SEAL Mountain Man (A Navy SEAL Brotherhood Romance)

by Ivy Jordan

  The only piece of furniture in the entire house left was my bed. I chuckled as I rolled my hand around the headboard post, feeling for the notches I’d made. I’d actually made real notches in my bedpost for each of my sexual encounters, conquests as I called them back then. My finger ran across one, two, three, and then four indents into the wood, made with a small pocket knife I hid under my mattress. I realized it didn’t seem as impressive as it had back then, just four girls, but in high school, on this small island, it was quite a feat.

  Sweat poured down my face from all the heavy lifting. I grabbed a towel, wiped off, and got back to my list. Fuck, this place is a money pit.

  I knew of a nice second-hand store by the beach that would have most of what I needed to refurnish the place, but first, I had to get it cleaned up and repaired.

  My list for old man Frank at the hardware store was growing with each step I took around the old house. The shed out back was going to be packed full of power tools and supplies, and I wasn’t sure I’d have enough room to store it all. I needed a random orbital sander, a power hand sander, lots of sand paper, a vacuum since the one here was spitting out more dust than it picked up, some mineral spirits, stain, and polyurethane. That was just for the flooring. I knew this job would take at least two to three days to finish, pushing back my expected leave date even further.

  I sat down on the front stoop, staring out at the pile of trash, once furniture for the small home I grew up in. It was getting late, and I knew if I wanted to get to the hardware store before old Frank closed the doors for the weekend, I’d have to be leaving soon. Shit, the weekend. I promised Taylor I’d get in touch with Xander and plan a trip for next week, letting her know before this weekend so she could take the time from work. I still couldn’t believe she was willing to make the trek up at mountain side.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed the number Xander entered into my phone. As it rang, I chuckled to myself, figuring he’d probably installed a damn tracking device on it while he had it in his possession. “Hey, Elijah!” his voice was filled with excitement.

  “Xander, how’s life on the mountain?” I asked, knowing for Xander, it was just fine.

  “I actually just made a trip into town, walking up the last mile now,” he said, his voice not even winded.

  “I was planning on making another trip to see you before I left,” I announced.

  “Good, love to see ya.”

  “Well, I’d be bringing Taylor along this trip,” I stated casually.

  “Oh yeah? I’d love to see little Taylor. You sure she can handle the trip?” he questioned. It was a question I’d asked myself. I’d barely made it up.

  “She’s determined to get up there and see you,” I chuckled. “Monday good for you?”

  “Monday’s great. I even bought a case of wine, just in case you decided to bring Taylor along,” he added.

  Xander always seemed to be one step ahead of me. My thoughts drifted back to the cameras in his home, how he knew everything about all the SEAL brothers, even ones that were somewhat off the grid. He was impressive; a little scary, but impressive.

  “I’ll see ya then,” I hung up, and dialed Taylor’s number.

  “This is Taylor,” she answered so professionally.

  “This is Elijah,” I mocked her playfully.

  “Hey, how’s the house coming along?” she asked.

  I laughed and then growled into the phone. “That bad?” she giggled.

  “Oh, it’s bad. I may be here a little longer than first expected,” I admitted.

  “That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she hinted.

  It isn’t. I liked being here on the island with Taylor. The thought of leaving her actually made my stomach ache. The other thought that made my stomach ache was about Bailey, and what decision I’d make; hopefully the one that was best for both of us, not just myself. She was a beautiful little girl, my little girl. I still couldn’t wrap my head around having a daughter.

  “Did you call Xander?” Taylor asked.

  “I did. He’s all set for Monday, if you are still up for it,” I teased.

  “Oh, I’m up for it. I think you’re the one scared of making that trip again,” she laughed.

  She wasn’t wrong. It sucked. The trip was hot, wet, itchy, and my calves still ached from the uphill climb. “I’ll be fine. I’ll carry you if I need to,” I boasted, knowing good and damn well that wasn’t going to be an option. She’d have to make it on her own two feet; otherwise, neither of us was going to visit Xander,

  “I’ve already got the entire week off. I have to run, my last patient is here,” she rushed off the phone, hanging up before I could ask her about plans for the night. I wanted to see here. I needed to see her.

  “Hey, Elijah,” Clinton approached the porch as I started to get up and leave. I looked at the time on my phone. I had a few minutes to spare, but that’s it. “That’s quite a pile you have there,” he chuckled as he pointed to the furniture on the curb.

  “Yeah. I figure it’s best to get it out of the way while I do the inside, and it wasn’t exactly worthy of carrying back inside when I was done,” I explained.

  “That’s gotta be hard though, tossing out all those memories. If there’s anything you’d like to keep, I’d be happy to store it for you,” he offered.

  “Take what you want. There’s nothing sentimental to me in this house,” I replied. Not even the house, but I didn’t add that.

  “Speaking of sentimental, I’d really like to talk to you about your dad,” he pushed the topic I’d been avoiding since I arrived.

  I appreciated him taking care of the pool chemicals for me, for caring, but I didn’t want to talk about my dad with him or anyone. I didn’t want to talk about my dad at all, ever. He was a drunk, a mean fuckin’ drunk. What was there to talk about?

  “My dad isn’t a topic I care to talk about,” I admitted.

  “I understand, but this I think you need to hear,” he insisted.

  “Look, if he owes you money, I’ll pay it, if he did something to you and you feel the need to get it off your chest, I get it, but all I can do is say I’m sorry, he was a mean ass drunk,” I rattled.

  “No. It’s nothing like that. Elijah, there are things I think you need to know, and should know. If you could please set aside some time to have dinner with my wife and me, or even just share a beer by the pool one night, I really think you’d appreciate what I have to say,” Clinton explained.

  “It’s gonna be awhile before that happens, Clinton. I want to get this house completed, and there are a couple other things going on in my life right now that are taking priority over a chat about dear old dad,” I smirked.

  “Okay. Take all the time you need. I won’t bring it up again. Just be sure that we have a talk before you leave for Miami,” he smiled, patting me on the back and letting his hand rest on my shoulder for an awkward few seconds.

  “I hate to run, but I have to grab supplies before Frank locks the hardware store,” I apologized, making my escape from the awkward hand to shoulder moment, and the conversation that I had no desire to have.

  Once I left for Miami, I’d probably never be back here, at least not at this house, next to Clinton. Who cares if I ever had the talk? I didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty

  Taylor

  I shoved Milton’s file into the cabinet, hating that I would be gone all week, especially after scheduling extra days that I felt necessary for his state of mind to remain stabilized. I knew Mitchell would take good care of him while I was gone, and Friday was a great visit. He was talking about seeing his kids, making the plans to visit them, and he seemed excited. I knew the weekends were days that he spent mostly alone, and that was the time when depression took over the old man.

  I looked up at the clock; it was just before noon. It was Saturday, so I knew he’d be home, probably alone, and most likely not eating a healthy lunch. I grabbed my keys, locking the quiet office as I left. I had his address in
my phone and plans to surprise him with a nice lunch from the Asian café not far from his house.

  I dialed Elijah’s number, realizing I’d promised to stop by the house and see his progress around lunch time.

  “I wanted to let you know I won’t be by the house until after lunch,” I blurted as he answered.

  “That’s fine. You okay?” he asked, a sweet concern in his voice that I loved.

  “I am. I just want to check on one of my patients,” I explained.

  “Milton?” he asked.

  My heart raced hearing his name come from Elijah’s lips. I hadn’t disclosed who my older patient was to him, only that he was a retired Navy vet, his wife deceased, and his two kids living in the States. Shit. This was a small island. Of course he knew who Milton was; everyone knew everyone here. “Yes,” I said hesitantly.

  “It’s okay. He was a client of my dad’s. I actually ran into his boy not long after his mother passed. He told me his old man refused to leave the island, and he worried about him,” Elijah explained.

  “Okay. Well, I just want to check on him since I’ll be missing our Monday session,” I finished, and then hung up.

  I pulled into the Asian café, grabbing my purse and rushing inside to get a quick order. The lady at the counter took my order and promised everything would be ready in five minutes. I watched her work, prepping the food for the cook and opening to-go boxes that she filled with rice, salad, and a sushi roll appetizer. She had to be at least ninety, but her smile was youthful, and her movements swift and agile. I thought about Milton, how he barely hobbled around. Maybe that’s what he needed, a purpose, like this woman had each day. A reason to get out of bed, other than just therapy. He needed a job, a hobby, or someone who relied on him.

  “Thank you,” I took my order from the woman, smiling graciously at her for not only the food, but the inspiration.

  Milton’s house sat at the end of the street with no nearby neighbors. The white siding was stained with green algae, and the front porch railing along the steps was broken, barely hanging in place.

  I gripped the food, slid from my car, and walked up to the house that looked abandoned. No flowers in the flower bed. If there was, they were covered by the tall weeds. His grass was overgrown; shades inside the window hung crooked with broken slats, and the doorbell didn’t work as I pushed it. I knocked on the door, hard enough that the hard of hearing man inside could hear me on his porch.

  “Comin’,” I heard him yell, and then a rustling as he was working on making his way to the door.

  His eyes lit up as he opened the paint chipped wooden door and pushed open the broken screen. “Ms. Madden?” he gasped, out of breath from the ten feet walk he made to greet me.

  “I brought lunch,” I held up the bags with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

  “I was just getting ready to make lunch, but that smells better than anything I could make,” he smiled. I knew he wasn’t planning on making lunch. His frail frame told me he’d missed more than one meal at a time. He didn’t know how to take care of himself, and he didn’t know how to ask anyone for help.

  “Come in,” he offered, shuffling out of the doorway so I could pass through into his home.

  It was dark, humid, and extremely messy. No wonder I’d heard such a ruckus as he made his way to the door; there was no clear path for him to travel through the small, cluttered rooms.

  “It was nice of you to come by,” he smiled, his dentures displayed proudly as his lips curled up his wrinkled face.

  “I wasn’t going to see you this week, so I thought it would be nice to see you today,” I explained.

  “Oh yeah. You’re going up the mountain,” he remembered.

  “I am. It’s going to be a rough trip,” I smiled, unpacking the trays of food. The house was extremely warm. “Is your air working?” I questioned.

  Milton shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he let out a growl of irritation. “It broke last week, damn thing. I don’t need it, but I can get a fan if you’re too warm,” he offered, starting to lift his tired body from the orange chair he sat in.

  “No. I’m fine. Sit, eat. I was just wondering because it’s going to be pretty hot this week,” I warned.

  I hated thinking about him in the hot home alone, with no one to call if he became ill from the heat. “I’ll be fine,” he waved his hand past his face to swat a fly. A smell was strong in the home, most likely coming from the kitchen. I figured I’d ignore it until after we ate, realizing whatever it was would probably kill my appetite.

  “This looks amazing. But, you didn’t have to come all the way out here,” he sighed, the look of burden heavy in his eyes.

  “I wanted to. I didn’t think I could handle a complete week away from you,” I smiled. It was true. I’d become to rely on Milton during the week. I loved talking to him, and it made me feel like I was accomplishing something by helping him. Looking around this place, I realized he needed much more help than just someone to talk to.

  He ate his food, talking about his late wife in between each bite. It was obvious he missed her, and obvious she’d done pretty much everything for him around the house, including cooking and cleaning. When we finished, I shoved the boxes into the plastic delivery bag and excused myself to the kitchen. The smell was dismaying, causing me to cover my nose and mouth as I entered the room. Flies were everywhere: the window sill, the counter top, and swarming the top of the overflowing garbage. I quickly pulled the bag from the can, tying it tightly, and rushing to the back door. I shoved it in the large garbage can behind his house, realizing they too hadn’t been taken out for some time. I pulled them to the street, not sure when his garbage day was, but knowing I’d be gone up the mountain and unable to help whenever it was that week. I came back into the house, the smell a little better, but not much. It needed to be aired out, but I didn’t want to open the windows, letting the humidity in without any air to cool it down. “You didn’t have to do that,” Milton said, standing in the doorway with his cane in his hand to support him.

  “I want to help. I realize some things are just not so easy for you to do with that cane,” I smiled at the old man.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “I’m going to have that air conditioner looked at by a friend, if you don’t mind,” I stated.

  “I couldn’t impose on you, or your friend. I can handle it,” he insisted.

  Yeah, that was a lie. The poor man wasn’t even capable of handling his day-to-day tasks, the simple ones. His depression and his weakened body had taken over his life, leaving it in disarray. I wanted to help. I needed to help. I thought of my dad, and what his life must’ve been like before he gave in to the depression. I imagined it was similar to this. It was probably exactly like this. I fought back tears as I reached in my purse and dialed Elijah’s number. “It’s not an imposition. I’d feel much better if you let me do this. I worry about you. I care about you,” I insisted.

  Elijah answered, his voice cheerful and excited. I knew he assumed I was calling to let him know I was on my way, but that wasn’t the case. I was going to be awhile, and even though I knew he had his hands full over there, I needed him here to help.

  “Hey. I’m over at Milton’s, and the air isn’t working. Any way you could come over and take a look?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he replied without hesitation. I loved that about Elijah. He had a heart of gold. Most people didn’t know that, because he didn’t want them too. But, I knew. My brother had told me many stories about how Elijah helped him, and others. Of course, he still warned me that Elijah was a scoundrel, a womanizer, a man-whore, but that was for my own protection. Not that it wasn’t true. I was certain it had been at one time. Now, I didn’t think so.

  I gave Elijah the address and hung up. Milton stood in his same spot, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m embarrassed,” he admitted, his old voice tired and shaky.

  “Don’t be. There is nothing wrong with accepting help. Elijah is a Navy
vet too, so it’s part of your pact, isn’t it, to bond together for life, never allowing one to suffer?” I questioned with a smile.

  His wrinkled face spread into a smile, and he nodded his head. “You’re right. I’ve needed help for some time. It’s just hard…” his voice traveled off.

  “I understand. Let me help you by cleaning this place up so you can get around easier, and it won’t be so overwhelming to maintain,” I insisted.

  I could tell he didn’t want to allow me to clean his mess, but he nodded in agreeance. “Good. You sit down and relax, and if I need your help, I’ll yell,” I patted him on the back as I guided him back to his chair.

  I started in the kitchen, the largest source of the flies and the smell. I texted Elijah while Milton was out of the room to stop and grab fly paper, bug spray, and air freshener on his way. He quickly texted back an okay, and a winking smiley face.

  Under the sink, I found garbage bags, so I started filling them with rotted contents from the fridge and outdated food items from the pantry. It didn’t take long to fill up three large bags, which I carried to the cans out front before Milton could see. I found cleaner and sprayed everything down with the bleach solution, scrubbing until my fingers were raw, and everything was spotless.

  Elijah’s car pulled up as I carried out a bag of trash from the bathroom. I’d sprayed everything and was letting it soak for a minute before returning to scrub. “Thank you so much,” I gushed as he got out of his car. I took the bag of items I’d asked for from him and leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheeks. “I’m dirty,” I warned as my reason for no hug.

  He chuckled as he reached into the back and grabbed his toolbox. “You look adorable, even filthy.”

  I was certain that wasn’t true. My hair was damp with sweat and was falling down from my tight bun into a loose mess against my neck, and any signs of the makeup I’d put on were long gone.