Remember When (Teach Me Book 3)

by RC Boldt

  “We basically have to wait until we’re fired upon by the enemy before we’re allowed to shoot.” Miller shook his head. “The desk jockeys and higher ups who make these rules don’t give two shits about our guys and the risks they take on a daily basis. To protect their freedoms, no less.” He inhaled a deep breath before he continued. “This dude and his goats came and stumbled upon where we’re hiding, got spooked before he actually saw us and fired in our direction.”

  At Tate’s gasp, he covered the hand she had on his chest with his own. “Luckily, he was crap at aiming. Hendy nailed him in between the eyes with one shot. Unfortunately, the noise alerted the others and all hell broke loose.

  “But, the kicker was, two seconds before this dude and his goats came at us, we got radio confirmation that our target was inside the compound. They and these Somalians were known to be in cahoots. So, they gave us orders to raid the place and get this dude.” Miller cleared his throat. “We started making our way toward it and it seemed like there was a hailstorm of gunfire all around. Hendy and one of our other guys are in the lead and took care of eliminating threats inside. Our guys got a hold of this dude and got his hands zip-tied, hood over his head so he couldn’t identify where we were taking him. And it was dead quiet. Eerily so.”

  Tate felt her stomach pitch with dread. She watched as Miller’s eyes took on a faraway look.

  “Hendy stopped us and said the hair was standing up on the back of his neck. I was like, ‘Dude, we’ve got to get out of here before anyone else shows up. We don’t have any choice.’ So, he gets this fierce expression—one I haven’t seen the likes of before or since—and said we’d better be ready to send the fuckers to get their seventy-two virgins. That, as soon as we stepped out of that building, it was go-time.”

  “I have to say, it’s hard to imagine Hendy being serious. He’s always so hilariously goofy,” Tate said softly with a small smile.

  Miller looked at her. “Yeah, I know. He once told me it’s the only way he stays sane with all the shit we’ve witnessed and had to do. Said he fills his quota of,” Miller used air quotes, chuckling as his did so, “‘serious badass’ when he’s at work, but when he’s not working, he can be ‘adorably entertaining’.”

  “That sounds like the Hendy I know.” Tate paused. “So, what happened next?”

  “Well, Hendy was right, of course.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Not sure where these two guys had been hiding, but one of them nailed me at the bottom where my helmet and headgear were, snapping my helmet off. At the same time, I took one in my body armor. The force of it slammed me back against the building and there was some sort of metal hinge or some shit that caught right here.” He reached back up to the scar on the back of his head. “I saw stars, I hit it so hard. Was woozy as shit.

  “Worst part about it wasn’t that it was metal but the fact there’s some flesh-eating bacteria in the soil in a lot of these places overseas. That was the last thing I needed. So,” he continued, “we quickly took those two out and hauled ass to where we’re supposed to get picked up by the chopper. And the entire time, I knew I was jacked up. Knew I had a concussion.

  “We got situated and debriefed, got medical attention and I thought everything would work itself out. Except my head got worse. It was killing me.” Miller’s eyes met hers. “Turns out there was bleeding in my brain and I was diagnosed with severe traumatic brain injury. It only got worse from there because, along with it, I started having symptoms of traumatic brain amnesia. Which is when,” he reached out to trace a finger over her cheek, “the guys really learned about you.”

  Tate swallowed tightly. “What do you mean?”

  Miller’s lips pressed thin for a moment before he gave her a slight smile. “Let’s just say that I asked for you. Constantly. I didn’t realize where I was, didn’t realize that I was a SEAL, thought I was still back in Ohio with you.” He drew his finger down her arm, his eyes following the path it took.

  “I asked for you.” His eyes rose to meet hers. “I only ever asked for you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Tate was in line, waiting to board her connecting flight to Boston. She was flying up for a much needed visit with Cassie, her old college roommate and dear friend, a trip she had planned and anticipated months in advance.

  Cassie and her husband, Mark, had been living in upstate New York the last time she had visited them. Mark’s job had recently moved them to Boston. Cassie had just given birth to their first child a week prior, a little girl they had named Vivianne. Unfortunately, their condo building had developed a massive bedbug infestation and they’d had to evacuate. Mark’s company was currently housing them at one of the large, well-known hotels in the downtown area, nearby his company’s offices. Cassie had made Tate reservations to stay there, as well, insisting on covering the bill and calling it an early Christmas gift.

  Finally, her section was permitted to board the plane and Tate found her seat, stashed her small carry-on bag beneath it after removing her earbuds and phone. Buckling herself in, she attached her earbuds to her phone, intending on listening to the music she had stored on it while reading on her Kindle app once they received the go-ahead to use electronic devices after takeoff. Noticing a text message notification, she opened it up to see a text from Miller.

  Miller: Stay safe, T. Don’t get snowed in up there. It’s bad enough that you’re making me spend Christmas all alone.

  Tate: I’ll do my best. And I highly doubt you’ll end up alone at Christmas. Aren’t you flying out to see your Mom?

  Miller: No. Change of plans. She’s planning on flying here since she’s feeling so great.

  Tate smiled at that. She was glad to hear that the doctor Mrs. Vaughn had been seeing had actually made a difference in her health.

  Miller: I want some time to have you all to myself once you get back.

  Tate: What’s in it for me? ;)

  A minute later, Miller’s text response came in and included a photo of himself, pointing a finger toward his own chest. Under it was one word: Me.

  Grinning, she typed back a reply, hurrying as she heard the flight attendants directing everyone to turn off all electronic devices.

  Tate: Mmmm. Not sure if that’s enough incentive. ;) Gotta run, we’re getting ready for takeoff.

  Little did she know, after her plane landed, she’d get a pretty interesting text response from Miller Vaughn.

  * * *

  “Any chance you’ll actually listen to my stories of woe?”

  Kane’s question jarred him from his musings, as he drew his gaze away from his phone to see his friend looking over at him. Miller had been sitting at the dining room table, glancing periodically at his phone for what felt like the millionth time, waiting for it to light up with an incoming text notification from Tate. Kane was in the kitchen stirring a large pot of seafood gumbo he’d made. From scratch, no less.

  “You know, you’ll make a really great housewife someday, Windham.” He smirked when his friend merely flipped him the bird. “Besides, your stories of woe consist of what, exactly? Not finding the right seasoning you needed at the store?”

  Kane stopped stirring and stared. “Where I come from, it’s considered a sign that the apocalypse is near when you can’t find the right seasoning you need for your gumbo.”

  Miller snickered, shaking his head. “I don’t know why you’re making all that when you’re about to hop on a plane and leave me.”

  “We both know you’ll miss me. The way I see it, I leave a big delicious pot of gumbo for you while I’m gone and you won’t cry as much into your pillow at night missing me.” Kane gave him a toothy grin.

  Rolling his eyes, Miller glanced down at his phone. “What time do I need to drop you off at the airport?” Kane was flying back home to Texas for Christmas to spend it with his sister, her husband, and their little boy whom Kane absolutely doted on. Hell, Kane’s cell phone held so many photos on his phone of the young toddler that one would think it
was his own child. His friend intended on flying back in time for New Year’s Eve since they had all planned on a low-key night over at Mac and Raine’s place.

  “I’d say one o’clock, which works out perfect since your Momma’s flying in shortly thereafter, right?”

  Miller smiled. “Yep, that she is.” He couldn’t wait to see his mother. From everything she’d said, she had been making progress and her periodic testing had shown the cancerous masses had been rapidly shrinking. It would be beyond great to have her around for Christmas. He just wished Tate were going to be there, as well.

  “Well, I changed the sheets on my bed for her and made room in my closet for her clothes. Bathroom’s all cleaned, too.”

  He nodded at his friend. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

  “Just an FYI, though.” Kane looked at him, brows furrowed in seriousness. “If you go into SPM while your mom’s here, you should stuff a clean sock or something in your mouth.” Seeing Miller’s incredulous expression, his face broke into a grin. “I’m just sayin’ Your gorgeous mother doesn’t need to be hearing you belt out your lusty, Oh Tate’s.”

  Palms covering his face, Miller muttered under his breath, “Jesus. Do you ever quit?”

  “Nope. But you can thank me later for the sweet text I sent off to your girl.”

  Miller’s head snapped up. “What the hell did you do?”

  His friend’s shit eating grin screamed I’m up to no good. “I might have snagged your cell and snapped a pic of you after you’d fallen asleep on the couch last night.” He paused and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I may have zoomed in on your goody trail, too.”

  Oh, shit. He instantly began tapping and swiping, searching through his messages. When he found the particular message Kane had been speaking of, he nearly fell out of his chair.

  “Oh, hell, man,” he muttered, running a hand over the raspy scruff along his jawline.

  Kane seemed pleased with himself. “It’s hot, right?”

  “It’s more than a little disturbing that you took a pic of me, asleep on the couch, shirtless, and zoomed in on my goody trail.”

  “Then you’re gonna be even more pleased when you read the message I typed beneath it.”

  Miller glanced down, finger swiping on the screen of his phone until he saw what was written beneath the photo. Tossing the phone onto the table in front of him, he threw his head back with a groan, agitated hands running over his hair. “Dude. I can’t even …”

  “It’s good stuff. Trust me, Vaughn. You can—and will—thank me later.”

  He let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Ri …” He trailed off because, just then, a text message response came in. From Tate.

  And it was all kinds of hot. Miller felt like he might burst into flames right then. Abruptly standing, he shoved his chair back to the table, phone in hand, turning to head to his bedroom.

  “Hell, if you weren’t right,” he tossed out to Kane as he walked passed. “I fucking love you, man.”

  His friend simply smiled as he cleaned up the kitchen from his meal preparation. “Right back at ya, boo.” There was a split second pause. “Just please turn up some music loud so it drowns out your moaning, all right?”

  Miller gave a quick wave of his hand to signify he’d heard him. Because that text from Tate? Yeah, that text included a glimpse of the black lace bra she was wearing along with a naughty message of her own. Which meant, hell yeah, he’d be in his bedroom for a bit. Thinking of her.

  He didn’t even care that Kane’s laughter trailed down the hallway after him.

  Tate,

  It sucks out here. What else is new, right? Doc’s had so many confirmed kills that he’s getting some notoriety. Crazy shit, right? Getting notoriety and slaps on the back for killing people? Except, I swear to you, these people he’s killing are just plain evil. I’ve seen them turn on their own in a heartbeat just for some cash. It’s fucked up as hell.

  Couldn’t sleep so I went outside our barracks. We’re housed at a different base right now. You can actually see the stars tonight. It’s cold as shit, but quiet for once.

  You ever think of me? Wonder what might have been?

  I hate that I think it. I think about it far too much. I wish I could cut you out of my memory, out of my heart.

  M.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “I’M IN SHOCK.” CASSIE SHOOK her head, dazed. “I mean, I can believe it, yet I can’t. If that even makes any sense.” She leaned back in the corner of the hotel room’s couch where she and Tate had been sitting, catching up. Tate had been filling her in on everything pertaining to Miller and the discovery of what had happened all those years ago to break them apart.

  “I know.” Tate made a face. “Bizarre doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  “So what’s the next step?”

  Letting out a long sigh, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like we’ve really talked about having a future together. It’s kind of been a whirlwind of shock and then,” she blushed, “making up for lost time.”

  Cassie grinned wide. “And is it as good as it was before?”

  She let out a satisfied sigh. “Better.”

  “So the big question is whether you want a future with him.” Her friend studied her. “Do you?”

  Tate rolled her lips inward. “I do. The thing is …”

  “You’re not sure if he wants that?”

  Blowing out a loud breath, she nodded. “Exactly. And I don’t want to rush it, but at the same time—”

  “You feel like you guys have wasted enough time being apart,” Cassie finished.

  Tate nodded.

  “Has he been texting you since you left?”

  Not following where Cassie was going with the question, she answered slowly, “Yes.”

  “And have they been sweet texts? Like ones that show he cares?”

  “Yes.”

  Cassie tipped her head to the side. “And were there any naughty ones included?”

  Tate felt her cheeks redden and Cassie instantly pounced. “Ah ha! What did he say?”

  “Well,” she hedged, “it was more like a combination of what he said and what he showed me.”

  Cassie’s jaw dropped. “No way! Miller Vaughn sent you a dick pic?”

  Tate’s hands shot up, eyes wide. “No, no, no. It was not that. At all.”

  Her friend seemed confused. “Then what was it?”

  “It was a photo of his … goody trail. Along with a message.”

  Leaning in closer, Cassie asked, “And what did the message say?”

  “It said that he couldn’t wait for me to come back so that he wouldn’t have to be the only one whose hand would be following the goody trail south.”

  Eyes wide, lips parted, Cassie breathed, “Holy shit.”

  “I know.”

  “Well done, Vaughn.” As if another thought had struck her, Cassie suddenly looked at her. “And I sure as hell hope you responded accordingly.”

  Letting out a small, slightly embarrassed laugh, Tate reached for her phone. Pulling up the text she’d sent Miller, she read it aloud. “Can’t wait for you to take this off of me and for you to put your mouth on me. Especially your tongue on my nipples.” Her eyes met her friend’s. “I sent him a pic of me in my black lace bra.”

  Reaching out to high-five her, Cassie got up to go over to the mini fridge. “Just for that, you get a free pass on drinking alcohol as I sit here, alcohol-free, continuing to be a milk-making factory for my bambina.” Opening the fridge and pulling out a small bottle of wine and grabbing one of the plastic cups nearby, they both heard the noise on the monitor signifying the baby waking from her nap. Cassie added, “Speaking of someone needing milk. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook just yet.”

  Giving her friend a curious glance, Tate asked, “What do you mean?”

  Returning to the couch with the now poured wine in Tate’s cup, she handed it to her. “This means that while I feed Vivianne, yo
u can fill me in on just how much more amazing Mr. Vaughn is in the sack.” She turned to head to the door of the bedroom where the baby was in the portable crib. “Because, I’ve still got a few more weeks of no sex until I get clearance from the doctor. This means I need to live vicariously through you.” Her friend disappeared through the door of the bedroom.

  Shaking her head, Tate let out a little laugh. Cassie Ronan-Wittaker was still a horn dog.

  It was good to know some things never changed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “MILLER? I THINK YOU JUST got a text.” His mother’s voice rang out as he was finishing getting ready to head over to Momma K.’s for Christmas dinner. As soon as he heard the word “text”, he nearly vaulted himself out of his bathroom and connecting bedroom door, coming close to breaking the sound barrier to get to the kitchen counter where he’d left his phone. The only reason he’d let it out of his sight was because his mother had promised to keep her eye on it while he took a shower in case Tate called. Or texted. Or … anything.

  Aaaaand, yeah, so he was officially whipped.

  Hurriedly swiping across the screen, he felt his entire body deflate. Because it wasn’t a text from Tate. Letting out a disappointed sigh, his shoulders sagged as he read the message, looking at the attached photo.

  “Not Tate, huh?”

  His head jerked up, eyes meeting his mother’s.

  “Nope.” He sighed before offering a weak smile. “It’s a pretty cute pic of Kane’s nephew.” He turned the phone toward her.

  His mother’s eyes lit up. “Aw, they both have the same smile.” Her gaze raised to his. “I look forward to the day when there’s a little one in our family.” Meaning: When are you giving me grandbabies? That was not a conversation path he wanted to go down right then. Not because he couldn’t imagine having a family of his own. He could.

  He just wasn’t sure he had the balls to put himself out there, once again.