Tate

by Susan May Warren

  Reuben frowned as he handed Tate the glass.

  “Vegas. Back when I was working security for a mob boss. Another slick idea of mine. I turned in my boss to the FBI, but not until they killed the woman I was dating to warn me off.”

  Reuben leaned back against the counter, his arms folded. “How did I get so far out of your life that I never knew these things?”

  Tate filled his glass with water. “It’s no big deal. I was a mess. I didn’t stick around long after my medical separation from the military. Dad sorta told me that if I wanted to be a hero, I needed to act like it.”

  Reuben frowned. “Dad said that?”

  “I might have come in late from the Bulldog, a little too much beer on my breath.”

  Reuben gave him a nod. “It’s tough when the one we worship falls hard.”

  “I didn’t worship Dad,” Tate said.

  “I wasn’t talking about Dad.” Reuben raised an eyebrow. “The number one idol of the human race is ourselves. Or at least that’s what Gilly’s dad is always preaching from the pulpit. And he’s right.” He smirked. “It’s hard not to feel like you make your own tailwind when people are in the stands screaming your name, Twenty-Two.”

  Tate opened his mouth. “I don’t—”

  “Want to impress yourself? Prove to yourself that you’re not the scared kid who fell off a horse?”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t leave home to jump out of airplanes into infernos because of my pride.” Tate didn’t mean for that to come out quite so darkly.

  But he didn’t expect Reuben to nod. “I admit, I was running from my own demons, my own broken places. Problem was that no amount of my own awesomeness could heal me. No matter how many fires I put out, I still came home to an angry Reuben.”

  Tate finished off his water, set the glass on the counter. “So, how did you get from there to…well…” He glanced out the window to the family campfire. To Gilly.

  And of course, looked at Glo, who had drawn up her knees, clasping her arms around them. She glanced at the house, as if feeling his gaze on her.

  “I had to stop trying.”

  Tate looked at him. “What?”

  “I know. It sounds crazy, but I had to stop trying so hard to prove that…well, that I was somebody worth loving, I guess. And just let Gilly—and God, too—love me.”

  Tate reached for one of the cupcakes on a plate on the counter.

  “Touch that and you’ll pull back a nub.”

  Tate glanced at his brother. Held up his hands. “Fine. Listen, I don’t need to prove to anybody that…whatever. It’s no big deal.”

  “It’s the only deal, Tate. When you show up with nothing and discover that you’re loved because of who you are—that’s when you realize what it means to be a son of God. That’s when you discover that you’ve inherited more than you could possibly imagine. It’s pretty breathtaking.” He grinned. “Sort of like free-falling, knowing that your chute is going to catch you.”

  He frowned at Reuben, but the door opened, and Gilly came in. “I’m checking on my cupcakes.”

  “All good here, honey,” Reuben said and pulled her against him. But he looked back at Tate. “Just remember, bro. You’re not the good news. Jesus is.” He clamped him on the shoulder and guided Gilly back outside.

  A son of God. Tate didn’t know why those words settled inside him, rough-edged and itchy.

  He’d never really seen himself as the son of anyone—sure, Orrin Marshall, but he was so very different from his father.

  Different from his brothers.

  He watched them out the window. All of them loved the ranch, knew how to throw a rope, were easy in the saddle, and sure, Ford had gone on to become a SEAL, but at the end of the day, he was a cowboy to his core.

  Tate had hated the ranch.

  No, he hated not measuring up.

  As he watched, Ford got up and, after a glance at Scarlett, headed to the house.

  Nice. Tag team brotherly counsel.

  He was leaning against the counter, his arms folded when Ford entered.

  Ford gave a smirk. “Right. Okay. So I’m just adding that Scarlett didn’t know it was you in that story.”

  “I know.”

  “And although I didn’t know the entire story, I do know this.” Ford crossed his arms to match Tate’s. “We train every day, for months, hoping to get things right, and we still make mistakes. No op is perfect. You go in, stay alert, and rely on your brothers to have your back. And I’m not just talking your fellow Rangers.”

  “I was impulsive, and I got people killed. And I still do.” He looked outside. “I can’t let anything happen to Glo.”

  Ford nodded. “I get that.” He had been looking out the window, too, and now turned back to Tate. “And sometimes you have to follow your gut. You, more than anyone, know that. It’s how we stay alive out there, right?”

  Tate shrugged.

  Ford walked over to the pantry. “Man, if you only knew how much I wanted to be like you when I was younger. You were always doing the cool things.”

  “If you mean breaking bones and driving Ma crazy—”

  “Like I said. And I still look at you and think…man, he’s got all the luck. The jerk.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Take another look, bro. Because you have that hot girl pining for you out there. And I can’t figure out how to get past the mess I’ve created with Scarlett.”

  Oh?

  Ford stood in the glow of the overhead light of the pantry. “What? Ma doesn’t have any health food?” He grabbed a bag of Doritos.

  Tate hadn’t moved, but he raised an eyebrow.

  “So,” Ford said, opening the bag and scoring a chip, “Scarlett is our FOB operations communicator when we’re in the field, and I’m radio communicator, field ops, so…she’s talking to me. And we have this rapport, see, and…we’re friends.”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  Ford threw the chip in his mouth. “She needed a ride to Idaho last week, so I gave her a ride.”

  “Because it’s on your way to Montana.”

  “Actually—”

  Tate held up his hand. Grinned.

  “Anyway, we’re driving, and on the way she tells me she wants to go into SEAL training—”

  “What? Seriously?”

  Ford found another chip. “I know. They’re letting women in, and sure, I’m game for anyone who can be a solid operator. But…yeah, the idea of Scarlett there, beside me, or even on SWCC, in the heat of things…honestly, I’m not a fan.”

  “We had a few women who tried to be Rangers. Brave, tough, smart. But in the end, the thought of them being captured and put through torture—it makes me sick.”

  “Right?” Ford leaned a hip against the counter and dug in for another chip. “And then we get to her mother’s house, and she’s forty-three and has early-onset Alzheimer’s and can barely remember Scarlett.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Yeah, and her husband is a jerk, taking the money Scarlett sends for her mother and little brother. Now she thinks she should quit the military and help her mother.”

  Ford finished the Dorito he held in his hand then rolled the bag up. “And I just want her to stop talking and go back to being the woman in my ear. And it feels so selfish, I’m making myself angry. Because I also really just want to kiss her, which would screw everything up and…”

  “Wow. I feel a lot better. This tag team counseling is a great tactic.”

  Ford just eyeballed him.

  “Okay, what happens in Montana stays in Montana.”

  Ford frowned.

  “That’s all I got for you, bro.”

  “I really expected more.”

  “I told you. You don’t want to be like me. I have a couple of killers stalking Glo—or I used to think so—and meanwhile, I’m breaking promises like I’m throwing china at the wall.” He glanced out the window, and now Glo was standing up, again looking this direction. “And I don’t think I’m stopping anytime
soon.”

  “A couple killers?”

  “The guys who bombed the arena in Texas. But according to RJ, there’s no connection. I’m back to speculation and some bad photos.”

  Ford frowned.

  “The important part here is that I’m so beyond my instincts, I’m not sure what to do. All I know is that when I’m with Glo, all that clutter of the past seems to fade, and she makes me think that everything will be okay. That I’m not a freakin’ mess and that maybe…yeah, that I could give myself permission for a second chance.”

  Ford let a grin slide up his face and he glanced past Tate, out the window. “Or that some ops are worth the risk.”

  Tate held up his fist.

  “Hoo-yah.” Ford bumped it. Turned to the door. “Hey, Glo. I’m tagging you in.”

  She stared after Ford, then turned to Tate. “You okay, tough guy?”

  She looked so concerned, her hazel-green eyes searching his. He reached for her, his arms around her waist, pulling her close, meeting those beautiful eyes. “I am now.” Right now.

  He wouldn’t think about tomorrow.

  So he bent, searching her gaze for a brief moment, caught in the wonder, the sparkle, the hope that was Glo, the sense that, with her, he didn’t have to be anything more…and kissed her.

  Giving himself that second chance.

  9

  The perfect wedding, the perfect life. One she’d never have.

  Not that Scarlett was made for all this happy-sappy, family reunion Hallmark movie-type emotion, but something about the simple ceremony of seeing tough Gilly Priest marry big Reuben Marshall, had tugged a cord deep inside her.

  Maybe one of the romantic threads she’d inherited from her unlucky-in-love mother, the ones she’d been trying to pluck from her life.

  She needed to remember that men, in general, couldn’t be trusted.

  Well, except for a handful. With the last name Marshall, maybe, because Ford had surely been more than a gentleman, letting her weep on his shoulder as they drove out of Idaho. Making a bed for her in the back seat of his truck while he slept in the truck bed under the stars, garbed only in his leather jacket. Even last night, after her painful gaffe where she somehow opened private family wounds, Ford had said nothing of recrimination.

  The man couldn’t be real. Especially looking the way he did today—he’d gussied up in his dress whites, with his rows and rows and rows of medals, including his trident. He escorted his mother down the three-row aisle to sit in the front, then stood at attention behind her.

  She’d seen plenty of sailors in their dress whites. None filled out their uniform quite like Petty Officer First Class Ford Marshall, United States Navy SEAL.

  It wasn’t like the rest of the family didn’t clean up well—Reuben wore a black suit, and Tate and Knox both wore suitcoats, jeans, and their cowboy boots. Scarlett sat in the back row with Kelsey and Glo—never mind their crazy outfits. She knew of the Yankee Belles but meeting them in person felt surreal. Kelsey was maybe down to earth, but she wore a deep-V-necked purple dress and a pair of cowboy boots. Glo, however, wore a silvery short dress that cut out in the middle, showing off her tanned stomach, not to mention her legs, and only accentuated all her curves.

  Like she might be onstage or something.

  And Scarlett felt downright dowdy in her plain black dress she’d bought from a thrift store. Maybe she should have worn her uniform, but somehow those only looked good on the men.

  Besides Gilly’s parents and two sisters, friends of the bride and groom had driven down for the wedding, mostly coworkers who jumped fire with them. A small but sweet wedding that seemed to be over pretty quickly.

  And with a very odd sermon in the middle, from some obscure text in the Old Testament. Not that she knew anything about the Bible, but even she could figure out that warnings about dry wells and broken cisterns weren’t a great encouragement.

  Although, maybe appropriate according to her view of marriage, something she planned to stay far, far away from.

  Now she stood on the porch, the music from the reception taking place in the main room winding out into the darkening yard. Last night’s fire still played in her mind as she peered out into the horizon, this safe world that Ford’s family had built.

  She couldn’t begin to imagine this kind of legacy.

  Tried to decide if it would feel suffocating.

  “You okay, Red?”

  She glanced over toward the voice. Ford had come out the back door to stand beside her. He’d taken off his lid, and now it was tucked in his back pocket. And he’d shaved for the ceremony, the scent of aftershave on his skin.

  She turned away before it went to her head. Just friends.

  “Nice ceremony,” she said. “Sweet.”

  “Yeah. Reuben should have married her two years ago, but he’s sort of shy about things. Doesn’t like to go charging in, unless it’s a fire.”

  “Not like you, huh?” She glanced over and meant it as a joke, but some of the blood had drained from his face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Oh no. She’d meant it as a compliment.

  “I was just thinking that maybe sometimes I do that. I sort of don’t think about the consequences. Like our last op. I’m thinking that maybe I should have not engaged with those militants—”

  “Ford—”

  “Or maybe stuck around like some kind of hero at your mother’s house. I…sort of thought maybe I was helping…”

  “You were helping. Gunnar loved you. And…” She lifted a shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of Axel.”

  “You could have handled him. And maybe not gotten thrown out of the house.”

  “Maybe.” She looked back out at the horizon. “I’ve learned a few things, that’s true.”

  “Since Gary?”

  She glanced at him. “That’s really bugging you, isn’t it?”

  His mouth opened, then he turned away, his jaw hard. “Yes. Actually. Yes, it is. I just keep imagining the worst—”

  “Yes.”

  He looked at her, and she lifted a shoulder. “Yes. To everything you’re thinking. Gary was my mother’s boyfriend, but he was also ‘Uncle Gary’ to me.” She finger quoted the words. “And Uncle Gary liked little girls.”

  Ford’s eyes darkened.

  “That’s why I joined the Navy as soon as I turned seventeen.”

  “Did you tell your mother?”

  “No.” She held up her hand to the argument forming on his face. “Listen. It wasn’t like that at first. He didn’t…well, nothing serious happened until I was fourteen, and after that, I figured out ways to dodge him. I slept in the car or stayed at friends’ houses. And, like I said, it wasn’t all the time—just when he got drunk. Or when he and my mother were fighting. And then…” She looked away. “You learn to live with things, especially if you want to be safe.”

  He was silent beside her and when she finally looked over, his jaw was so hard she thought he might break something.

  But she started at the wetness in his eyes. She touched his arm. “It’s okay, Ford.”

  “In what world is it okay?” His voice rose and he took a wavering breath. “It’s not okay, Scarlett. Nothing serious until you were fourteen? It’s all serious, Red. You shouldn’t ever have to be scared, let alone learn to live with things to be safe.”

  And then he closed his eyes, as if reining in more. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what life you lived, what shoes you were in. I’m not judging—”

  “Yes, you are—”

  He opened his eyes. “No, I’m not. I’m angry. I’m wishing that I had been there—or someone—to step in. To be the person who made it stop.”

  Oh, Ford. “You made it stop with Axel.”

  He drew in a breath then. Licked his lips, turned away, an emotion on his face she couldn’t read. “Yeah, well, I got you kicked out of your home.”

  “It wasn’t my home. I was a guest. And I…the longer I stayed
the more I was freaking out, so at least now I can get some clarity.” She sighed and walked off the porch. He followed her, and behind them the music faded. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why I always have to be the one to save my mother. She abandoned me. But I can’t abandon her, and it makes me…I’m so angry.”

  Her own words made her catch her breath. “Yeah, I’m not just angry, I’m furious. I’m just…I don’t know. But my entire life all I’ve wanted was to get away from her, and I still can’t. I used to beg my friends to let me spend Christmas or summer vacation with them. I took every job I could so I could be out of the house, and I’d still come home and find her drunk, or gone, or…after Gary, with who knows who.” She drew in a breath, cutting her voice low again. “And here I am, having to give up my career to take care of her. And of course I have to—she’s my mother. But…I’m just mad. At life, maybe.”

  “Maybe you get home health care for her and move her down to San Diego.”

  “Axel will never let me do that.”

  Ford’s eyes darkened. “You let me take care of Axel.”

  “Ford. C’mon. What are you going to do? You can’t shoot him.”

  He wore a look like that might be exactly what he wanted to do. “Guys like Axel are just cowards at their core. Trust me, I know. You get Axel alone, and he’ll fold.”

  She blinked at him, and he took a breath, looked away.

  Huh.

  But before she could chase that, he turned back to her. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She frowned.

  “I’m going to change out of this sausage casing, and I’ll meet you in the barn in ten minutes. Wear jeans.”

  “Ford.”

  “Please?”

  Well, when he said it like that. “Aye, aye.”

  He grinned at her and then took her hand and pulled her to the house, letting go as they walked inside. He didn’t look back as he headed upstairs to his room. She was sleeping in the main floor den, so she went inside, changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and her Converse tennis shoes.

  A slow song was playing as she came out and noticed the dance floor was packed. She wanted to high-five Ford for his brilliant escape idea.

  She met him in the barn. He wore a pair of faded jeans, his cowboy boots, and a hat.