SEAL Mountain Man (A Navy SEAL Brotherhood Romance)

by Ivy Jordan

  I didn’t want him to move from atop me, but his cock was already working its way out as my pussy finalized the last few contractions of my orgasm. He looked as disappointed as I felt as his manhood was pushed completely from my warm hole. “I better clean up,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing me softly on the forehead before he lifted from me.

  His body was chiseled, as if an artist spent years ensuring every muscle, every ripple, and every vein was perfectly placed. I was already thirsting for more as my eyes followed him down the hall. I was filled with sorrow as he disappeared into the bathroom, out of sight. I slid up, realizing I needed to clean up as well. I grabbed my robe, slid it on, and tightened the belt. The large picture on my wall of me with my dad and Tommy stared me in the face, mocking me, judging me. A sudden rush of remorse and panic rolled through me. What had I done?

  Elijah came out of the bathroom, and I was certain my face displayed the mortification I felt. I smiled faintly as I told him I needed to clean up, and took his spot in the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I sat on the toilet, fighting back the tears. I really liked Elijah, and oh my God, the sex was better than I’d ever had, but he was my brother’s best friend. My dead brother’s best friend. I couldn’t get his approval, not with him gone.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in the bathroom behind the locked door, but it had to be a while as I struggled with my anxiety. A knock on the door and then Elijah’s voice pulled me back to reality “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

  I opened the door, he was already fully dressed, and his eyes filled with worry, and I was certain mine filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I just started feeling sick. Maybe it was too much wine,” I lied, knowing I’d only had three glasses, and I could guzzle six down on a good night before feeling woozy.

  “Okay. Can I do anything, get you anything?” he asked.

  “No. I think I just need to go to bed,” I smiled faintly, avoiding keeping eye contact for more than a split second. I didn’t want him to see right through me. “I’m sorry,” I apologized for my abrupt illness, even though faked to hopefully hide the stress.

  “Okay. I’ll leave you alone then, if you’re sure you don’t want me to stay and help,” he offered.

  “No,” I answered way too quickly.

  “I’d like to see you again,” he said, his tone obviously shaken with worry about my behavior.

  I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to see him again. I wasn’t sure I could. “Call me, and we’ll try to make plans,” I said, and then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and rushed him to the front door. What have I done?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elijah

  My eyes were barely open when my phone started ringing. My hand reached out from under the blankets, fumbling for the noisy device vibrating across the nightstand. Ugh.

  “Hello,” I answered, pulling the phone under the blankets with me, neglecting to check who was calling before answering.

  “Hey, Elijah, hope I didn’t wake you,” John Sanderson’s voice beamed into my ear.

  “No, not at all,” I growled.

  “I have the realtor coming into the house in a couple hours, and I thought you might want to hear what she has to say about getting the house on the market,” he explained.

  Hearing the possibility of unloading the house of bad memories pulled me out of my grog. “Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you,” I replied, clicking the off button, and sliding out of the bed to my feet. Coffee. I’m gonna’ need some coffee.

  I knew John said he’d have a realtor inspect the place, but I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. I really hadn’t got much done there, other than cosmetic issues, and ridding the house of the smell. Hopefully there wasn’t much more to do, and I could go home, and back to my life. My life? I stared in the mirror at my tired eyes, scruffy face, and noticed a hint of gray in my whiskers. What was waiting for me back in Miami? Nothing.

  After two cups of the cheap hotel coffee provided with the complimentary coffee maker from the eighties, a quick shower, and a stop at the bakery Madison owned, I was ready for my realtor meeting.

  Madison ogled me when I walked into her shop and smiled like a lunatic when I ordered. I was curious what Taylor had said to her about me, but I knew better than to ask. Her smile said plenty. It was obvious she knew about our night together.

  John motioned me into his office as I entered the building. I passed by my dad’s old office, noticing a young woman in a pantsuit inside. Guess they are eager to get the place cleaned out. It was nice and organized now; no more of dad’s junk.

  “Good morning,” I greeted John, and then turned to an attractive woman wearing a bright green skirt that showed off her long legs, and a white blouse, unbuttoned enough to show off her cleavage. “You must be Elijah,” she greeted me, extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she added with a smile.

  Once all the niceties were complete, she got straight down to business. “I have the report from the inspector, and it’s quite extensive,” she shoved down my throat. Fuckin’ wonderful.

  “What are we talking about?” I asked reluctantly.

  The woman who had introduced herself as Marie Gilbert started rambling about roof repairs, foundation issues, window replacements, and a dozen other jobs that needed to be completed before the house could go on the market. “Once the repairs are complete, I’d be happy to list the house,” she smiled. Yeah, I bet.

  “How much?” I asked, curious about the amount of money I stood to make from the place; hopefully enough to make it worth my while.

  The number she threw out wasn’t as large as I expected, but then she explained that was deducting the material and labor cost for the repairs. “I’ll fix it myself,” I insisted. I wasn’t putting any money into that hell hole. I’d put my time, my energy, but not my money.

  “Well, that is a huge list of repairs for one person to take on. I’ll give you the numbers of local contractors in the area that I trust to do a good job for a reasonable fee,” she insisted.

  John hadn’t said much during the meeting, but the look on his face told me he wasn’t aware of the amount of work the house required until now. “If you want, I can handle this so you don’t have to stay on the island,” he offered after Ms. Gilbert handed me the list of names, the report, and left the office.

  I thought about Taylor. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. “No, I can handle it,” I assured him. “Looks like you got dad’s office all cleaned out,” I commented.

  “Yes. Our newest partner was in a smaller office, so she cleared everything out over the last few days. Everything is in the storage room if you want to go through it,” he offered.

  “No. I don’t want anything,” I grunted.

  I pulled up to my childhood home, parking my dad’s old car in the drive. It suddenly looked so different, so tattered and neglected. With the list of repairs on the passenger seat, my heart felt heavy that it had been left in such bad shape. The drunken old man that lived there neglected everything in life, especially me.

  Walking around the house, I noticed the sagging gutters, the two windows that had rotting wood around their frames, and the patio that was green with algae and stains from the dropping leaves from nearby trees. The pool; goddamn pool. I knew I’d finally get my chance to fill it, after scrubbing it, and repainting the fuckin’ thing. It wouldn’t be for me, but for some other lucky little kid whose daddy loved him.

  “Hey, Elijah,” I turned to find Clinton, the neighbor standing at the fence that separated the houses. “How’s the project going?” he asked.

  “It’s going,” I laughed anxiously. It was going, straight to hell.

  “That invitation for dinner still stands. I’d love the chance to talk to you about your father,” he pushed.

  There wasn’t any part of me that wanted to sit across the dinner table from a complete stranger and talk about my old man. What the fuck did he know? “I’ve got a lot to do here, more than expected. I don’t know
I’ve got the time to reminisce about the old man,” I snarled.

  “I understand. If you change your mind,” Clinton offered, obviously disappointed at my decline.

  I didn’t even bother going inside. The list was accurate, even though I didn’t want to believe it. There was enough to keep me busy outside for the next few days, so I headed to the hardware store to pick up supplies.

  Old man Frank still ran the hardware store in town, but just a little slower. “I’m sorry about your father,” he consoled, but left out the part of him being a good man like others had added. He’d seen me in the store with my old man before, him drunk, cursing at me, and smacking me in the back of the head. I was certain old man Frank wasn’t too keen on my father, but he never spoke poorly about anyone. “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” my eighth-grade teacher’s voice sounded in my head. I held back the chuckle as I remembered sitting in her classroom with Akoni, the kid who was the size of a sumo wrestler. That’s what I called him, not realizing how hurtful my words were at the time. I was a kid, a punk, and I didn’t know any better. It wasn’t like I had the best role model.

  “Elijah?” a familiar female voice caused me to turn. Kellie Kamaka stood in the aisle near the bin of nails, a little girl, maybe three years of age gripping her hand.

  “Kellie,” I greeted, trying to sound excited, even though I wasn’t. She was prom queen, head cheerleader, and queen bitch. We’d hooked up last time I was on the island, maybe four years ago. She looked good, long black hair, big brown eyes, and lips so voluptuous and plump they could suck start a truck. I barely remember the hookup, but I hadn’t forgotten her endless calls to my phone afterward. I didn’t need that kind of needy in my life, not then, and not now.

  “It’s good to see you,” she smiled. The little girl attached to her hand looked up at me with a smile. She was cute, like her mother, and probably just as high maintenance. “What are you doing home?” she asked.

  Home? This wasn’t my home. Miami was my home. “Tryin’ to get the old house fixed up and sold so I can get back to the states,” I explained.

  “I heard about your dad. So, you’re not staying then?” she questioned.

  “No.”

  “Maybe we can get together before you leave?” she suggested, her eyelashes batting in my direction.

  “I’m gonna be busting ass at the house. It’s in pretty bad shape, so not sure I’ll have a lot of time,” I responded.

  “I’m Bailey,” the little girl let go of her mother’s hand and took a step towards me. “I’m three,” she held up three fingers.

  I knelt down. “Nice to meet you, Bailey. I’m Elijah,” I introduced myself.

  She stuck out her hand towards me. I took her little fingers into my palm; they were sticky as I shook them gently. Kellie’s eyes were on me, filled with that same clinginess I’d seen when I was here last. I quickly stood back upright, “I better get the rest of these supplies. It was good seeing you,” I rushed her off.

  “Maybe I’ll stop by the old house,” she warned with a wink, and then turned to walk away. Little Bailey looked over her shoulder as her mother pulled her little arm towards the front door. She smiled at me and waved as they exited the store. Cute kid, but probably a handful. I was glad I only hooked up with Kellie once. I didn’t see a ring on her finger, but I was certain there was some poor bastard out there kicking himself for knocking her up. She was the type that would grab him by the balls, owning him for the next eighteen years. No thanks. That was a dodged bullet for sure.

  I pushed a pressure washer to the front of the store and then ordered a five-gallon bucket of paint for the pool, new gutters, and the wood for the windows that needed to be repaired. “Getting the place fixed up to stay or sell?” old man Frank asked as he rang me up.

  “Sell,” I replied.

  His eyes were kind and soulful as he nodded in my direction. “Can’t say I blame ya,” he smiled.

  I nodded and passed him my card.

  “It was good seeing you,” he said as he handed me my credit card back.

  “I’ll be back, a lot,” I chuckled nervously, realizing this was just a drop in the bucket of what was needed to finish the old place.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Taylor

  It was obvious the weekends were rough on Milton. As I sat across from him listening to his stories of the war, how he lost friends, watched them die, and wondered why he was spared, it was obvious his depression was worsening. “Why don’t we start talking three times a week?” I suggested, figuring the long period of time without human contact was a contributor to his progressed depressive state.

  “I’d like that,” he perked up.

  I showed him to the door and went back to my desk to decompress before leaving for the day. He was my last patient, and I knew his stories had dredged up some old feelings I’d pushed down deep inside of my heart. He reminded me of my father. That I couldn’t deny. The stories he told made me wonder how my brother died, if anyone was with him, if he had any last words. I’d never asked, and at the time, didn’t want to know. It was too painful, and the fear of finding out he was alone, or that his death was long and torturous, was more than I knew I could bear.

  A part of me wanted to know. Elijah would have the answers, but after how I reacted Saturday night, I wasn’t sure he would be up to seeing me, or that I was up to seeing him.

  I left work with the nagging need for answers. Madison’s bakery looked abandoned, without any cars besides hers in the parking lot. I knew she wasn’t busy, so I stopped in to see her, possibly talk to her about my feelings.

  Her smile made me feel better as I entered her store, and she instantly noticed something was bothering me. “It’s a patient; he just reminds me of my dad,” I admitted. I couldn’t give her any details, but I explained that he was depressed, a war vet, and that I wondered if his depression was similar to my dad’s before he took his life. “I just don’t want to make a mistake and lose him,” I sighed, realizing I was connecting him to my own loss.

  “I’m sure you’re doing everything right,” Madison consoled me with a gentle stroke to my arm.

  “His stories got me thinking about Tommy, and how he died,” I confessed.

  Madison was compassionate as she leaned in for a hug. She had been there with me at Tommy’s funeral and knew how badly it affected me. I hadn’t talked about him much since, to anyone. As a therapist, I knew that wasn’t healthy.

  “Have you thought about asking Elijah, now that you’re ready to know?” Madison suggested what I’d already considered.

  “After the way I acted?” I sighed, rolling my eyes at how childish I’d reacted after our night together.

  Madison giggled. “He stopped by here earlier.”

  My heart started to race at the mention of her seeing him. “Did he say anything?”

  “No, of course not,” she assured me. “But, he may have been hoping to run into you,” she hinted.

  “I doubt it,” I mumbled.

  “Pfft,” Madison wrinkled her nose. “That man has it bad for you.”

  There was no way she could know that, and I knew she was just being a good friend by encouraging me. Elijah Grant had always been somewhat of a player, making his way through all the hot, popular girls in high school, and then back around for the ones he missed while stationed on the island. I’d heard my brother talk about him, the way he charmed the ladies. I knew part of it was to deter me from approaching him, my crush on him obvious, but some, if not all, of what he said was most likely true.

  My God, what would Tommy think about me hooking up with Elijah? He’d roll over in his grave, that’s for sure.

  “Why don’t you call him?” Madison suggested.

  “Maybe,” I agreed, and thanked my friend for listening.

  I hadn’t even asked about her and Joey, but now felt obligated. After thirty minutes and two donuts, I wished I would’ve avoided the topic.

  Finally
, at home, I pulled out Milton’s file and started looking over the notes I’d made over our two weeks together. I knew adding another session to his schedule was a good solution, taking note of the past session notes from Mitchell that Mondays were always bad days. He had been scheduled for Mondays and Wednesdays, and Mondays were highly depressive days, whereas Wednesdays were always better. It was that four-day gap that left him alone with his own demons too long, creating a serious risk for him to hurt himself.

  I wished my father had sought out assistance with his depression. When I first started at the practice, I searched for a file with his name, hoping for some answers, but he’d never been in for a session. Maybe Mitchell could’ve helped him, or at least encouraged him to reach out to me so I could’ve helped. I hated that feeling of helplessness that surrounded me when I thought of my father’s death.

  I stared up at the picture of me, dad and Tommy hanging on the wall. There were so many things I hadn’t dealt with, and I knew it was time. Maybe Madison was right; I needed to talk to Elijah, ask him about Tommy, and finally put to rest all the unanswered questions in my mind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elijah

  The inside of the pool looked like new with the coat of paint dried and sealed. The water truck beeped as it backed into the yard, nearly taking out the one good section of fence still standing. I waved frantically until he turned the wheel, avoiding narrowly the damage.

  The young kid climbed out of the truck and attached the hose to the tank of water he hauled. There was no way I was running the hose for a week to fill the giant pool when one load would do it in thirty minutes.

  I worked the pressure washer on the last spot of stained concrete as the pool filled with clear water. The kid handed me the receipt for his services and pulled out, taking patches of grass from my yard with his tires. Fuck.