BROKEN VOWS (Broken Redemption Book 1)

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lucas

"There fucker. Now you look semi-human again," Parker snorts as he brushes away the trimmed hairs from the back of my neck.

"Yeah? Well, I'm still a prettier fucker than you."

"Please! Only reason you look this good is cause you're here, letting me work my magic. Now shut it and hold still so I can tame this thing." He tugs on my beard, taking his tools and preparing to work his so-called "magic" on my face.

I can't remember the last time I had a fresh cut, let alone a shave. It was probably a few weeks before that last mission. After the rescue and ensuing hospital stays, grooming was less than an afterthought since I had more than enough problems on my plate. I was broken, both physically and mentally, not to mention I barely had a grip on reality. As I progressed through recovery and rehab, not recognizing the man in the mirror meant the state of my appearance mattered even less. Until this morning, when for the first time I looked at that man and was curious to see what lay underneath the unkempt hair. As I stood there, a part of me wondered if by transforming my face to look as it once had, maybe then I'd look and feel more connected to the old me.

Thinking on it now, the decision to change my appearance might have something to do with my re-entrance into my old life. As if re-examining that original trauma has me wanting to dig deeper to reclaim whatever's left of the man I once was. Both the part I'd given up when I abandoned my life after the fire, as well as the part of me I gave up on before leaving the VA Hospital when I came to accept that my friends and teammates were dead and that the woman I loved and the family I thought we had never existed. The doctors said it was the trauma I suffered at the hands of my torturers that caused my disassociation, but a part of me wonders if what broke me was the reality I was the only one to survive, and that after all of that, I had no family to go home to.

"I thought the Navy had strict grooming standards," he adds with a smirk. His hand expertly maneuvers the beard trimmer from the front of my ears down towards my neck. "How the hell did you let it get like this?"

"I've had other things on my mind," I answer, purposely evading the question. Based on the look he gives, I can tell he wants to know more, but he lets it go. "How about you? How did you end up cutting hair with your old man?"

"Now that's a crazy story. Senior year, I was offered a football scholarship to Florida State. Played wide receiver there for three years before I got a girl pregnant. To make a long story short, she didn't want the baby, and I did. So, by the time my daughter was born, I had transferred to the barber school up in Lakeview, and my little Sky and I moved in with my parents. My girl is 10 years old now and leaving football to raise her is the best decision I ever made."

My jaw hangs open in disbelief as I try to picture the crazy man-whore I went to school with, leaving the football jock lifestyle he loved so much to raise a kid.

"Don't look so shocked. I had my fun and honestly, all it took was a grainy black and white ultrasound image of my Skylar, and I knew she was everything I could want."

"Sounds like you're a great dad, Parker. And her mom?"

"She pushed her out, then refused to see her. Signed herself out of the hospital three hours later against doctor's orders, and disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again." He shrugs like it's no big deal. The smile on his face never falters. "Anyway, it's for the best. I'm all Sky has ever known, and she's doing alright. We take care of each other, and she has my mom and sister, so she's not completely without female role models."

"Christ, Parker. That must have been hard."

"For a while, but it's all good. She's an amazing athlete. Plays soccer down at the community center a few times a week. You should stop by my place sometime, maybe come along to one of her games. It's a fun time." Before I can give him the awkward spiel that I'm only in town for a few more days, we're interrupted.