“Thanks.” I have a feeling I’m gonna need it.
Chapter Fifteen
“So what now?” Smithers asked her as they sat in the hospital waiting room. Ipman was currently getting a cast on his hand and they didn’t know how long it would take.
“We take him home to cool off and lie low for a few days,” Honor answered. It’s not like Ipman could return to work with a busted hand anyway.
They’d been damn lucky the judge had agreed to release him on bail in the first place, which she’d paid in an effort to keep things quiet and avoid more people getting involved. Ipman had promised to pay her back the money as soon as possible and while Honor had had initial doubts about springing him from jail, in the end she’d decided it was the right thing to do. There was no way she could not tell command about this, though they’d likely find out anyway, since the local police had good communication with the MPs.
She blew out a breath and leaned her head back against the wall. “Never seen him like that before.” Moody sometimes, sure, but never outright belligerent or hostile. He wasn’t a nice drunk. He’d been mouthing off to the jailers when they’d arrived and it had taken her and Smithers the better part of ten minutes to get him to calm down initially.
“Me neither. Thank God he had the sense to punch the wall and not his wife.”
Honor nodded. And thankfully both the kids had been upstairs napping at the time of the fight. “How bad’s the drinking problem now?” She knew Ipman had a tendency to hit the bottle when things weren’t going well, but overseas that hadn’t been an option for him. Since coming stateside, he’d taken a flying leap off the sobriety wagon.
“He’d go on the occasional bender back before the deployment, but since we’ve been home, nearly every day, especially after work. And then there’ve been the few times he showed up half-tanked,” he added.
Twice Honor had seen him coming back from a mandatory coffee break Smithers had sent him on to sober up. She hadn’t suspected anything was up until she’d gotten close enough to smell the alcohol wafting from his pores. “He’s gotta get help. Command’s going to insist on it if he wants to stay in.” Otherwise he could be looking at a dishonorable discharge.
The big man nodded, a serious frown creasing his brow. “I’ll take him home, get rid of his stash and stay with him tonight. In the morning I’ll make sure he gets in to see a therapist someplace off base.”
Honor clapped a hand on the man’s sturdy shoulder. “You’re a gem, Smithy.”
He ducked his head and grinned, his teeth a startling white against his dark skin. “Aw, come on,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed by the praise.
“It’s the truth.”
They waited another hour until Ipman finally walked out into the waiting area. His short hair was still sticking up all over the place and he had a blue cast from mid-forearm to fingertips on his right hand. The combative, aggressive posture and expression were gone, replaced by slouched shoulders and a sullen look.
When he turned his dark gaze on Honor, however, the bitterness she read there sent a warning tingle up her spine. He clearly knew she would have to report this to command and blamed her for causing him more trouble. Trouble he’d gotten himself into all on his own.
Ignoring that look, she stood. “You done here?” Yeah, she so wasn’t giving him any sympathy. He’d been stupid, plain and simple and he knew it.
He gave a terse nod and glanced away from her. “Just get me home.”
Not exactly the kind of attitude she was looking for, especially after the way she and Smithers had gone out of their way to help him. “Smithers is going to drive you back, but we’ve got a few things to set straight first.”
At that Ipman faced her fully and hit her with a glare so hostile that Smithers made an irritated sound and stepped in front of her. “You cut that shit right now, soldier,” he warned. “Ms. Girard just bailed your drunk ass out of jail, in case you forgot.”
Ipman’s gaze shifted to his sergeant. “And now she’s gonna report me.”
“You gave her no choice and the cops are gonna report you anyway,” Smithers said in disgust. “You’d best think about that, and how you’re gonna fix the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Because tomorrow reality’s gonna hit you right between the eyes and I’m gonna be there to drive it home, even if it’s with the toe of my boot up your ass.”
It was a good speech and Honor appreciated the show of concern but she didn’t need Smithers to protect her, least of all from Ipman. “There’ll be a meeting in the morning,” she said to Ipman now, asserting her authority and letting him know his anger didn’t faze her one iota. “Sarn’t Smithers is staying with you tonight—”
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” he snapped.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what you need,” she fired back, “because you’ve just proven you’re incapable of handling yourself responsibly.”
His gaze was so cold it burned and again she was startled by the hostility radiating from him. He didn’t even seem like the same man she’d had lunch with at Bagram a few short weeks ago. Yeah he could be somewhat unpredictable in his moods, but before now she never would have said he was dangerous to anyone. Apparently she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought.
“You don’t know shit about what it’s like to go through something like this,” he muttered, switching back to sullen again. His quicksilver shifts reminded her of Charity. Honor would make sure a psych eval was recommended.
Honor held his gaze, refusing to look away. She knew a helluva lot more about family conflict and nursing a broken heart than he realized, so she didn’t bother responding to his woe-is-me comment. He was being a prick anyway and was bound to become an even bigger one if she engaged.
“This is on you, Ipman. Bottom line, you need to decide what you want out of life going forward. You want to be chaptered out with a dishonorable discharge, maybe lose your chance at partial custody of your girls? Because that’s where you’re headed. Better do some deep thinking about that over the next few hours.” She didn’t bother trying to blunt her words. He didn’t deserve her kindness right now and he needed to understand that she wouldn’t be intimidated or spoken to with that kind of disrespect, out of uniform or not.
He looked away, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “I wanna go home.”
Honor stared at him for another long moment, just to prove the point that she wouldn’t be cowed, then turned her attention to Smithers. The man was a freaking saint. She was lucky to have him as a senior NCO. “Go ahead. Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
Outside in the fading afternoon sunlight she stopped to expel a long breath and let the warm breeze wash over her. She was halfway to her car across the parking lot when her cell vibrated in her pocket briefly, signaling an incoming text. Fishing it out, her heart did a crazy cartwheel against her ribs when she saw the familiar number displayed.
You there?
At first she thought she must be hallucinating. But nope, the same message was still there when she unlocked the screen.
“I’m here, but there’s no way I’m answering,” she muttered to herself as she used the keyfob to remotely unlock her door. Her phone buzzed again moments later.
I’m in town for a bit. Can we talk?
A cool breeze picked up, blowing some hair across her face but she didn’t move, still staring at her phone. Liam was back? If he wanted to talk so bad, why hadn’t he at least warned her he was coming back? Even if it was a last minute thing, he’d have known for a couple days at least.
For a second she debated ignoring the new message, then dismissed the idea. She didn’t play games but this was about self-preservation and he needed to know where he stood with her. Which was at the bottom of a shit pile. They weren’t in a relationship anymore, so she owed him nothing. He thought he could roll back into town after weeks of silence and expect her to be willing to talk? Nuh-uh.