by Laura Kaye
It was almost more than he could believe—that he’d developed such a strong connection when he’d always half wondered if there was something wrong with himself on that score. He hadn’t been close with his dad, and as he’d disappointed his father more and more during high school, it’d impacted his relationship with his mother and his sister, Willa. As a result, he barely knew his nine-year-old nephew, Alex.
As an adult, he’d had plenty of friendships but only a handful of relationships that’d been serious or long enough to elevate to the status of girlfriend.
Yet, here he was, fighting the magnetic pull that apparently every cell in his body felt to go check on Tara. Take her in his arms and make them both feel better. And then figure out how to convince her that they had to give more a shot.
But he didn’t do any of that.
Just as they motored into the marina, Tara appeared on deck. Showered. Dressed. Hair in a loose braid. She chatted with George, checked on Jud, and generally acted normal. But Jesse’s gut wasn’t buying it. Her normally animated face appeared almost a mask of expected expressions. Her tone wasn’t quite right. Her eyes were flat, almost distant. How he could read her so well so fast he wasn’t sure, but Jesse didn’t think he was wrong.
They got the Going Deep moored and then Boone gathered them on the deck, making it easier to include Jud, who could only navigate the ladder to the bridge with some difficulty. The sea had taken a bite out of the guy today, but he was still sitting there laughing and joking around about how his foot had turned into an eggplant emoji, har har. He’d made every single one of his teammates laugh over it, clearly proving his expertise at using humor to defuse a stressful situation.
Jesse had to respect that.
Boone stood with his hands on his hips, the day’s crisis still clearly weighing on the man’s shoulders. “Listen, gang, after today, I think you all deserve a bit of a respite. So unless there are any objections, I’d like to treat everyone to dinner and put y’all up in the Holiday Inn for the night. We can leave at first light, but I think that would be better than trying to get home after the day we had.”
Appreciative words rose up from the group.
Boone cleared his throat. “I want to apologize for not playing today more conservatively—”
“Boone, no,” Jud interrupted. “I was advocating for pushing forward today more than anyone. And besides that, it could’ve been that cable’s time to go even if the weather had been fine.”
“Agreed,” Jesse said. The others all felt the same, including Tara, who…Jesse did a doubletake. Because she was hugging herself so hard that her knuckles had gone white.
Boone nodded, his expression moved by the support. “I appreciate that. But all of you…you’re my team. It’s my job to take care of you. I hate to see any of you hurt, especially on the job—and especially when I’m in charge. I want you to know it won’t happen again.”
While everyone reassured Boone, Jesse stood there a little gobsmacked.
Because, man, did his boss’s words hit him right in the chest—right in the memories, if he were honest. Because as Chief Anderson, he’d had to give similar talks more than once. A leader was always accountable for what happened to those under his command, which was why he’d felt the weight of every EOD tech he’d lost. During his last deployment in Iraq, his team had performed one hundred EOD missions, including forty improvised explosive devices, twenty-one unexploded ordnance calls, eighteen suspect improvised explosive devices, twelve post-blast assessments, and nine suspect vehicle improvised explosive devices. That was just one of his many deployments.
But the number Jesse most remembered…the one that felt most important…. That number remained twenty-two.
Before long, they’d packed up and made for the same restaurant they’d visited at the start of the project. Jud had made the case for eating before they ran him to the ER to get his foot scanned, so the whole team was together as they celebrated having emerged from a crisis relatively unscathed and having finished the lucrative surveying project on schedule.
While Jesse enjoyed himself, he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Tara. She laughed when she was supposed to laugh, answered questions when someone posed one to her, and seemed engaged in the banter. But she mostly pushed the food around on her plate. And when she’d reached for her drink, Jesse had caught the unmistakable glimpse of fingernail marks in the palm of her hand.
Knowing she was hurting—and putting on a show to appear otherwise—was eating Jesse up inside. Especially because the day had left him almost exhilarated, as if the part of his brain set to expect bad things to happen could be quiet for once in the wake of an actual snafu. That was probably twisted, but it didn’t make it any less true.
Finally, they were back in the elevator at the Holiday Inn, minus Boone, George, and Jud, who’d all gone to the hospital. Mike and Bobby got off on the second floor, leaving Jesse and Tara alone.
“Funny meeting you here,” Jesse said, trying to reach her with humor. Even though what he wanted to say was Please tell me what’s wrong. Please let me help. Please lean on me.
She gave him a little smile even as she rolled her eyes at him. “Are we neighbors again? I’m in 420.”
His gut fell, which was damn telling. “Nope. I’m in 302. This is me,” he said as the bell dinged for the third floor. “G’night.”
“Night,” she said, those pretty blue eyes too damn flat.
The door closed, and Jesse caught it at the last minute, forcing it to ease open again. “Tara—”
She shook her head, and now those eyes looked almost…scared.
He swallowed hard. “I’m in 302. Understand?”
“Yeah. ’Night,” she said again, her voice no more than a whisper.
A rock in his gut, Jesse nodded and removed his hand. And hoped against hope that she’d come to him.
* * * *
By the time Tara got to her room, her hand shook so bad she had a hard time sliding the key card into her door.
“Come on,” she said. “Come on.”
Finally, she was in. She flicked on a light. Dropped her bag. And then paced because she didn’t know what else to do with the overwhelming emotion inside her—the emotion from being involved in the first diving accident since her own.
Why was she freaking out so bad when she wasn’t even the one who’d needed rescue? Instead, she’d been in the exact opposite role this time. And she’d been able to do her job without a single problem.
Except none of that seemed to matter to her brain which, as soon as she’d known Bobby was safe, had started offering up flashbacks of what’d happened to her. And it didn’t seem to matter to her central nervous system which, now that no one was watching, had her body shaking uncontrollably. And it didn’t seem to matter to her instincts, which told her that she should be terrified—as terrified as the day she’d nearly died in the ocean several years before.
Even though there wasn’t a single damn thing to be scared of.
But Tara couldn’t seem to logic herself out of this one.
She’d tried. Over and over again. On the GD, she’d retreated to her cabin, used the breathing techniques she’d learned in counseling, and had attempted to immerse herself in her environment by focusing on things she could see and smell and hear. But none of it worked.
And now…in the middle of her hotel room, she burst into tears. Went down to her knees. Curled into a ball and just…sobbed.
I can’t let them see me like this. I can’t let them see me like this. They can never see me like this.
That was what her anxiety was worried about. That if her teammates ever knew she was this fragile, they’d never again trust her to have their backs. They’d see a weak link instead of an equally qualified teammate. Boone would second-guess hiring her in the first place.
A small, distant-sounding part of her mind tried to remind her that anxiety lied, but she couldn’t believe it. Not now. Not when doing her job had left her so shatter
ed.
Oh, God, they can’t see.
Fearing that someone would hear her, she tugged at the corner of the bedspread and pulled part of it down so she could bury her face in it. And then she let herself scream—scream in a way she hadn’t been able to do when that cable had sliced open her throat under thirty feet of water.
If she’d been as deep then as Jud was earlier, she wouldn’t be alive today.
And now she realized that in a part of her brain she hadn’t let herself recognize in the moment, she’d feared finding Jud dead at the bottom of the Atlantic. Part of her had been terrified that she wouldn’t get to Jud as fast as her team had gotten to her—and then it would be her fault that he’d died, the same way that it had been due to her team’s speed, skill, and care that she’d been saved.
The tears came harder. So hard that her stomach hurt and her face ached and her throat felt raw. So hard that it was difficult to breathe.
Come on, Tara. Five things you can see.
“T-the blanket,” she whispered. “M-my hands. The c-carpet.” She pressed a hand to her mouth as more tears came. “T-the light,” she rasped. “My knees.”
She attempted a deep breath, but shuddered too hard to manage it.
Four things you can hear.
“M-me,” she said. “T-the heater.” But there was nothing else. She couldn’t get to four. The room was too quiet. Her pain was too loud.
Skip it! Three things you can feel.
Through her tears, she managed to say, “C-carpet is rough. Everything…” She swallowed hard. “Everything hurts. Everything hurts so much.” The admission brought more tears.
Come on, what’s your third?
The problem was, she couldn’t feel anything else right now. But then, unexpectedly, her memory offered up something she’d felt in the past. Something that’d felt good: her face resting against Jesse’s chest. When she’d thought he’d been hurting and she’d wanted to make it better. Even if just a little.
“Jesse,” she whispered.
Why was she thinking about him right now? When he wasn’t even here, in her environment? That wasn’t how this exercise worked.
“I’m in 302. Understand?”
He knew. Despite her best efforts to lock her reactions down, he knew.
Besides that, he is here and you know it. And not just in room 302. She snuffled into the blanket as the thought caught her off guard. What did that even mean?
Thinking of him was the first time since she’d given in to the panic attack that she’d felt something different—something comforting….
Affection.
She liked Jesse. Not just as a teammate. Not just as a friend. Beyond that, who the heck even knew? But she saw those concerned eyes in her mind and she heard his voice in her ear and she felt his chest under her face.
He was here. Inside her.
Tara closed her eyes and tried to hold on to that feeling. And wondered if she should take him up on his offer.
But the fact was, they were teammates. He couldn’t see her like this any more than any of the rest of them could. And besides, she needed to get herself out of this emotional hole. She had to convince herself that she could pull it together, even when she lost it so bad.
Tara needed to do this on her own.
So she forced herself to think of two things she could smell.
Except the carpet cleaner was the only thing strong enough to penetrate the congestion her crying had caused. But she was counting that as a victory.
Which left one thing she could taste.
And somehow it felt appropriate that her answer was snot. Because yay her.
The tears hadn’t ended. But the sobs had.
The pain hadn’t gone away. But she could breathe again.
Her body aches were still there. But she wasn’t shaking anymore.
It was working. Tara was doing it.
“You’re okay,” she whispered. “And Jud’s okay.”
She blew out a long breath and forced herself into a sitting position.
“That’s true,” she said to the empty room. And she’d had a hand in both of those things, hadn’t she?
Coming out of the panic attack was huge progress, but the whole day had left her exhausted out of her mind. She washed her face. Pulled off her sweaty clothes and left them in a heap. Crawled into bed—without even bothering to turn off the lights.
She was almost asleep when she heard it.
Music coming from by her door.
Iconic music. One of her favorite songs of all time. One that was immediately identifiable with just the first four words: You must remember this…
Jesse. Jesse was playing As Time Goes By for her. It had to be him.
The echo of pain in her chest gave way to something else, something warm and full and new. She slid out of bed, remembered that she only wore underwear, and wrapped the blanket around her body like a cape.
A cell phone lay on the floor just inside her room.
Oh, Jesse.
Tara picked it up, took a deep breath, and opened her door.
Empty. The hallway was empty. From down the hall, she just made out the sound of the elevator doors closing.
For several long minutes, she stood there debating. Long enough that the short song ended…and then began again. She peered down at the screen to see that he’d set the song to repeat.
What a sweet, sweet man. This gesture…it was perfect. Perfect for her. And that…that was enough for now.
She closed her door. Crawled back into bed. Held Jesse’s phone tight to her chest. And fell asleep to “Sam” singing her one of the most romantic songs she’d ever heard over and over and over again.
Chapter 12
Jesse spent all night debating what he’d done, especially when Tara didn’t come after him. He hadn’t played the song for her to make her respond. He’d done it because, having given in to the urge to go to her, he’d heard her sobbing.
Hand raised to knock, he’d frozen at her door. If it’d been him, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to witness it. And in case she felt the same way, he decided not to bother her.
Even though her anguish nearly broke his fucking heart.
But he’d been so worried for her that he’d sat outside her door just in case…well, he wasn’t sure what he was exactly afraid of, but his gut told him she shouldn’t be alone—even if she didn’t know he was there.
After a long while, her cries had quieted. Little noises echoed from inside her room. He wasn’t sure what made him think of the song, but once it was in his head, it felt like the best way to let her know she was going to be okay. And that he was willing to help.
But she hadn’t come after him. And, after six hours of cruising back to DC, she still hadn’t said anything to him beyond basic, polite necessities. She looked better today—her eyes were bright again and her expressions were genuine. And Jesse really hoped that meant he’d helped. Even if just a little.
They pulled into their home marina a little before one in the afternoon. Secured the GD and helped Boone stow equipment. Said what were apparently expected hellos to Mama D, who hugged every one of them as if they’d been off to war. Jesse thought it was sweet.
“Hey, Tara?” Jud called when they were all out in the parking lot. “Sorry about your fight club.” He gestured to his bum foot.
“You can come any time, Jud.” She crossed to where he stood, crutches under both arms. Miraculously, the crush injury to his foot hadn’t broken any bones, so he’d be back to normal within a week or two. “Consider it a standing offer.”
“Good deal,” he said. “See ya Monday.”
“Yep, sure will.” She gave him a wave as he turned toward George’s car, and then she crossed to her own car, parked right next to Jesse’s. She opened her door. For a moment, Jesse thought she wasn’t going to say a word, but then she looked over her shoulder at where he waited by his door. “Guess I should return this.” She pulled his phone out of her back pocket and ha
nded it across the roof to him.
Unsure how to read her, Jesse just nodded.
“So, you in?” she asked.
He frowned. “For what?”
“Warrior Fight Club?” She tilted her head, and the sun played off the golden highlights in her brown hair.
Her beauty fucking sucker-punched him. Just laid him right out.
“Yeah,” he said, not needing to think about it. “I’m in.”
“Good. We have just enough time to grab workout clothes from our places. Want to meet at the gym or, uh, I can pick you up?”
He nodded. “See you outside the Marriott in twenty?”
“Done,” she said. And then she was in her car and backing out.
Okay, so…
That seemed like he hadn’t fucked up by letting her know he’d been there last night.
He scratched his jaw. What else it told him, he didn’t know. But he wasn’t second-guessing it, either.
Which was why he was down on the street changed into workout gear and waiting within eighteen minutes.
Tara pulled up a minute later.
He got in. She took off. Neither of them said a word.
But the car was fucking filled with silent conversation. He didn’t think he was imagining that.
Tara was the one who spoke first. “So, in case you’re wondering how WFC works…” She glanced at him, and he nodded. “We meet once a week at Full Contact, a gym over in the U Street neighborhood. We start with yoga, which is good for getting your head on straight when…” She swallowed hard. “You know, when you need help with that. And, um, then we often pair off and do various kinds of training drills. Did you box or anything in the navy?”
“Yeah,” he said. He had experience with more than boxing, but he didn’t want to do anything to keep her from talking, now that she was finally doing it.
“Good. That’s good. So we do training drills. We often do tag-team wrestling drills. And then we take turns pairing off to spar in the rings. That’s about it, I think. Oh, Coach Mack is going to have some paperwork for you to complete before you can join in. Just usual stuff. And the gym has gear you can borrow.”