Page 60 of Boomer (SEAL Team Tier 1, #7)

Taylor’s mom met them at the door again, and she ushered them inside without a word, her eyes softer, more welcoming. Taylor touched his arm, but he held back. “Let me talk to Ansel first. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Boomer watched them walk down the hall to where her dad was sitting. His bruises, like his wife’s, were healing. Taylor kissed him on the temple.

Boomer headed to Ansel’s room. The door was open, and Ansel launched himself at Boomer. “You came back!”

Boomer caught him, his chest tight. “Yeah, of course I did. I promised.” They had built up their relationship over text. It wasn’t ideal, but it was as real as hell.

He released the boy and sat him on the bed. “Listen, I wanted to say how sorry I am that your sculpture got smashed.”

Ansel’s brow furrowed. “It didn’t get smashed. I won first place.” He slipped off the bed and dashed to his bookcase. “It’s right here. Oma said it should be set in a place of honor.”

His chest hurt. So, the old lady had come around. “But I saw the shards on the floor?”

“Oh, you mean my last maquette. That got smashed, but my project was already at school waiting to be judged in the contest.” He looked away shyly. “I wanted to show you the finished project, but I was scared it wasn’t good enough.”

Boomer rose and walked over to the bookcase.

Ansel’s final piece was…exquisite, masterful for a boy of seven.

The glazing gave it a shiny quality, bringing out the variegation in the clay.

Emil’s face was beautiful, rapt with joy, the detail made his throat tight.

“You did your father justice, Ansel. This is a masterpiece.”

The boy blinked quickly, then burst into tears.

He buried his face in Boomer’s leg. Boomer knelt down and gathered him into his arms and just held him.

He left with the kid walking beside him and they entered the living room together.

Ansel went over to Taylor and climbed up next to her on the sofa, snuggling against her.

“Hey, mate,” Bash said from a chair next to Mr. Hoffman.

Boomer nodded, smiled. “Bash.”

“Carter,” Alaric said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.”

“We wanted to say to you both in person that we’re so grateful to you and Bash for what you did for our family. If it wasn’t for your help…”

Boomer took in a hard breath, clasping Alaric’s offered hand in a tight grip. “You’re welcome.” He looked at Taylor, her eyes shining. “I’m just grateful we all came out of it in one piece.”

“Yes,” his mother said. “Since you have two good hands, it’s time you gave us a taste of your Oma’s cooking through her grandson.”

He looked at Taylor and laughed softly, “Only if I’m assisted by two amazing cooks. We’ll make something together.”

Once in the kitchen, Boomer turned to Taylor’s mom. “Mrs. Hoff?—”

“Gretchen,” she said firmly.

His heart jumped. “Gretchen, I’m sorry that you had to see that violence in your home and see me as the one creating it.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t create it, you ended it, and I’m thankful that you are the man you are. You’re a hero to us, nothing less, Carter. Your Oma was a proud woman, I’m sure.”

Later after the meal, Bash came up to him as he was washing the dishes. He picked up a towel and started to dry. “You're in love with her.”

Boomer looked at him, he would wait and give those words to Taylor first.

“You don’t have to say it. I see it.” His voice dropped low, regret clear. “I’ve been where you are, mate. Thought I’d have time. Thought I could wait.” He looked over his shoulder at Taylor. “I was wrong.” His jaw clenched, his voice going gruff. “Don’t be me. Tell her, Carter.”

Boomer nodded. “In my own time. I will. Thank you, Benedict.”

He set down the towel. “I’m heading out in a couple of hours. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again, and when we do, it’ll be an honor to operate with you again, you Yankee Doodle bastard.”

With a bark of laughter, Boomer turned to him. “Hoo-Yah,” he said, then they hugged tight and hard.

He watched as Bash said his goodbyes, knowing that it was long past time to go home and face his demons.

The air was still, the way it only got in Arlington, like even the wind knew to hold its breath.

Boomer crouched low, brushing a scatter of leaves from the marble headstone with slow, reverent fingers. The name carved into white stone still looked too sharp. Too fresh. Like grief itself had etched it in his chest.

His heart was a knot of wire, tight and tangled. He’d spent years learning to breathe around it. Now… he was ready to undo it.

“Take your time, Carter,” Skull said behind him, voice soft as moss.

“Do him justice,” Iceman murmured.

Boomer looked back at them, his brothers, the ones who never let go even when he had.

His throat worked, but no sound came at first. “Hey man,” he rasped, “it’s been a while.

” His fingers curled against the cool stone.

“The last time I came, I was wasted. Lost. Broken. I didn’t even know what to say to you.

” The silence stretched. In it, he could almost hear Mike’s voice, steady, wry, alive in memory.

Tell me, man. I didn’t save your life just to have you tank it.

Boomer huffed out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sob.

“I know. I know, brother. I’m sorry you died.

Sorry you didn’t get to live the life we talked about.

That tore me up…and I couldn’t even look the guys in the eye.

They didn’t blame me, never that, but they reminded me of what I lost every damn day. ”

Breakneck stepped closer, set a firm hand on his shoulder. “You carried all of us, Boom. We never expected you to carry him , too.”

Boomer nodded, chin trembling.

“I ran. Left the team. Thought I could outrun the pain. But I ran headlong into seven of the most stubborn bastards alive. They”—he looked up at them, his eyes glassy—“they didn’t let me go.”

Skull gave a crooked smile. “Self-correct or get corrected.”

Boomer swallowed hard. “I met someone. Taylor. She’s…hell, Mike, she’s all the things I didn’t know I needed. I want a life with her. I want a family. Love. Laughter. All the things we dreamed about. But to give her everything, I need to let you go.”

He touched the trident pinned to his chest, then laid it on the grave gently.

A symbol. A farewell. A promise. “Not the friendship. Not the love. Just the guilt. Just the pain.” He stood, the wind catching his shoulders like the weight had lifted.

“Thank you for saving my life, brother. I’ll never forget you. ”

He turned to face his team. The men who stood with him through every fall, every rise, every crawl through darkness.

“That was beautiful, Boom Boom,” Skull said softly.

Iceman gave a solemn nod. “Let’s go raise a glass. To Mike. To healing, and to what comes next.”

“I’m not sure I want to go anywhere with Break and watch him chick-magnet another date,” Skull said, this time not under fire. “Hell, the sky could be the limit.”

Break remembered what had happened after they had returned to the compound from HQ. While mags were reloaded and wounds patched, the SBS guy who’d witnessed the entire boardroom takedown couldn’t hold it in.

“Mate,” he called out, loud enough to command the room.

“This guy”—he jerked a thumb toward Breakneck—“never seen anything like it.” Then he blurted out the whole story from beginning to end.

Break endured it. “Wasn’t sure if he was auditioning for a western or just showing off, twirling his sidearm like a desperado,” the Brit added, still shaking his head.

“The woman he saved? Slipped him her number.”

Skull blinked. Stared. Then pointed a finger like he was issuing a formal accusation. “ Fuck me. You took out seven tangos, five of them with a sidearm, mid-slide, through glass and you got a date? ” He tossed his hands up. “Jesus. This kid.”

Break had loaded a fresh mag with all the urgency of a man making toast. “All in a day’s work.” He slid the mag home. Clicked it. “So, I do my shit with a little flair. Sue me.”

As they walked toward the parking lot, Skull shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Showboating little bastard.”

“Me and Bibiana, the blue-eyed receptionist at MAOC HQ, had a good time, but the other woman there…she was amazing.”

“What? Two dates?”

He flashed a grin, all heat and trouble.

“That SBS guy said she was stacked,” Kodiak said, using his hands to outline a curvy body.

Hazard shook his head. “Bibiana? Was she stacked like a library’s bookshelf?”

The guy laughed, and Breakneck gave them an unreadable look. “I don’t kiss and tell.” He stopped and spun around. “But this showboating little bastard did all right.”

Then he gave Skull the finger, casual as you please, and walked toward the vehicles. Before he knew it, all of them were piled on top of him, and he couldn’t catch his breath from laughing.

But beneath all that stupidness, he was scared that Boomer was going to give up everything for Taylor, including them. That hurt more than he was willing to admit. All the kidding aside, he wasn’t sure a woman was worth losing the brotherhood.

Boomer left the bar sober with a light heart, his stomach hurting from the laughter, knowing there was only one other stop he had to make before catching his flight back to Lisbon.

The cottage was white with blue shutters and a little fence out front. The kind of home built from someone’s childhood dream. Lila’s dream.

Boomer hesitated at the gate, then walked up the path, boots crunching softly against the gravel. He knocked once.

When the door opened, she was glowing. Eight months pregnant and radiant, a cotton sundress clinging gently to her belly.

“Carter!” she gasped, joy flashing across her face.

Before he could speak, she threw open the screen door and wrapped her arms around him. He froze, then caught her, held her, stunned by the warmth that still lived in her bones.

She stepped back, eyes shining. “It’s so good to see you.”