gotta go out and celebrate,” Rowan said, and I agreed.
“Where?”
Rowan raised his eyebrows. “Strip club?”
I snorted. “You’ll want to go to that ‘male review’ one on Second Avenue…”
Rowan grinned.
“I just want to do something normal, Ro.”
Rowan faked a pout but recovered instantly. “I know a bar. There’s a guy…”
“Ah,” I said, grinning as I nodded. “What’s his name?”
“Damien. He’s some kind of lawyer or something,” Rowan said.
“How long you been seeing him?”
Rowan got a sheepish look on his face. “I haven’t exactly started yet. It’s possible he has no idea who I am.”
“But he’ll be at this bar you want to go to?” I asked.
“You know what, let’s go somewhere else,” Rowan said. “I want to spend the night partying with you, celebrating that you’re back. Damien can wait for some other night.”
I shook my head. “Uh-uh, no way. You opened this can of worms. Now I need to see this guy and make sure he’s in your league.”
Rowan rolled his eyes, but I could see the excitement bubbling underneath.
He likes this guy.
Maybe I’ll meet someone too.
***
The decor of the Swingin’ Lariat was consciously ’50s style country-western, with lights hanging from wagon wheels and all sorts of cowboy hats in a row over the bar.
The chairs had cowhide upholstery on the seats and the pictures of rodeos had turquoise frames that popped against the varying shades of wood paneling on the walls.
Rowan and I took a table, and a waitress in pigtails and a plaid shirt trotted over to take our orders.
As she left to get our beers, I eyed Rowan. “This place is kind of a tourist trap, isn’t it?”
“I dated a rockabilly guy that liked it,” Rowan explained. “And then one night near the end of us going out, I met Damien. He likes to come here for square and line dancing on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Are you shitting me?”
Rowan shook his head with a pleased smile. “Nope. You’re gonna have to dust off those cowboy boots, Link. It’s time to cut a rug.”
I groaned and leaned back, but secretly I felt a tinge of excitement. I hadn’t danced since before I’d shipped out five years ago.
Sure, I’d be rusty, but I used to like it.
Looking around, I saw the band was almost ready to start.
The server gave us our beers. Five minutes later the music began.
Rowan grinned at me and dragged me out of my chair and into the line.
He was soon laughing his ass off as I struggled to keep up, but it made me laugh too.
It was so good to be doing something just for fun.
I felt silly but pleased.
Looking at the girls in the line on the other side of the floor, I felt my pulse quicken.
Lots of pretty girls. At least one of them had to be free.
Rowan elbowed me and jerked his head.
A slick-looking guy in black jeans with equally black hair and green eyes joined the line.
I raised my eyebrows at Rowan and mouthed, “Damien?” and he gave me a quick nod.
Smirking, I was about to figure if I could embarrass him somehow when my eye caught on another newcomer.
She joined the line opposite Damien.
She was a goddess.
Her long, wavy brown hair was streaked with gold and swayed over her shoulders as she stepped forward with the rest of the dancers on her side.
Stamping her turquoise and brown leather cowboy boots, she kicked a long, tanned leg across in front of her, then behind.
The loose, navy-colored top she wore made her look like she had wings.
But it was her smile that really made me miss my steps.
It shone from her face as she wrinkled her nose at Damien and tipped her head back to laugh.
A moment later, she must have felt me staring because her eyes—golden hazel—met mine.
My heart stopped.
Rowan jabbed me hard in the ribs and I blinked, looking away as I hurried to catch up.
Damn. What a beauty.
My mind flashed back to the guy on the plane and the woman putting on lipstick beside him.
Could this goddess one day be by my side, the way that woman had sat so easily beside him?
Will I ever be so lucky?
As the song ended, Rowan pulled me off the floor and over to the bar.
“I need liquid courage if I’m going to talk to Damien,” he said.
I glanced back at the crowd on the dance floor and saw that Rowan’s crush was deep in conversation with the goddess.
“They’re friends,” I said in Rowan’s ear as he ordered two-for-one shots.
“What?” Rowan frowned at me.
“Your guy and the girl of my dreams,” I muttered, still staring.
Rowan looked around and his face cleared. “Oh!” he said. “Yep. Seen her with him before.”
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t know. But I bet Damien does.”
“You have to talk to him,” I said, grabbing the shot that had been placed before me and downing it. I waved at the bartender, who filled the glass again.
“Well, yeah,” Rowan said, squaring his shoulders.
“Hey!”
It was an aggressive bark from a guy with Elvis hair, behind Rowan’s shoulder.
Rowan turned and then immediately whipped away, giving the guy his back. “Shit.”
“What?” I said.
The guy had sleeve tats and even more ink on his neck, and he wore an embroidered shirt that Buck Owens would have been proud of.
The rockabilly.
He grabbed Rowan by the shoulder and pulled him back to face him.
That didn’t sit well with me.
Jerking his chin in my direction, the rockabilly said, “Who’s this guy, Ro?”
Get your hands off my brother.
Rowan sighed and jerked his shoulder free of the rockabilly’s grip. “No one you need to worry about, Jerry.”
Jerry grabbed Rowan’s arm again as my brother tried to turn away from him.
“Why’d you have to bring him here?” he demanded.
“Let him go,” I said, stepping to put myself between Rowan and this asshole.
The rockabilly sneered and got in my face. “Or what?” he asked.
He’d let Rowan’s arm go, and now it was Rowan’s turn to grab mine. “Come on, Link, let’s get back on the dance floor.”
I glared down at Jerry. “You leave my brother alone,” I said.
The rockabilly’s eyebrows shot up, and then he looked from me to Rowan. “Brother? You kidding me?”
I leaned in till our noses were nearly touching. “Yeah. Big brother. The kind that beats the shit out of guys who bother his little brother. Get the picture?”
Rowan pulled me, but I wasn’t budging.
“Hey, Jer, how ’bout you run along now,” Rowan said.
The rockabilly scoffed and shook his head, but then he stalked away.
I scowled after him.
Rowan put himself into my line of vision. “Link, what was that? You were gonna fight that guy!”
With some effort, I turned my attention from Jerry’s retreating form to Rowan’s concerned face. “I didn’t like him manhandling you.”
Rowan grimaced. “Link. I can take care of myself. And Jerry’s harmless.”
I grabbed the newly full shot glass and downed it.
Rowan’s tone softened. “Hey, you know, the VFW is just a ten-minute drive from my place. Maybe tomorrow I’ll take you there.”
I frowned at him. “Naw. I’m fine.”
Rowan frowned back.
“Seriously, Ro. I’m just getting settled in. No fighting, I swear. All I gotta do is figure out a job and get that pretty lady to let me take her to coffee, and everything’ll be hunky-dory in no time.”
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2
Over the course of the three days since my return, all my mind wanted to dwell on was that goddess dancing at the Swingin’ Lariat.
After that tense moment with Rowan’s ex, I’d lost the urge to dance, but sitting had had its advantages.
It’d allowed me plenty of time to watch that lovely lady whirling and stomping.
She’d thrown her head back and laughed at something Damien’d said to her.
Good Lord, I wanted to make her laugh like that.
I didn’t think love at first sight was real, but look at me now.
However, dreaming about a girl with beautiful hazel eyes wasn’t getting me any closer to having a job and the means to get a place of my own.
I was going to have to put her out of my mind for a while if I wanted to get my act together.
And today…
Well, today was going to be especially unpleasant.
Ten o’clock in the morning, and my brother was on my couch, watching a baseball game and drinking Dos Equis. He was two bottles into the six-pack already.
I figured this had something to do with him telling me yesterday that today he was going to go see the “parental unit” for lunch.
Normally it was time to head out for my job at Sullivan Branding and Design, but when I saw him get the six-pack out of the fridge this morning, I called in sick.
I wish we could just pretend like we don’t even have parents for a few more weeks.
Dad was barely speaking to me after months of pretending I’d died after coming out to him.
We had a very fragile truce.
Mom was better—she didn’t really get the gay thing but wasn’t actively hateful the way Dad could be. And I reckoned she’d be glad Link was home.
Dad, on the other hand…
Dad thought of himself as a patriot.
And Dad defined patriotism and manhood in narrow terms.
This lunch had me worried, and by the looks of things, Link felt it too.
On the hour drive over, neither of us spoke. I stewed in my feelings of resentment mixed with anxiety.
When we got to Mom and Dad’s house, though, I let myself relax. Dad smiled when he saw Link and gave his hand a hard shake. Mom wiped tears from her eyes and squeaked when Link hugged her.
Maybe things would go better than I’d feared.
While Mom finished up in the kitchen, Dad took us out to the garage to admire the work he was doing restoring his beloved glacier-blue 1955 Chevy Bel Air.
“I just ordered a pristine original grill,” he said, pointing out the rust on the one still on the car. “Buddy of mine took his sweet time finding me one.”
“That’ll look real fine,” Link said appreciatively.
We talked about this and that well into the meal, and I thought maybe Link just wouldn’t bring his discharge up at all. And I was fine with that.
But then Dad said, “So when do you ship out again?”
Panic rushed over me and I suddenly felt the need to wipe my mouth with my napkin, trying to hide the expression on my face.
“Well,” Link said, “I needed to talk to y’all about that.”
Mom sat up a bit, and Dad’s eyebrows lowered.
“Why is that?” Dad asked.
It was the moment I’d been dreading since I’d signed my papers.
I sucked in a deep breath of air.
I’d rehearsed how I’d give them the news over and over in my head, and of course, now my mind was blank.
“Well?” Dad prompted, his voice gruff.
“Well,” I echoed, “I’m not. Going back.”
Dad’s face darkened. “What? What’s that supposed to mean, you’re not going back?”
“I finished my tour and I was honorably discharged,” I said. “I’m done.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re quitting?” he said.
I glanced from him to Mom, hoping against hope she’d say something to defuse him.
She just sat without moving.
“I’m finished. It’s not quitting,” I said.
Dad slammed his palm on the table. The glasses and silverware clattered, and Mom jumped.
My vision narrowed, going blurry at the edges.
“No son of mine is a quitter!”
All I wanted to do now was check out.
Rowan looked from Dad to me, his face agonized.
Dad’s face was getting redder and redder.
“Dad—” I started.
“It’s out of the question!” Dad barked.
“It’s already done,” I replied.
Dad shoved out his chair, lurching to his feet. He leaned one fist on the table and pointed at me with his other hand.
“You coward! You’re abandoning your brothers!”
I shook my head slowly.
“I had to do it. I had to stop. I was—I wasn’t making the right choices anymore. I—”
“That’s a load of bull hockey and you know it!” Dad bellowed. “You have a duty to serve!”
I just kept shaking my head.
“Dad—” Rowan said.
“Jefferson men don’t quit!” Dad yelled over him. “Jefferson men aren’t cowards! That war isn’t over! You don’t leave until you’ve wiped the enemy out, boy!”
“They would have wiped me out, Dad!” I snapped. “I’m trying to tell you: I couldn’t do it anymore!”
Dad had never enlisted.
“You sniveling coward,” Dad hissed, drawing away from me. “You got scared, is that it?”
“And how many battlefields have you fought on?” I demanded.
As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could call them back.
This was an eternal sore point with Dad. Vietnam had ended when he was 13. After that, the US hadn’t been involved in anything while he was young.
Dad never enlisted.
“Get out of my house!” Dad shouted.
“Franklin!” Mother protested.
“I’ve already got a fairy for a son, I don’t need another one who’s a yellow-bellied coward!”
Rowan sighed and rolled his eyes.
I stood and took a step toward Dad, my six-foot-four frame a good half-foot taller than his.
“What? You gonna take a swing at me?” Dad sneered. “Go on! Do it! I dare you.”
I stared as Link glowered at Dad.
What’s he going to do?
He isn’t actually going to hit him, is he?
Link’s face contorted as he glared at Dad, and in the next moment, he turned and stormed out of the dining room.
Dad was panting, fists at his side.
Mom was still sitting in her seat, her fingers tangled in her napkin.
I looked from one to the other and said, “Well, it’s been just lovely. Let’s not wait another month to do it again, ’kay?”
And with that, I marched out after Lincoln.
“Jack,” I said to the gray-haired bartender, who promptly poured me another shot.
The bar closest to my parents’ home was a dark and seedy place.
The floor was sticky.
The sconces were chipped.
Some black and white photos on one wall had faded to an almost inscrutable degree.
The bartender refilled my glass.
I downed it and waved for another.
I downed that one and waved for another.
“Hey there, tiger, slow down,” Rowan said as he settled in beside me.
I didn’t even look at him.
I wasn’t going to stop until everything went away.
Dad had hit every nerve I had had about leaving.
Especially the bit about abandoning my “brothers in arms.”
What he didn’t understand was that I couldn’t function right anymore, and if I’d stayed, I wasn’t just going to get myself killed. I’d have gotten everyone killed.
Knowing that had made choosing to come home the only option, but it didn’t make it any better.
It didn’t make it feel any less like I was ditching them all. Leaving them to fend for themselves in that hell.
Rowan was my brother, and I loved him, but I’d left behind all the brothers I’d served with. I’d gotten out, and they hadn’t.
And how many of them would die because I wasn’t there to save them?
Flashes of memory.
My hands freezing up on my rifle. Fingers like ice in the Iraq heat.
Breathing too fast.
Blinking away the sweat that ran into my eyes.
“Link!” Juarez had shouted, trying to get through to me, but I was frozen, just trying to breathe.
“Link! Come on!”
I couldn’t move, and I was endangering everyone.
“Link.”
It was Rowan.
I tried to focus on him, but my vision split.
“Hey,” he said.
His face swam and doubled, then went back together.
I pawed the bar, looking for the shot glass. How many had I had?
“Come on, bro, let’s get you home,” Rowan said, and I felt him tugging on me, trying to put an arm around my back.
I pushed him away, stumbling and knocking the stool over.
“It’s okay, Link, come on,” Rowan said.
I leaned, trying to steady myself on the bar.
Rowan wrapped an arm around me again, and this time I let him.
“Let’s get you home,” he said.
Strangely, as he said the words, an image of pretty hazel eyes and swishing brown and gold hair came to mind.
I closed my eyes, but the image broke apart and faded away.
***
Back at his apartment, Rowan said, “Link, I’m sorry Dad reacted like that.”
I snorted. “It’s not like it came as a surprise.”
“But the thing is,” Rowan said, rubbing his palms, “I’m worried about you.”
I grimaced. “Like you’ve never overindulged.”
Rowan shook his head. “I’m not saying I haven’t. I’m just saying…the VFW is there to support vets like you.”
I gritted my teeth.
I’d thought when I came home, I could finally just relax.
And now I have to deal with Rowan being a mother hen?
I knew he was just worried about me, but all he was doing was complicating things.
***
The shadows made it hard to see the man’s face.
A shaft of light illuminated my fingers around his neck, though.
The image was stark and real.
The man struggled under me, his teeth bared.
Fear and desperate rage coursed through my veins.
I hated him.
Hated everything.
I had to make him die.
I pushed harder, blood rushing in my ears.
Somewhere beyond, machine gun fire sounded.
It made me gasp and grit my teeth against overwhelming dread.
He grunted as his struggles lessened.
“Link,” he said.
Startled, I loosened my grip.
“Fuck, Link. Let go.”
His voice was muffled and strangely familiar.
I could barely hear it over the thrumming of my pulse in my ears.
He jerked, but I tightened my grip again.
“Link.” A strangled word.
His nails dug into the backs of my hands.
But that wasn’t right.
Everything tilted and went dark.
I cracked open my eyes.
My hands were still wrapped around a neck.
But as my vision cleared, I saw…
…it was Rowan’s.
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