Keeping It: A Navy SEAL meets Virgin Romance

by Rachel Robinson

  “Go big or go home, baby,” I joke, using a phrase from our past. Her smile is wistful, but vanishes quickly.

  “I need to know if you wanted to be with other men,” I say, lowering my voice. “You know, other than me.”

  Her eyes widen, realization dawning. “I didn’t break up with you because I wanted to sample the platter, Tyler. How could you think that?” she replies, looking left and right, and then meeting my eyes. “You literally stated, verbatim, why I ended our relationship. I loved you like water. Something required to survive. You couldn’t be bottled. You slipped right thought my fingers.” She pauses, her eyes glossing over. “Do you understand?” She reaches out, her familiar hand seeking mine. I put my big one of top of hers. “You never needed me. Not like Harry needs me. Not like the baby needs me. I told you that in the email. It never had anything to do with wanting to try out other men before settling down forever with you. How I wish it could have been you!” She takes a few seconds to compose herself and it satisfies me in a cruel way to know I can cause her this obvious pain.

  “She’s a virgin, like I was?” she asks, pulling her hand back, to wrap around her glass.

  I put my face in both of my hands and keep my mouth shut. “And you’re afraid that she’s going to run like I did,” Stella says. “To make sure you’re the one. In your selfishness to know you’re the best, you think she can’t decide for herself that you’re the one without having been with other men?”

  Groaning, I pick up my head and rub my tired eyes. There’s no need to reply. This is where Stella is successful. I raise one finger to signal for another drink.

  “How bad did you blow this, Tahoe?” she asks.

  Turning, I look at her. What would it hurt to tell her? “I can’t look at her without wanting her. I can’t breathe without smelling her. Every single thing in my body wants her in every single way and I know I’ll never be able to shake her,” I admit. “She’s perfect. I’m bound to the town. I bought property. I did all of these things because I convinced myself I loved Bronze Bay. When in actuality, I like Bronze Bay. I love Caroline.”

  “And,” Stella prompts. She wants the gory details. The warm fuzzy facts don’t help anyone. I want her advice so I have to crack open the dark spots.

  “I didn’t know she was a virgin and I almost fucked her in my truck cab, piss drunk, mind you. That’s when she dropped the V bomb and I ghosted. I can’t take that from her. I leave destruction in my wake,” I say, letting my gaze flick from the top of Stella’s head down to her waist, and back up.

  Stella swallows hard. “I never thought I’d be giving you relationship advice,” she says, calmly. “Does she love you? Like you love her?”

  I run my hand through my hair. “I think so,” I reply. She did. Maybe. Before I panicked—self-sabotaged, gave her every reason not to. “Probably not like I do. She makes me feel crazy. It was going to be perfect,” I say. “I had it all planned out. This weekend in the city. I knew she was innocent. I did, but I had no clue. Blinded by everything else, I guess.”

  Stella shakes her head and reminds me of the story of how she told me she was a virgin. I wanted that back then—thought it was the greatest thing in the world to have a body untouched by any other cock.

  “You have a type even if you don’t want to admit it,” She says. “She’d probably forgive you if you explain that a horrible virgin in your past burned you in the worst possible way.”

  I grin, and then down another drink. “Slow down on the drinks, buddy. Sounds like that’s what got you into some of this mess.”

  Nodding, I agree. “You were forever for me. The feelings weren’t reciprocated,” Stella says sadly.

  “I can’t apologize for something I didn’t know,” I say. “Had I never met Caroline I’d have thought you were it for me too.”

  Laughing, she shakes her head. “That is so offensive, but I get it. If it’s real, she’ll understand. I’m sorry, Tyler. For the email. For a lot of things. If you can salvage this with her, I feel like none of it will matter. Everything will work out the way it was supposed to. I’m glad Leif called me.”

  So am I. This was needed for so many reasons. The next drink we share is slow. Stella shows me photos of her baby on her phone and I tell her about Caroline. About Bronze Bay. About my home. When her husband calls, we end our meeting both feeling lighter. I walk her to the revolving door and follow her out onto the sidewalk.

  She turns abruptly, and sets her gaze to meet mine. For a fleeting second, I miss our past, and everything comfortable we had together. Love isn’t comfortable, though. It’s a painful collapse of walls—a drifting into a place that feels like adventure and home at the same time. “Keep it,” she says, smiling a familiar smile. “It’s the only thing worth fighting for. Perfection is a mess, Tyler Holiday. Remember that.” She spins on her heel and walks away, her blonde hair getting lost in a sea of meaningless people.

  My feet don’t move fast enough as I run through the lobby and back up to my room to make a phone call. Or seven.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Caroline

  Not only has he broken my heart, he’s cut me off from the rest of the world. Rather, all of the men in Bronze Bay. Shirley tried to get me a date with Buddy from the furniture store. Someone to pop my cherry and move on from the Tahoe sized hole in my chest, but he refused a date. So did Nathan from the body shop, Trey from the Bait and Tackle, and Rhett, the attorney in town. She opens her arms and talks loudly. “They all said you were Tahoe’s property!” she exclaims.

  I’m so furious, I’m crying. “How dare he!” I roar. The tears of frustration turn into sadness because as angry as I am, I’m also relieved.

  I don’t want Buddy. Or Nathan, or Trey, or Rhett. Not at all. Not even one tiny bit. I only want one man and that is absolutely infuriating. “He’s already ruined everything with our relationship, but now he’s all best buds with Bronze Bay residents.”

  “Caleb,” Shirley says, ignoring my screams. “He would have sex with you.”

  I scoff. “You have sex with Caleb,” I say, my mouth hanging open. “Are you out of your mind?” Leaning back in my desk chair, my friend perches at the edge of my desk, scrolling through her cell phone. “Are they back from New York yet?” I ask.

  Shirley shakes her head. “I think they get home tomorrow or the next day though. I remember Aidan saying it should take a few weeks or so. I can’t believe you didn’t go to NYC without him. You don’t need him to travel.”

  She’s right. The thought did cross my mind. “What if I ran into him? I don’t know where I’m going. As independent as I like to think I am, I’d need someone who knew where they’re going.”

  “Hello! Take me. We could figure it out ourselves together. Let’s finish planning your house warming with Malena and then we’ll go to New York. We’ll find men and have a lot of sex! That dude can’t have reach up that far. There will be a man willing to take your virginity in the city. I’ve heard about these apps you use to find dates,” Shirley explains, air quoting the last word. “You upload your picture and look at theirs and decide if you want to bang it out.”

  “You act like I’m a pariah and can’t find anyone for myself,” I exclaim. “I agree we should take a trip. Not to go man hunting, though. There’s so much I want to see and do there.”

  Her thumb hovers over her cell. “Are you sure about Caleb though? You could be done with this tonight. He’s really good at it, and everyone knows he holds a torch for you. I bet he’d be gentle and loving.”

  “Should I puke on your lap or hold it in my mouth? I’m a grown woman. I refuse to share a man with my best friend. Why do you sleep with him if you know he holds a torch for me?”

  She widens her eyes like I’m daft. “I just said, he’s really good at it, Caroline.”

  “That’s all it is then? Just sex for you? Has it ever been something more?” Merely kissing Tahoe electrifies my body. I thought that was normal. When his hands are on me, I forget pla
net earth exists. It’s beyond a craving. The longing didn’t disappear when his love did. There’s no way I’d have that kind of luck. I dream about him touching me. Holding me. Kissing me. The dreams feel surreal and I always wake with frustration that morphs into sadness.

  “Well, I guess it’s for the company. I’m not like you. I’m not happy in a spinster tower all by myself with only airplanes on my brain. I like having someone to talk to.”

  “Why not a boyfriend, then?”

  She hops down and dusts her palms on the sides of her jeans. “Too much work. I never said I want to be tied down.”

  I sort a stack of paperwork on the desk, completely distracted by my thoughts and tell Shirley to call Malena to finish the party planning. That’s one good thing I have learned about a break up. Your friends feel bad for you so you can ask for things without having to reciprocate. I may have underestimated that facet in the past. She agrees, tells me she might have Caleb keep her company tonight and leaves the office. By the time I finish paying bills and returning emails I’m enraged with the thoughts racing back through my mind. How Tahoe barged in and took exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. He punched me where it hurt. My hometown. My life. The Homer property. Crick’s Beach. Hangar five. My heart. I’m not sure which is more complicated. Losing yourself to a man or finding yourself because of one.

  I’ve put on a good front for my parents, only telling them tiny bits of truth when asked point blank, but mamas always see the things we try to hide. She handed me half a pie, pulled out two forks and demanded to talk about airplanes. Using my love of airplanes as a distraction technique is one thing, but I know she hears more about aircrafts from my father so it clued me in to her intuition. She never did ask what happened between us. Maybe her super powers extend to that too and she already knows.

  I make a visit to one of the hangars on the property that we do the large projects in. It has extra space for builds and rebuilds. It was decked to the nines for my high school graduation party, lights strung across the ceiling like wild stars in the sky. One Christmas long ago my daddy built a dollhouse in here. He thought he could hide it from me in the remote back corner, but even then I wanted to be exactly like him. I followed him, quiet as a field mouse, and snuck in behind him to find the glorious present. It was the last year I believed in Santa Claus. And the first year I realized just how much he loved me.

  Sitting in a dusty wooden chair, I try to erase my current pain with happy memories of the past. It works for a little while, and no one would ever look for me here, but the loneliness gnaws at me. That might be the worst part of almost having something spectacular. Being a part of something. Having someone to share everything with. Never feeling alone even when you are. The worth in that is something no one appreciates until you’ve tasted it for yourself. And then lost it. When the nostalgia wears off and Tahoe fills all of my senses, I grab my bag and run to the closest aircraft. I need to fly. Get into the air—among the clouds. The technical aspect forces me to dwell on things that are easy for me. Gauges, wind speeds, and things that are second nature. It doesn’t take me long to maneuver onto the wide runway and get the plane in the air. It might even be a record. I’m too upset to check. My mind is fixated on one thing: rewind and erase. Like those old VHS tapes you could record shows on. One accidental move and you’d clear the whole thing without the ability to recover. I’m begging whoever will listen for that accidental move.

  Some might call what I’m doing running away. I always come back. The thought of leaving for good crosses my mind every time I reach the furthest peak of a short fly. It’s almost as if I can feel my borders and boundaries even if I don’t truly have any. He pressed me forward. Challenged me to look at things in a way I never considered. Nothing holds me back except myself.

  It happens then. The stark realization of my inadequacy in checking and double checking everything. The clouds wrapping my airplane are a sinister hue, the wind a foe of the worst possible caliber. The sun, my only friend at the moment, even looks wrong. My stomach turns and flips as emergency procedures trickle into my awareness. It happened so quickly.

  Then again, that’s how all disasters happen, isn’t it? I prayed for an accident, now I better start praying I live through it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tahoe

  The phone call from Aidan is brusque, the information delivered in a matter-of-fact way. I’m used to that. Rarely does it affect me, but suddenly I can’t breathe—my chest motionless because of the shock. The call for help came as we were unloading our gear from the airplane to the trucks. We flew back to Bronze Bay using our private plane. There’s only one in which we can all fit. Now that we have a contract with May’s Airfield we flew straight here. I was on pins and needles with the intent of going to see Caroline the second I stepped on land. Support staff carry cumbersome pelican cases from the hold and stack them in the truck beds as I take stock of my own bags.

  Aidan was loading up his stuff when he received the phone call from our base. An airplane crash. It landed on an island off the coast of Bronze Bay and the SOS system is down with a clear visual of smoke rising at the place of impact. It’s her. I know it is. Even if they didn’t say names, they mentioned the type of aircraft that was missing from the airport, and connecting the dots was easy after that. The rain falls down in an angry tirade, the drops pelting the side of my face. Why would she fly in this? Where was she going?

  “Tahoe you stay here. We’ll take the boats from the base over to the island with the fire department,” Leif says, overhearing the conversation that is spreading like wildfire among our surly, tired pack. It’s been one hell of a mission. Admitting to being out of practice would be the same as admitting defeat. My muscles are coiled with annoyed rage, and I’m pretty sure even my bones are crying out in protest. All of this doesn’t touch the drowning sense of dread I feel right now. Caroline.

  My cell rings in my pocket. It’s Shirley. She’s squealing into the phone, her voice a panicked version of a hysterical cat. “I just landed,” I state calmly, trying to let her know I can’t solve anything that quickly. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll figure it out,” I reply, trying to keep my voice even. “We’re getting all of the information right now.” I cover the mouthpiece of my cell while she cries in the background.

  “I’m not staying here,” I respond to Leif. “There’s no fucking way I’m staying back.” Does he know me at all?

  “You don’t even know if it’s her,” he replies, slinging the response over his shoulder as he organizes the masses in front of us, doling out instructions and tasks.

  I shrug. “If it’s not her it’s even more reason for me to come. You’re not keeping me here,” I say, shaking my head. I let go of the mouthpiece to talk to Shirley who finally mentioned something that piqued my interest. “What did you say?” I ask.

  “She texted me. It only said Shell Island. It is her,” Shirley says in between sobs. I ask when she heard from Caroline last and she says she was at the airport with her earlier today and then just the text message. I ask a few more questions, and I promise to take care of everything. Even if it’s the hugest lie in the history of deceit.

  My focus shifts. Caroline is okay. She made it if she could send a text message. She has to be okay. I’ve made my decision. The only decision that matters. One of the trucks is in my line of vision. Without thinking twice, I hop into the cab and tear out of there as quickly as humanly possible, skidding around on the dirt road like one of those assholes in the drifting movies.

  All caution is thrown to the wind as I dismantle every rule I’ve ever formed for myself. Always use care and caution. Nope. Don’t take anything too seriously. That’s out the window too. Keep it light. Nothing has ever felt heavier. I just returned from weeks of hunting bad guys. A task that is just as complicated as it is difficult. SEALs are tapped to do these types of jobs for a reason. We’re the best at it. The irony that I suck harder than a hoover vacuum in my personal life would be
funny if it wasn’t so awful. I see two other trucks in my rearview driving just as reckless as I am. The rain tames the dust making the visibility better. By muscle memory, I pull into my usual parking spot and throw the truck in park. I jog through the parking lot to the office, the rain soaking the rest of my uniform. It’s torrential at this point so even my boots are sloshing each step I take.

  Aidan greets me as I blaze into the doorway. “The boats are started. They’re waiting for men,” he says coolly, his palms outstretched. He’s trying to pacify the beast.

  “Anything else? Any other updates?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “The fire department loaded their equipment and they are ready. The rain will work to our advantage. Hop on the second boat, brother,” Aidan says.

  His tone tells me he knows how important this is. I’m not saying my life is worth more than someone else’s, but hers is. He knows it. You can only take so much good out of the world. The scales will tilt in the favor of evil. That’s what happened with the terror attacks. Dirty facts of life.

  “You aren’t going to try to keep me back here?” I snarl, ambling to my desk to pull on my worn out ball cap from a bottom drawer. “Leif thought to try,” I add.

  Aidan’s footsteps are loud and his voice carries as he greets more men who enter the building. The same status is given to them, and he turns to face me. “Go find your fucking puppy,” he growls. The grin tells me he’s being kind, a fact no one else in their right mind would understand. He slaps me on the back. I force a smile as reply.