by Annie Stone
I look over at her. She’s smiling at me. In a warm way that tells me she’d definitely let me in. I’m a handsome bastard, after all. Women never could say no to me. Except for the one. And she’s the only one I want. God, I’m fucked. And not in a good way.
As we walk out, Devon and Ava quickly say goodbye and leave. So I’m left standing there with Laura, looking down at her. She is nice. And good-looking.
“Are you coming over?” she asks bluntly.
Aren’t those the words every man on this goddamn planet wants to hear, especially coming from a pretty woman? God, what is wrong with me? Something must be broken inside this brain of mine, because I hear myself say: “I can’t.”
She looks hurt but tries to hide it. “Why not? I could tell I was turning you on. And you turn me on, too.”
“I know.”
“So what is it?”
As if it’s not bad enough already, my mouth just goes ahead and tells her, “I’m in love with someone else.”
She smiles a little. “I didn’t know that. Ava didn’t say anything…”
I shrug, not knowing what to tell her. I’ve already gone into more detail than I intended. What a fucked-up situation. Just totally awkward.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Hunter.” She smiles before putting a hand on my arm and firmly looking me in the eye. “I hope it all turns out well for you.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly before I open the door of her car for her and watch her get in. When she’s gone, I call Devon to ask for their address. And when I arrive in a cab, Ava looks shocked.
“Hunter, what on earth is wrong with you?”
“Mac.”
The time with my friends goes by much too quickly—as usual—and on the plane to Panama City, Florida, where the Navy Diving and Salvage Training Center is, I leaf through a magazine. That’s when Mac’s face is suddenly smiling up at me from a glossy page.
For a moment, I’m confused, and then I smile back. She looks stunning. Breath-taking. I read every word of the story, greedily wolfing down every bit of information I can find on her. Once again, I realize she’s under my skin, and she’s not getting out of there any time soon. It would be so much easier if I could just forget about her.
In Florida, I meet up with Killian, who manages to distract me with his laid-back ways. It’s good to have someone like him in my corner. And, together, our time here truly flies.
It only takes thirty-five training days to finish the program. It includes a lot of theory, which I don’t mind—studying has never been difficult for me. But Killian sometimes struggles a little. Still, we don’t meet any serious obstacles in that area. It’s the physical training that really hurts. It pushes me to my limits, but I’m glad for it. For one thing, at the end of each day, I’m simply spent, which I welcome—it means I can’t think. Also, it gives me a taste of what SEAL training is going to be like, giving me the opportunity to think about whether I actually have the strength to go through something like that.
After all, this part has been super intense. Our instructors attacked us underwater, doing things like taking off our masks so we couldn’t breathe. They disoriented us so we didn’t know which way was up and which was down. They made us jump into the water from a helicopter and then pulled us out again so we were dangling in the air secured only to a thin line.
I knew it would be bad. Really. But I had no idea. Not really.
That’s why, when I’m standing next to Killian after passing our last exam, my chest swells with pride. We made it. A program most people would never get through. We got through it. I’m damned proud of myself. And I’m proud of him.
And I’m ecstatic as we head back to San Diego…
8
Mackenzie
I didn’t think this would happen. I really didn’t. But after the fundraising gala, several TV stations, some magazines, and radio stations started spreading my story. I feel a little uncomfortable being the center of so much attention, but it’s useful for the organization. We’ve never gotten so many donations. Not just Free at Last—other similar organizations are reporting record numbers, too. And not only that. Tons of people have offered their help. Volunteers who are just normal, everyday people, but also celebrities who have finally realized how important the subject still is.
I’m thrilled about the attention we’re getting, but not so much about the attention I’m getting. And Carter hates it, even though it doesn’t really affect him since he’s been spending so much time in New York.
And the worst part about that is: I’ve stopped caring.
“Carey!” I call through the house.
“I’m coming!” he yells back, hurrying down the stairs half dressed. “What?”
“Can you zip up my dress?”
“Seriously? That’s why you’re yelling like the house is on fire?”
I shrug. “It worked. You came.”
He zips me up. “Is it really okay if I don’t come today?”
I turn around and look up at him. The giant baby. “It is really okay if you don’t come today.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m not with you on this.”
I put my hand on his arm. “I would never think that.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He smiles before planting a kiss on my cheek. “I love you, doll.”
“I know. I love you, too. You should get going, or you’ll be late for the game.” Carey has tickets to a football game with his friend Jerry, so it’s understandable that he doesn’t want to join me for yet another charity event.
And honestly, he has been there for me so much, has matured so much over the last few months, I can hardly recognize the fifteen-year-old boy I met two years ago. He’s turned into a young man. A young man who makes me proud.
I take a cab to San Diego Woman’s Club, where today’s fundraiser is taking place. I’ve gotten used to standing on stage, and it makes me less nervous than it did a few months ago. But while I’m giving my speech tonight, I feel lonely. Nobody is there to support me. No Carter, no Carey, no…Hunter. Even my colleagues couldn’t make it tonight. And that makes me feel very, very small.
Even I notice my speech is not as inspiring as usual. I can’t really get the crowd involved. This should have been a big night, but I think it’s going to be a flop.
Suddenly, at the edge of the stage, somebody snaps their fingers. The sound is loud inside this huge hall. It distracts me, and even though I don’t mean to, I look over to see where it came from. My breath stops for a moment. My heart starts fluttering—it’s just because I’m so nervous to be on stage, that’s all…
But Hunter’s gala uniform is an impressive sight. He looks tall, with his broad shoulders, and he’s amazingly beautiful. There’s no trace of the boy he once was. I can see a strength, a power that wasn’t there before. His face is still beautiful, but it’s gained something masculine, something more angular that makes him look incredibly hot.
And then he smiles. Just for me.
He makes a movement with his hand like he wants to shoo me away, and for a moment I don’t get it—until I realize I’m standing on a stage, giving a speech, and I’ve just gone silent for probably a minute.
But Hunter is like an apparition before my very eyes.
Tearing my gaze away, I turn back to the audience and continue my speech, not quite sure where I left off. But this time, my speech is completely different. Where it was flat and dull before, it is now buzzing with passion. Where I was unconvincing before, I am all the more convincing now.
He came. He came for me. Are those butterflies? No. Impossible. I mean, I love Carter…
Right?
I finish my speech to a standing ovation and turn toward Hunter to see pride and respect, admiration, and adoration in his eyes. He claps loudest of all, and my smile is only for him.
“Thank you,” my lips silently say.
He gives me a brief nod. I look straight ahead, smiling into the
cameras, eager to see Hunter, to put my arms around him, to thank him for being there for me when we’ve hardly been in touch.
But when I finally get off that stage, I can’t find him anywhere. He’s gone.
After looking around, I come to the obvious conclusion that he left, and even though it’s ridiculous, it breaks my heart.
9
Hunter
On the way back to Coronado, I realize how proud I am of my girl. She’s strong and brave, facing her fears and talking about something she’s still struggling with, just to help others.
Maybe we will never be a couple. Maybe she will never fall in love with me. But I’m happy she’s part of my life. Not loving her would make a lot of things easier for me, sure, but I would also be missing out.
With new determination, I look at the six months lying ahead of me. I’m not taking them lightly. Marine training has pushed me to my limits, but I’m no longer the same person. I’m stronger, physically and mentally. The things about the military that I used to hate, like the constant yelling, have become normal for me. I’ve learned a lot about myself over the past two years, and I know I can do this. The more time I spend as a Marine, the more I realize that this is exactly what I was born to do.
The SEAL training consists of three phases, and once again, Phase One is the toughest. If you can get through it, you can get through the rest, too. Phase One is about physical performance, Phase Two introduces combatant diving—which should be easy for me—and Phase Three is about land warfare. But the very first five weeks are the pre phase, in which we’re introduced to the SEAL lifestyle and the training lying ahead of us. Then Phase One begins.
“He’s trying to kill us,” Killian mumbles beside me.
“Did you say something?” our DI screams behind us.
“Sir, no, sir!” Killian answers as loud as he can.
“A hundred push-ups!” the DI barks.
Killian plops down and starts. A boot kicks my calf. “You, too. A hundred and fifty.”
Everything inside me screams that it’s not fair because I didn’t say a word, but one important quality in military training is team spirit. We are a team. If one person makes a mistake, we all pay for it. So I fall to the ground and push myself up, counting aloud. Reminding myself that it was me who wanted this.
Afterwards, we have to run four miles in our boots carrying our gear. The sun is burning down on us, and our gear is dragging us down, making us heavier and slower, but there’s a guy in front of us, yelling if we don’t obey his every order.
This is not like boot camp, though, because we actually get a few hours of square-away time in the evenings. Allegedly, we’re going to get weekends off, too, but we’ll see.
“Hey, man,” I say as I sit down next to Killian one evening.
“Hey, this letter-writing is not my thing,” he says. He’s been working on a letter to his girl for a while now. “I’d prefer to send her some sexy texts.”
I grin. “But girls like letters.”
“How do you know? Have you written one to Mac yet?”
I shake my head. He’s got me. I don’t actually know, because I’m not writing to Mac or any other girl, and haven’t even had sex in more than two years. Let’s just say my right hand is really sore.
Killian is studying my face, which I think might look a bit morose. Finally, he says, “It’s your business, Hunt, but if you don’t feel good about your situation, change it.”
“I love her.”
“I know, but there’s nothing moving. I’ve known you for two years now, and you haven’t made one bit of progress on that front.”
“At least things haven’t gotten any worse,” I say quietly.
He nods. “But is that good enough for you? You deserve a girl who’s over the moon whenever she sees you. When we get a weekend off, she should be there waiting for you at the gate, jumping into your arms when you get out, pushing her hot pussy against your dick and whispering in your ear that she’s not wearing any panties.”
“Yeah, man, she should!” I punch his shoulder. “But look at you giving me advice. Your girl ain’t here, either.”
“She lives in fucking Texas,” he grumbles.
I laugh. “You love Texas.”
“Not when it’s so far away,” he says. “But that’s my point, see? Your girl could be standing at the gate.” He gives me a somber look.
I scratch my neck. “I just can’t move on to another girl.”
“Why not? It’s abnormal not to fuck around when you’re barely in your twenties.”
I take a few deep breaths. “I feel like I have to earn her.”
He raises his eyebrows. “And earning her means you’re not allowed to fuck anybody else?”
“I want to show her I’m waiting for her.”
“Does she know you’re doing that?”
“No.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to tell her?”
I put my hands on my neck. “She would tell me to go have fun.”
“And that’s exactly what you should be doing, for fuck’s sake!”
I nod. “Yes, but even if she did say that, subconsciously, she’d probably think I’m showing my true dedication to her by not doing it. So I wouldn’t do it. It would make her feel bad. And…you know, I don’t want that.”
“Fuck, man! You’re overthinking this. You’re thinking like you have a pussy. Don’t get me wrong, man, I love pussy, but I wouldn’t want to be one.”
“Hey, ladies,” Donovan calls over to us, “how about some Prosecco to go with your deeply emotional conversation?”
“Fuck you!” I call back.
“Is it true what they say about you, Tilman?” Rivers shouts.
“What do they say about me?” I ask, even though Killian is warning me, shaking his head.
“That you’re still a virgin?”
I shrug. “Why don’t you ask your mom?”
Everybody in the room breaks out in a loud Ooooh! Mom jokes always do the trick.
Rivers gets up and comes at me, gesturing like an angry baboon. “Leave my mom out of this!”
I give him an arrogant grin. “She said something similar before I fucked her four times.”
“You little fuck!” he screams, launching himself at me. But before he reaches me, Donovan has him in a headlock.
“Calm down, man! Don’t let him provoke you,” he says quietly before releasing him.
Shaking his head, Rivers taps my arm. “Last warning, Tilman. Next time, I’m going to kick your ass,” he snarls.
I get up, emphasizing every inch of our height difference. “We’ll see about that, shall we?”
Before Donovan can interfere, Rivers punches toward my face. I dodge it, grab his wrist, and throw him on the floor. Swearing, he climbs to his feet and squares up, preparing to launch another attack.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Killian on standby.
Rivers stands in front of me, breathing heavily. “Somebody needs to teach you fucking Marine assholes some manners.”
“Did he just insult the Corps?” I ask Killian.
“I think so,” Killian says.
I raise my hand, and with one well-aimed punch, I knock Rivers out.
Everybody else in the room stares at me. Rivers is smaller than me, but he’s strong. They don’t take any pussies at BUD/S. Everyone in the room knows the value of my little demonstration here.
Killian and I walk back to our spot in the corner. “I don’t think we have to worry about that asshole anymore,” he grins, adding, “Killer.”
“Did you say something, Texas?” I joke.
He laughs and proceeds to finish his letter. I just sit next to him and think about Mac.
10
Mackenzie
Carter is spending less and less time in San Diego. And whenever he is here, we fight. Every little thing turns into a major argument, and every major argument ends with Hunter.
“I can’t find my cufflinks,” he calls from
the bedroom one night while I’m in the bathroom brushing my teeth.
“Onna dresher,” I mumble, my mouth full of toothpaste.
“They’re not there, for God’s sake. Can you stop moving my things around all the time?”
I keep brushing my teeth and say nothing. No point arguing when he’s in such a bad mood.
“Mackenzie! I’m talking to you!”
I rinse my mouth out before snapping, “I didn’t touch them.”
“But they’re not there!”
I go to the bedroom and look on top of the dresser. “They were here yesterday.”
“And where are they now?”
“I have no idea!”
“I’m sick of this!”
“I didn’t do anything with them!”
“Where are they, then?”
“I don’t know!” That’s how all our conversations go these days. We used to be kind to each other. But now? Once the ugly green monster of jealousy rears its head, you just don’t stand a chance against it, do you?
“Am I responsible for everything?” he screams. “It’s all up to me! Me!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I thought we were partners, but you just expect me to do everything without ever doing anything yourself. I can’t go on like this!”
“What? What have I ever expected from you?”
“Everything! I have to make the money, keep the business going. And what are you doing? Nothing! You’re just living the good life at my expense.”
I’m stunned. How could he say that? None of that is true! Sure, I’m not paying rent, but only because he didn’t want me to. I remember a similar fight starting out of the blue. Lauren…his ex-wife. I bet this has something to do with Lauren.
Besides rage, I can discern something else in his tirade. Pain. For the first time, I get the feeling that he hasn’t gotten over his breakup with Lauren, that he has never processed the fact that his wife cheated on him. “Carter, that’s not fair. I’m not using you. And I’m not cheating on you.”