“Oh, please—”
“But everything else about her . . . the way she dressed, her whole attitude . . . was, I don’t know, bimbo trash. She actually did this stupid coy thing with her eyelashes that you wouldn’t be caught dead doing.”
“Starrett, I really don’t want to—”
“And, Jesus, she was young. I think she must’ve used a fake ID to get in there. She wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist, either. That’s one of the things that I’ve always found so attractive about you, Alyssa. You’re so damn smart.”
That shut her up, but only temporarily.
“Starrett, I really think—”
“I remember thinking that I couldn’t compare her to you because there was clearly no comparison,” he told her. “I was sick and tired of rejecting everyone I met out of hand, simply because they weren’t you. So I went home with her because of that, and also because back then two months seemed like a long time to go without getting laid.”
If someone had told him then that a time would come where he’d be approaching a solid year without sex, he’d have laughed in their face.
Alyssa kept her eyes on the road. “You’re going to tell all this to the investigators?”
Jesus. He was sitting here, baring his soul, trying to make her see how completely messed up he’d been after Alyssa had slept with him and then decided that they should forget about it, just pretend it never happened. And she was worried about people finding out that they had a past?
“No,” he told her. “I never told anyone about you and me. I mean, Kenny Karmody knows because he saw us together. Some of the other guys in the team have probably figured out that there was more to what we had going on than a broken dinner date. But they never asked for details, and I never told, and I’m not about to start now.”
Alyssa glanced at him. “I don’t want you to lie about it. It’s very important to tell the truth—whatever they ask you.”
“I know,” Sam said. “I just . . . won’t volunteer that particular information. I really don’t think anyone’s going to have a problem believing that I went home with Mary Lou that night for the sex. It was a one-night stand that just kind of kept going for a few weeks.”
He needed her to understand this. “I was freaking miserable without you, Alyssa. You told me we weren’t going to happen again and I believed you. I was looking for, I don’t know, a distraction. I honestly thought Mary Lou and I were both on the same page in terms of no strings. As soon as I realized that she wanted a wedding ring and that I was still completely unable to think about anyone but you, I broke it off. And then, Jesus, when you and I did get together again . . .”
He’d been so sure he was going to die. It seemed like a good practical joke for God to play on him. Let him sleep with Alyssa Locke again and—finally!—have her agree to have dinner with him, to move their one-night-of-sex-every-six-months relationship into something bigger, like maybe a relationship where they had sex once every two months . . . It seemed only inevitable that he should be killed during SEAL Team Sixteen’s takedown of a hijacked airliner.
But somehow he’d survived. Only to find that God’s practical joke was all about Mary Lou. She was pregnant, and guess what? The baby was his. Really. He’d gone charging off to do the right thing because that was the way he’d been raised, and Alyssa had been eviscerated. Silently. If only she had told him . . .
Would it have made a difference? He honestly didn’t know. Right now she was still silent.
“Do you believe me?” he asked.
A glance. “Yeah.”
He briefly closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he said.
“It doesn’t change anything.”
Sam nodded, letting her believe that.
She moved into the left lane to pass an eighteen wheeler. “You really don’t think it’s possible that Mary Lou was part of a terrorist cell—that she specifically targeted Team Sixteen?”
That really cracked him up. “I do not,” he said. “You don’t know her, Alyssa. She’s . . . way too uncomplicated.”
“She’s complicated enough to tamper with condoms and get herself pregnant so that you’d marry her.” She shot him a look. “And apparently she got to know you pretty well during those weeks of one-night stands. It’s not every man who would marry a woman just because she was pregnant.”
“I thought it was the right thing,” he tried to explain. “I was severely mistaken, though. I thought—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alyssa said.
“Yes, it does.” It mattered so much. “When Noah was seventeen, he got Claire, his girlfriend, pregnant. I was in Sarasota for the summer, and it was extremely intense. Lots of shouting and crying, you know? Claire’s parents were talking adoption and even abortion, and Claire had some strong opinions about that. And then they announced that they were going to send her to Europe afterward to get her away from Noah, which made him completely bullshit. He concocted this scheme to break Claire out of her house, with a ladder to her second-floor bedroom, so they could run away together. They were talking California or Vegas, and . . . I was supposed to create a diversion out front, but it never happened.
“I remember Dot didn’t say much of anything other than admonishing Nos for not using birth control. Dot went out and bought me a box of condoms. Can you picture this elderly, practically deaf woman in a wheelchair, rolling up to the pharmacy counter and shouting out that she wanted a box of Trojans, ribbed?”
A smile from Alyssa. Hallelujah.
“Did I tell you she was a WASP, a pilot during World War Two?”
“Really? A black woman?”
“No, she was white. She met Walt during the war. He was a pilot, too—a colonel with the Tuskegee Airmen. They were an all-black fighter squadron out of Alabama.”
“I know who the Tuskegee Airmen were,” Alyssa said. “They had some kind of amazing record, like they never lost a single bomber they were escorting, right? I’m impressed.”
“Finally. I’ve been working my ass off here, trying to impress you.”
“I meant by Noah,” she countered.
She was actually teasing him. At least he hoped she was teasing. Noah was a very good-looking man.
“He’s still married,” Sam pointed out. “To Claire.”
“And Walt and Dot were his grandparents?”
“Yeah, his father was killed in Vietnam when he was a baby. They pretty much raised Nos from the get go. They were something else, Uncle Walt and Aunt Dot.” Sam hesitated, uncertain of the words to use to try to explain. But he wanted her to know him. And she wouldn’t know him without knowing about Walt. “Walt was, like, the most important person in my life when I was a kid. He was my, you know, hero, I guess. Someday, when we have more time, maybe when you’re visiting me in jail, I’ll tell you about him and Aunt Dot.”
That one got him an exasperated laugh. “Sam, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Yeah, you’re probably not going to visit me, are you?”
She gave him a look. “You’re not going to jail. I’m not going to let that happen.”
Oh, yeah. Good news. If she didn’t care about him even just a little bit, she’d just turn him in and let him rot.
“Thanks,” he said. “You can drop me at the next exit.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah, I know.” It was worth a try. “Anyway, Noah came up with this second plan. He would marry Claire, and they would keep the baby. Which was completely insane because they were both only seventeen. I remember thinking that he was nuts and that Walt would never agree to that. But Nos had figured out that he could go to work for Walt to support his wife and child, and get his GED in his spare time. Then he could go to night school to get his college degree. I was like, oh, that’s going to be a real fun life.
“But Noah and Walt went into the den and closed the door. They stayed in there a long time, and when they finally came out, Nos went to find Claire without stopping to tell me what had gone down.
So I asked Walt, and he said that he was real proud of Noah. That Noah was doing the right thing, and that he and Claire would be married at the end of the month.
“I was like, shit. And I figured that Walt had just been waiting for Noah to step up, to take responsibility, you know, to be a man.
“So that’s what I tried to do with Mary Lou. I tried to do the thing that would make Walt proud.” Sam shook his head. “Although I’m pretty sure I’ve made him roll in his grave.”
They were both silent for several long moments, then Alyssa said, “I thought you grew up in Texas.”
“I did,” he said. “Fort Worth. That’s where I met Noah. But in sophomore year of high school, Dot had a stroke that was pretty debilitating. And there was this doctor in Sarasota who was getting good results with stroke patients, so Walt and Dot sold the family business to their employees, packed up their house, and moved down to Florida.”
He paused, and when she glanced at him, he added, “I would have gone with them if I could’ve. They wanted me to. Their house was always my, well, my sanctuary, I guess. See, my father was this real asshole, and . . . I was wrecked when they left. But I hitched down to visit them every summer, so I guess it was all right.”
Man, he couldn’t remember the last time he talked this much. It certainly hadn’t been while he was married to Mary Lou. He’d tried talking to her early on in their marriage, thinking that their getting to know each other might be important if they were going to be a real family, but she didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want him to be human. She wanted him to be some kind of superhero. And superheroes were never afraid. They never felt uncertain. They never wrestled with feelings of inadequacy that had been pounded into them when they were children. And above all, they never, ever cried.
“Alyssa, I really have to find Haley before I can go to Sarasota with you.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time. She just drove. She was so beautiful with those ocean-colored eyes that were such a vivid contrast to her mocha-colored skin.
“You’re going to have to trust that I’ll find her for you,” she finally said.
She glanced at him before he could turn his head away. With luck, she’d think that the tears in his eyes were from some emotion other than frustration and disappointment.
“It’ll help if you’re prepared for all the questions,” she told him. “They’re going to ask about Mary Lou’s job at the McDonald’s on base. When did she start working there?”
He couldn’t remember. “I think just a few months before she took off for Florida,” he told her. Every minute took them another mile closer to Sarasota. He was going to have to do something pretty damn soon. “I don’t know the exact date, but the manager there would still have those records, wouldn’t they?”
“Yeah, probably.” Alyssa frowned, a slight furrow marring the perfection of her brow. “Let’s see, they’re surely going to ask if Mary Lou ever questioned you about your work as a SEAL.”
“She only asked about my schedule. When I had to go in and what time was I coming home. She attended an AA meeting almost every night,” Sam explained. “I made it home on time about three times a week. Sometimes more often, depending on what the team was up to. She would go out, and I would stay home with Haley.” He had to smile, remembering. “Mary Lou sometimes put her to bed before she left, but Hale, she knew if it was just me and her home alone, I’d let her hang out with me until right before Mary Lou got back. It was weird. She was just a baby, but she was smart. We used to watch ESPN together, and I swear, she knew the Cowboys just from their uniforms.” He looked at Alyssa. “I know you probably harbor a lot of resentment toward Mary Lou and probably Haley, too. God knows I haven’t wrapped my head around Mary Lou’s doctored condoms yet. Jesus. But Haley’s a treasure, Lys. Don’t hold it against her—you know, the fact that Mary Lou’s her mother.”
“How could you have stayed away from her for six months?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “How could I have stayed away from you for six months?”
“Please let’s not start this again.”
“It was because I was scared.” There. He’d said it. “Scared I’m not goddamn good enough. Scared I’m going to somehow fuck it up and screw her up but good.”
Admitting this, saying it out loud, was damn near making him break into a cold sweat. He’d tried talking to Mary Lou about Haley, telling her that even just holding her terrified him, not because of the physical fears of dropping her or somehow breaking her, but because of the enormous emotional responsibility. His own parents had damaged him so badly, and at least on his mother’s part it had been completely without intention. He was scared he’d unknowingly do the same to this tiny, precious baby.
Mary Lou had looked at him as if he were some kind of freak, so he’d shut the fuck up and kept it all inside. Please, God, don’t let Alyssa look at him that same way. . . .
He forced himself to keep talking. “My own father sucked. I mean, we’re talking nightmare scenario. He was a piece of work, Lys. I swear, he was tormented by . . . something, and he took it out on us. All I know about being a father and a husband is to not be like him. But even if I do it differently, I can still do it wrong and—”
Sam had to take a deep breath and exhale hard. God damn it, he wished she would say something. But she was definitely listening, so he kept going.
“Except, looking back at my marriage to Mary Lou, I’ve realized I made some of the same mistakes my father did. I found myself married to a woman I didn’t like—a woman I discovered I couldn’t love—so I bailed. But only bailed halfway. Just like he did. I actually turned into him in some ways, which is, um . . . pretty sickening to have to admit. Looking back, I can see the transformation, like one of those bad werewolf movies—but I couldn’t see it at the time. He traveled for work, so he spent as much time as possible on the road to get away from us. I tried to do the same thing, for different reasons, but whenever the team went wheels up, I was on that plane. And the rest of the time, shit, I was gone, too. I mean, even though I was there in body, the rest of me was out to lunch.” He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding embarrassingly like a sob. “At least I didn’t beat the hell out of Mary Lou and Haley when I was home.”
Shit, that was more than she needed to know. It had just come blurting out. What a loser.
Except, O hosanna, was it possible . . .? Jesus God, it was indeed reward time. Alyssa actually laced their fingers together, holding tightly to his hand. It was freaking amazing. It was the last thing he’d expected her to do, and it left him breathless and speechless and, goddamn, it filled him with hope.
The really stupid part was, he couldn’t have manipulated her into doing that if he’d tried. Somehow she knew that what he was saying was the real deal. That it was hard as hell to put what he was feeling into coherent sentences, and harder still to utter them aloud.
They drove past a sign saying SARASOTA, 140 MILES. Alyssa was holding the car at a pretty steady 80 mph. At this rate, he had about ninety minutes left to get himself free.
Ten minutes. He’d give himself ten more minutes of holding Alyssa’s hand before he’d tell her he had to take a leak. That would rattle her, for sure. At the very least, she’d pull over to the side of the highway. Best case scenario, she’d stop at a rest stop. He’d convince her to uncuff him, and the moment she did, he’d ninja out of there. Instant vamoose. One minute he’d be there, and the next . . .
She was going to be mad as hell.
But right now she was actually holding his hand.
CHAPTER TEN
The summer before eighth grade, Roger and Noah both got their growing on in a major way, and by the time school started again, they were neck and neck in a race to see who would hit six feet first.
One of the hardest parts about growing so much so fast was learning to negotiate head room. There’d always been so much of it before, but now every time Roger turned around he was damn near knocking himself unco
nscious by banging his head into something or another. The other hard part was recognizing his own strength.
No more fighting, Walt had said to the boys. They were both bigger than most of the bullies by now, and it wouldn’t be too long before someone got hurt worse than anyone had intended.
He’d promised them flying lessons. Real lessons, up in the flight school’s Cessna. Of course, they had to take and pass the reading and writing part of the class first. And before they started that, Walt had told them that they had to go a solid month without getting into a fight.
When he’d used the word they he really meant he. Ringo. Roger. Noah didn’t get into fights unless Roger was around.
It had been twenty-six days. The past three had been hard, since Noah was home from school with a sore throat. But now there were only four more days to go, and he was damned if he was going to be the one to blow it. Except Lyle Morgan was following him home from school.
“Hey, Ringo, wait up!”
Shoot. Roger picked up his pace and even crossed to the other side of the street. It didn’t slow Morgan down.
Lyle Morgan was one of the few bullies who still had it over him in both height and weight. Of course, he was in high school and played on the football team.
He still hadn’t forgiven Roger for grinding his face into the dirt on the elementary school playground a month ago. Forget about the fact that Morgan had jumped him. Of course it had been after Roger started slinging insults back at the older boy.
Although he did have to admit, in hindsight, that he’d gotten into the self-defense thing maybe a little too enthusiastically, particularly after that bullshit Lyle had spouted about Roger’s sister, Elaine.
Nos had had to pull him off, and the look in his eyes was one Roger would always remember.
Afterward, both Noah and Walt had sat him down—separately—and talked to him about something ridiculous called anger management. Noah had gone so far as to present him with the legal definition of manslaughter, as well as an overview of the average number of years spent in prison by a person who killed another person in a fistfight.
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