by Jordan, Ivy
“It’s not any of those things,” Anna-Marie declared calmly.
I stared up at her, wondering what she was trying to say, just as she pulled a pink box from her purse.
“What is that?” I asked,
“A test, although we don’t need it. I already know,” Anna-Marie said smugly.
Alyssa grabbed the box, quickly opening it, tearing one of the test applicators from the package.
“Try it,” she insisted, her tone filled with excitement.
“No. I couldn’t be. We always use protection,” I stammered, and then paused as I realized that statement wasn’t true.
There were a few nights, ones where our passion took over, and protection never even made it into our thoughts, let alone into our lovemaking.
I took the test from Alyssa’s hands warily and then told Anna-Marie to stand guard.
Alyssa helped me lift the dress, almost over my head, and then find my panties under the thick hoop skirt. Finally, I was on the toilet, the lid back open, and the test strip between my legs. Having everyone watch me was making it tough to go, so Alyssa turned on the faucet.
Finally, my urine streamed over the test applicator, and then into the bowl. I wiped my hand with a baby wipe, handled cleaning myself up, and then allowed Alyssa to help redress me while Anna-Marie stared at the test on the bathroom counter.
“It’ll take a couple minutes,” I explained to her, but she continued to stare.
“Oh no, I think it’s done. Just as I thought,” she blurted.
I grabbed the test, stared at the line going across the positive screen and nearly passed out.
“I’m pregnant?” I muttered, unable to even think.
Alyssa freshened me up, fixed my makeup, and straightened out my dress. By the time we made it out of the house, Aiden, Luke, and Liam were all on the back porch, headed in to look for us.
Aiden had a worried look on his face as I stopped in front of him, unable to speak. Alyssa was grinning from ear to ear, and Anna-Marie had a gleam of pure pride in her eyes.
“We’re pregnant,” I said softly, lifting the stick to Aiden.
He didn’t speak, not at first. It felt like forever had gone by when he finally did speak, and all it just a howl of excitement, not actual words. He gripped me up by the waist, lifting me into his arms like a baby, and ran through the yard with me, announcing to everyone that we were pregnant. I’d never seen him so excited.
Liana ran across the yard, her arms swallowing both Aiden and me, bouncing and squealing as tears rolled down her cheeks.
It was all so surreal. Here, Aiden and I chose to get married, just to get his family off his back about starting a family, and now look at us. We were married, still, but this time for real, Anna-Marie was living in our garage apartment, with adopting Gunner, we already had a family started, and now we’ll have a child of our own—a real family of our own.
That’s the end of SEAL’s Fake Marriage. Click here to continue.
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SEAL’D SHUT
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 © 2017 Ivy Jordan
Chapter One
SAWYER
“You really need to bring all that shit back with you?” John leaned against my truck and peered inside. I hefted a suitcase over the bed of it and huffed from the effort, then took another bag and repeated the process.
“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t have that much, really. A suitcase, a duffel bag, and one box with some personal memorabilia in it. Most men who came out of the Navy didn’t even have that much, though, and I knew it was strange to hold on to everything the way I did. I couldn’t decide what to part with. It was a decision better made in the comfort of my home, where I could decide what stuck out and what fit in.
“Jesus, it’s gonna be a shitshow when you leave,” John said. “Who the hell is gonna keep the newbies in line?”
“You,” I said, and raised an eyebrow. I pushed the sleeves up on my shirt and pulled the gate up on the bed of the pickup after yanking the bungee cord over the stuff to ensure it wouldn’t fly out. “That’s supposed to be your job, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” John shook his head and backed up from the truck.
I cast a final look at my stuff. A suitcase, a duffel bag, and one box. Six years in this shit, and I had less to show for it than when I’d gone to summer camp for a week in high school. Part of me was grateful that I got to leave most of what happened behind. The SEALs didn’t make for pleasant memories.
“Where are you headed?” John asked.
I thought about it for a minute. I had a few options, none of them guaranteed to pan out in my favor, but I knew the smartest decision would be to go where most of my old friends were. “Probably Austin.”
“See if you can get any sympathy?” John snorted a laugh. That damn laugh had tormented me in all our time overseas, creeping up like some unexpected pest; it was just a snort, a harsh bark, something I couldn’t escape from but could always hear coming. “Stick around, tell them about the war. They’ll usually throw a meal and some money your way.”
“You know I can’t stand that shit.” I sat up against the side of my truck and took my cap off, wiping the sweat from my brow. “It’s wrong, exploiting ourselves for that kind of bullshit.”
“Ain’t wrong if they’re thankful, if they want to, you know?” John shrugged. “Maybe it’s you who feels awful. You don’t think you deserve a free meal, Sawyer? You did a tour with the SEALs. You’ve earned a fuckin’ cheeseburger.”
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t like that, and he knew it, and I knew it. I wouldn’t turn down free food, but I wouldn’t make a beggar of myself either. “Austin’s just the best bet for me. I don’t really have a plan. Might as well go there.”
“No plan? Most guys are achin’ to get back to a family.”
“You know I never married.” I shoved my cap back onto my head and pushed the bill forward. “Anyway, I should get going. It’s been good serving with you, John.” Even with his snorting laugh, I valued his company and his friendship.
“Well, shit, you sure you don’t want to stick around?” John spat off to the side and sat up a little. “I mean, I know you don’t have any tours coming up, but you could still hang around the barracks.”
I couldn’t be more determined to leave. I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew better than to stick around here much longer. The place ate at me. Knowing what I’d done in my time serving, knowing what I hadn’t but should have, it all came to the forefront of my mind here. Going to Austin would be a step in any other direction, and that felt right.
“Nah,” was all I said. “I think I’d do best going back.”
“Shit,” he said. I knew he’d miss having someone to clean up after his shit and take care of the recruits, but couldn’t bring myself to care too much about it. Caring was what got us all into these messes in our tours. “Well, good luck out there.”
I had one more night to spend in these barracks. Technically I could have stayed in an apartment with some of the other SEALs, but I didn’t want to see my comrades when I went to take a shower. I preferred to keep them at a distance. Besides, I liked seeing new recruits come in and not know what the hell to do about a SEAL being in their bunker. They always acted a little scared of me.
In the end, the other SEALs decided to sleep in the barracks, too, so there were a bunch of empty apartments and a bunch of SEALs taking up space where they didn’t belong.
Before I could go back to the barracks, I had one more meeting with my commanding officer. He went by ‘Chief,’ nothing else, and I’d long since forgotten his formal name. I stood outside his office toying with my lighter. I’d stopped sm
oking cigarettes a while back—the jitteriness that came with them was a luxury I couldn’t afford overseas. In the middle of a dangerous mission, that tiny amount of jitteriness could be the difference between life and death. Still, I liked to fiddle with lighters or shoestring or rubber bands. Busy hands, busy mind.
I could hear Chief bitching at one of the newer guys. It went that way with them; the only way they could earn their keep was by listening to people yell at them nonstop. I remembered my first days of boot camp. I’d been screamed at and screamed at and screamed at until one day I finally screamed back and got hit so hard upside the head that I almost blacked out. Dissent wasn’t an option. We were soldiers, not visionaries. We put up with what they dished out, or we got sent home.
A few people had gotten sent home that first week. Years later, others, in caskets.
Finally, the man walked out of his office. His face looked white, teeth nearly chattering in his skull, and he gave me a nervous stare before sprinting down the hallway. I couldn’t imagine why he’d been yelled at, but it was always something stupid. Boots not shined enough, hair not to standard, a dirty room, even looking at a commanding officer funny, all were criteria for getting screamed at. Sometimes they’d get so close to you that you could feel their breath on your face.
I walked into his office. It was strange that he even had an office, strange to see him sitting down, and stranger that instead of standing up, he remained seated. Usually he liked to look down at people. I snapped to attention, and he nodded at me. “At ease.”
I stood for a second and then sat down. I would miss Chief more than most people here. He was an unassuming man, with mostly lanky limbs and a skinny face; it was easy to think little of him, or at least not think he’d be a force to be reckoned with. But Chief must have known that everyone thought he was a shrimp because he was the single most damning force in the entire Navy. I was more afraid of him than any of the jacked up SEAL captains that breathed down our necks during our beach training.
“We’ll be sad to see you go, Gains,” Chief said. He leaned forward a little, shifting his ass back in his seat. “Not a lot of men have your work ethic.”
“All of the SEALs do,” I replied. That earned me a smile and a little chuckle.
“They have to,” he said. He shook his head. “You know, we could use you up here. Probably could use you to train some of the new recruits.”
“I wouldn’t suit the job,” I said. “Honestly, I think I’d work ‘em too hard. I’m too used to what the SEALs could handle.”
“These men aren’t that,” he agreed. “Still. You don’t have another tour? You’d think they’d want you back.”
I shook my head and adjusted my cap. “No, I don’t think they would. Best they see me off now. Besides, I have things to be doing. A life to get on with.” That was a lie. I had no life—I was the type who joined the military to make something of myself. Now I faced the realization that the military made up all of who I was, and my identity outside of it was faded at best. I didn’t know what to do. But I knew I couldn’t stay here.
Chief rolled his tongue in his mouth, and I suspected he had dip under his lip. We weren’t supposed to do it, but I wasn’t about to rat him out. “You know,” he said, “a lot of you SEALs, you get the wrong idea about things that happen.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You go out, something happens to you, you misconstrue it. Get it all backwards from what actually took place.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I said.
Chief leaned back in his chair, looking at me from over the tops of his glasses. “Uh-huh. Bet you don’t.” He ran a hand over his hair—it was too short to run a hand through it—and swallowed. “I’m saying it isn’t your fault, what happened with James.”
I pulled forward in my chair and started to stand. “I should get back to the barracks,” I managed. I didn’t want to talk about this, and I certainly didn’t want to try and ration through it with a man who I’d only seen screaming at new recruits.
“If you say so,” Chief muttered. He didn’t look angry or suspicious; I half expected him to bitch at me for blowing off his statement, but instead, he shrugged. “It was good serving with you, Gains. You let me know if you ever want to come back.”
I paused before I left. “Thank you,” I said. “But honestly, Chief, I think all I want to do is go back home.”
I walked back through the camp to get to the barracks. Recruits were running left and right with their freshly shaven heads like newly mowed grass. I could tell it had just happened because they stopped and looked at themselves in every reflective surface and had their hands on top of their heads whenever they got the chance. After they’d gotten their heads shaved but before they’d gotten their caps. This was a truly new group.
I remembered it all too well, when this was new. Before this had become my entire world for six years, I’d had one foot back in Austin. Back with my girlfriend, Stacy, and back with what I had left of a family. A job, a life. It had fallen away damn quickly. While I took a shower and got the last few things I owned put in a bag, I thought about whether or not to worry about Stacy.
She wouldn’t be in Austin, anyway. Six years had passed; she’d either be dead from a drug overdose or in some other city. She never could sit still for long.
I lay down in bed and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the other people in the barracks talk over one another, like Boy Scouts on a camp trip unable to shut up and go to bed because of all their excitement. That would wear off soon and give way to exhaustion, relief at the awful mattress on their backs. I closed my eyes.
I wouldn’t need to see Stacy. She wouldn’t be in town. If she was, I wouldn’t run into her. In any case, I prayed to anything that was listening that I could avoid her. I’d survived bombings, I’d survived gunfire, but I didn’t know if I could survive another round with Stacy Black.
Chapter Two
QUINN
“Thanks, Ms. Rodgers. I feel better already,” my patient said. I held the door open for him and gave him a smile.
“I’m glad,” I said. “Can I count on seeing you back next week?”
“Yeah, same time next week,” he said. Then he went off, and I closed the door.
That was my last appointment of the week. I sat down on the couch that my patients usually sat on and pressed my fingers to my temples. This had been a particularly exhausting week, and my weeks were already exhausting. Being a psychiatrist meant listening to a lot of people’s problems, and while I mostly didn’t mind, there were some days that it did tend to grate on me.
Someone knocked on my office door. “Quinn?”
I looked up and furrowed my brow. It sounded like my aunt, and I had been meaning to talk to her anyway. “It’s unlocked,” I called, and sat up a little. It seemed my unwinding would have to wait. I glanced at the automatic kettle sitting on the table across from the couch. Sometimes after work, I would stay in my office for a little while, have a cup of tea, and listen to some of the relaxing music I had on hand for clients. I didn’t have a psychiatrist, didn’t need one, but I did need to unwind.
My aunt, Janet, opened the door. She looked around the corner to see me sitting on the couch. “Is the psychiatrist late?” she joked.
I rolled my eyes a little and sat up. “Ugh. It was a long week.”
“Have you been doing well?”
“Of course, of course.” Overall, things were fine. One rough week didn’t mean a bad life, that was for sure. I wasn’t prone to making the sorts of mistakes that might land me in a position to say otherwise. “How have you been?”
“Oh, I’ve been alright,” Janet said. “I wanted to stop by and check on you here since you’re on my way home.” Janet worked as a secretary at a local bank and had been for years. Austin was hardly a small town, but she came from a small town and brought that sense of job loyalty with her.
“I appreciate it,” I said. It was a little bit of a lie. I would rath
er have been alone. But I didn’t mind Janet, and I knew that she had troubles of her own, especially dealing with my cousin Stacy like she had to. It couldn’t be easy on her. I thought sometimes of asking if she wanted to see me, but it was a terrible idea to see therapists that were in your family. Conflicts of interest came up.
“You know, I read an article on the internet this morning,” Janet said. She was always talking about some article she’d read on the front page of the default page on her internet browser. She was terribly sweet with how she used the internet and how little she filtered through information. “It said that more and more women are becoming psychiatrists now.”
I gestured around me. “Well, wouldn’t you know it.” It was a huge point of pride for me that I’d managed to get a job doing the one thing I loved the most. It took a lot of hard work and tedious hours at university, and sometimes I wondered if I would have been better off marrying rich. But coming into my office every day and making a difference in the life of at least one person was enough to convince me that I’d made the right decision.
“I think that a lot of them get into it for the money,” Janet said, as though telling me a horrible secret. She glanced over her shoulder. The only other people in this building were a shitty real estate agent and some travel agency that barely paid rent every month.
“A lot of them do,” I agreed. “And then they realize that it sucks when you don’t want to do it, and then they quit. And you can’t really get any other kind of job with a psychology degree.”
“Is that what you got? A psychology degree?”
“Yeah. Texas has it set up so you can be a psychologist and write prescriptions. So I’m technically a psychiatrist,” I said. “Or at least, I get paid as a psychiatrist. And I don’t have to try and worm my way into any of these psychiatry offices. They’re so selective.”
“Oh, I bet you could get into them,” Janet said, waving her hand to emphasize how smart she thought I was. Compared to her daughter, maybe, but not compared to some of the people in Austin.