by Ivy Jordan
SEAL’S SECRET BABY
By Ivy Jordan
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Ivy Jordan
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Chapter One
Liam
Wow. The small town where I grew up had hardly changed. I walked along the cobblestone path, soaking in nostalgia. The hardware store, the bank, even the uneven clang of the church bells: it was all the same.
I could’ve stepped off a time machine, and nothing would’ve been different. It was the same town I grew up in, the same one where I rode my bike through the streets, where I turned in bottles for spare change, and where I’d received my first kiss.
“Liam!” a familiar voice called my name.
I turned, carefully studying Aiden’s face, a face I hadn’t seen in years, one I’d missed terribly.
“Holy shit,” I said, opening my arms to embrace my best friend.
“What are you doing back in town?” he questioned, his eyes wide and curious.
I sighed. I hated to admit I was homesick, but that was the true reason I stood in front of the Super Dollar Store on the same street where I once punched Aiden in the face for calling me a coward. I loved my position with the NFL, and I was finally making serious bank. But the offer for this job came along, and even though it was less pay, longer hours, and far less glamorous, it was in Del Rio, Texas, my hometown.
“I’m working for Senator Kline,” I explained quickly, leaving out any mention of being homesick.
“You’re a politician now?” he gushed, his cheeks turning red with excitement.
I shrugged him off, gave a quick laugh, and shook my head. “Not quite. I was hired as a personal bodyguard,” I smirked.
“Wow, Mr. Big,” he teased, his smile fading as quickly as it appeared.
“I figured I could keep your ass in line too while here,” I said as I patted my friend on the back.
“So, you’re stickin’ around for a while?” he asked, his tone somewhat shaken and odd.
I nodded but was unable to make direct eye contact with Aiden. He was acting strange, but I hadn’t seen him much since he’d been injured.
“Have you been to the old house, yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I admitted.
My truck was parked a few feet from where we stood, and everything I owned was shoved inside. It was sad, really, how little I’d accumulated since leaving the SEALs. I’d drifted for a while, not sure where I wanted to settle down or if I was ready. Now, I was here, home, but I still didn’t feel settled—or ready.
“Fuck, you’re one tall son of a bitch,” I teased, looking up at Aiden.
He had to be every bit of six-five. His skin was dark from his Hispanic heritage and the scalding Texas sun, and his eyes as blue as the Texas sky. We’d talked here and there over the years, but this was the first time I’d laid eyes on him since he was carried off on a stretcher. I was glad to hear he was home, safe, and that his injuries would eventually heal. I assumed they had; I’d never asked, and staring at him now, he looked healthy, just somewhat standoffish and awkward.
“You’re just short,” he snorted.
“I make up for height with muscle,” I smiled, slapping my thick bicep.
Aiden shook his head, his grin growing as he smacked his hand against my back. “You hungry?” he asked.
“Starving,” I growled.
Food was the reason I came into town before visiting my old house. I knew it was empty, probably filled with dust, and I wasn’t ready to be alone—not that alone.
Aiden guided me towards the old diner where we used to sit as kids and drink milkshakes with our bottle money.
“This place hasn’t changed at all,” I mentioned as he opened the glass door, sounding the small bell above it.
He laughed, his eyes passing quickly past mine and towards the counter. I followed his eyes as they fixated on what was in front of him. Shit, Ms. Martinez.
The woman with long dark hair tied so tight in a braid that her face looked stretched got up from her stool, turning towards Aiden and myself. My chest ached from the tension as her eyes rested on mine, dark and cold. “Aiden,” she smiled without breaking her glare on me.
“How are you, Maria?” he greeted.
Maria? Were they that close? Even when I dated her daughter, Alyssa, I never called her Maria.
“I’m great,” she replied, still glaring in my direction.
“Good to see you,” I stammered.
Heat swelled around my neck as the tension between us grew. I watched her dark eyes flinch slightly, and then her lips twitch as they pursed together to form her response.
“I assume you’re just passing through?” she hissed.
“No, ma’am. I’m here for-uh-for a while,” I stuttered.
Her eyes were disapproving, but I couldn’t blame her. I’d broken her daughter’s heart twelve years ago when I left for the SEALs. She shook her head and then moved past us towards the door. Aiden didn’t seem shocked by her behavior, simply taking an empty stool at the counter.
My heart was racing from the encounter, but I managed to shrug it off and take the empty green metal barstool next to Aiden’s without my knees buckling beneath me.
“She’s still intense as ever,” I sighed.
Aiden laughed. “Maria, she’s not so bad.”
“Yeah, Maria, what’s with that?” I questioned.
He turned towards me, quickly pulling eye contact away before he could answer. A plump redheaded woman stood in front of us, a pad and pencil in her hand, and stains of something brown smeared across her uniform collar. “What can I get you, boys?” she chomped.
I’d dreamed of the greasy burgers served in this shit hole for days. “Three burgers, extra cheese, extra grease, large fries, and a Coke,” I grinned.
Aiden ordered the same and then spun the metal display in front of him, pretending to read the daily specials. I knew he was avoiding the question asked earlier, but I decided not to push. Maybe he had a thing with Ms. Martinez; who was I to judge? She was smoking hot, even for an older lady.
“I always liked Ms. Martinez, but you’d think after twelve years, she’d let it go,” I shrugged.
“Some situations just aren’t that easy,” he offered.
Situations? This was a situation?
I’d forgotten what it was like to live in a small town. People stuck together, and I was an outsider, at least for now. I’d change that in time.
An older man sat at the end of the counter, his face so thick with wrinkles it was hard to see his eyes. There was something familiar about him: maybe the old man who ran the hardware store, possibly the clerk at the bank. He stared down the counter at me, his glare similar to that of Ms. Martinez. I looked around, realizing that others in the diner were all staring in my direction, quickly pushing their heads down when I’d turn to catch them. What the fuck?
The waitress dropped off our drinks and then our plates of food without so much as a smile.
“What is wrong with everyone in this town?” I whispered to Aiden.
He picked up a couple fries, shoving them in his mouth before they cooled. It was obvious they were hot, too hot to chew, but he did anyway instead of admitting his pain.
“What do you mean?” he lowered his eyebrows.
“Look around; everyone’s staring like I have two fuckin’ heads or something,” I said quietly.
Aiden took a quick inventory of the room and then turned hi
s attention back to me. “Maybe they’ve never seen a muscle-bound midget before,” he laughed.
“Funny,” I smirked.
I was six-feet, taller than the average male, so his jokes didn’t bother me much. What did bother me was the fact this town—and everyone in it—seemed to be judging me, and I had no idea why.
Chapter Two
Alyssa
The chatter in the church was growing louder as more and more people arrived. The sermon was over, and it was now time to discuss the fundraiser: something I’d looked forward to all month. Some of the older ladies had encouraged another bake sale, but this year, I wanted to do something different: a fall carnival, complete with hay rides, pumpkin carving contests, and even a dunking booth, if possible. I was desperate for change, change from the same old mundane routine found in this small town.
“I’ve got news,” my mother squeezed into the pew next to me. Instead of taking the empty spot on the far side of me, she pushed into me with her hips, sliding me over to give her space.
I rolled my eyes. News? In this town? More like gossip, and I’d heard enough already from the three old ladies sitting in front of me.
Mom leaned in close, her breath so warm against my ear that I cringed. “Liam is in town, to stay,” she whispered.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and my gut growled with anxiety at the news. Could it be true? It couldn’t be.
My eyes locked on to my mother’s. Her disapproval was obvious on her tightened lips and squinted, dark eyes. I’d thought about this day, even dreamt about it before, but it had been twelve years. So much had changed.
“Who told you that?” I whispered, not willing to believe what she said. She must’ve been mistaken. She had to be.
“I saw him at the diner with Aiden,” she said softly, but not softly enough.
My heart raced as I stared across the room. Holly rolled a wooden car around the church floor with one of the smaller kids, her smile so sweet, so familiar. Her bright blue eyes didn’t match my dark ones, and her blondish hair, smooth and straight, certainly wasn’t from my Hispanic background.
“We can’t talk about this now,” I warned my mother, catching a glimpse of Bruce as he stepped up behind us.
He leaned in, his breath thick with beer, and kissed me on the cheek. My mother shrugged, pulling away from his presence, and grunted with displeasure as he chuckled at her discomfort. As much as she hated Liam, she hated Bruce even more.
“What are you two ladies gossiping about?” he intruded.
My mother waved her hand towards him, shaking her head in disgust. “You stink of the bar,” she hissed.
“I had one beer,” Bruce argued.
“We’re in the house of the Lord,” Maria growled, giving him one of her famous hateful stares. I wondered if she’d given the same one to Liam and how he’d reacted.
“Give it a rest, Maria,” he teased. “We all know how much you love your wine,” he pushed.
One of the older ladies in front of us turned her head over her shoulder, sneering in our direction. I hated the stares and the judgment, and more than anything, I hated the tension between my mother and Bruce.
“Why don’t you wait in the truck,” Maria growled.
Bruce smirked and then pushed his lips back against my cheek for another kiss. “Is that what you want, baby?” he asked me.
I did. I wanted him out of that church, away from my mother, and out of earshot, so I could find more out about Liam.
“Do you mind?” I asked sweetly, batting my eyes in his direction.
His stern grimace softened, and he offered a faint smile. I watched him glance in Holly’s direction, but only for a moment. She didn’t make any point to come over when she noticed him. I knew she liked him about as much he liked her, which was very little.
“I’ll be outside. Don’t be long,” he ordered, and with that, he disappeared out the front doors of the church.
“Alyssa, what do you see in that meathead?” Maria snickered, her eyes still peering towards the direction of Bruce’s exit path.
I shrugged off her snide question, knowing it was more of a comment, one not requiring a response. No matter what I told her, it wouldn’t be good enough. No one was ever good enough for Maria Martinez’s daughter: not Bruce, not Liam, no one.
“Do you think Aiden will keep the secret since Liam is here to stay now?” she asked, her eyes glazed with a black hue.
I shuddered at her question, unsure about the answer. My eyes looked past my mother and rested on my daughter. She still played with the smaller child, making engine sounds that echoed through the large church. Her long arms stretched out past her body as she rolled the car along the carpet of the church floor. She was tall, like her father, not petite like me. At eleven, it was already clear that she would tower over me one day, probably sooner than I realized. Her pale skin, cute freckles, and bright blue eyes were all her father’s as well, making it easy to see the resemblance with just a quick glance.
“It doesn’t matter. One look, and he’ll know,” I sighed, leaning back against the pew.
Maria lifted her coffee cup, one purchased from the diner up the street, where she must’ve run into Liam and Aiden.
“Put that away,” I hissed, glaring at the cup.
“What? I’m not drinking that dirt water they call coffee,” Maria retorted, louder than she should have.
“Mom, seriously,” I cringed as one of the older ladies sitting in front of us turned to sneer in our direction.
I hated people staring, but it didn’t seem to bother Maria, at least not to the point where she showed it. Holly always brought stares from people, especially those in the church. She wasn’t Hispanic, at least not visibly, and that irritated some of the older women. Maybe that’s what I saw in Bruce. He was tall, white, had a clean-shaven head, and had a set of blue eyes, nearly as blue as Holly’s. He cut down on the amount of stares I received. When it was just me and Holly, I felt as though the entire town looked our way, trying to see some resemblance, trying to match her to someone in the town. When Bruce was with us, it made her pale skin and light hair make sense mixed with her full lips and curvy hips, curvy hips that appeared far too soon.
Two ladies stopped at our pew, gabbing about the cake sale and pulling my mom right into their mundane ideas. Ugh. Maria Martinez could cook, and she loved to show that skill off. A bake sale was perfect for her, but not for me.
“I think it would be nice to have a carnival theme,” I interjected, but it fell onto deaf ears.
The women continued to stroke my mother’s ego, telling her that no one could bake an avocado-lime cheesecake like she could. That was true, and it was just enough praise to make her forget all about Liam, about the situation that was about to erupt, and take off with them towards the pastor to strong-arm him into another boring bake sale.
Chapter Three
Liam
I drove past the church, my head turning to catch a glimpse of what looked like Alyssa. My foot slammed against the brakes, stopping my truck just seconds before plowing into the truck in front of me. Was that her?
She was my first love, my first kiss, my first everything.
Her head didn’t turn towards my screeching tires, but I was certain that was her. The man in the car in front of me glared through his rearview mirror as he sped off, leaving plenty of space between us as I continued up the street.
I pulled up to my childhood home. It looked so much smaller than I remembered. The blue paint was beginning to chip from the house, the windows looked clouded with dust, and the flower beds my mother had been so proud of were now a neglected mess of weeds. I turned off the truck, stared up the walk towards the white front door, and felt a chill roll down my spine. I hadn’t been back here since the car accident that claimed my parents’ lives while I served overseas. I had an excuse not to come back then, but in the remaining years that passed, it was only this feeling of emptiness that kept me away.
My eyes veered towards the house next door: Bill’s house. It was painted yellow, no chips. The flower pots on the front porch were filled with brightly colored blossoms, and the yard perfectly manicured. I’d paid him to look after the place until I returned, but I knew he was getting older, and the job was too much for him. I shook my head, feeling a sense of guilt from neglecting my childhood home, and took my first steps towards the front door.
A small tremble erupted in my hand as it reached for the lock with the key. The cut metal fit perfectly into the keyhole, and with one turn, the door was unlocked. I pushed open the door to a musty odor that nearly knocked me down. My hand covered my mouth and nose as I entered, my eyes squinting through the dusty room to see where I was going.
The room was dark, windows all covered with thick drapes that didn’t allow any sunlight to enter. I pushed open the draped from the large front window, allowing the sunlight to beam into the room. The rays caught the floating dust in the air; it was so thick it looked like a barrier. My hands waved at the dust, reaching forward to open the window and air out the aroma of neglect.
The brown leather recliner where my dad used to sit after work was tattered and worn. I’d planned on buying him a new one for Father’s Day the year before he passed, but I never got the chance. My mind drifted to his image in the chair, kicked back, with a drink in his hand, and complimenting my mother on whatever delicious aroma rolled from the kitchen. It was eerie being there without him, without them.
A vase stood in the center of the coffee table, empty. My mother always kept fresh flowers in there from her garden, but today, there were none. As the light glowed into the room, I looked around at the pictures on the walls, the tiny knick-knacks that my mother had collected, and then stared down the hallway towards my old room. I knew it was just as I left it, untouched and waiting for me to return home from overseas. I wasn’t ready to face my past just yet.
I reached towards the curtains, gripping them loosely between my fingers, and shook the dust from them, sending it into a wild fury throughout the room. I coughed as I moved around to the other curtains and repeated the process. I’d let it settle, and then grabbed a dust cloth, cleaning the furniture that my parents worked so hard to acquire.