Matched (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 2)

by Paris Wynters

  Though I can’t agree with her in this moment, I appreciate her words, and just knowing I have my mom behind me gives me a little hope. Even if we disagree on so much, at least I have her in my life. I’m sad for Tony, sad for the burning ash of our relationship, and if I’m being honest, more than a little pissed. How could he let a misunderstanding come between us like that? Wasn’t I worth more to him than that? Yes, I messed up, but I apologized and wanted to work it out. Why didn’t he care enough to try? I could take all the blame, but one thing I learned over the years with Mami is that marriages take two committed partners to work. Me wanting this marriage to work on my own? It’s not enough. And that kills me because we have something special.

  As I walk the mile back to my house, my throat tightens as questions continue to bombard my brain. Especially because I don’t know how to answer any of them. With a huff, I open the door to my place, walk in, and head to the bedroom, where I collapse on the bed. Immediately, the sound of a soft scuffle against the wooden floor fills the space, as Simon’s little feet shuffle down the hallway. What an easy life he must have.

  I groan and cover my face with a pillow as the ache in my chest ratchets up a notch. I don’t know where we stand. Tony claims signing up for the program—and being matched to me—was the biggest mistake he ever made. No matter what, I don’t feel the same way. I haven’t for a long time now. I can only hope that was just his anger talking.

  There’s so much good to Tony. He’s kind, and he’s hilarious and snarky in a way that makes talking to him fun and playful. He’s so helpful, supportive, and willing to learn and grow, both in the bedroom and outside of it.

  There’s also a lot that makes being with him so hard—the exact things that just reared their ugly heads at the park. He’s blocked off his family because he is unwilling to work through his pain. And he even shuts me out. But I’ve fallen hard for him, regardless. Even with all the difficult parts, there’s still a list of things we can work through.

  But no matter how much I’m willing to try, this relationship could fail, just like all the marriages that failed for my mom. That’s why I try to be open, try to communicate. I try to do things that I know will make Tony happy.

  I plop my hands on my face while I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Truth is, I’ve been working so hard to avoid becoming my mother that I haven’t stopped to think about what I want. I’ve only focused on the things I don’t want. I don’t want a failed marriage. I don’t want to be closed off. I don’t want a husband who is like a roommate. But I’ve gotten it all backward.

  I need to focus on what I do want, on what makes me happy. I have been so fixated on not being broken that I haven’t focused on doing what makes me whole. If I spend my life doing things because I’m afraid of failing, then I am not actually living my life at all. I’m just living entirely in fear. And that isn’t okay.

  Everything that happened today was because I ignored what my husband needed and focused on what I believed he needed. How can we have a real relationship if I keep thinking about what I should do dictated by a set of rules that has nothing to do with me and Tony as a couple? We are in this together and have to figure it out together. I can show Tony that I can be the wife he wants and, more importantly, I want to be that person to him. But between how hurt he is and his commanding officer witnessing the blowup, I’m not sure if we’ll ever get the chance to make it up to each other.

  All I know is that my heart demands I at least try.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tony

  I turn the steering wheel and guide the car into the long driveway that leads to what is now no longer my home. I shift into park and cut the engine, my chin dipping and my hands reaching to cradle my face. My heart races and my hands start shaking.

  The whole day had been building to something great. I really did want a life together. Now there’s no way that could ever happen. Not when this stupid program has cost me my dream. I open the driver’s-side door and my feet find the asphalt. I walk up to the house without thinking about where I’m going. The keys are still in my hands and I slide them into the front door lock. I can’t make myself move any faster. I open the door and walk inside.

  Inara greets me right away. “Tony, I’m glad you’re home. Look, I just need to say—”

  I hold up a hand. “I don’t think I can talk about this. It’s been a shit day.”

  “I just want to say that I’m really sorry.” She keeps going and it takes everything in me not to just turn around and leave through the door I just walked in from. “I should have waited until we got home to talk about the fundraiser. And though I was only trying to help, I understand I overstepped and caused you pain.”

  After the meeting with my commanding officer, mentioning the fundraiser is like another defeat slapping me in the face. The empanada-off was such a great experience. I hadn’t cooked those since my mom was around. My chest had ached to share the experience with Inara as soon as she’d mentioned it because I thought it would bring us closer, and it did. After winning and sharing our empanadas with everyone, I was so happy.

  We were happy. And then Inara had to go and ruin it all.

  My legs are heavy, and I have to drag myself down the hallway to the bedroom. Once inside, I bend down and angle my head to see where my duffel bag is beneath the bed. Of course, it’s shoved all the way in the back by the wall, and I have to get on my chest and stretch to reach it.

  Inara’s feet are almost silent as she steps into the room. “Look, I am sorry, Tony. What more do you need?”

  After pulling my bag out, I stand and turn toward my wife. Her arms are crossed in front of her. A part of me regrets the pain this is clearly causing her, too, and the pain that is yet to come. But my mouth is dry and I don’t even know what to say. Instead, I walk over to the closet and start shoving hangers apart, digging around for the clothes I have to take with me to training.

  Inara sits on the bed, just above where my duffel bag is. Instead of acknowledging her, or speaking, I keep focused on packing. I find one of my boots in the bottom of the closet behind all Inara’s bright tennis shoes and high heels. I chuck it over my shoulder toward the bag. I reach for the other one and do the same.

  “You’re not going to even look at me, Tony?”

  “I’m leaving for training.”

  “So, you’re going to leave and not say anything else?”

  I grab shirts and throw them into the duffel, not even bothering to fold them, which will cause wrinkles, but at this point I don’t care. I move over to the dresser and start pulling out briefs, socks, shorts, while Inara just stares at me, her lips barely parted.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I bend down to add the socks to the bag, then stand up and sigh. I have to tell her about the meeting, but on top of everything else and having to leave, it’s like the weight of giant tires stacked up on my back, like any second they will just topple over.

  “Look, I’m out of options. Our fake-turned-real relationship is over.” Not exactly the truth, but she doesn’t need to know they gave the choice to me. Especially since it was a shit choice. I mean, go to counseling and talk about my feelings on the off chance that they’d let me stay in the IPP, while I kiss OCS goodbye? What would be the point? No, better to pack up this charade before anyone gets even more badly hurt.

  My heart twists, but I ignore the pain. I bend down and lift the duffel to toss it on the bed next to Inara. The zipper is tiny in my hand and I pull it with as much force as I can without ripping it off. I swing the bag over my shoulder and move toward the living room, my shoes squeaking as I turn out the bedroom door.

  Inara follows me and when I get near the couch, darts between me and the door, blocking my path. “Sit down,” she says with so much force, my spine automatically stiffens. “Please,” she adds in a softer tone. “I want to know what happened.”

  One glance at her glassy eyes makes me comply. She sits on her knees in front of me and places her hands on my
legs, and I can’t look anywhere but at her big brown eyes. Will this be the last time I gaze into them?

  “So, what does this mean?” Her lips are tight, and the words come out slow.

  “My application to Officer Candidate School has been rejected.” I barely manage to spit out the words. OCS is what I have wanted for years, the big dream I had for myself. I chose to be a SEAL because that’s what seemed right at the time, like something that would pull me out of the pit of depression I’d slipped into. But now I’m ready for more, to be more than just a supporting member of the team. I want to lead and train my fellow SEALS. I’ve been preparing for OCS for years and it was all taken away from me in one afternoon.

  “I’m sorry.” Inara rubs my leg with her hand, her lip quivering as she says the words. She didn’t want things to go like this today, but there’s nothing that can be done now.

  Not for OCS, or this sham of a marriage.

  I grip her hands and lift them off my legs. Her eyes turn downward, and a single tear falls down her cheek. She pulls her hands into her lap and stands, moving away from me. My legs are tense, and I fight the urge to shake them by standing instead. I throw the duffel bag over my shoulder again and walk to the front door. I turn and face Inara one last time before leaving. I take in a deep breath. “You know, I thought we were good, Inara. I really thought we could work as a couple, keep things light and fun. But you had to keep pushing. Put yourself into parts of my life where I didn’t ask you to go.”

  Her lip trembles again. “I don’t even understand what that means, Tony, or why you’re acting this way. This is just a misunderstanding. We can work through it.” Simon crawls on the floor near her feet, and she bends down to pick him up.

  I choke out a harsh laugh. “Work through it? My entire career just went down the drain, the career that was the only thing making me stick to this marriage in the first place. What is there to work through?”

  As I talk, the helpless flood of anger resurfaces, pulsing up through my body and out my mouth. “Look, I tried, Inara. I really did. But you didn’t respect my choices. If I’d wanted you to meet my dad, or make plans with him, or have you anywhere near that part of my life, I would have told you. You have no idea what it’s like to lose a parent, what it does to you. You treated me like a pity case, not a husband—which is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you about my past in the first place.”

  “That’s not true!” Her voice wobbles, but she lifts her chin.

  “It is true. You said so yourself, you want to help heal me. And your landlord let me know that you were in it for the rent.” That isn’t fair, but I’m beyond caring. I’m drained. I just want this torment to end. “I should have known better than to let you get close. It hurts too much when people let you down. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.”

  Inara’s dark eyes flash dangerously and her nostrils flare. “That’s bullshit, and you know it! Do I seem like the kind of person who’d get married just to be able to afford the rent? No, don’t answer that,” she says, holding up a hand. “I can’t be held responsible for the state of your balls if you do.”

  No problem there. I’m too stunned by the vehemence of her sudden outburst to utter a single word as she launches into a full-blown rant. “And I didn’t sign up for this program because I wanted to heal anyone, you jackass. I signed up because I wanted a life partner. Someone I could raise kids and grow old with. You want to know exactly why I signed up? Because I didn’t trust my taste in men after all my mom’s failures, so I figured I’d be better off letting an impartial algorithm pick.” She pauses to blow a curl out of her face and laughs, but it’s a caricature of her usual laugh. A bitter sound that almost makes me flinch. “And yeah, sure, at first, I thought there must have been a massive screwup, matching me to you. But I vowed not to give up, and then I got to know you, the real you, and we had the makings of something real. Something good. Except you’re running away. You might be brave when it comes to missions and gunfire, but when it’s relationships on the line? You, Anthony Martinez, are a damned coward.”

  While I’m reeling from that blow, she throws one last punch. “And for the record, I’ve lost a parent. Multiple, in fact. First my biological dad, then a parade of stepdads over the years. So yeah, I know how much it sucks. But that’s not a good enough reason to close yourself off from everyone.”

  On top of everything else that’s happened, losing my mom is about the last thing I want to think about. I can’t. I can’t do this right now. I’m still so mad. About what my wife did, about my dad, about my career. I need to get the fuck out of here. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight as I walk to the front door and open it. I pause for a second, my hand gripping the doorknob. “I’ve already filled out the annulment paperwork. All you need to do is sign.”

  A choked sob escapes Inara’s lips, and it’s like a surprise kick to my soul. “Don’t do this. Talk to me. Don’t you think we’re worth it?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. For a second, I’m torn. A voice in my head urges me to turn around, gather her in my arms, and tell her hell yes, we’re worth it, and that everything is going to be alright.

  Except, I can’t say those things because it would be a lie. Everything isn’t going to be alright. Not when I’ve already lost my chance at OCS. Not when there’s this aching hole burrowing itself into my chest. Caring about someone doesn’t protect you from the harsh realities of life. In my experience, the exact opposite is true. Caring for someone makes you even more vulnerable to pain.

  My grip on the cold metal doorknob tightens. I’m not a coward, damn her. I’m just being logical. This is all for the best. For me. For Inara. For everyone involved.

  I straighten my shoulders, lift my chin and, without a single look back, walk out of the open door and out of Inara’s life.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Inara

  I can’t believe he left me. Just like Mami did to her husbands. Just like so many stepdads over the years. Tony walked out two weeks ago and I’m barely holding myself together. My mind is no longer my own. My thoughts float by like clouds that drift along in the sky above a beach. I am numb to everything. I held on to a sliver of hope for a short time until the annulment paperwork arrived a few days after he left, reality finally hitting me.

  It’s a Wednesday afternoon. I’ve only been at work for three hours, and already I’ve been here way too long. I am supposed to be focusing on the new menu we are implementing at Shaken & Stirred, but every time I sit down to study it, my brain fogs up. I even tried to go back to kickboxing. It helped for the one hour I was there, but then as soon as I left. I was back to wandering around aimlessly.

  Taya walks up to me and puts her arm around me. She whips her phone out of her pocket and shows me the new paint job she’s added to her motorcycle. She talks quick and her smile is wide. Her eyes light up. I can’t bring myself to be excited for her even though I know she wants me to be. Taya pulls me in closer. “Hey, you doing okay?”

  “I don’t really know how I’m doing right now. I’m just so out of it.” I look down at my hostess stand and I start wiping down the same menus I cleaned an hour ago.

  “I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks for you. Why don’t we go out tonight? You and I are off at the same time, and I know how much you love Karaoke Wednesday. What do you say?” Taya’s eyebrows are raised and her eyes look hopeful.

  I want to say No thanks, I’d rather be at home. But she is my best friend and is only trying to help. Every time we work the same shift since Tony left, she is up here at the hostess stand as much as possible. She brings me little snacks to make sure I’m eating, and she shows me videos of motorcycle riders and cute Comic-Con outfits. She is doing everything she can to distract me, and I’ve been a terrible friend by being barely responsive.

  “I’m not up to it . . .” I start to say.

  Her face droops and her smile fades. “That’s okay, I get it—”

  “But I’ll put on my big-gir
l panties and do it. Because we haven’t had a duet in too long, and we could use a girls’ night.” I snort at the idea of us standing up on stage singing and dancing, enjoying the night without any guy drama.

  Taya starts jumping up and down while she claps her hands together. “Yes! I am so looking forward to it.”

  We are interrupted by a couple who come in and need to be seated. I take them to a table in the back with an ocean view, then spend the rest of my shift rolling utensils in linens and wiping the same menus over and over again between seating guests. There haven’t been too many to distract me and I find myself, for once, wishing it was a Saturday night so it would be busy. At least then my mind would be distracted. By the time Taya and I are ready to clock out, I start regretting agreeing to karaoke. Singing is the one thing that brings me joy and peace, but my heart isn’t in it.

  “Ready?” Taya asks, her grin so wide all her teeth are showing.

  I can’t bear to let her down. Not to mention, she’s probably lonely with Jim gone too. I owe it to her to go out. And focusing on her might help bring me out of my own head. “Let’s go, chica.”

  We walk out the restaurant door and I fumble in my bag, looking for my favorite plum lipstick because, whenever I wear it, I feel like I’m glowing. Once I’m in the car, I slide the lipstick over my lips and double-check how I look in the mirror. My eyes look swollen from days of tears and lack of sleep. I pat them with my finger and try to bring myself back to the moment. My hands clench the steering wheel and it’s as if my body wants to pull me back home, so I move one step at a time. Put the car in drive. Steer my way to the bar. Get out of the car. Walk inside. Soon enough I can go back to the depths of my despair.

  The bar is packed for a Wednesday night since it’s one of the best karaoke nights around. I haven’t gone to this place in a while. The neon lights shine on my body like a welcome home. Marge already saved a bar table for us all. She holds up a glass of red wine as if it’s an offering to convince me to walk all the way over there.