The SEAL's Valentine (Operation: Family)

by Altom, Laura Marie

  * * *

  WITH CAYDEN’S BATTING PRACTICE over, Tristan sat with Brynn, watching her son ride bumper cars. The miniarcade/sports complex featured enough quarter-fed activities to keep Cayden smiling for as long as it took to get the smile back on his mom’s pretty face.

  “Sorry about the pizza.” He took her long-abandoned plate, setting it on top of his to toss in the trash. “What this place lacks in cuisine, it makes up for in fun. Wanna play minigolf?”

  Her faint grin came nowhere near meeting her eyes. “You’re a dear to try cheering me, but I’m afraid between my surprise call and aching back I’m not the best company.”

  “You’re fine.” He finished off his cola. “I am worried about that backache, though. Wasn’t it nagging you last night, too?”

  “Think it pretty much comes with the territory.”

  “Just to be on the safe side, how about checking it out with your doctor?”

  “Sure, Dad,” she teased, in what he assumed was her way of trying to lighten the mood. He appreciated her effort, but didn’t want her thinking she had to perform for him like a trick pony. They weren’t on a date and neither was trying to impress the other. Along with being friends came a certain freedom he found comforting.

  “Ha-ha.” He made a funny face. “But, really, you hardly ate a thing. Want me to stop off on the way home and pick up anything else? Burger? Chicken sandwich—”

  “Uh-oh...” In under thirty seconds, her expression morphed from wide-eyed surprise to wrinkled-nose displeasure to thin-lipped fear.

  “What’s wrong?” He looked to Cayden, but the boy was still going full force on his bumper car.

  “Look.” Her gaze dropped. Not only was she suddenly sitting in a puddle, but liquid had spilled off the edges of the bench seat to pool onto the red vinyl floor.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  She nodded. “Pretty sure my water just broke.”

  “But we’ve got plenty of time, right?” How many combat situations had he been in? Yet during none of them had his pulse surged quite so fast.

  “This is mortifying. With Cayden, I was at home when this happened. Mack was on the road, but at least I had our housekeeper to help. I’m soaked. And I can’t leave this mess for—”

  “Woman,” he said with a growl, “you worry about the damnedest things. Right now, let’s get you to a hospital.”

  “But I’m wet.”

  Think, Tristan. Think.

  At the sports shop main entrance was a souvenir store featuring everything from T-shirts to purple faux Mohawk hats. Surely, they’d have something in there that was dry enough and large enough for Brynn to wear?

  “Sit tight,” he said to her. “I’ll be right back.”

  He purchased oversize sweatpants and a Batting World T-shirt, then handed the manager a few twenties to not only keep an eye on Cayden, but have Brynn’s water mopped up before she left the restroom.

  Back with the mom-to-be, he took gentle hold of her elbow, helping her from the bench. “Stick with SEALs and your every problem will vanish.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Her watery-eyed smile tugged his heartstrings. He never wanted to see any woman cry, but something about Brynn’s tears in particular threatened to crumple his usual steely calm.

  “Come on.” He steered her toward the nearest restroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dry. Then we’ll worry about what comes next.”

  “But Cayden...” She looked over her shoulder. “And the mess?”

  “Handled and handled. For at least the next few minutes, all you need to worry about is you.” He held open the women’s room door, offering the bag with her fresh clothes. “The store had everything but...unmentionables, so you’ll have to go commando.”

  She winced. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Need help?”

  “I think I’m good.” Apprehension showed in her quickened breaths and occasional winces from pain. “But if you wouldn’t mind, please hang out by the door—just in case.”

  “You got it.” Though Brynn could’ve only been in the restroom for a minute, time had a funny way of stretching when you didn’t have a clue what the next seconds might bring. Odds were, they had plenty of time to get her to the regional hospital where she’d planned for her delivery. But what if she couldn’t hold out? Was the ultimate safety call getting her to a Shreveport E.R.? Lord knew, he’d been trained for every contingency from fending off nuclear armageddon to hostage rescue against impossible odds, but the one thing he had no practical knowledge of was delivering babies. That time in Botswana he’d only been an errand boy.

  He knocked on the door. “Everything all right?”

  “I—I think so.”

  “What’s that mean?” His pulse surged anew. Was she having her daughter right there in the ladies’ room at Batting World?

  “I-if you don’t mind, could you p-please come in?”

  Unsure what he would see, he held his hand over his eyes. “You decent?”

  “Think so...” He found her with her legs tangled in the sweatpants. She’d gotten them twisted and clung to the counter for balance. Already wearing her new T-shirt, he was glad he’d selected extra-large as it not only covered her bulging belly, but hung nearly to her knees.

  “All right.” Kneeling alongside her, he gently lifted one foot, then her other, straightening the soft fabric, tugging it up her even softer legs. He pulled the pants thigh high, then eased back. “Think you can take it from there?”

  She nodded. “But would it be all right if I held on to you for support?”

  “Of course.” He laughed. “Use me any way you need.”

  Left hand clamped to the top of his head, she wobbled and shimmied until tugging the pants into place. Helping her in the most basic of ways did a strange thing to him—it made him want to help even more. Silly, considering he hardly knew her, but he supposed he’d feel honor-bound to help any woman in Brynn’s vulnerable position.

  Brynn clutched her belly. “Th-the pain, i-it’s worse. Not just in my back anymore.”

  “Just throwing this out there—you know, in case you’re open for suggestions, but maybe we should quit talking and either call you an ambulance or hightail it back to Ruin Bayou. What do you think?”

  Lips clamped tight, complexion sweat-sheened, she ground out, “You’re probably right. B-but I lost my purse. And my son. Do you know where Cayden is?”

  “Having a great time. Oblivious to what’s going down in here.”

  She doubled over. Her whimper ripped at his soul.

  Arm around her waist, her denim floral purse slung over his left shoulder, he guided her to the dining room.

  Cayden sat at a nearby table, feasting on ice cream and more pizza. “This is like the best, most funnest place ever.”

  “Glad you liked it,” Tristan said, “but we’ve gotta go.”

  “Why?” The kid’s tone featured an extra serving of whine. “I’ve still got tokens.”

  “S-sweetie...” Brynn had turned deathly pale. “I—I think your sister’s on the way.”

  “I hate her! She’s not even here yet and is already ruining everything!”

  As seemed usual for the boy whenever things didn’t go his way, Cayden took off running.

  “I—I have to go after him,” Brynn said between frighteningly thin breaths.

  “Correction—you have to either get in my truck or let me call an ambulance. Your choice.”

  “Truck.” Clutching her lower back, she was already waddling that way. “Oh—but the mess I made in the dining room. Shouldn’t we—”

  “Already handled,” he assured. “Just keep walking.”

  After settling her in the front seat of his king cab truck, Tristan tracked down Cayden to where he’d helped himself t
o another bumper car ride. “Get off that thing.”

  “You’re not the boss of me!” Cayden rode farther away from Tristan.

  “You’re right.” Tristan cut him off. “But I do care a lot about you and your mom and she’s having your baby sister, so let’s go.”

  “You’re just making that up!”

  Beyond frustrated, Tristan handled the situation the way he would’ve had Cayden been his son. He hefted the kid from the car, carrying him like a kicking and screaming sack of potatoes all the way to the truck.

  “I hate you!” Cayden wailed. “Stranger danger!”

  “All right,” Tristan said from between clenched teeth, setting the squirmy kid to his feet, but keeping a firm hold on his forearms. “Now you’ve gone too far. As long as we’ve known each other, have I ever once hurt you?”

  Cayden’s chin touched his yellow T-shirt. “No. But I wanna play. And I hate that baby.”

  “Yeah, well, like it or not—no matter what crazy stunt you try pulling next—your sister will be here soon. And the longer you dork around, the more danger your mom is going to be in. She needs to be at a hospital. Now.”

  “I never thought of it like that.” Cayden’s voice had lost his earlier bravado. “So having my sister is bad for her?”

  “If your mom doesn’t have a doctor or nurse with her, it could be. I know I don’t know anything about having babies, do you?”

  Expression grim, Cayden shook his head.

  “All right then...” Tristan released his hold on the boy, only to offer Cayden his hand. “How about we work together to keep your mom and baby sister safe?”

  With Cayden’s small hand clasped in his, a dozen thoughts raced through Tristan’s head. Not the least of which was how good it felt once again being a father—even if the child wasn’t his own.

  * * *

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG.

  Waiting in the truck for Cayden and Tristan, Brynn knew the pain shooting through her was too intense for early stage labor. Could her constant backaches have been labor pains and she’d been too wrapped up in baseball and the garden club to notice?

  Stupid. Had she stuck to her plan of keeping to herself, her mind may have been wholly focused on her health, rather than trying to meet friends who would no doubt leave her. As for that call from the commissioner? That’d been stupid, too. The kinds of things she’d been through, what’d been done to Mack’s formerly sterling reputation, they couldn’t be taken back.

  Biting her lower lip to keep from crying out, she instead tried shifting to a more comfortable position, gripping the dash for all she was worth.

  After riding out the next wave of contractions, she was relieved to see her son running toward her. Cayden held Tristan’s hand and the sweetness brought on emotional tears.

  “How are you?” Tristan asked, hefting Cayden into the back, then fastening the boy’s seat belt.

  “I—I’m good,” she lied. “But if you think you can find an E.R., I’d appreciate it. I—I’m pretty sure this baby isn’t waiting to make it back to Ruin Bayou.”

  “Mom?” Cayden asked, “you’re not dying, are you?”

  “Not even close,” she said with a forced smile, trying to breathe through pain so intense perspiration dotted her forehead and upper lip.

  “Promise?” While Tristan searched for the nearest hospital on his phone, Brynn nodded to her son.

  In under ten minutes, Tristan squealed to a stop beneath an emergency room canopy. “Hold tight,” he said to Cayden. “Let me get your mom settled and I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay...” Cayden sounded as if he was trying awfully hard not to cry.

  After killing the engine, Tristan hopped out from behind the wheel, charging around the front of the truck to unfasten Brynn’s safety belt and scoop her into his arms.

  “I’m too heavy,” she protested.

  “How about letting me be the judge of that?”

  Beyond thankful for his help, she rested her head against his chest.

  Inside, nurses scrambled to get Brynn into a wheelchair, though she’d much preferred being held securely in Tristan’s strong arms.

  “Do you have your insurance information?” an admissions clerk asked.

  “I-in my purse,” Brynn managed.

  “I’ll get it,” Tristan said. “I’ll handle everything. You just focus on you.”

  Everything was happening too fast. The pain was too strong. Tears had started and showed no sign of letting up. The nurses wheeled her down an endless hall, farther and farther from Tristan and her son. The lights were too bright. The antiseptic smell too potent. “I—I’m going to be—”

  A nurse fished a plastic bag from her pocket, holding it under Brynn’s mouth. “There you go.” She smoothed her hand up and down Brynn’s back. “Try calming down. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “E-easy for you to say,” Brynn muttered from between chattering teeth.

  The nurse laughed and just kept on rolling to the maternity ward. “Hold on to that spunk, girl. You’re going to need it.”

  * * *

  CAYDEN FOUND A HIDING SPOT between a pop machine and wall. He sat there hugging his knees to his chest, wishing really hard his mom wasn’t going to die. Coach Tristan kept promising she was gonna be okay, but Cayden was a first-grader and not stupid like a littler kid. All the grown-ups who’d come to the hospital—like their neighbor who’d told him to call her Miss Georgia, and Tristan’s mom, Miss Donna—told him what his mom was going through was natural. But just like he wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t dumb, either, and all that screaming and crying coming from his mom’s room couldn’t be normal.

  If his mom did die, then what? Was he supposed to run away? Or start looking for a new mom and dad?

  Coach Tristan sat on the end of a sofa near Cayden’s hiding spot. “Doing okay, bud?”

  “No.”

  Tristan laughed, but instead of it sounding funny, like when he cracked jokes, it sounded kinda sad. “Me, neither.”

  He stood, stretched, then headed to the vending machines. “I need coffee and M&M’s. Want anything?”

  “Yeah. I want that, too.”

  Eyeing him funny, Tristan asked, “Your mom lets you drink coffee?”

  “Yeah...” Cayden knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he lied. Just this once, if he drank grown-up coffee, maybe it’d make him feel more like a man. Because if he’d been a man when his dad died, maybe he could’ve done something to keep him alive. “I drink it all the time. Mom lets me have Snickers bars, too.”

  Nodding, Tristan said, “That’s what I figured. Lots of cream and sugar in your coffee?”

  “Uh-huh.” Cayden wasn’t really sure what that did to the coffee, but he’d heard people say it on TV, so it had to be good.

  Once they had their food and shared the waiting room sofa, Tristan said, “I got a text a little while ago from Dominic’s dad. They’ll be here soon.”

  “That’s good—I guess.”

  Helping Cayden unwrap his candy bar, Coach Tristan asked, “I thought you liked Dom?”

  “I do.” But with Mom almost dying, I’d rather just sit here with you.

  Chapter Eight

  Above all else, Tristan hated losing control.

  Hours had passed since Cayden and Dominic had fallen asleep, folded like human origami into armchairs.

  Sean had grabbed a Sudoku puzzle book before the gift shop closed, and seemed content enough. His pencil scratching against paper was the room’s only sound outside of the occasional hospital PA announcement.

  “How are you standing this?” Tristan asked, up on his feet to pace the same course he had all night.

  Shrugging, Sean didn’t look up from his page. “What are you keyed up about? Brynn’s a great gal and al
l, but it’s not like you really know her.”

  Not sure how to take his friend’s casual assessment, Tristan said, “Guess you’re right.”

  But was he? For whatever reason, however illogical it may be, Tristan did feel a certain closeness to Brynn. Whether it was the bond they’d formed during their trek through Lee Bayou or the fact that they’d both seen the end of their marriages, he couldn’t deny caring.

  Since both kids were zoned out, Tristan said, “I know you graduated a couple classes behind me and Jason and the rest of my crew, but you remember Mack, don’t you?”

  “How could I not?” He set down his puzzle. “The guy was only the greatest thing to come from this town, like, ever—well, until the scandal.”

  “Keep this on the DL, but I’m guessing the whole reason Brynn went into labor early is due to a call she had yesterday afternoon from Ted Stevens, and—”

  “Whoa—as in the baseball commissioner?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Sorry.” Sean shook his head. “Gonna take a sec to wrap my head around that one. Anyway, please continue.”

  Tristan explained how Mack had been on the good guy side of a sting operation, and now that all of the bad guys had finally been indicted, the commission was restoring Mack’s halo. “The news hit her hard. Like the whole reason she ended up here was not only for the free house—but to escape the hatred of Mack’s fans and their former friends. After weathering practically being run out of town by a lynch mob, owning nothing but a car and the clothes on her back, the commissioner now wants to host a special game in Mack’s honor—with Cayden tossing a ceremonial first pitch.”

  “Wow...”

  “Exactly. I don’t even know what to say to her.” Tristan resumed his pacing.

  Glancing down the hall at Donna carrying a pink bundle, he said, “For the time being, looks like all topics are tabled. Our new friend Brynn had a beautiful baby girl.”

  * * *

  CAYDEN STOOD IN THE CORNER of his mom’s hospital room with his arms tightly folded, refusing to even look at the stupid baby everyone was freaking out about. She wasn’t even cute, but all the grown-ups were talking in soft cootchie-coo voices and kept going on about her adorable tiny fingers and toes.