Second Chance SEAL: The Girl He Left Behind (Sunset SEALs Book 2)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Yeah. My dad was a big fan, a former Navy man himself. He never made it to get his Trident. Sometimes I think I did it for him. Maybe when I retire I might give it to him.”

  “He must be very proud.” Martel knew that Renny was on his best behavior. She wondered how much of her past Damon had discussed with him.

  “When do you go back to San Diego?” She was mortified with her own question and wanted to take it back immediately.

  “We got another week. Then it’s back to that beach. We call it the Left Coast.”

  The music stopped, but they continued talking. She noticed Renny was scanning the crowd at the same time.

  “Right back into the fray, I guess,” she added.

  “Not quite. We have a couple special training sessions in the desert coming up. And then hurry up and wait.”

  “Where do you go next?”

  “Can’t really say, Martel. Sorry.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked.” She shrugged. “It seems like it’s so difficult to talk to people socially these days. Between politics and religion and job security and national secrets, everything is so complicated. Everybody’s hiding something.” Her mind drifted. She felt like she was fading into the horizon, the sun pulling her down into the water.

  “Oh wow. Where did that come from?”

  Martel shook her head and then shrugged. “I have no idea.” She smiled up at Renny and saw a lot of Damon and his expression. His easy-going nature was attractive. She figured not much got under his skin. She imagined it was part of the selection process.

  “Now that I know a couple of SEALs, I think I’ll start paying more attention. Maybe next time, I can ask more appropriate questions. So, forgive me.”

  Martel knew that Damon would be curious about her behavior and would probably question his buddy. Feeling on display, she wanted to leave the party, get out of her formal clothes, and get her beach vibe on. Some of the guests were leaving, including several of the wedding party. Kaitlyn and Greg slow-danced as the waves lapped at their feet, getting her dress and his pants wet, lost in their own private world. They kissed, claiming their throne—the King and Queen of Romance tonight.

  And they weren’t afraid to show everybody how they felt about each other.

  Martel was mesmerized watching them, especially knowing about Kaitlyn’s secret.

  “Martel Long, you’ve been avoiding me all afternoon.” Damon’s voice was smooth and dangerous.

  She was glad he noticed her cold shoulder. Her plan was working!

  She addressed him. “I’ve been enjoying the company. I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into you on the dance floor. Do you still like to do that?”

  Damon stood beside her, watching Greg and Kaitlyn. “Yeah. I used to do a lot of things I don’t do anymore.” He faced her. “I think I’ve grown up a little. I like to think it’s an improvement.”

  His grin was disarming. She was counting the ways she could try to show him how little she cared for what was going on in his life. It was going to be an uphill battle.

  She took a deep breath and tried to sound casual. “I like to think that we are the sum total of our decisions and choices in life. Thank goodness we learn from our mistakes.”

  They studied one another like it was some kind of competition. Her heart was racing, threatening to leap from her chest and go dive into the ocean. She couldn’t stop shaking when his eyes traveled from her face all the way down to her toes with slow deliverance.

  “You always liked painting your toes.”

  She didn’t answer him, preferring to let him squirm a bit. It didn’t take long for him to completely disarm her.

  “Am I one of your mistakes?” His eyes lazily found her face again. His head was tilted slightly to the right, one hand covering his mouth and scratching the side of his cheek. There were the beginnings of a furrowed brow developing. He was nervously waiting for her answer.

  “I can’t answer that question.” Martel watched two pelicans flying low, one of them crashing into the water with a splash.

  “Is there any chance… what I mean to say, Martel, is that I’m sorry for some of that.”

  “Some?”

  He stepped closer to her, and she immediately backed up.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  She’d been ready with her answer for years. Martel was sure he wouldn’t be. “Damon, you don’t owe me anything.”

  That statement wasn’t as satisfying as she’d hoped, but she needed to keep her backbone, demonstrate how she’d gotten on just fine without him all these years.

  She was going to leave, but he grabbed her arm, urgently at first, and then released her.

  “Let me put it to you a little more directly this way. Martel, I’m sorry.” He held his hand over his heart.

  She was alarmed that perhaps she had misread his intentions. She was feeling at the edge of some pretty skinny branches, holding steadfast, higher off the ground, about four floors higher than she should be. But the die had been cast. She’d promised herself.

  “Like I said, Damon, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “Are you sending me away?”

  “I wasn’t aware that you’d ever returned. You left, Damon. That was all a long time ago. I’ve moved on.”

  He stepped closer to her. This time, she didn’t retreat.

  “As you should have. I wasn’t worthy of you.”

  “Really? Honestly, I didn’t think you even thought about it at all. I figured I misunderstood everything between us.”

  “I should’ve done it differently. I’m so sorry.”

  The pounding of her heart was taking her breath away. She felt him take her fingers in his hand, draw them up to his mouth, and kiss them. He was going to call her to him by slipping his arm around the backside of her waist, but at the last minute, she dropped his hand and stepped to the side.

  She made a big show of being brave. She stood straight and delivered her parting thought. “Another conversation for another day, Damon. I’m not ready yet. Not sure I’ll ever be, if you want to know the truth.”

  She thought about her words all the way home. Scenes of their long, sweet lovemaking sessions warmed her, blotting up the pain and loss that was to follow so harshly afterwards. She licked her lips and missed the taste of his kisses. If she could have those kisses back without her having to work so hard to convince herself that he cared for her, maybe even loved her, she could welcome those into her life again, but she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to accurately assess her danger or his feelings for her. That young, trusting woman she’d been no longer existed. There were rules—protocol that had to be followed—in order for there to be a relationship between them. Maybe it was unfair of her to require this, but he would have to go there in order for her to keep her self-respect intact.

  If he knew what all those kisses had brought her, knew about the little girl she bore for him and then gave away, he would understand. But he hadn’t earned that right yet. If he meant what he said, he was going to have to work it out the hard way.

  Without her help.

  Back at her bungalow, she shed her clothes and unpinned her hair, combing it out. She stepped into the shower, soaping herself off and feeling the touch against her once innocent, now bare sex. One barrier had been broken, and she placed another protective one in its place as the warm water sluiced over her body. She wasn’t yet convinced that there would be a second chance on the horizon, even though the sunset was beautiful.

  Their daughter would be nearly ten now. She rubbed her belly, her fingers exploring the tiny stretch marks Martel had earned bringing their child into the world. These were her battle scars, not gold medals worn on a uniform.

  But just as important.

  Chapter 5

  “Just fucking call her. Honestly, Damon, sometimes I think you’re more of a girl.”

  That pissed him off. He jumped to his feet, crumpling the little piece of paper Kaitlyn had written Martel’s number on.


  “You know one of these days you’re going to say something, and I’m gonna pop you right between the eyes, and that’ll be it. We’ll both get tossed.”

  “No fucking way asshole.” Renny stayed splayed over the couch, still in his pajama bottoms. “You made your bed, now lie in it. I’m here because I want you to stop being such a pussy. She digs you. I could tell. I always knew there was somebody you left behind. Remember? I used to accuse you of that all the time. You were so fucking tight-lipped about it.”

  “You don’t understand,” he muttered, gazing out the window at the beach calling him to run away again.

  There were so many things that went right the last two days. And there were so many things that went wrong too.

  “Don’t understand? When I met her, I said to myself, ‘Self, this sweet lady is the missing link. She took a little chunk of his heart and won’t give it back.’ Am I right, or am I right?”

  He didn’t want to admit it, but maybe Renny had a point. He’d gone from one despicable mood to another in the space of forty-eight hours. He’d gone from the biggest jerk on the planet, to doing something he was proud of—proud of the way he treated Julie. And then at the wedding, when he saw Martel again, he thought perhaps this would be the time to do what he should’ve done years ago. Apologize. That was the manly thing to do.

  Except it was so fucking hard.

  Well, doing something hard was what they’d been trained to do. Hard was putting his body between the good guys and the bad guys. Hard was jumping out of an airplane and getting tangled up in your chute. Hard was pulling a buddy off the field, applying enough first aid so he wouldn’t bleed out on the way back to medical. Hard was jumping up and running between buildings when he knew his job was drawing fire, so his Team guys could find the shooters and take them out.

  But dealing with women? That wasn’t really hard. It was impossible. Maybe being so terrible at one thing it made the other thing so successful. He shook his head. No, that wasn’t it either. “I can’t figure it out, Renny. I’m a fucking mess.”

  Renny rolled off the couch and joined him at the window, putting his arm around him. “You know when I got divorced, I just decided I wasn’t gonna try anymore. Have you ever considered that maybe you’re trying too hard?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, why can’t you just call Martel, talk to her, make a date, have a good time, and give her a good time. That’s what it’s all about here, Damon. We’re just here to relax and let off some steam, and let the girls—you know—have their fantasies, while we reap the harvest. That’s what I call it, anyway.”

  “But I don’t wanna live like that anymore.”

  He couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth. Apparently, Renny couldn’t believe it either because he gave Damon that goofy expression that told him he was done talking nonsense. Their conversation was fully bagged, cooked, overcooked, and in the trash.

  “I think you’re right. You are a mess.”

  Renny headed to the bedroom and called out, “I’m going for a run. Are you up to it?”

  Damon looked at the crumpled piece of paper just as Renny appeared in the doorway.

  “Yeah. You’re going to call her now. I think I’ll give you a little bit of privacy.”

  In two long steps, his buddy was outside the sliding glass door, running over the sand dune, and headed straight for the beach.

  Damon dialed her number.

  “Hello?”

  She sounded sleepy. “Hi, Martel.” He heard her annoyed moan. “Don’t hang up. Just hear me out a bit, okay?”

  “Go for it.”

  “I’ve apologized to you I think three or four times, and…”

  “I wasn’t counting, Damon.”

  “Right. Right. I didn’t mean that, I mean, I’m sincere when I tell you that I’ve had a chance to think about things. And I’ve grown up a lot since we parted.”

  “Since you left,” she corrected.

  “Yes. That’s true.”

  “Glad we got that out-of-the-way. I heard you last night, Damon. I’m just not sure I believe you.”

  This was tougher than he’d anticipated. “Fair enough. Then would it be possible to perhaps buy you a coffee? Maybe we could talk a little bit.”

  “Talk?”

  “Yes. Just talk. No date. Coffee.”

  He knew this was the safest option. An offer to buy her dinner might mean wine, alcohol, and who knows what that could lead to or what she might think it would lead to. So coffee was the right choice. He was hoping she was just curious enough to give him a chance to make amends.

  He was right.

  “Okay, but I have some errands to do this afternoon. Monday is a teaching day for me, and I’ve got some things to prepare for class. So I could meet you for coffee. But I can’t take too long.”

  “Perfect.”

  They met at the Purple Haze ice cream and coffee bar. She wore a bright yellow big shirt that hung off one shoulder, black exercise form-fitting pants, psychedelic-colored running shoes, and no makeup.

  She really didn’t need any.

  “Hey, thanks, Martel.” He pulled a chair out for her, and she promptly sat on the other side. “What can I get you?”

  “Just coffee. It’s good here.”

  When he returned, she was leaning on the table, her chin in her palm. She cupped the mug with both hands and blew on it then took a timid sip.

  “So you just went home from the reception?” he asked.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t.”

  “I hung out a bit with Renny and a couple of the guys. Everything broke up pretty early.”

  She shrugged and continued to sip her coffee.

  He now wished he’d practiced something, because his brain had drained the moment he saw her in the parking lot. He scooted closer to the table, the metal legs on the chair scraping on the polished concrete slab floor. Then he cleared his voice.

  He took a quick peek at her expression and caught the remnants of a smirk just before she erased it. It gave him a little courage.

  “Last night at the reception probably wasn’t the best time to talk to you, Martel. It’s been a long time. I never expected to run into you here in Florida. My friends back home would call it dumb luck, not divine providence.”

  “Cute.”

  “Thanks, I worked on that a bit,” he lied.

  She was good at masking her feelings. That was a big change from before. In those days, her heart was transparent and her eyes said everything. Words were nearly unnecessary. But if he was going to do this right, he’d have to make do because he’d blown his chance at trust with her. And he didn’t blame her one bit.

  “I meant what I said about owing you an apology—” He held his palm up to her in case she was going to cut him off again. “You’re probably thinking I’m scheming to get something from you, and I understand that. Maybe you will never believe me, and that’s on me.”

  “You’d be correct.”

  “I understand. But I’ve had ten years to think about things. I should have tried to reach you. And the more time that went by, well, the worse I felt. I did hear about your mother, and I’m sorry.”

  “Your parents?”

  “Yes, before they sold the winery, my mother sent me the clipping from the newspaper.”

  “Ah.” She appeared distracted with something then sipped her coffee again.

  “It said you were living in Oregon. I already knew about your dad, of course.”

  “Of course. I understand he never showed up for the funeral,” she said.

  “You didn’t attend?”

  “I was too ill.”

  “Oh. Anything serious?”

  Martel delivered him a brittle smile. “I’m fine now, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Well, I liked your mom.”

  “She used to like you too.”

  “Yeah. Used to. I had that coming.”

  “Can we just get on with what
you wanted to tell me, because I’ve got a lot of things to do?”

  This irritated him. She was being very tough on him. But he was smart enough not to show it. “I’ll be brief, then.” He leaned forward. “What we had, well, to be honest, it scared me. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “You honestly think this explains things? I can see this was a waste of time.”

  “I went off, joined the Navy—not because I wanted to be a SEAL but just to see if I could make it. I shouldn’t have felt that way, but I didn’t know how to tell you I still needed to explore that, to see if I was the kind of guy who could hack it. Become one.”

  He thought perhaps her eyes had moistened up but then decided he was wrong.

  “You might have thought it was something you’d done. It was my immaturity. It really had nothing to do with you.”

  Her crossed legs were kicking reflexively, her shoe tapping on the leg of the table. She lowered her forehead a bit and spoke in a clipped, choppy tone. “You don’t have to tell me that. I know full well it didn’t have anything to do with me. None of it ever did.”

  She grabbed her keys and stood. That’s when he realized he’d just done it again.

  “If you say you’re sorry one more time, I’ll come over there and strangle you. I’ll kick your balls and then I’ll tie them around your neck. Don’t come near me again, Damon. I am so done with you and your selfishness. You haven’t learned a damned thing. It was never about me because it was always about you.”

  He didn’t stop her. The black coffee she only partially sipped sat sadly on her side of the table, abandoned. Just like he’d done to her.

  He was surprised she even had the courage to have coffee with him when he thought about it on the way back to the rental.

  He closed the front door quietly and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. He needed some of that sand and sunshine, because for all his personal pep talk, he felt pretty hollow inside.

  Maybe nobody ever really changes.

  He shed his first flip-flop on the sand dune. He took his second one off at the surf and tossed it into the gulf. He watched it bounce, float, sink, and then float again, rolling over. And then the sea brought it back to him.