by Tawny Weber
“I’m going to work. You can figure out how to get back to your car. Or you can stay here.” Numb, so glad she for the numb, she glanced over her shoulder. “Or maybe you should call Eli. I’m sure he’ll tell you how to fix this situation. Isn’t that his job? Telling you how to run your life?”
Chapter 8
“Goddamn women.”
“All women?”
Easily ignoring what he considered a stupid question, Sam continued.
“Soft and delicate, sexy and strong. Delicious, dedicated and damned hard to resist. They lure a man in, turn his mind into mush and make his body a slave to their wiles.” He stopped for a moment to consider the many amazing wiles of Bryanna Spencer. Luckily he wasn’t drunk enough yet to recite them out loud to Bryanna’s big brother.
Sam wasn’t as sure that Russell could kick his ass as easily as Eli could, but all things considered, he’d rather not take his chances.
“Dude, don’t you think you got enough last night?”
Sam squinted his bleary eyes, waiting for the two figures across the table to settle into whichever one they wanted to be. Then he shrugged.
“Last night I was celebrating,” he said, setting his words out as carefully as he would explosives. “Today, I’m drowning my sorrows.”
“Is that why you called me for a ride from my sister’s place? Because you have sorrows?”
“Pissed her off,” Sam muttered into his mug, surprised to see it empty but for a ring of foam.
“So un-piss her off,” Russell said with a laugh. Easy for him to shrug it off, Sam thought morosely. He wasn’t still picking green-speckled eggs out of his clothes. “Bryanna doesn’t hold grudges. But if you’re looking to fix whatever’s got you in the sorrow-drowning mode, you might want to slow down on the booze.”
The question was, did he want to fix it?
Before Sam could figure that out—hell, before he could fumble his way through the many facets to the question—a shadow fell over the table.
Feeling like they weighed two-tons each, Sam lifted his eyes to see who it was. Then, biting back a growl, he dropped them again.
“Russ, what’re you doing here?” Eli said it in the same way Sam imagined he’d say his brother was impinging on sacred ground.
“Sam needed a ride and a friendly ear.”
“This is a SEAL bar.”
Even in his blurry state of mind, Sam knew that Eli would be happier if there was a quartermaster at the door, limiting access to navy personnel only. He figured Russell knew, too, but the other man simply shrugged.
“This is where Sam’s car was. Maybe instead of hanging out and being a friend, I should have recognized my place and dumped him in the parking lot.”
Sam figured it was a credit to Russell’s easygoing personality that the guy could make that jab sound like a joke.
“What’s the problem?”
Eli directed the question at Sam, but it was Russell who answered.
“Woman problems.”
Shit.
Sam slid down low enough in his chair that his spine was practically hugging the seat. Not to hide so much as that he figured he’d make a smaller target this way. He’d waited until Eli had joined the Navy and deployed overseas before he’d started dating the guy’s little sister. Not because he was trying to hide anything. He just figured that it’d be hard to show Bry a good time if he was broken into tiny pieces dusted with Eli’s bootprint.
“Bryanna?” Not even looking at Sam, Eli addressed the question to Russell.
“Yeah. He pissed her off.” Sounding as amused as he had when he’d told Sam to un-piss off his sister, Russell gave Sam a pitying look. “Seeing as he looks like she tossed breakfast over his head, I’d say he pissed her off good, too.”
“Good. That’s it, then.”
“That’s what?” Sam wondered aloud.
“The best time to walk away. Break up with her now, while she’s in the right mental place for the split.” Eli scowled, his brows digging a deep v between his eyes. “You go back there and kiss her ass, you’re going to get her hopes up again. You’re going to make her think the two of you have a future.”
“Why wouldn’t they have a future?” Russell asked, leaning forward to match his brother’s scowl with one of his own. “They had a fight. That’s no reason to walk away.”
“Morelli’s about to graduate BUD/S. He’s kissing distance away from earning his trident.”
“So?”
“So, he can’t juggle his duty as a SEAL and a relationship. It just can’t be done. Not well.”
“That’s crap,” Russell decided. “Just because you swore off relationships and vowed to only have sex with hookers doesn’t mean Sam should.”
“Don’t be an ass,” Eli muttered, looking around to make sure nobody had heard. “I don’t have sex with hookers.”
“You don’t have relationships, so who’re you having sex with?”
Curious enough to lift his chin off his chest, Sam peered at Eli. Since the guy was pushing so hard for him to get single fast, that was the sort of information that would come in handy.
“I’m committed to my career. To my country. I put everything I am, everything I have into that. There’s nothing left to give a woman.” Bristling, Eli jerked his chin toward Sam. “You ask your brother. Noah will tell you the exact same thing.”
“What a bunch of bullshit.”
And off they went, arguing in low tones and nasty threats.
Sam wondered if he could get another table. Sooner or later, Russell’s insults were going to push Eli into throwing a punch. The last place Sam wanted to be when that happened was right here in the middle of it. The way his luck was going, he’d end up getting his ass kicked.
“This is our little sister we’re talking about here,” Russell pointed out, as if they all needed reminding. “You’re actually sitting here arguing for Sam to break her heart?”
“I’m arguing for Sam to end things now, before he breaks her heart.”
“Why the hell does he have to end anything?”
“He took a pledge.” Eli leaned forward, his face filled with a fervor that made Sam blink. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was because he was feeling like crap. Whatever it was, he’d swear that his old friend looked like one of those crazy eyed television evangelists when he spoke of vows and pledges.
“He took that stupid vow before he was old enough to have a driver’s license,” Russell snapped.
He’d had his permit, though. Did that count? Sam lifted a finger to ask, then changed his mind. What was the point?
Eli was right. Russell was right.
Sam was confused.
He tilted his bottle from side to side.
He was also out of beer.
Since there was no way he could listen to this without a drink, he pushed to his feet.
“Where the hell are you going?”
Away. Far, far away.
“I need another beer.”
“We’re having a conversation here.” Eli jabbed a finger at the chair Sam had just vacated.
“No. You’re having a conversation there.” Sam jerked his thumb between the two brothers. “You’re talking about me, around me and over me. So go ahead, have at it. I’m getting another beer.”
He only made it two steps.
“Morelli!”
“Sir?”
“Sir?” For a second, Eli looked like Sam had flipped him off. “Don’t be an ass. Get back here and finish this.”
“What’s the point?” He glanced between them before shrugging. “I’m not denying you, either of you, the right to speak out when it comes to your sister. But this is between her and me. And it’s something we have to figure out ourselves.”
“What’s to figure out? You vowed—”
“I’m getting a beer.”
Shoving his hands through the rough stubble of his hair, Sam moved through the crowd, heading for the tall woman with the pink mohawk behind the bar. I
nstead of heading back with it, he perched on a stool where he hoped he could drink in peace.
The bass pounded out of the jukebox and a low hum of voices echoed through his head, mocking that idea.
How the hell was he supposed to feel peaceful?
Bryanna was pissed at him, with good reason. He could handle being away from her when he was on duty. That was the job. But it gnawed at his gut to be fighting with her. He had to apologize.
But Eli was right.
It’d be smarter to stop at an apology.
It wasn’t fair to Bryanna to ask her to sit home and wait. He’d truly never thought about it since he’d been too busy being grateful that she was there, that safe haven in his mind. But he knew better now. It wasn’t fair to expect her to wait in the dark, clueless where he was or what he was doing.
And it wasn’t right to leave her hanging there, in that commitment-less never land, just because he couldn’t let her go.
God, this sucked.
“Morelli.”
Sam flew to his feet, shoulders back and chin high so fast, he almost puked.
“Sir,” he snapped through clenched teeth.
“How’s it going?” Cade Sullivan tapped his beer bottle against the one Sam had left on the bar. “First time I’ve seen you in here.”
“I haven’t been in often.” Another one of those things Eli and Noah disapproved of. Socializing with superiors, disregarding personal hygiene and having relationships. All items on their no fly list. “Can I offer you my seat, Sir?”
“We’re both off duty, both in civvies. I think you can call me Cade.”
Maybe it was four beers combined with a nagging hangover and the sick feeling in his gut over breaking up with Bryanna. But it took Sam a good handful of seconds to comprehend that.
“Cade?”
“That’s my name.” His words were as smooth as his manners. Sam’s BUD/S instructor, the man who’d kicked his ass through Phase Three with charm and ease, pulled up an empty stool, sat and waited for Sam to do the same. “You don’t look like you’re celebrating your BUD/S scores.”
“No, Sir.” Sam sat, one cheek on the stool and the rest of him ready to leap to attention again. “Had a bad night, actually.”
“Holidays can be rough.”
“Family is worse.”
“Oh, yeah,” Cade agreed with a half-laugh. “I see Spencer’s home. I heard the two of you grew up together. He giving you a rough time over beating his times?”
Beating his times? Eli had only been with Macy for, what? Eight months? He’d beat that over a year ago. Then, grimacing, Sam realized Sullivan was referring to his training times.
“Nah. Eli figures he had a part in my joining the Navy. In shooting for BUD/S. He just figures those times prove he was right.”
“About?”
“About kicking my ass so I’d push harder when I was a Cadet,” Sam said with a laugh. “He considers himself my first instructor.”
“He did a good job. But you’re a natural. Skills like yours will help you kick mission ass.”
“Seriously?” Sam smiled back at him and shrugged. “That’s good to hear. Kicking mission ass is my goal. I want to make sure I give it my best shot.” Hesitating, he had to force himself not to look toward Eli before he went on. “I guess there’s a lot outside of training that’s just as important. You know, environmental stuff, like making sure my motivation is solid. Like arranging my life so nothing gets in the way of doing the job, of being the best.”
“You’re right about training, it’s just the beginning. You’ll add to the training, you’ll layer on skills and find your focus once you’ve mastered the basics.” A considering look on his face, Cade tipped back his beer before continuing. “The rest is an individual thing, though. I know guys who have crap for motivation who kick ass. Others have the best motivation in the world and can’t make it as a SEAL.”
Before Sam could ask about the rest, Cade shifted on the stool and continued.
“It takes a special kind of arrogance to be a SEAL. To do what we do, to train like we do and push ourselves to the limits. I’ll cop to my share of that, but even I’m not arrogant enough to think I can arrange life.” Seeing Sam’s frown, Cade leaned forward. “Life just is. If there are things that are stopping you from doing your best, yeah, you work past those. Get rid of them or fix them or whatever it takes. But it’s not by eliminating things, people or environments that will motivate you and make you the best.”
It wasn’t? Sam didn’t ask aloud, but Cade heard him all the same.
“Hold tight to the people who make you want to be your best. Your family, your friends. Loved ones.” Cade paused just long enough for Sam to imagine Bryanna’s face. “They are the reason you work so hard and risk so much. Love, having it, fighting for it, makes us better. Stronger.”
He pulled out his cellphone and with a swipe of his finger, brought up an image.
Sam glanced at it and grinned. Damned cute kids. The smallest had a round, happy face dominated by big blue eyes with just enough mischief in them to balance the dimples brought to life by the one-toothed smile. Holding the baby upright was a little girl that Sam could see would be breaking hearts soon.
“They’re great looking,” he said as he returned the cellphone.
“Thanks. They look a lot like my wife, Eden.” Cade swiped again and brought up a picture of a pretty brunette with a bright smile and that same wicked glint in her eyes as her son. But it wasn’t the woman that had Sam staring. It was the look on the Lieutenant Commander’s face as he smiled at the picture.
Happiness.
Pure and simple happiness.
“Doesn’t it make it harder to deploy?” Sam asked quietly. “You’re risking more than a guy without a family does. And wherever you go, you’ve got strings tying you down, don’t you?”
“I have strings tying me to my family, but that doesn’t hold me down,” Cade corrected. “If you can only do your job under ideal circumstances, how good are you? If you have to make yourself unhappy to do it, why bother?”
While Cade signaled for another round of beers, Sam just sat, stunned.
And considered.
Sullivan was his hero. The SEAL he most wanted to be like.
And the guy not only had a relationship, he had a family.
Sam pushed his bleary brain to try to remember how many SEALs he knew that were in serious relationships. Quite a few, actually.
Was it because they had something special? Something he didn’t have a shot at?
Or was Eli wrong?
About relationships.
About focus and distractions.
And most of all, about Sam’s future with Bryanna.
Chapter 9
Sam was coming over.
Bryanna read the text message for the third time, but didn’t know how to react.
Should she be happy?
Sad?
Angry?
Worried or scared?
Curled up on the couch with the lights on low and the Christmas tree twinkling, she tried to sort through all the emotions, but couldn’t.
So she settled on numb.
That was probably why she didn’t jump up to change out of the yoga pants and football jersey she’d thrown on along with her fuzzy socks when she’d gotten home from work.
Her phone buzzed again, this text saying that he was on his way.
Now?
She hadn’t seen him for almost a week, and he chose now to visit?
Figured.
Bryanna looked around the messy living room and sighed.
She didn’t have dinner waiting, unless the half-empty jar of sugar cookies counted.
She wasn’t dressed in a sexy little nighty and her underwear wasn’t anywhere near slutty. The only makeup on her face was what hadn’t faded since she’d put it on ten hours ago before work.
Why bother?
If she’d learned nothing else from her week of trying to be his dream woman,
she’d learned that she had to accept reality.
The reality of who she was. A brainy blond who preferred chenille socks to leather bustiers, who sucked at cooking dinner but rocked Christmas cookies, and who deserved to be more than a convenience.
As miserable as she was, she was still glad that her little plan to be perfect hadn’t worked. If she’d gotten Sam with fancy cooking, slutty lingerie and perfect behavior, she’d have had to continue with all of it.
Bryanna sniffed back tears, telling herself this was all for the best.
And after Sam came by, it’d all be over.
Then she could get started getting over him. Learning to live without him. Forgetting all about him.
Biting back a painful sob over the idea of forgetting Sam, Bryanna forced herself to quit with the drama.
With one last sniff, she promised herself that she could handle it. Either that, or crawl into bed with the covers over her head and a five pound box of See’s chocolates. But after she’d eaten all the chocolate, she’d handle it.
Probably.
Bryanna pushed herself off the couch and started to tidy the room. It wasn’t for Sam that she was tidying, though. It was because she knew she wouldn’t be in the mood after he left.
She knew what this visit was all about, she told herself as she lifted the folded towels off the couch and put them away.
She picked the pillows up from where she’d kicked them on the floor, but when she lifted the penguin, she froze. Instead of setting it back in its place of honor on the couch, she tucked it tight into her arms and crossed the room.
Breathing deep through her nose, she pressed her cheek against the stuffed penguin, then gently set him in the closet and shut the door.
Time to move on.
She’d done her best.
She’d failed.
Wishing he’d get here so she could get on with getting on, she grabbed the plate of cookie crumbs and a mug that’d held her third cocoa of the evening off the coffee table. Carrying them into the kitchen, she put them in the sink, then put away the bottle of peppermint Schnapps she’d spiked her chocolate with.