by Kirsten Lynn
“Is there something wrong with the house?”
Her question brings my full attention back to her. “Negative. I like the place. A little secluded.”
She lifts her leg, resting her foot on the bench and her hands around her knee. “That’s what I was looking for.”
“You can have your bed back tonight.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve slept fine in Ella’s.” With an exhaled breath, she pins me with eyes more brown than green, which is never a good sign. “So, you’ve been here two nights and a full day. Don’t you think it’s time you tell me why you risked your life to get here, and why you chose to land at my secluded lighthouse and not the sands of San Diego for your leave?”
My plan was to get to the lighthouse at least a week prior to Thanksgiving, giving us time to talk and work through things, or at least be closer to working it out. The United States Marine Corps’ plan was to hold up my transitioning out by two weeks. Then, after my little brush with hypothermia, I chose not to try to get into a fight yesterday, and Brynn avoided me except for meals and to keep laying her hands on my face and checking my fingers and toes.
Could I feel her? Hell yes, all the way to my soul. I felt her when I was in the Middle East, and when I was in Japan, and Twentynine Palms. There’s a part of her that never leaves me, the most precious cargo I carry. I’ll feel her when I’m one hundred years in the grave.
I lower my gaze to where Brynn has covered my hand with hers. “You still with me, Caleb?”
“Got off course slightly.” And I’m not just talking about spacing out now, or in the boat a couple nights before.
As if she understands the true meaning of my words, and I’m sure she does, she tries to take her hand back. I hold it for another second before letting her go. And letting her go is something I plan on never doing again. We’ll face the families the next day for Thanksgiving. I need to get my head on straight and get focused, because we need everything settled, so no one can offer opinions.
“I’m a newly minted civilian as of a few days ago.”
She combs her fingers through the brown waves of her hair, and I wish I could do the same. “Really? Why?”
After taking a well-worn and torn folded envelope from my back pocket, I slide her the letter I’ve carried for over a year. She turns the envelope in her hand, reading the lawyer’s return address on top, my name in the middle. Lifting an eyebrow, she pulls the wrinkled letterhead out and unfolds it. Her eyes scan back and forth, and the lines in her forehead deepen the more she reads the words Mark wrote and stuck in his and Liz’s will.
“This is bullshit!” She shoves it back at me.
“But that’s why I’m here. I had a year and four months, and I made it…barely.”
“I don’t believe this. Why would Mark include a codicil? And Liz didn’t have a say?”
Ignoring the fact she’s pretty much calling me a liar, I turn the letter and point to the top. “If you’ll notice, this was written after you returned to Maine. So, they didn’t think we were still together—”
“We aren’t.”
I ignore that remark, as well. “Mark wanted me to have a place in his children’s lives. And, with her signature at the bottom, it appears, Liz did, too.”
“You expect just to come here and take my children?”
I hike my eyebrows at the use of the word my, but let it go. “No, the letter says they’d like us both to raise Michael and Ella.”
“And you decided now would be the perfect time to separate from the Marines and come back to Maine and rescue us all.”
“Don’t be a shit. I decided I wanted to honor my brother’s wish and be a part of his children’s lives.”
Her eyes narrow to a point so sharp it almost cuts. “So, co-guardian, what was the plan as you bounced over the waves? You’ll move to Camden, which you hate? They stay with me one week, you the next?”
I shift in my chair. “I’m not moving just to Camden, Brynn.”
“Well, we’re not moving to San Diego. This is our home.”
I flinch at the direct hit to my Achilles heel. “I’m moving here to the lighthouse. The letter states they hope we can raise the children as a couple. If we can’t, we can decide custody arrangements. I’m suggesting we give the couple thing a try.”
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“I think you and I should give us a try. Give it until New Year’s. Be a couple.”
“You are a complete asshole. Now you decide you want the dream and I’m just supposed to fall in line like this is some mission? You were the one who shredded our hearts, Caleb, and mine isn’t ready for another round.”
I link my fingers with hers, surprised she doesn’t resist, but her hand is as cold as her gaze. “I know what I did, Brynn, and I know what I sound like coming to you now. You also know me better than anyone on this earth—do you honestly think this is all just something I’m pulling out of my ass? Sorry isn’t enough, but please give me a chance to make the life with you we dreamed of.”
“That dream has changed.”
“Affirmative, so have we.”
She snatches her hand away and stares at her palm before tucking her hands under her thighs. “How much of a couple?” Her voice is just above a whisper and I contemplate whether she’s asking me or herself.
I decide to answer for my part. “If you’re asking about fucking, yes.” The frown returns to her forehead. “As much as we can.”
“If this was what they wanted, why didn’t the lawyer say so when we all met with him?”
I allow her to avoid the subject. “I met with him earlier, and asked him not to when I saw the letter. At the time I was still pretty messed up. If you’re questioning if it’s real, we can visit their attorney.”
“I know it’s real. I’m not calling you a liar. I’m just confused.” She massages her forehead. “Why would you want to do this?”
If she needs to circle back a million times, we will. “Because I want to be a part of Michael and Ella’s lives. And I want you.”
“Me? Since when?”
“Oh, since about birth.”
“You didn’t even really speak to me at the funeral.” Her cheeks turn red like the words came too fast for her to control.
“I was pretty raw that day.”
“We were all raw. And we were supposed to be best friends, not just in-laws.” Brynn pushes out of the booth before I can offer a defense. She separates herself from me by a few steps staring out the opposite window to the tower of the lighthouse and the forest beyond.
Standing, I step behind her and put my hands on her hips, studying our reflection in the glass. “Give me until January 1st. If it doesn’t work, I’ll go back to being Uncle Caleb just visiting here and there. No arguments.”
Her gaze meets mine in our reflections. “What will we tell the families?”
“We’re engaged. We won’t let on it’s a test, then if it ends you can tell them I blew it…again. I’ll take all the heat. I deserve it.”
She turns in my arms and tips her chin until our gazes collide. “This is more than sex, Caleb. It’s more than us this time too. Michael and Ella are involved here. If they think we’re together and then we’re not, it will break their hearts. I’ve spent over a year trying to mend their tiny lives. You’re their hero—what will they think if you walk away?”
“I know the stakes. I also know the prize when it works. But let’s get one thing clear: unless you tell me to go, I’m here for the long haul.”
“So, now it’s on me and I’m the bad guy if—”
“Not even close. I’m the dick who shredded us, like you said.”
“This is crazy.”
I smile. “Not the craziest thing we’ve done.”
It’s not her brightest smile, but at least her mouth curves. The smile fades as quick as it appeared. “We were a team before; stronger together against anything. Now…I don’t feel stronger. I feel off. Like
I know you and you’re my Caleb, my harbor, but at the same time you’re the one who’s hurt me more than anyone.”
I’m thankful I didn’t eat breakfast, or I’d throw up. It twists my heart to hear the truth from her lips. Combing my fingers through her hair, I inhale the scent of lavender-mint shampoo and with it a lifetime of memories. “I won’t hurt you or the children, Brynn. I’m asking for the opportunity to prove it to you all.”
She barely nods. I lower my head, testing to see if she’ll accept my kiss. Her gaze connects with mine and all the gold flecks are back in force. She opens for me and I run the tip of my tongue along her full lips before sinking my teeth into her bottom lip. An erotic whimper sounds deep in her throat. Capturing her mouth, I feed off the sound and her taste.
She’s sweeter and softer than I remember, and I have given years of thoughts to the taste and feel of Brynn Reilly. She moans and I push my luck more by sliding my hands under her sweatshirt. I groan finding her breasts bare. I mold the full mounds and stroke my thumb over the hard nipples. Deepening the kiss, I stroke my tongue against hers, my hands rough on her body.
Kissing Brynn is all the warmth of the brightest fire in winter, and I push closer to see how burned I can be. She kisses me back with all her heart, shining a light in all corners of my darkness brighter than any star on any Christmas tree. A heart I broke, and a heart I’m going to heal like she’s healed me a thousand times over. Smoothing my hand over her torso and ass, I grip her thigh and lift her leg high on mine.
“Aunt Brynn?”
The warm, pliable woman in my arms snaps to attention, her lips torn from mine, she pushes my hand off her thigh and lowers her leg. She angles to see around me. “Good morning, Ella, what do you want for breakfast, baby?”
She’s got this mother thing down, because there is no way in hell my voice would sound so calm and normal. I slowly lower my hand from her breast, the shudder of her skin under my touch testing my willpower. I stay still, refusing to turn with a major hard-on pressing against my jeans. I can’t see Ella’s face, but I’d bet money she’s wearing a frown that matches what Mark’s used to be.
“Are you and Uncle Caleb married?” I smile at the tone of disapproval in her voice.
“No, baby.”
“Are you going to be?”
It’s the moment of truth. She agreed a few seconds ago, but this is Ella asking. The answer Brynn gives her seals all our fates.
Her chest rises and falls in deep breaths. “Yes.”
She lifts her gaze, and I frown at the sheen of moisture in her eyes.
“We sure are,” I confirm.
“Yay! Michael, Michael, Aunt Brynn is marrying Uncle Caleb!” She pounds up the stairs, repeating the news of the morning.
I cup Brynn’s face between my hands.
“What have we done, Caleb?”
“We’re going to work, Brynn. This will work.”
“Is it true?”
Now that my body has stopped simmering, I turn and hook Brynn’s waist with my arm as we face Michael. Brynn answers again. “Yes, it’s true.”
Michael’s smile grows. “You’re staying with us, Uncle Caleb?”
“Absolutely.”
Brynn steps from my arm and combs her fingers through Michael’s hair, straightening the bedhead. Her gaze cuts from Michael to Ella with all the tenderness a mother should have. “What do you two want for breakfast?”
“Oatmeal sounds good.”
Ella wrinkles her nose at her brother’s suggestion. “Cold cereal.”
“Okay, one oatmeal and one cold cereal coming up.” She turns her gaze to me. “Will you get the oatmeal going and I’ll help Ella get dressed?”
At the moment, I’m so inspired I want to give a, Yut!, instead I give a short nod like I’m not celebrating inside. “Sure thing.”
“Go get dressed, Michael.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tosses another look over his shoulder like I might leave, as I start getting out the pot and oatmeal.
I keep my gaze on Brynn’s back as she climbs the stairs with the children chattering about my staying and us getting married. She’s a woman who always knows just what to do and always has it together—well, unless I’m inside her, then she’s a storm uncontrolled and wild. But today I see a vulnerability with her day-to-day life, and guilt guts me she’s had to go it alone so long; making all decisions for the children, and I’m guessing fighting both sets of grandparents with some. I’m sure my father has offered tons of advice, and a person should listen to him so they can do the exact opposite to be a good and loving parent.
Rolling my shoulders, I let go of those thoughts and get the hot cereal going. I open cupboards and find the cold cereal setting it on the table. Michael comes downstairs and into the kitchen dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. “What do you like on your oatmeal?”
“Cinnamon and sugar. I’ll get it.” He sets the spice and sugar on the table. “The Marines are letting you go?”
I chuckle. “Yep. Time for a new mission.” I nod to the table. “Take a seat and I’ll dish up chow.”
Watching him, I swallow around emotion. He reminds me of his father. Mark supported me no matter what and looked up to me with the same devotion. When Michael smiles at me, it hits the heart at how he looks exactly like Mark did when we were kids and I’d help him with something.
Dishing out the oatmeal, I almost stumble when a four-year-old with a death grip barrels into my leg and hugs it tight. I glance down at the chubby-cheeked face looking up at me. Brynn’s braided Ella’s hair into pigtails and dressed her in a pink sweatshirt and jeans. She’s so cute she could wrap me around her finger if I’m not careful. Hell, I’m already wrapped.
Turning back to Michael, I finish dishing out his oatmeal until he snatches the bowl. “Uncle Caleb, I can only eat so much.”
Brynn chuckles behind me. “He’s not a Marine yet.”
I have to admit I might have spooned out a Marine-sized portion. “I’ll learn.”
“Yeah, you’ll learn,” Michael confirms.
“Thanks, bud.” I look down at the leech on my leg. “Come on, sweetheart, get in your chair. I’ll get your cereal.”
She frowns. “Aunt Brynn gets my cereal.”
“I’m getting it today. Now get in your chair.”
She glances at Brynn, and to her credit Brynn doesn’t contradict what I’ve said. Seeing her aunt isn’t going to take her side, Ella releases my leg and climbs on her chair with a few huff and puffs as her short legs work getting up on the adult-sized chair.
Watching how much I pour, I look to Brynn for confirmation. She hides her nod behind her coffee mug. I set the bowl in front of Ella, pour the milk, and watch as she eyes the cereal like it might not be the same as what Aunt Brynn gives her. Stepping back, I accept the fresh mug of coffee from Brynn and lean back against the counter.
When she braided Ella’s hair, she put her own back in a messy bun, a complete contrast to the tight regimented buns she wore as a corpsman. I give in to the urge to touch and run the tip of my finger along the line of her neck. She doesn’t jerk away or frown, so I cup the back of her neck and then down and back up under her sweatshirt; a little disappointed to find a bra.
She turns those hazel eyes my way a dark forest green with desire. “Please stop.”
I lift an eyebrow as I take my hand off her. “Problem?”
She lowers her voice. “We have two children here and being revved up with no outlet is painful.”
“Roger.” I hadn’t thought of that. Like the cereal, there’s a lot to learn about twenty-four/seven parenting. Things like Brynn and I can’t just go at it whenever, wherever. Creativity and timing will be key and it’s a good thing the Marines taught me both.
“These guys will make the Marines seem like sailing on a bluebird day with fair winds. There’s no five-paragraph plan with them.” She reads my mind. When Michael smiles at us, she tosses a wink at him.
I lean forward and press my lips t
o hers in a quick kiss. “Yeah, well, I’m good at improvise, adapt, and overcome.”
She actually returns my kiss with a quick kiss of her own. “We’ll see.”
“What the hell is going on?”
The kids cockblocking is one thing. Her brooding twin brother cockblocking isn’t going to happen. Lifting my head, I glower at Brian despite his assist the other night. “What the hell are you doing just letting yourself in?”
Brian is a beast, but I straighten and fold my arms across my chest. He cuts a look from Brynn, to me, and then the kids, and back to Brynn. Before she can open her mouth, Ella dumps the news on her uncle. “It’s okay, they’re getting married.”
His stare shifts from me to Brynn, where he holds. “What the hell, Brynn? Since when?”
She exhales a breath and rolls her eyes as if dealing with a room full of children instead of two. “Michael, Ella, go to my room and watch TV.”
It must be the tone, because there’s no fighting or complaining as they push off the chairs and start to shuffle out of the room.
“Don’t you like Uncle Caleb?”
Brian smiles down at Michael. “Your uncle Caleb and I have been friends for a long time. We’re just going to talk about their wedding.”
Michael shrugs, and the instant the kids are upstairs and we hear the muffled television, I snap. “First off, thanks for the rescue the other night.”
“No problem. Now what the fuck?”
Brynn’s scowl could bring an infantry regiment to attention. “Stop it, Brian. You know we’re watching language around the kids. You’re acting like seeing me with Caleb is some huge surprise.”
“Seeing you with him, no. Marrying him after the wreck you were when you got home, yeah.”
I cringe and Brynn’s color fades, but she doesn’t address any of the past. “Mark and Liz left the children to both of us.” She raises a hand to stave off questions. “We’re going to try to make it work. But I could sure use your help over Thanksgiving convincing the families this isn’t a surprise and we’re marrying out of love, not for the children.”