SEAL Camp

by Suzanne Brockmann

  His teammates would, but there was no way Jim would talk to any of them about it—make them face the harsh reality of their own steadily approaching use-by dates…?

  No.

  He was going to have to work through this on his own.

  Jim stood there in the humid darkness of the night, feeling more alone than he’d ever felt in his entire life, with a solid sense of dread that, instead of “fixing” a “mistake,” he may have just fucked up his life beyond all hope.

  He finally went into his trailer, limping painfully up the steps, going inside, and shutting the door.

  * * *

  Ashley had cried.

  And then she’d packed.

  And then she’d left, turning off the light in her trailer and locking the door behind her before heading back to the mess, where she waited in the darkness for her Lyft to come and pick her up.

  * * *

  Jim’s alarm went off just before dawn, as the rising sun made the sky glow.

  He didn’t bother to shower, since he’d done that in the middle of the night. He’d gotten out of bed to do it—Ashley’s scent had been haunting him, and keeping him from falling asleep.

  Not that showering had helped.

  But it was finally morning—and a nice, fresh, cool, clear one, too. As he hobbled his way out of his trailer, he expected to see Ashley’s windows open wide as she packed her suitcase, making good on her promise to leave.

  But the trailer was locked up tight—dark and silent.

  Damnit, how had he missed her…? Apparently, as early as he’d gotten up, Ashley had gotten up earlier.

  Jim’s knees were stiff and he had a hell of a bad headache—coffee would help. He hurried down the trail as quickly as he could, but halfway to the mess, he ran into Clark, who was heading for the trailers.

  “Hey, LT,” he said.

  “Hey, how’s Kenneth?” Jim asked.

  “So much better,” Clark said. “If he continues to improve, he’s getting released from the hospital tonight. I’m here to pack up our gear. Chief Duncan says he’s doing something called rolling us for medical reasons—so we can both come back, together, for free, for another camp session after Kenneth’s better—probably some time this summer. Right now, Kenneth’s mom and dad are renting a beach house out on Siesta Key for a coupla weeks, so he can recuperate for the rest of spring break. They’ve, um, invited me to stay, so…”

  “Kenneth’s sister Louise gonna be there, too?” Jim asked.

  Clark winced. “Busted, but yeah.”

  “She’s completely out of your league,” Jim told the kid.

  “I’m well aware.”

  “Don’t let that stop you,” Jim said. “I’m giving you seven years to marry her in your dress whites with your SEAL Budweiser pinned to your chest. Do it in fewer, and make me proud.”

  Clark laughed, but then surprised Jim with a hug. “You’re the only person—besides Ashley—who thinks of me as more than, you know, a random bag of dicks.”

  “You’re also a random bag of dicks,” Jim said. “But that’s what makes you special.”

  Clark laughed. “Thanks, sir.”

  “You, um, driving Ashley back with you, into Sarasota…?” He tried to make his question sound casual. Talk about a bag of dicks…

  “No, she’s already up in Tampa,” the kid said. “At the airport. She emailed me, like an hour ago, to check on Kenneth. I was already awake—I kinda never went to sleep—so I called her and she told me things had blown up at work. She has to get back to California, ASAP. She couldn’t get a flight out of Sarasota, so she’s on, I think it’s the 6:45 flight, stopping in… I wanna say, Atlanta?”

  “6:45…?” Jim looked at his watch in dismay. It was already oh-six-hundred, and Tampa was nearly two hours north.

  “Yeah, but no. She just texted me—her flight’s been delayed, something like six hours. I think she’s already at the airport bar. She mentioned having a glass of wine for breakfast, and I’m not sure she was kidding.”

  “I’m sorry I missed her.” Understatement of the century.

  “Yeah, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t drive her to the airport. I thought you guys were—”

  Jim stopped him. “No.” He forced a smile, because Clark was looking at him hard.

  The kid wasn’t fooled. “She’s outa your league, too, but… She liked you. I don’t know what you were waiting for. She hasn’t gotten even remotely near anyone since Brad screwed her over.”

  You’re Brad two-point-oh…

  “What exactly did Brad do, or not do…?” Jim asked. “She mentioned him, but I didn’t get details.”

  “Our father hired him to marry her,” Clark said.

  “I’m sorry, what…?”

  “Yeah, it’s as bad as it sounds. Brad’s a lawyer, he applied for an associate position at Dad’s firm, Dad interviewed him and thought, Huh. And he made Brad a deal. If Brad could get Ash to the altar, Dad would make him a partner—no pay-in, just boom. And if he could talk her into working there, too, he’d get a corner office. So Bradley went a’courtin’. He almost did it, too. They were engaged for… I don’t even know how many months.”

  “Jesus…”

  “Ash only found out because Brad told her. Confession time. It was weeks before the wedding, but Brad shows up, knocking on her door, weeping. Like, Baby, I know this sounds bad and it started out as this awful, mercenary thing, and I’m so ashamed, but then I met you and I fell in love… blah blah blah. She was wrecked.” Clark looked at him. “Like, how could she believe him? I mean, was this part of the con? Confess this now, because God forbid she finds out in ten years, right…? Long story short, she dumped him and didn’t look back. But she hasn’t exactly looked forward, either. At least not until she met you.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Jim had thought that giving Ashley that bullshit story—I was trying to make you angry but went too far—would be easier and less painful than the truth: I want you so badly, but I’m too scared.

  And yeah, it had been easier and less painful—for him.

  She had been left believing—again—that she hadn’t truly been desired.

  And Jim simply could not let that stand.

  He had to get to Tampa. To the airport. Now. “Can I catch a ride with you, into Sarasota?” he asked Clark.

  “If you can be ready to leave in about twenty minutes, sure.”

  “Kid, I’ve seen the inside of your trailer. You’re seriously gonna pack all that shit in twenty minutes…?”

  Clark smiled. “With all due respect, LT, I’ll be done in ten. I was giving you a little extra time.”

  “You were born to be a SEAL,” Jim told him. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

  As Clark headed for his RV, Jim set off at a knee-wrenching jog down the trail. He needed coffee—and a quick but sure-to-be-loud conversation with Dunk.

  * * *

  Ashley sat at the gate in the airport, trying desperately to read. She had a mountain of great, unread books on her e-reading app, but nothing caught her attention, and she flipped aimlessly from one to the next.

  This was where, if her life were a rom-com movie, Jim would come running into the airport, searching for her, shouting her name. And then, as she stood, he’d spot her and rush up to her, then drop to his knees to beg her to forgive him, to confess his undying love, and possibly even to ask for her hand in marriage.

  Except there was no way he’d be able to drop to his poor, battered knees—and right, that was the reason her insane little fantasy was never going to happen.

  And even if it did… The sad truth was that she no longer wanted him. Just like Brad before him, there was literally nothing Jim could say or do to make up for the appallingly awful way he’d treated her.

  Ashley sat with that for a while, wondering if it was really true, or if it was just something she was telling herself—and trying hard to believe in—so that she didn’t fall apart.

  She spent some
time Googling therapists in the San Felipe area. She knew of some—women who specialized in helping other women out of abusive relationships by working on reinforcing self-worth and self-esteem. Because there was a pattern. Women who struggled to value their own selves often wound up in relationships with manipulators, over and over again. Predatory and abusive men recognized and targeted the vulnerable. And while that was not the women’s fault, the pattern could be broken by women learning to love themselves—to recognize that they deserved to be treated with real love and respect.

  And although Ashley hoped that she’d never tolerate a relationship with a man who was physically or even verbally abusive, there was certainly a pattern to her behavior. She was attracted to men who were assholes and users—there was no denying that fact.

  God, it was embarrassing to remember how quick she’d been last night, to assume what she was feeling was love. A little dick—well, a rather large one—after having gone without sex for too long, and she was ready and eager to give her heart away to a man she barely knew.

  Barely? She didn’t know him at all. God, she’d only met the man a few days ago. She’d made stupid assumptions, and created a persona for him that was kind, and caring, and funny, and smart, and imperfectly perfect for her… Oh God, don’t let her cry…

  Ashley stashed her iPad in her purse, and stood as she raised the pull-handle on her rolling carry-on bag, heading for the privacy of the closest ladies’ room. Again.

  * * *

  Jim walked into a full staff meeting in Dunk’s outer office—where just last night he and Ash had…

  Everyone looked up as he came through the door, which didn’t help him feel any less self-conscious.

  “Hey,” Dunk greeted him. “Didn’t expect to see you until later. I figured you’d be driving Ashley to the airport in Tampa. I got a note from her that she had to get back to California in a hurry, and I thought—”

  “No,” Jim said. “She, uh, must’ve, um, gotten a car.”

  Dunk wasn’t even remotely fooled, and his eyes narrowed. “I heard about Bull and Todd’s bullshit out on the paintball field, and today they’ll be emptying black tanks under my supervision. Tomorrow they’ll have a choice between an all-day sensitivity training session, or leaving and not coming back until they take the damn class, and I’m banking on them choosing the latter. But I’m guessing they’re not why Ashley left.”

  “No,” Jim agreed.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Dunk asked.

  Jim looked around the room at the faces of his teammates. Lucky, as always, was perpetually amused, and he looked back and forth from Dunk to Jim as if he couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen next. Rio’s eyebrows were raised, and Thomas grimly shook his head as he stared down at his feet, as if he already knew the answer and was embarrassed for Jim in advance.

  “I fucked up,” Jim admitted. “Badly. I’m actually here for you to fire me, so I can go to the airport in Tampa and find Ashley and…”

  “You’ll have to buy a ticket to get to the gate,” Rio said.

  Jim held up his phone. “Already done. Same flight.”

  Dunk was disgusted. “That’s definitely not a good idea. To harass her at the airport—”

  “I won’t harass her,” Jim promised. “I just need to talk to her—”

  “Said every man, everywhere, who ever had a restraining order taken out on him,” Thomas pointed out.

  “I got the news last night that I’m out of the Teams,” Jim told his friends. “Medical’s not gonna try to fix my knees anymore. It’s over.”

  “Ah, shit,” Dunk breathed. “Jim, I’m so sorry.”

  “And I know that’s not an excuse for what I said to Ashley,” Jim said, “but… Dunk, please, you gotta fire me. I promised you I wouldn’t quit, but I made her believe that I didn’t care about her, at all, and that’s such a fucking lie, because, God, I’m in love with her…”

  His voice broke and he knew that he sounded insane—to his own ears as well. But as those words left his lips, he realized it was true. This feeling of wanting, of sorrow, of motherfucking agony from knowing just how badly he’d hurt her…

  “I swear to you,” Jim promised the senior chief through eyes that—Christ!—suddenly swam with tears, “I just want to tell her that I lied. I honestly don’t expect it to change anything, not for me, but maybe it will for her, because I know her, and she’s… hating herself right now. If she tells me to get lost—when she tells me that—I won’t push. I promise you, I’ll back away.”

  Dunk sighed. “You can’t call her? Talk on the phone?”

  “I tried,” Jim said. He’d added Ashley’s cell to his phone’s list of contact while they were at the hospital—in case the doctor came out to talk to them while she’d been searching the vending machines for food. “She didn’t pick up.”

  Dunk sighed again.

  “Ah, come on, Senior,” Lucky said. “Give the man a chance.”

  Dunk looked at Jim. “I do this? You owe me.”

  Jim nodded. “You know that I already do.”

  “You’re fired,” Dunk said. “Asshole.”

  And Jim ran, out of the mess and back to his trailer to pack his bag.

  * * *

  Ashley left the ladies’ room, pulling her carry-on bag behind her.

  Her running shoes were silent on the tile floor—it was strange but liberating to travel without heels and she’d probably never travel in anything but sneakers and jeans again. But the wheels of her bag clicked and clattered in a reassuring cadence along the now-familiar path back to the gate.

  “Ashley.”

  Someone stepped in front of her, and she stopped short, looking up at…

  Jim.

  He was carrying a duffel bag and wearing the same clothes he’d had on last night—before he’d taken them off to… how had he put it? Fuck her in Dunk’s office. His brown hair was a charming mess and the stubble on his chin was GQ-photo-shoot worthy.

  Fucking men. They could roll out of bed looking sexy and perfect, and she hated him for that, even as her stupid heart leaped. It actually leaped and danced in her chest because he’d followed her here. What kind of fool was she…?

  “Please,” he said, as a crowd of harried travelers streamed around them on both sides. “Can we talk…?”

  “No,” she told him even as she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.

  He was chagrined and apologetic—and she saw it again. That same fear and vulnerability he’d let her glimpse last night.

  Which was just part of his pathetic act.

  “Excuse me.” She tried to navigate her way around him.

  “Ashley, I’m so sorry. I got scared, and, well, the truth is, I lied about… almost everything, and I’d really like to explain.”

  She stopped. Turned to face him. “Is that so I’ll feel better, or you’ll feel better…? Because I’m getting a heavy whiff, here, of you wanting to feel better, and I’m not sure I’m in the mood for that.”

  “You have every right to be angry,” Jim said. “Can we just… step out of the traffic—”

  “No,” she said. “And I’m not angry. You still haven’t made me angry. At least not at you. I’m a little angry at myself, for being so quick to believe that you’re someone you’re not. But that’s not on you, that’s on me. You can’t help being a piece of shit.”

  Jim winced. “Ouch.”

  “Oh, no, excuse me,” she said. “A lying piece of shit, because you just admitted that you lied—I’m not sure about what, except apparently now I’m supposed to believe whatever it is that you now want to tell me, except you’ve just told me you’re a liar…? How do I know you’re not simply lying again?”

  “Jesus, you’re magnificent when you’re angry.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Ashley, I was actively trying to push you away when I said what I said last night.”

  “Good job,” she said. “You succeeded.”

  “I kissed yo
u because I wanted to,” he told her, glancing around at the curious onlookers streaming past them, and lowering his voice to add, “What happened in Dunk’s office also happened, absolutely, because I wanted it, not because I was playing some… stupid game. That was just bullshit. I lied about that. I wanted you. I still do, God help me. But then, after we… I… I panicked.” He had tears in his eyes. “I’m not a SEAL anymore, at least I won’t be in a very short amount of time. And all I could think was, Why would you want me…? And I don’t think I can do this, start this… amazing and terrifying thing with you, because it’s all just so freaking hard…”

  “God, you’re an idiot,” Ashley said. “Or maybe you think I am. You’re either a manipulative asshole, a lying asshole, or an idiotic asshole. So, as tempting as it is to consider welcoming you back into my life, I’m gonna pass.”

  Jim nodded. Wiped his eyes. Sniffed. Managed a weak smile. “That’s, um, a really good decision. I understand. Completely. I just, um, wanted to make sure you knew that the screw-up here isn’t you—it’s me. And that I’m so sorry I hurt you by making you believe that… I don’t love you. Because… I do.”

  Ashley stood there, looking at him. “You love me. Of course you do. Right on time.”

  She didn’t believe him. She didn’t forgive him. She wasn’t sure she ever would. And he was right about the fact that he was the screw-up here. But she was also at fault. For falling for yet another asshole, and attempting to find a comfortable place for herself in his we-are-not-equal world.

  And Ashley realized in a flash of clarity that was so sharp, its edges nearly cut her to the quick: She didn’t need to change. Not radically, the way she’d thought she had to change when she’d signed up for the camp. Yes, she should and she certainly could not only stop dating assholes, and also be more assertive in her personal life—more in command. She’d learned both that word and the feeling that came with it during her short camp session, and that was a good thing. A useful tool.