SEAL'd Legacy (Brotherhood of SEAL'd Hearts)

by Gabi Moore

  I greeted everyone there warmly and couldn’t suppress a smile.

  “Dave, you asshole, why’s this taken so long? You live, like, twenty minutes from me!” Noah said and kept shaking my hand and thumping me on the back. Noah and I didn’t always get on, but he was all right. I laughed and took a beer and waved them off. They were right though, I’d been a recluse since coming back and had turned down way too many invitations.

  “Aw shit, boys, he’s been at it again,” Hugo said and made eyes at the protective covering on my inner arm. “What’s this one? A heart with ‘Mom’ written in pretty letters?” he said and led me to another room. I laughed.

  “Nah, I actually got a heart with ‘Hugo’s Mom’ written underneath it. You’ll love it,” I said laughing, then stopped dead in my tracks.

  In the room were …women. I hadn’t expected anyone else to be here except the guys. I put down my beer and regretted not shaving before I came out.

  “Buddy, this is Carla, you remember Noah’s girl? And this is Kate, Max’s fiancé.”

  The names instantly went over my head. All I saw were two pretty women fussing over salad in an open plan kitchen. It had been a long time since I’d seen women in shoes like that. And at our guy’s get together? It was all wrong. My heart sank. The pretty blonde one extended her hand and I shook it.

  “Oh, I’m not Max’s fiancé, it’s just some stupid joke everyone around here seems to think needs repeating every two minutes,” she said with a warm smile, then eyeballed the others.

  “Don’t believe her, Dave, this chick means business. Don’t blink or there’ll be 2.4 children here in no time,” Hugo said and then playfully raised his fists so him and the blonde could play-fight for a moment.

  Huh. I’d lost contact with the gang for a few short months and now I’d come back to see them all playing house. Who would have guessed.

  I nodded and smiled at the other woman and we all gathered around the table, small talk and drinks rapidly passing to and fro. It wasn’t quite what I had in mind although everyone seemed happy enough, and glad to see me.

  “Go on man, show us the new ink,” Max said, his arm around the blonde’s shoulders. I respected Max like a father and would never say it to his face, but fuck if that woman he had with him wasn’t a stone-cold fox. I suddenly felt like I’d been wasting my time these last few months not locking down a woman like that. I obligingly peeled back the bandages and let everyone peer at the inky black critter swimming across my inner arm.

  “So, what does it mean?”

  I looked up to see the bright face of the woman introduced to me as Carla.

  “Uh, what does it mean? It doesn’t mean anything, honey, it’s a fucking fish,” I laughed, and everyone laughed with me.

  “You’ll have to forgive Dave, he’s always been a little …blunt,” Hugo said and gestured to the other tattoos peeking out from my shirt sleeves. “Ask him where he got that one from,” he said and pointed to the dangerous squiggle. The guys all laughed.

  “Well, once there was a young autistic boy I rescued from an Afghan poppy farm back in the day, and he wanted to give me this to say thank you. Problem is he only had one hand, you see, because they cut it off after they found out he was an informant…” I said in all seriousness.

  The guys were already cracking up and the two women looked at me with quizzical expressions. Max now put his arm around me.

  “This guy?” he said. “Night or day, no matter what, he’ll spin you the best bullshit stories you’ve ever heard.”

  “Oh? But how did you really get that tattoo?” Carla asked, wide eyed.

  “Well, it actually all started one day when I was on a classified raid in Yemen, and this woman said she’d lead me to our rescue target if I let her give me a tattoo, you see it was a bit of a sexual kink of hers, to tell the truth, and she…”

  The guys cracked up laughing again. It was a good joke that never got old. It almost didn’t matter where the tattoo really came from. Like the September mission, it seemed like the facts of the matter weren’t so important anymore.

  Everyone sat around and chatted for a good while, and I did my best to join in. But something still didn’t feel right. I was with my dearest friends – more than friends, brothers – and yet I felt like I was at school again, the outsider trying to figure out how the hell to get on the inside and half deciding I didn’t want to. When we all made our pact in another life, part of me believed that nothing would ever threaten our little family. Our promises to each other had been written in blood. And now we were here dishing up potato salad and talking about Netflix series we never finished and I don’t know, something just felt wrong about the whole thing. Or maybe I was the one who was wrong.

  “So how long have you two really been seeing each other?” I said and gestured towards Max and his beautiful girlfriend. Kate smiled and nestled close to him.

  “Not long, actually. It’s almost six months now,” she said.

  I raised my glass. “Well, you must really be something to tame my man over here,” I said and took a swig. The smile stayed on her lips but left her eyes.

  “Oh, what do you mean?”

  The room quietened down.

  “Come on, this guy?” I said. “He’s an animal. Hoo boy, if you had told me a year ago he’d be settling down and behaving.”

  “Max is perfect. I don’t see how he’s an animal, and there’s nothing to ‘tame’,” she said, tight lipped, though still smiling ferociously at me.

  “Just a figure of speech, honey, relax.”

  “I’m perfectly relaxed. I just hate this big macho stereotype ex-SEALs have, you know? When you get to really know Max, he’s—”

  “I know Max,” I blurted. Everyone looked at me.

  “I’ve known him for years, not just six months, no offense. And what’s wrong with the big macho stereotype? You think it doesn’t apply?” I teased.

  Max looked at the floor. Kate let the smile drop from her face.

  “Max is the most honorable man I know,” Kate said.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. I looked around me at the awkward faces and suddenly felt irritated.

  “Yeah? Did he tell you all the honorable things he did while deployed?”

  “David, what the fuck?”

  I turned to see Jack’s hand on my arm. We locked eyes.

  “Oh, it’s OK,” Kate said. “I understand you and Max go way back, I couldn’t understand what you guys have been through, I was just saying…”

  Jack pulled me up and guided me towards the kitchen.

  “Don’t apologize, please. David, come over here a minute and help me with the dessert,” he said, and yanked me away from the table.

  Once in the kitchen he gave me the beady eye.

  “I uh… I didn’t bring any dessert,” I said at last. “Sorry.”

  “Jesus, David,” he whispered.

  “What? I didn’t realize this was a fancy fucking affair, OK?”

  “You okay, man?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m serious, David. It’s not so crazy for me to check in with you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You only get a tattoo when you’re depressed.”

  “I’m not fucking depressed. And like I said, it’s just a fucking fish.”

  “Well, we’re here for you, don’t forget that.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Oh, come on with that.”

  “Is she for real though? She’s like a Barbie,” I said.

  “You jealous?”

  “Huh. More like amused.”

  “Kate is a wonderful woman, and she’s been so good for Max,” he said slowly, and began eyeing the avocados in the dish on the counter.

  “Well, I’m glad for them. Don’t see why everyone’s so touchy…”

  “We’re not touchy. Max is a big boy, he can handle you. He always could. What I’m worried about is you. We haven’t seen you in months, man.”

  “Yeah I know. I
’ve been… trying to settle.”

  He reached over and patted me on the back. Jack liked playing dad to everyone on our team.

  “You still living in that dump?” he said and started pouring himself another drink.

  “It suits me fine.”

  “Rough though.”

  “So am I.”

  “Fair enough. You need any legal help or anything, you get in trouble with the law or whatnot, you know to come to me, right?” I gave him a mock salute.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  I glowered at him. For someone who was so happy to leave the bad old days behind, he sure liked to cling to the old roles we each had. He wasn’t anyone’s Operations Officer any more than I was an N3 noob looking for a father figure. I bit my tongue only because if there was any man I respected out of sheer duty in this world, it was old Jack. But the look I gave him let him know it was a fucking favor, and that any other man who used that patronizing tone of voice with me would regret it for the rest of his life.

  “I’m listening, Jack. Yeah, I feel… a little down, sure. So what? How else am I supposed to feel?”

  “You getting enough down time?”

  I sighed loudly, already well past my natural comfort zone of chatting about fucking feelings.

  “Maybe what I need is less down time. Man, I swear a week or three in Somalia or something is what would really calm me down, you know what I mean?”

  He laughed.

  “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.”

  We stood in silence for a moment, in a way that made the whole encounter feel more and more like an intervention, and I would have sworn we were done when he spoke again.

  “Seriously though, a man needs to have some purpose, you know? What do you do in your free time, other than work?”

  “Counter Strike. Yelling at the people next door. Planning my suicide,” I said. He didn’t find this funny.

  “I was chatting with a friend the other day, he’s been doing this program, this volunteering thing with kids at the community center. It’s a mentorship thing. They pair you up with a kid and you do activities together…”

  “No way.”

  “You didn’t even let me finish.”

  “But I hate kids,” I said.

  He groaned out loud.

  “You’re a pain in the ass, David,” he said with a wry smile.

  “At your service, sir,” I said and returned his smile.

  “Will you go? Please? Do it for me. Just go once, check it out at least.”

  “But I don’t have anything to teach any kid.”

  “It won’t be for the kid’s sake.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Fine. I’ll check it out. Those fucking assholes on Counter Strike are always cheating anyway.” He didn’t find this funny either.

  We walked back into the living room and merged seamlessly into the discussion again, but my mind was far away. I knew Jack was only looking out for me. And he was right about the stupid tattoo thing.

  Chapter 3 - Ally

  In a way, all mothers are ‘single mothers’, aren’t they?

  God, how those words used to give me nightmares. It was like a horrible title that branded me, alerting everyone I met to pull out all their worst assumptions about who I was before I’d even spoken a word. I hated seeing those two words written down. I hated the wonderful world of regular motherhood that seemed cut off from me by that ‘single’ jumping out ahead in front, so that I was never just a mother, but a mother who was alone, a mother who had been left. Single. Just me.

  The joke was, though, that I felt most alone before Andrew left. Now, with just me and the two boys, the family almost felt like it had more people in it, as though Andrew was a negative somehow, cancelling out the good. I have no idea what it even means to be a mother without the ‘single’ part. Who else is with you when you’re six hours into labor and there’s nothing but a wall of pain to push through to bring that little screaming child into the world? Who else can sit patiently and feed him? And who else could possibly step in to breastfeed when he’s so young he can scarcely open his eyes?

  Andrew was sometimes around, and he sometimes wasn’t. But there was never a second in either of my children’s lives when I wasn’t their mother, wasn’t standing by, every molecule of my body tuned into their needs, ready to spring in. Andrew loves his boys, I won’t lie. But it’s not even remotely the same thing. All mothers are single mothers, if you ask me.

  “Mom, he won’t share.”

  “Ben, share with your brother.”

  “But mom! He had his already.”

  I double checked I had the right address and then pulled into the car park. I grabbed my purse, gave my reflection a quick check in the rearview mirror and stepped outside.

  “Mom, his was bigger though, right? So maybe he can share.”

  “Come on, get out you two, we’re already late.”

  The three of us made our way into the community center and I silently prayed we hadn’t missed too much.

  Here’s a horrible mom confession: joining this ‘big brother’ program sounded like a great idea and all, but I was really here because it was cheaper and easier than finding a safe place for the boys on Saturday mornings. Since I’d taken a weekend job and my usual sitter had disappeared, it really was a last-resort kind of thing. Honestly? I don’t really think any child needs a damn ‘father figure’. My boys have what they need, and some days, I think the less they have an asshole to disrupt their lives the better. But fine. I could give this a go until I found someone else to watch them on the weekends.

  We made our way inside and a group of women handed the boys a little activity bag and invited them to run around outside in the play area. I quickly sat down and listened to the talk that was underway. I took the only seat left next to a prim looking woman in pearls, who immediately gave my tattoos the side eye. I wondered if she was as tired as I was. If she sometimes cried in the bathtub because she felt like she had suddenly woken up after a ten-year long coma and her life had already passed her by.

  She gave me a thin smile.

  Nah, probably not.

  The speaker explained how the program worked. ‘Big brothers’ went through a rigorous screening and training program and then were paired up with boys with matching interests. They’d do a weekly age-appropriate activity together, like learning a skill or fishing. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes, of course.

  Isn’t it funny how totally wonderful and amazing it is for a man to step up for two hours a week and yet when women do it, it’s just nothing? I wondered why everyone expected me to dive right in and figure shit out and yet here I was being told how long and how thoroughly these men were trained to handle ordinary children for the shortest possible amount of time. But fine. It would do until I could find a more reliable sitter.

  We all clapped as the speaker went on about how grateful we were to have the Big Brothers volunteer their precious time. I scanned the crowd and tried to get a look at some of them. They didn’t seem like damn superheroes. But fine.

  There were a dozen or so of them sitting behind the podium and looking pretty pleased with themselves, but one guy caught my eye. It wasn’t that usual to see a heavily tatted person in this town, but his arms were covered in a style of work I hadn’t ever seen before. My eyes lingered on the intense shapes and lines snaking up his arm, and I found myself wondering what they became higher up, underneath the sleeve of his shirt. In an instant, he caught me staring and our eyes locked across the hall. I flicked my eyes away again and pretended to be listening to the talk, but when I sneakily let my eyes wander back to him, there he was, staring back.

  Shit.

  I couldn’t suppress a smile as I looked down and felt my cheeks heat up. I briefly wondered what his deal was. He looked a lot younger than the others and there was something …a little wild about him. It was hard to explain, but he was just different. And, like me, he was totally not l
istening to the talk. When I casually stole yet another glance, he was looking away and I could get a real eyeful. He was good looking, but in a rough, kind of undone way. The kind of good looks that don’t rub off with dirt and scratches, but seem to almost get better. When he turned to catch my eye again I felt my heart flip in my chest as he returned a warm, easy smile. I gulped and fumbled with a brochure on my lap. Look at me, flirting with some hot young stud who was probably half my age.

  The speaker wrapped up her talk and people applauded again. But before the applause was finished a long, high-pitched squeal rang out through the hall and everyone froze and turned to look out the large windows into the children’s play area. A few people rushed over and in the mild chaos I lost his gaze. Over the excited talking I heard my son’s voice.

  “Ben?” I said and raced outside, pushing through the crowd.

  Ben stood helplessly in the center, clutching his arm with two wet streaks down his cheek.

  “Ben, baby what happened?” I said and rushed over to him. More excited chatter. He kept silent and sulky, looking at the ground and not responding to my questions.

  “He’s just fallen and hurt himself, that’s all,” one of the organizers was saying. I looked around at the ring of children surrounding us, and something on their faces told me that Ben had not in fact just fallen.

  “Alex, what happened to your brother?” I said. But Alex kept his mouth shut, too. I felt myself getting angry.

  “Did somebody hurt him?” I said, not quite sure whom I was addressing this question to. The crowd of children was eerily silent.

  “No, I’m sure it was just an accident, ma’am,” someone behind me said.

  “Baby, did somebody hurt you?” I pulled away his hand to see a raw, angry looking welt on his upper arm. He said nothing, but I knew in my heart it was no accident. I pulled him to me and hugged him tightly, and the crowd dissipated a little. I scanned the group of children and tried to figure it out. I couldn’t believe how casual everyone was being when someone had clearly hurt my child.