Page 33 of The Forgotten SEAL (The Real SEAL #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Carina

Another three weeks pass, and I haven’t heard from him.

The infrastructure of America is making progress in small increments—a slow, moving process, or so we’re being brainwashed to believe.

I’ve visited the grocery store and the salon.

My friend, who is a hairdresser, opened her salon for a half day once a week to ease back into life.

I figured it was as good a time as any to dip my baby toe back into the new real world.

Today I’m headed to the hospital to see Megan.

I’ve put the errand off for so long that now it’s awkward.

Then, by calling it awkward, I’ve also labeled myself important.

It’s a serious case of self-contrived bullshit.

I dwelled on the decision for so long that it came back full circle, and here I am heading in the hospital’s direction, my hands on the steering wheel at ten and two.

Driving is scary. There are roadblocks and guard checks every few miles along the freeways.

It makes traffic almost unbearable. The radio has the same feed as the televisions, and it barks out orders about curfew and the importance of adhering to our new, normal rules.

I turn it off as I enter the crowded parking lot.

Cars are parked everywhere in a haphazard nightmare.

There weren’t enough spaces, so visitors park wherever they find an empty spot.

The curbs and sidewalks are lined with cars, and the grassy area in between lots is slammed full.

There is no way I’m going into the parking garage. Not today, and maybe not ever again.

The empty space I find is at least a mile away from the hospital.

Sweaty and out of breath, I show my driver’s license, walk through a metal detector, sign in at a security checkpoint, and then sign in at the hospital’s front desk to obtain my visitor’s pass.

A gruff nurse with a wart on her chin directs me to the area where Megan is.

I focus on my breathing as I ride the humid elevator up to the fourth floor and turn down a barely lit hallway.

The faint scent of antiseptic and blood clings to the air, tainting my oxygen and reminding me why I’m here.

She’s inside the last room on the right.

There are more beds shoved inside the space than there should be, but it’s still easy to spot Megan right away.

A large, hunched male figure is slumped over, resting on the side of the bed by her thighs. My heart catches in my throat, and the scent of rubber gloves and betrayal mixes with the former smells, and I throw a hand over my mouth. My stomach flips.

“Carina,” Megan says .

I gag. It is perfect timing, really. Her face has healed by leaps and bounds since I last saw her. The blond, silken perfection that she calls hair is patchy but returning to its former luster. I plaster a weak smile on my face and walk toward them.

He lifts his head. “What are you doing here?” he asks, lifting one brow, his face washed out with confusion and accusations.

I sigh. “Moose.” I let my shoulders slump in relief. Not that I have any right to be relieved, but it gives me some piece of hope. Hope of what, I’m still not sure. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” I direct at Megan.

She smiles, and the warmness draws me nearer, like a moth to a flame.

“I didn’t know I had to go through you to see her,” I say, flicking my gaze to Moose. Huge arms on the bed and his looming size force the image of a watchdog to mind. Moose loves Megan. It’s so clear to see. Does she love him? Or is it blatantly ignored in favor of a past nothing can compare with?

He leans back in his metal chair and folds his arms behind his head. “You don’t need my permission. I figured you’d want to see Smith. That’s all.”

The room spins. His words seem a different language for a beat or two. “What do you mean, see Smith? I haven’t even heard from him.” Saying his name out loud brings a whole new set of emotions. I can practically feel him here with me .

Megan coughs, then grabs her side as she winces, her pretty nose scrunched up just so. Moose lays a hand on her arm in what I think is a comforting gesture. “He left here just before you walked in. He’s headed to your house,” Megan says.

“Oh my gosh,” I whisper, slumping down into an empty chair on the other side of her bed.

“Why didn’t he call me? I didn’t know. How could I possibly know?

” A tear sneaks out. “How long are you guys back for?” I ask.

Dread turns to panic when I gauge Moose’s appearance for the first time.

He’s tired—dark circles look drawn underneath his drooping eyes.

His T-shirt is stretched out, and his jeans look five days worn. I close my eyes.

“We leave again soon. In hours, not days,” Moose says.

I won’t make it back in time. There’s no way. The traffic. The security checkpoints. It’s futile.

“For how long?” My voice cracks. “How long will you be gone this time?” I forget to breathe, so I place a hand on my stomach and force my exhale to move it in toward my body.

Megan takes my hand. “Thank you for coming. I understand if you want to leave, Carina.” Her nails are absent of polish, and the red scars are almost completely healed. They remind me of Smith’s scars. Smith. My heart cracks into two.

“Why did he come here first?” I ask. Either Megan’s or Moose’s reply will satisfy me. They don’t reply, but they do share a look that scalds me to the core.

“It’s not my place to say,” Moose responds. I think it’s mostly so Megan doesn’t have to, and he’s all about sparing her any grief or pain. I hear the patient in the bed next to Megan laugh, and it makes me enraged.

With a small squeeze she says, “This is part of it. You’re not familiar with the deployments and his absence, but it’s part of loving him.

You have to trust that everything will be the same when he comes back.

If you don’t, then you’re wasting your time.

” She swallows, and I can tell it is painful.

“Even if you know nothing will ever be the same, you have to allow yourself to believe it will.”

How morbid. How unromantic. This isn’t anything like how I pictured our relationship. Or lack thereof.

I close my eyes once again. To think about Smith and to block out her pain.

“He hasn’t called me once. He hasn’t emailed me once.

I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. He came here before he came home.

What am I supposed to make of that?” Now I’m angry.

“How can everything eventually be the same when a person is gone? No communication?”

“It’s like riding a horse,” Megan says, nodding her head. She’s trying to comfort me, and something about it irks me. “He comes back, and everything falls back into place until the next deployment comes around.”

I should want her advice. She has firsthand knowledge I don’t, but I can’t get the image of Smith here, visiting her, out of my mind.

I thank her for her advice and wish her well.

I tell her I’m sorry and I’ll never forgive myself for choosing the left side of the table.

She tells me not to worry over it another second, because that’s just how she is.

“I should go. Where are you flying out of? Any chance I can catch him there?” I ask, turning for the door.

Moose shakes his head and explains they’re flying out of the airport on base. No one is allowed except those authorized, and with the heightened security, there is no way they would make an exception.

I rush out of the door and hold my breath all the way to the elevator.

“Wait up, Carina,” Moose says, coming up behind me. “I want to talk to you.”

“We just talked,” I reply.

He sighs and leans both palms against the wall next to the elevator. “It’s better if you miss him right now. He’s not himself,” he says, chancing a glance in my direction.

That makes me want to see him even more. “What’s wrong with him?”

“You know he’s the most loyal and honest person I’ve ever met.

That’s no secret. It’s deeper than what it seems on the surface.

After Henry died, he promised to live a life in his honor, to warrant barely escaping a fate he thought he deserved.

I guess, right now you could say he’s in the largest moral dilemma of his life,” Moose rasps.

Taking a deep breath, I wait for him to finish.

“ He’s wrapped himself in work so completely that it’s no surprise you haven’t heard from him.

He loves you, Carina. Remember that, okay? He’s not even calling his parents.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?

” The elevator pings open, and I step in quickly.

What would I say to Smith if I could talk to him face-to-face?

Would I fall into his arms and forgive him because of all he’s dealt with?

I’d like to hope I wouldn’t. I’ve grown stronger than that.

“Do you know how my mind has played tricks on me all this time? I doubted he even existed. Sometimes I even wondered if claiming me was a fun game. Make Carina fall in love with me, have sex with her…finally, and then pop, smoke,” I say, stabbing a finger in the air.

It’s not Moose’s fault, but seeing him is as close to seeing Smith as I’ll probably get until God knows when.

He shakes his head. Standing in front of me in the elevator, the doors close behind us. “It’s not like that at all. Trust me. He’d be devastated if he heard you talking like this.”