Page 17 of Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC 7)

“Give me a minute, Alec,” she said, her voice filled with emotion.

I sat down in the chair and waited, wondering how many other men in my position would have taken the offered discharge and walked away. There was no doubt in my mind that the war had changed me, but as I sat waiting for her to gather herself, I wondered just how much I had actually changed. I raised my hands to my face, pressed my palms to my cheeks, and covered my eyes with the tips of my fingers. I had always been able to think more clearly with my eyes closed, and sat hoping some newfound clarity would wash over me.

My mind immediately went to thoughts of my Marines, and I filled with guilt for sitting in the living room with Suzanne while they were dodging bullets and returning fire under someone else’s command.

Someone far less capable of protecting them than me.

“You know,” I said as I lifted my head. “Most of the men think I’m lucky or something.”

She turned toward me and wiped her eyes. “And you think you have some sixth sense about danger or whatever.”

I nodded my head. “Men are going to die in this war, Suzanne. I can’t change that. But what I can do is do my best to protect the men in my command. In my platoon. And in doing so, we rid this earth of what is evil, one bad guy at a time.”

“You know what’s sad? I can’t argue with you. I want to, but I can’t, because you won’t listen. You think you’re a superhero or something. It’s been almost five years, Alec. Five years. Five years of me sitting here crying myself to sleep, waiting on the next letter, and hoping each time I go to the mailbox I’m not going to be met by two Marines in dress blues who are here to tell me the man I love is coming home in a god damned flag covered box.”

Apparently I wasn’t the only one worried about me coming home in a casket.

I stood from my seat. “I can’t sit here and let my men die.”

She stomped her foot on the floor so hard she shook the pictures hanging on the wall. “You’re not obligated to protect them. Your obligation is to be my husband.”

I pressed my cupped hands to the outside of my thighs and stood erect. After clearing my throat, I recited the oath I had taken upon entry to the Marine Corps.

"I, Alec James Jacob, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God,” I said, pronouncing each and every word clearly and precisely.

She blinked her eyes and stared.

“I took an oath before God, before the flag, and in the presence of an officer of the United States Marine Corps; and, I took an oath to be your husband. You took one as well, Suzanne. For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. Well, this is the worse and the sickness. I’m upholding my end of the two oaths I took. I’m still your husband. And, until this god forsaken war is over, I’m going to be a Marine,” I said.

“You’re always right, aren’t you?” she asked.

I cocked my head to the side, shrugged my shoulders, and smirked.

“Go find Osama or Saddam or whoever it is you’re trying to find, kill that son-of-a-bitch, and come home, okay?” she said as she slowly walked in my direction.

“So, we’re good on this?” I asked as I spread my arms wide.

“As good as we’re going to be,” she said as we embraced.

And that was all I could have asked for, because even when Suzanne and I were at our worst, we were better than any other married couple on earth.

And I loved her for it.