Page 26 of The Forgotten SEAL (The Real SEAL #1)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Smith

It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it’s a big deal.

Rain in Southern California. It comes down all day long, and it’s a harsh, unrelenting flood because the streets and landscapes aren’t made for weather as such.

When it stops and the sun shines down like a soldier staking his claim, it’s a sight to behold.

You’ve missed it, and you’re more than glad the warm beams are beating down on your skin.

It’s a feeling like nothing else. That’s the only comparison that comes close to describing what it’s like to be with Carina intimately.

To hold her body next to mine. To touch the skin that’s usually covered by her clothing.

To see the parts only a lover is privy to.

She’s the fucking sun. The rain, too. I can’t control myself around her.

Carina has triggers after suffering abusive relationship after relationship.

Yelling is one. Sex after an argument is another.

Apparently, she closes herself off. Nothing sexual in the shower because it’s a small space, and she’s claustrophobic, and thank God hair pulling is not on her list.

After the blow job, which will go down in history as the best in the world, she left for a meeting with Jasmine to talk about work.

I met Moose at our work gym, and now we’re at the outdoor shooting range, practicing.

It’s high-tech and tracks everything: precision, speed, and distance.

These skills will prove to be of the utmost importance soon.

A sense of clarity washes over me as my body goes into autopilot.

The world melts away for an hour as I pull the trigger, aim, and repeat.

I feel so much when I’m around Carina, it’s almost a relief to think about nothing except the task at hand.

When Moose finishes, we head back to the high bay to hang out.

He grabs a drink from the bar and hands me one.

“I made it light. It is a workday,” Moose says. Smiling, he pats me on the shoulder before he takes a seat on the leather sofa opposite me. “What’s on your mind?” He looks at me over the rim of his glass.

I shrug. “Nothing and everything,” I admit. “I’ve never been happier, but it’s the beginning. The tenuous part of any relationship, and we’re about to ship out.” My palms, the same ones that scored almost a perfect score at the range, begin to sweat.

Moose shakes his head. “There are no promises on that front. You heard the brief,” he says.

Swallowing down the liquid fire, I relish the burn every step of the way down. I’m nervous. The state of affairs that our world is in is too big for a quick fix. “Regardless, we don’t have enough time to cement the relationship before I leave.”

“You haven’t had sex yet,” Moose says. His eyebrows rise in surprise. “Not that I want you to talk about it because you know details aren’t my thing, but you’re living with her. How is that possible?”

I drain the rest of my drink and slink back into the cool, brown leather.

We nod as a few guys pass through, gear bags slung over their shoulders.

“I’ve been gone.” I sigh. “And I wanted to take things slow because this is different. I know her. I know her so well. And I don’t want to scare her off or fuck things up before they have a chance to get off the ground.

” I can’t make eye contact. Not when talking about something this personal.

It’s about Carina, not Megan. It’s awkward, and he’s my best friend.

Moose huffs out a breath and runs both hands through his longish hair like a shaggy dog. “God, I hate to say this, but are you sure? There’s still time, man. If you haven’t taken it to that level, there’s still time to go back to her.” Megan. Like I assumed.

I nip his train of thought in the bud. “I’m in love with Carina.

I love her. I want to be with her forever.

We’ve done everything but, Moose. My allegiance will always be with her,” I say, using my hands as I speak.

Moose understands words like love and allegiance.

“Megan made her choice, and I’ve made mine.

Carina is meeting her for lunch tomorrow.

It’s working out. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, bro.

” I think about how she makes me feel—how important she is to my mental and physical health.

“I’d give up my career if I thought the relationship was in jeopardy.

Bow out. Get an office job and a closet full of suits if that’s what made her happy. ”

It’s a strange, foreign thought. It’s true, though. My happiness is her happiness. Never in my wildest dreams or nightmares would I conjure up leaving the Teams. It’s my identity. Finally…finally, my true identity has been exposed.

Moose is staring at me, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

“Now you’re talking like a crazy asshole and I am going to butt in with my opinion and tell you that you need to get laid as soon as humanly possible.

” He claps both hands down on his sizable hamstrings.

“You’re changing, man. I can’t say I like it, either. ”

“Or actualizing who I really am,” I return. Taking the glass out of his hand, I return the two to the sink by the bar and wash them out without looking. I’m lost in thought, translation, and in truth.

He stands, shaking his head with a stymied look on his face.

He puts his hands on his hips as he surveys me.

“Back to what I said before. Fuck this bullshit out of your system. We have a job to do, and you need to realize what’s important.

We need you. Look around, Smith. The world is going to shit.

If there’s any time we need some of that superhero shit you spout, it’s now.

Don’t have a mid-midlife crisis, please.

You are a fucking SEAL. The best one I’ve ever known.

You owe it to yourself. You owe it to Henry.

” Once spoken, Henry’s name and a million memories troll through my mind.

“I’m working on remedying the issue today, actually. If you ever let me leave,” I reply, ignoring the emotions that threaten my good mood. “No mid-midlife crisis. Okay?”

Hesitantly, Moose nods.

We talk for a few more minutes about work stuff and head to our lockers to pack a few more gear bags. He thinks I’m crazy. That I’m not thinking with the right head. I tell him I know what’s important, and for once, since my accident, I know exactly who I am.

It brings him up short. He passes me several zip ties. When I take them, he says, “I hope you know what you’re doing, man.”

So do I.

It took a lot of convincing to get her to visit. My own internal struggle was pretty rough, too. It could change her mood and turn her off so completely that we may never have sex. I need to have sex with her, and a lot of it. It’s important to be here, though. To both of us.

Carina’s hand shakes as we turn the corner onto a dead-end street lined with trees and shady sidewalks. She stares out of the passenger window in a trance.

“It’s right there. On the right. The white one,” Carina whispers.

It’s a plain, nondescript house. The grass is longer than the neighbors’, and the shutters look like they could use a coat of fresh paint.

If I didn’t have firsthand knowledge of the atrocities that occurred here, I would think it a fine middle-class home in a nice neighborhood.

Carina is shockingly silent when I pull into the driveway.

“It’s been so long. It doesn’t look the way I remember it,” she says. One hand on the door handle, she pauses, looks over at me, and blinks once slowly. A tear trickles down her face. “I need to close this chapter once and for all. Thank you for understanding.”

Scooting over, I drape my arm around her shoulders. “Hey, I wanted to come here with you. You’re brave, Carina. It shows your strength,” I say.

Turning her head to the side, she seeks out my lips. I kiss her because it’s the least I can do. I kiss her because I can taste the salt from her tears, and I kiss her because I love her, and you embrace the good and the bad.

This structure standing tall in front of us is her bad.

All of it. It’s what set the course for her life and the string of abusive relationships.

You see, it wasn’t just Roarke. First, it was Jake, a boy in high school who thought it was fun to fight and fuck, and then it was Eddie, who liked drugs and alcohol.

By the time Roarke came along, he appeared as Prince fucking Charming.

Sure, he was nice when he wasn’t drinking, and for all outward intents and purposes, he was the perfect fiancé, but beneath the surface, he was the worst of all of Carina’s past relationships.

He was responsible for verbal abuse so strong that his words set fire to the core of her personality.

A beating was something she was familiar with—could withstand within reason.

His words, that fucker’s words, tore her to shreds.

Her confidence slowly returning, I see what she used to be—what he stole—and it’s infuriating.

Carina exits the car slowly, her gaze turned to the front door and her hands fisting the sides of her skirt.

It has bold colors weaved into the pattern, and she told me it’s her favorite because it has flounce.

Bunching in her hands, it looks like an overused dishrag.

She removes the key from the lockbox, inserts it into the bolt lock, jiggles the handle a few times, and pushes the heavy door open.

It creaks. Her heels echo as she takes the first step inside.

I give her space. I let her walk in without disturbing her thoughts.

“I need to sell it. Before it rots from the inside out,” she says. Carina doesn’t turn around. Instead, she heads to the kitchen, her head held high.