by Wade, Cara
“You’re falling for me?” To hear him say it in such a blunt way, at home as well, not just in Hawaii, it really took me back. This was actually real, this meant something huge, it was everything that I wanted.
“Of course I am, I spent the last month trying to tell you that.”
Oh my God, everything he told me was the truth, this was almost too much to handle. I’d assumed he meant it in a throwaway manner, but he was actually being honest. “Well,” my voice was thick with emotion. “I’m falling for you too.” This was my dream coming true, but this time it was happening within the context of my reality, making it that much more special.
“So… is that a yes?”
I paused for a second, just wanting him to sweat before my face burst into a happy grin. “Of course it’s a yes, a thousand times yes.”
As our lips crashed together I knew that it would always be a yes for Evan Hawlin, he was the best damn thing to ever happen in my life, and this time I’d never have to let him go.
THE END
= Bonus Book 7 of 9 =
A SEAL Bear’s Mate
Jack’s hand shot out, looking to get a grip on anything. It was pitch black, but he still willed his eyes to focus on something to get an idea of where everything was around him. It helped. His hands found a pipe and he tugged at it to test its stability before swinging onto it and using it to launch himself back onto the balcony above it.
His heart was hammering in his chest, but he loved the thrill of it. The odds were stacked against him. He was alone in the dark, no weapon, and virtually no escape, unless he counted the one way he entered which was being infiltrated as he stood calculating what his next move was going to be.
Feeling around, Jack located a broom and shrugged to himself. At the very least, it should be fun, he thought to himself. A grin spread across his face as he heard two pairs of boots drop to the ground below him. He stayed pressed against the wall, his hand clenching and unclenching around the broom handle.
With nothing else to go by, he listened for the slightest movement. He could discern which man was which by the way they moved. One was sure of himself, the other, full of hesitation, possibly apprehension. That one would not last long, no matter how well armed he was. It was that one that had climbed up the staircase and was now walking towards Jack.
Quietly, ever so softly, he inched forward. Jack knew he was focused more on his feet than he was on locating Jack. So it was no surprise, at least to Jack, that the man was knocked out thanks to Jack’s swift skills. One more to go, but the other man wasn’t moving. His footsteps stopped a while ago, as if he was waiting for Jack to emerge on his own.
That could be arranged, Jack thought, impatiently. His reached out with his senses and extended them by using his werebear abilities. His hearing became sharper, his eyes more acute in the dark, the blood pumped through his muscles granting him added strength. He would have the element of surprise.
Then he heard it. The faintest rustle of fabric brushing against itself. He was walking, but with extreme caution. Suddenly, a light was thrown on and Jack blinked before leaping into action. With a snarl, he launched himself towards the second pursuer. To his surprise, the man didn’t become hesitate as he’d expected and began to fight back once he recovered from his shock.
A thrill raced through Jack at the prospect of a good fight. He lived for these moments of thrill that were too far apart. Together they rolled on the floor and although Jack was under the man at one point, he managed to butt his head into the man’s arm, successfully knocking the gun out of his hand and off the balcony.
Grunting, the man tried to pin him to the ground. Jack eased back, allowing him to feel like he had gained advantage over him. Once he sensed the man had grown confident in his hold, he rolled, throwing the man under him. He smirked as he secured him to a pipe that ran along the wall beside them.
“Sorry, mate,” he said. The man began to speak to him in rapid Russian.
“You sound upset,” Jack said chuckling. “Maybe we can get you a translator when we’re at a secure location.” He rose to get away from the man while he contacted his team to come retrieve the men he’d overpowered. He searched the motionless man on the ground for weapons and slipped one gun into the waistband of his pants before searching the still-angry Russian whose protests had grown louder, as if the volume would make Jack understand his frustration. Hearing the distant sound of military vehicles approaching, he turned and saluted the men before leaving the same way he came in.
Long after the tedious cycle of paperwork was over, Jack collapsed in the shoddy hotel room and kicked his boots off. Today was a good day. He loved working with his team, and he loved a good challenge. Whenever he had the opportunity to do both, he felt completely satisfied. Although he enjoyed it, he felt his age today. He wanted nothing more than to relax for a few days before returning home and then onto his next mission.
Jack warmed up a frozen meal and ate it without tasting it. He was too tired to put effort into anything and knew once he fell asleep, he would be out for a whole day. Just as he was about to get into bed, he got a call. He glanced at the number, expecting it to be one of the higher ranking officers but it wasn’t. He didn’t recognize the number. It was, however, from Washington D.C., where he lived when he wasn’t out chasing his demons. He frowned as it continued to ring. Finally, he answered it on the fourth ring.
“Jack.” He said tersely. There was silence on the other line, but he could detect faint breathing on the other end. “Hello?” he pressed.
“Jack,” a voice croaked. “It’s Walter.”
A flood of memories hit Jack with those words. He sat up straighter, his exhaustion had suddenly vanished. “Walter,” he said in alarm. Why did he sound so frail? He hadn’t seen Walter in ten years, but the man was the picture of health the last time he’d seen him. He was robust and in charge his entire life. It was hard for Jack to picture him any other way. The last he’d heard, Walter had retired a couple of years back, but he didn’t know why. He assumed it was to spend more time with his family.
“Jack, I don’t have much time,” Walter said clearing his throat again. “I need you to come here. There’re things I need to tell you, I can’t do it over the phone,” his voice cracked at the end and he began coughing.
Jack didn’t say anything. He knew what it was regarding, but he didn’t think Walter would ever bring it up again, there was no reason to do so. But if there was one thing Jack didn’t do, it was to deny a dying man his last wishes. “I’ll be there,” he said firmly. He listened as Walter handed the phone to a nurse who gave him an address for the hospital. He jotted it down and began to pack immediately. Given his history and all that he owed Walter, there was no time to waste.
***
Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since Jack had spoken to Walter and he feared that he would expire before he reached him. He’d never seen the man get so much as a runny nose before. So to hear him sound so ill shook him up and he slept only in intervals on his flight back. He’d thought of Walter as his mentor for many years. He’d provided Jack with the stability and structure he’d so badly craved in his youth. He was grateful for all the lessons he’d learned under the man and knew he could never repay him for it.
Growing up, Jack recalled the first orphanage he was in before it closed and he was separated from the only other people he knew. From there, he bounced between the new orphanage to different foster care homes where he never fit in. It was a relief to become a legal adult, and he soon made good on his promise to himself to leave and never look back. Luckily, Walter had taken him under his wing soon after he’d joined the SEAL, probably sensing the restlessness that he had in himself that yearned for acceptance and love.
As if being an orphan was not enough, Jack had an added layer of being a shapeshifter. Once he’d discovered it about himself, he was already old enough to know that it wasn’t something that he could tell anyone else. He spent the better part of his chil
dhood feeling rejected and tried in vain to suppress his urges to transform. But it was useless. It was as much a part of him as it was his personality. It wasn’t something he could change, but he knew he had no choice but to keep it under wraps.
Jack reached over the seat to pay the driver as it pulled up to the hospital. With long, purposeful strides, he followed the signs to locate the correct wing and floor where Walter was. Each step he took gave way to a greater sense of dread. This was it. Walter wasn’t going to pull through.
When he reached his room, he stared for a long time at the name that was slipped in under the room number. His palm touched the door and he hesitated before giving it a quick rap and entering. He looked at the man under the pile of covers and almost retreated thinking he had the wrong room, the wrong Walter. But no, it was him.
Walter’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was labored. He looked frail and small under the covers. Jack walked quietly over to the bedside and took his right hand in his grip as if to shake it. He saw Walter’s eyes moving under their lids before they fluttered open. He wondered if Walter even recognized him. His eyes were clouded and moist. He squinted a few times and his eyebrows rose in recognition.
“Jack,” he said, a faint smile had the corners of his mouth lifting up and his eyes crinkling. “You made it.”
Jack squeezed his hand and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. The machines beeped around them loudly, one after another, reminding them about the limited time that Walter had.
“Walter,” he said with false cheer. “I thought you forgot about me as soon as you retired.”
Walter gripped his hand with surprising strength, “I never forgot about you, son,” he said. His tone made Jack believe him. He withdrew his hand and focused on pulling up a chair next to the older man while he tried to contain the emotions that were threatening to spill over.
“So, how’s the family?” Jack couldn’t bring himself to address the current state that Walter was in. It was too difficult to even look at let alone discuss.
“She’s good,” Walter chuckled. He gave Jack a glance, “You remember our deal?”
Jack stared at him for a moment before his words sank in. He couldn’t possibly be serious. Years ago, Jack had saved Walter on one of his first missions with him. Walter had spent years mentoring and coaching Jack until he finally had his chance to repay him. Being young and brash, Jack had frequently shapeshifted on missions without care. But once he got caught and before it could become anything more than it was, Walter had it squashed, the records sealed.
Life went on as usual but Jack felt indebted to him ever since then. Walter refused to let him repay his debt but when Jack had persisted, he finally came up with a solution in typical Walter fashion.
“Look, you saved my life, and I saved yours. We’re even, but if you want to do me any favors, you can marry my daughter. She’s stubborn as hell, but I think you’ll be good for her, and her for you.”
Jack was taken aback by the suggestion but agreed out of respect. Walter had never been wrong about any advice he’d given Jack in the past, after all. Although the request was unusual, he figured Walter would soon forget about it. And after several years went by without hearing from him, he thought he’d assumed correctly. Clearly, he was wrong.
***
Samantha stepped out onto the damp sidewalk and walked to her car. The weather matched her mood today. Papa had been in high spirits yesterday, but his nurse called today to alert her that he was feeling much weaker. Maybe he overexerted himself, Samantha reasoned. She heard the nurse hesitate at that remark and her heart fell. She advised her to come to the hospital as soon as she got off work, and Samantha assured her she would.
By some miracle, she was getting out an hour earlier than she normally did. She had Jonathan, the other partner in her law firm, to thank for that. With all the bills that had depleted first Papa’s savings, then her own, she was taking on case after case and working herself to exhaustion. Samantha should have felt relief at her early departure, but she didn’t. She felt worried and wished she could have buried her head in her work and pretended Papa wasn’t as sick as he was.
The wind whipped around her, causing her jacket to flap open. The gust of wind blew just as the rain began to pummel her. She ran for her car, saving only the back of her cream colored blouse from the savage rain.
Normally, she would have gone home to change, but today she knew she had to get to the hospital. She’d called the room this morning to check in on Papa, but he hadn’t answered. She didn’t think anything of it until she’d spoken with the nurse. Now she wanted to reach him as soon as she could.
Samantha parked the car and headed up to her father’s room with a sense of dread. Even though he wasn’t gone yet, she already felt alone. She was shouldering the burden of caring for him now, and she alone would bear the difficult task of arranging for his funeral, somehow picking up the pieces, and continue working to pay off the debt that would remain.
Samantha had grown independent when Papa was putting his last good years into the Navy, but this was different. Back then, he was an unstoppable force. It made him seem invincible, and she knew he would be there for her if she called him. It was her own stubbornness that prevented her from reaching out.
He’d acknowledged after he retired that he should have done better by her. Aside from providing for her financially, he hadn’t done much for her, and he regretted it deeply. Although he more than made up for it in the past decade, Samantha knew he would always carry a guilt around with him about it.
Making her way through the long corridor, Samantha inhaled the sterile smells that hospitals are known for. Hospital staff and cafeteria workers bustled around her as if life went on for them. Samantha wanted to cry, but she held back her tears. She was almost at Papa’s room, she couldn’t let him see her upset.
Once inside, she set her purse down and washed her hands before pulling up a chair next to him. For the last several months, she’d taken to reading to him from some of his favorite books, and today she had to finish Maquez’s 100 Years of Solitude.
Normally they sat together as she told him about her day. She would fluff his pillow and sit him up. Today, he looked too frail. And although she wanted to shake him awake and sit him so they could tell each other about their days, she knew he needed the peace. Sitting down, she opened the book to read and cleared her throat to keep the tears from pouring out.
She began to read and fell into a rhythm of reading two pages, checking on him, and picking back up again. Samantha didn’t hear the door open, but the neon lights from the corridor were hard to ignore. She turned and saw a man whose eyes were boring into her.
“I think you have the wrong room,” she said, startled. Why was he looking at her as if he knew her?
“I’m here for Walter,” he said. His voice was gravelly and hearing it sent a shiver down her spine. She shook it off, although she couldn’t stop him from staring at her.
“Oh? I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m—”
“Samantha,” he finished. “I know. He used to talk about you all the time when I served with him. I’m Jack Falcon.”
Oh. That explained it. A fellow SEAL member. She should have recognized him from just his demeanor. Something about the way he carried himself reminded her of her father, a little aloof, as if he was withholding something. She thought her father had seen all his old friends within the past few months. They came in waves, and over the past month, they’d trickled down to the closest two that made their rounds frequently. This one, though, she’d never heard about.
Turning back to Papa, she looked to see if he was showing any signs of waking up despite their hushed voices. His eyes fluttered open and focused first on her and then behind her. He licked his lips and Samantha jumped to give him a sip of water, holding the straw to his lips and using her other arm to raise him up slightly. Jack rounded the bed and helped hold Papa up. She was grateful for the help. He took small
sips, barely ingesting a few drops at a time.
Lowering him back down, Samantha stood awkwardly as Papa looked between her and Jack.
“Jack, would you excuse use for just a minute, I need to talk to my daughter alone,” Walter said. His voice was barely audible over the machines humming beside him.
“Sure,” Jack said. “I can come back tonight, if that’s alright. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after the nurse came in because you fell asleep.”
Samantha noticed a look that passed between the two men and looked at each of them curiously.
Papa hesitated and then replied, “Just stick around for a little bit, I might not be awake later either.” Samantha’s heart sank at his words. She knew he wasn’t talking about sleeping.
“Sure,” Jack said giving her a knowing glance before slipping out of the room. She picked up the book she’d been reading and sat back in her chair next to Papa.
“Papa,” she said holding his hand and giving it a squeeze. “What is it?”
He looked out the window and then back at her. Using all his strength, he reached over to their hands and sandwiched hers with his free hand. “I want you to marry him.”
“What?” Samantha didn’t hear him correctly.
“I want you to marry Jack,” Papa spoke slowly, deliberately.
Samantha sat up straighter and tried to make sense of what he was saying. Had he completely lost his mind? Where was this coming from? “What–why?”
“I never told you this,” he spoke with more spirit. “But that man out there saved my life. He’s...different. His kind hasn’t been treated kindly over the years and those that know about him are…” he trailed off into a fit of coughing.
“His kind?” Samantha whispered in case Jack was by the door. “What does that mean?”