Page 35 of The Forgotten SEAL (The Real SEAL #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Carina

It seemed so convoluted and complicated at first glance.

Given our difficult histories, it was hard to come to terms with how it truly boiled down to something so simplistic—honor.

Smith’s honor. I wouldn’t love him as fiercely if he didn’t have it.

I think it’s the single most appealing quality in a man because so few actually have it.

It’s poetic because that’s what stole him away from me.

I’m trying to move on as Smith asked, but it’s been slow going for various reasons.

Sean kisses like a wet dog after a swim in a pool.

I broke things off with him before they evolved into anything more than friends who kiss.

He was upset, and in turn it made Jasmine upset.

She forgave me when I wrote her a detailed scene of me kissing her brother.

I think the words she used were “utterly disgusting.” It’s not easy going into the dating world knowing no one will ever stack up to him . Not ever. Not even close.

I haven’t heard from anyone in Smith’s life since the letter either. I can’t bring myself to contact Moose or Megan. The jagged wound he left in my heart is still raw and bleeding. I’m still trying to figure out how you can love a person too much, because that’s what his words boiled down to.

It’s been several weeks since I read the letter that changed everything.

“Come here, Poppet,” I say, then click my tongue.

The solid white juvenile kitten jumps into my lap.

Moments after I finished reading Smith’s words, I heard a tiny meow from the hallway.

Smith broke my heart and left the white kitten to mend it.

I hated Poppet and loved her in equal measure for a long time.

My overall desire for this cat won out in the end, and now she is basically the most important thing in my life.

She has a red-and-white striped collar that reminds me of a peppermint stick.

She licks my face and pounces on my feet anytime they’re under a blanket.

“I’m three months away from becoming Bridget Jones, Teala,” I say into the receiver of my phone. “Can I come over tonight?” I ask.

“Are you bringing Poppet again? Last time she chewed the handle of my Louis Vuitton, and who knows when I can get it fixed.” The mail is still incredibly slow.

Mailing the handbag in for repair isn’t an option.

I checked into it after my sweet girl teethed on my friend’s bag.

“Macs is here right now. Give me an hour or two.” She giggles.

I close my eyes at the sound of her happiness.

Macs is a SEAL Moose introduced her to when their date didn’t go as planned.

I clear my throat .

“I’m sorry, Carina. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Ugh. Stop it. I’m not some wilted flower.

A love-scorned woman without any prospects,” I reply.

“A woman who has multiple book and movie offers about the above-mentioned scorn. A woman who has a life.” I lighten my tone and laugh as she groans with each of my points.

My work will tie me to Smith for the rest of my life.

It’s worth reconsidering, and I have several times.

“And a woman with a bitch cat,” Teala jokes.

Smiling, I scoff. “Take it back now, or I’ll poison your chai.

” Coffee shops are coming back into business after the attacks, but the one by my house is still closed.

I’ve taught myself how to make a mean chai tea latte.

I bring them for my friends when we get together.

“Jasmine will be over before me, I think. I have a quick errand to run first.”

“Finally entering the world. I like the new Carina.” She wouldn’t say that if she knew where I was headed.

“Don’t make it so sweet this time. I haven’t been to boot camp lately, in case you weren’t aware.

” We’re finally at the point where a joke about the sad state of affairs in our world is acceptable.

“Your ass is too big to fit through the door even if it was open for business,” I say. “We can try that workout video tonight if you want?”

“Nah. Less sugar. That will take care of the problem,” she responds.

I smile and agree to make hers with less sugar .

“Oh, and for your information, I entered the world a long time ago. If you came up for air out of your sex cloud, you might notice it.” Macs is with a troop of SEALs that are stationed here in San Diego.

Oftentimes I wonder if I would even know if Smith was back here.

I’m sure he would try to be, to be closer to Megan. “Will he be here long?” I ask, fishing.

She giggles again. “He’s here long,” she says. I hear a satisfied male grumble in the background.

“Oh, ew, Teala. Get out of here with that.”

She sighs. “Smith is still gone, Care. That’s what you’re asking, right? I don’t know why you just don’t talk to Moose. You said he’s called you a few times. I’m sure he has all the information.”

I shake my head. “I have to go. Remember I’ll be a little later. Go…have fun,” I say.

“Drive safe,” she says. “Quit. Stop it.” I roll my eyes at my friend’s obvious daytime romp.

I bet she’s naked right now. Lucky bitch.

“Remember to just breathe and turn off the radio. It distracts you. Nothing will happen that you can’t find out about when you get here, okay? Pack Poppet some fucking toys, please.”

I laugh. Because I can’t help but smile when I think about my cat, and hastily agree. With a quick goodbye, I hang up the phone. “Sleepover tonight, Poppet! Let’s pack!”

I send a quick text to my errand. I’ll be there in an hour. You’ll be home ?

His reply is immediate. Waiting 4 u.

I get ready quickly and have everything packed and in my car in no time.

I head in a direction I don’t typically drive.

The security checkpoints are run differently than the ones I’m used to, and it makes me nervous.

I put Poppet in her carrying case, and she hates it.

The officer asks me to unzip the flap. I raise a brow but oblige his request.

“Curfew is soon, ma’am. Get to where you’re going,” he says, satisfied that my precious cargo isn’t something more sinister. Teala would disagree and show you the handle of her expensive handbag.

“Of course. I’m almost there,” I say, motioning to the road in front of me that he’s blocking. A car honks behind me and beside me. It’s annoying and it makes me nervous.

He waves me through, and I turn into the gated community while I talk to my cat about how the politics of the world are a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

She listens and doesn’t judge. She even meows back in irritated intervals.

I can tell her anything. Talking to my cat distracts me from the stupid thing I’m about to do.

Jasmine would kill me if she knew, but I’m determined.

Pulling into the driveway sends shivers down my spine, but it’s not enough to stop me.

I have everything to prove. The car stays running because I won’t be long.

I unzip Poppet’s bag to give her freedom to roam while I run this quick errand.

I kiss her on her white fuzzy head and leave a smear of dark pink lipstick .

The sight makes me smile. As much as I hate to admit it, Poppet is the best gift I’ve ever received. She represents something so dark and painful. If I can love her, maybe one day I’ll be able to love the wounds that accompany her existence.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper. Then I walk up the driveway and ring the ornate doorbell.

The same doorbell I chose a few years ago.

Roarke answers the door. It takes him a long time. He’s finely dressed and presentable, but a bad feeling lodges in my throat. A hint of distrust creeps, in and my fight-or-flight kicks into gear. The car is running , I remind myself.

“Carina. Come in. Please,” he says. His voice is clear, in control. Not like the last time I saw him.

I hold my shoulders up straighter in an effort to portray confidence. “Poppet is in the car. I have to be quick,” I explain, hiking my thumb over my shoulder.

“Finally got a dirty rat of a pet, did you?” Roarke asks.

I slide by him. He stands too close, so my shoulder rubs against his chest as I pass into the foyer.

The scent hits me at the same time a wave of bad memories does.

This place. This horrible, horrible place where an emotional prison sentence was served.

“Stop it,” I say. You don’t call my cat a rat.

“Is my legal file where it used to be?” There’s paperwork I need that was long forgotten when Jasmine and I moved out of here in a frenzied rush.

Roarke eagerly agreed to let me pick it up when I texted him last week.

That’s when I was trying things with Sean and I figured he’d come with me to keep things on the up and up.

After proclaiming him fish lips, I couldn’t very well ask him to escort me here.

“Join me for a drink,” Roarke replies.

“Are you drinking?” I ask. My heart pounds out a warning against my chest. This, this is the moment I should turn around and get into my car to leave, but that odd tether that always appears when he asserts control shows itself.

He cocks his head to the side as he eyes me up and down. “I’ve had a few.” I shake my head and head for my old office. It’s redecorated, and my filing cabinet is nowhere to be seen. Roarke stands behind me. Too close for comfort. “Come here, Carina. I’ve missed you.”

“Fuck you, Roarke. Where is my file?” Spinning on my toe, I face him. He glowers down at me. The scent of expensive bourbon lingers in the air surrounding his body. “Do you even have it?”

He laughs—a caustic, evil sound. “I burned it. But it was the perfect excuse to get you right where I want you, wasn’t it? And he’s not even here to save you this time,” Roarke says, accentuating each word in a drunken slur.