Hero Hair (The Real SEAL Series Book 2)

by Rachel Robinson

  He seems hesitant to kill my hope. “I don’t know. You would find it heartening if he did, though.”

  Ugh. It was just a trick to gauge my reaction. He writes something else down.

  “Things with Macs were always tedious because we’re the same.”

  He clears his throat. “You were both promiscuous without need for committed relationships?”

  “Just call me a whore, why don’t you?” I smile. “Yes. And that we both wanted the same things to start and when it shifted, we fell in love at the same time. It was hard and all-consuming and I don’t doubt if he never left I’d be talking to him right now instead of you.” I let my gaze flick back to the book on the floor. I pick it up and sit back down. “I’m not the same.”

  He nods. “You’re better every time I see you. Look at the leaps and bounds you’ve made with your father!”

  I shiver.

  I smooth the cover of the book in my hand. “My friend has a book signing. Carina. I’ve mentioned her before to you. It’s local. I think I’ll go to it. It’s walking distance. Down on 4th.” My poor friend is in rough shape as well. Her SEAL hauled off and broke her heart into a million pieces. She was able to have her revenge in the form of a novel. The title is Never Forever, and I’m sure it’s going to be my new favorite story.

  “I think that’s a great idea. You have a clear head and a nice haircut now,” Dr. Rhodes says, nodding at me, laughing. “You should go. It will be a great outing for you. Get some fresh air. You’ll be surprised by how much has changed. Everything is different, but the things that remain the same will be comforting.”

  Immediately I cover my head in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I cut my hair. Macs saw me like that, you know? He made a joke, like it didn’t even bother him. I saw it in his eyes, though. He was terrified of me.” I glance over my shoulder at the window. “He came here after being gone for a month, and I made him fuck me against that window. I was a walking disaster, and he did it anyways because I asked him to. He was scared. That big, muscled SEAL. Hah,” I say, laughing to myself, yet grimacing at the memory. I barely even remember having sex with him. My frame of mind was skewed almost completely.

  “Why do you think he was so scared?”

  “He told me why. He missed and loved his girlfriend and she wasn’t there. It was akin to having sex with a stranger for him. It’s pretty close to the truth to be honest, but it hurts so badly. I know you’re going to ask why, so I’ll just keep going. It hurts because I had multiple opportunities to take him in my arms and tell him I loved him. Macs was waiting. He didn’t just storm off at my first outburst. He took it all, swallowed it, and waited around for more abuse.” This memory hurts the worst.

  “You haven’t spoken to him since he left?”

  I shake my head. “Not even once.” I look down at the pink, worn-out novel.

  “Do you think he knows how you feel now?”

  I meet Dr. Rhodes’ gaze with tears in my eyes. “Of course he knows.”

  He smirks and it’s smug. I swear if he says I see, I’ll knock him out. I may not have all the muscles I used to, but what I lack in biceps I make up for in pure fury. “What’s the worst possible thing that could happen if you told him how you felt? If he already knows, then it’s not new information for him. He’ll shrug it off and he’ll go about his business like he has been. If he’s not aware you’re still in love with him, well, then maybe it would sway his mind about chasing a woman. The very least you can do is apologize to him for the things you said and didn’t mean.”

  It seems crazy. Implausible even. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  Dr. Rhodes laughs. I smile. “I can’t call him out of the blue. I don’t even know if he’s in town. Macs is busy saving the world. Literally.”

  “If he ever loved you at all, Teala, he will make time to listen to you. Perhaps you should email him? As a starter? Test out the waters. The Internet is up and active everywhere again. There’s no reason he wouldn’t receive an email.”

  “Best-case scenario, he agrees to meet with me so I can tell him what an awful person I was and apologize. He’s always going to leave, Dr. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with that.”

  “Leaving is in direct correlation of arriving.”

  “Or coming,” I joke.

  His face reddens, and he twists his short beard in between his forefinger and thumb.

  “I’m joking. I’m joking,” I chide, putting my palms up.

  Dr. Rhodes sighs and scribbles on his tablet. “Anything worth having is worth losing. Sometimes having someone is just as painful as losing someone because of situations like this one. You have to decide what you’re willing to accept and draw the line in the sand. If you can’t handle his career then it may be best if you don’t get in touch with him. Let sleeping dogs lie.” It’s impressive he’s able to recover from my dirty joke so quickly, but he has a sense for my personality by this point in our relationship. How easily he got me to talk about Macs. I can’t even remember how he did it.

  “Have you seen any men since our last visit?” he asks, changing the subject, but not really.

  I walked right into this one.

  ****

  Carina is sitting next to me at my desk. She’s pulled up a cube that functions as a stool or a table.

  “Help me make this sound better than it actually is,” I whine. My head is in my hands as I scan the words in front of me on my screen.

  “I can’t believe you said those things to him. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to bring them up again in this email. Especially because the title of it is, ‘I’m sorry.’ My advice is to glaze over the finer details of what you’re apologizing for, Teala. Focus on the bigger picture and the fact that you feel bad for the things you said when you weren’t feeling yourself,” Carina says, wincing. “I mean, gosh. You are like a man. Letters and emails are the worst things in the world,” she goes on.

  Smith, the SEAL who broke up with her did it by a fucking letter. Don’t get it twisted. It was more of a love letter than a breakup letter, which makes him that much more of an asshole. I don’t tell Carina that, though. She’s just getting out of her house these days, too.

  Life will never be the same after the attacks. I will always watch my back or wonder if the parking garage is too full or if someone is lurking just beyond the corner, waiting to do bad things to good people. It’s a sick feeling, but with it comes a sense of responsibility. The patriotism in our country is at an all-time high. Everyone is helping each other. We’re all in the same boat. Carina endured a bomb that went off at a mall that morning. Thank God she lived and only has small scars as a reminder.

  I hit the delete key and remove the nasty phrases. “I wish I were a writer like you. I bet if you wrote this he’d forgive me.”

  She sighs. “Can’t you call him? I heard they’re in town still. Not for long, though. I was talking to Moose, and they’re leaving on a mission soon. I check in on Smith because I’m a glutton for punishment.”

  I wrinkle my nose and pierce her with an ugly face. “You are, aren’t you? Do you know when they’re leaving?”

  She shakes her head. Carina is the one who brought me his email address. She had to weasel it out of Moose, I guess. I type it into the To: line and take a few deep breaths. “I need to finish this and get down to the studio,” I tell her.

  “You can do hard things, Teala Smart. He wasn’t in the right either. You’re being the bigger person by initiating the conversation.”

  “You sound like my psychiatrist. Are you sure you don’t want to moonlight?” I ask. “Let me read you what I’m sending,” she says.

  Macallister,

  I apologize for being an awful human being. I wasn’t myself, but then again you knew that when you left and never came back to check on me. I don’t fault you for that…too much. I wish things could have been different between us. I’m better these days. I’m back at the studio, my glutes and hammies came back to say hello, I me
t with my father and didn’t kill him, I talk to a mysterious bearded man twice a week about my feelings, and I miss you a lot.

  Not like, I miss you, but don’t come see me, either. I hope you’re well and driving the remaining female population wild with your dimples. Anyways, I’m just apologizing for everything. Blanket apologies are our thing, I suspect. Please be safe wherever your travels take you.

  Love,

  Teala

  Carina sighs. “I like it. It’s direct and to the point. You’ve accomplished your goal. You’re sorry and he knows it.”

  I wonder if he’s sorry about everything that happened.

  I hit send before my nerves cause me to sling my Macbook at the window instead. Once the message is confirmed as sent, I widen my eyes in horror. “What if I want more than to apologize? Was there enough leeway in there for reconciliation? Fuck!”

  “Stop worrying. If he loves you, it won’t matter what you said in there. You reached out. That’s all he’ll need.”

  He doesn’t email me back.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Macs

  I exhale, filling the air around me with a cloud of smoke. It’s a nice bar and a really fucking expensive bar. The suit encasing my body cost five thousand dollars. When I leave here for the night, it will smell like I crawled out of a sewer. She watches my lips and licks her own. Grinning, I inhale another drag.

  “You’re playing tennis tomorrow?” I ask. Casually, I lean back and place my elbows on the bar, praying the bartender wiped down this section.

  She nods, eyes rimmed in thick kohl open wide. She’s fucking putty in my hands.

  “What time?” I ask, leaning toward her on the barstool. “Who are you playing with?” Please fucking answer honestly. Please. I’ve been after this information all week. I ruined my suit for this. Please, Christ, give me what I need.

  I let the scruff on my face brush against her cheek. “I love tennis,” I whisper. “You know that.” Completely in line with my character, I motion for the bartender to bring another round.

  She flutters her eyelashes when I lean away. She’s pretty. In the normal sort of way. Lots of makeup and lots of plastic surgery to make her lips look like they can suck a mean dick. “Doubles,” she says. “My husband and his partner Pierre St. Croix and his wife,” she adds.

  Thank you, Jesus. I could kiss this bitch. The bartender slides us the drinks. Her a martini dirty, me a brown tinged water in a lowball. The bartender knows me. He’s also being paid well to keep his trap shut. I can’t drink while I’m working. On something this important, I wouldn’t dare. She crosses and uncrosses her legs.

  “I wish I could play with you instead,” she says.

  I lick my lips because I know she’s watching. Indifferently, I take out my phone and send the text.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” she asks, running her long nails through her fake blond hair.

  We could fuck right here on the bar and no one would say a thing. It’s one of those places everyone rich and famous goes to have an affair. I saw her damn husband in here last week when she was out with her friends. It’s taken two full months of wining and dining and playing interested to get Pierre’s name from her lips and into my hidden mic. It’s all we need to peg her husband and the dominos will fall perfectly from there.

  He financed the terror attacks—a very large portion of the attacks. He’s big into gun smuggling. The law enforcement have been trying to take him down for years. Dirty money always stays dirty money.

  “I should get going, actually,” I reply, looking at my watch.

  She knits her brows together, and I understand the look. Even though she has so many injectable fillers in her face, it shows no emotion. She’s wary. I might have to fuck her after all. Take one for the goddamn team. Hell, celebrate this victory by fucking his wife. That would have a nice aftertaste, I think.

  “I could probably push the meeting if you really need me,” I say, tilting my head in question.

  She stands from her stool and pulls me to her by jerking the lapels of my jacket. I go. She kisses me, and it tastes awful. Like drunk breath mated with vodka and plaque. I use the least amount of effort when I kiss her back. It’s just enough. She moans into my mouth like a porn star. I roll my eyes. They’re shut, so no one knows. If you’d told me I would be required to act when I became a Navy SEAL, I would have called you a liar.

  Other people may be up for this particular job skills wise, but the people we’re after are dangerous and those same people aren’t up for that aspect of this game. SEALs are. So, here we are, sniffing around suburban housewives with nefarious husbands spread across America.

  I haven’t heard from Teala. Not that it surprises me. Her mom gives me small updates every once in a while and I try not to let them affect me or cloud my judgment. I’ve made the right decision in staying away. She’s getting better, and I can focus on my career. I even tried dating a girl a month or so ago. It got messy because I was also trying to date stank-breath-bomber-husband at the same time and even I have to admit, one chick is more than enough work. It was always going to be halfhearted, because try as I might, my heart beats for Teala. I don’t remember the last time I saw the walls of my own house or felt like myself, or wanted to do anything besides work. It’s in the quiet moments that the fear slips in. It’s terror because I might have made a huge mistake. Fear that I’ll never have that feeling in my chest again.

  I lost myself for a bit there after we broke up. The missions got weirder and my head wasn’t right to begin with, and I was too sad to realize I was better at acting than I was at real life. Obviously I hid my pain well and no one suspects a thing. My parents asked about Teala and it’s the first time I had an honest conversation about what happened. They were concerned for her, and my feelings were pushed to the wayside. It’s all so tedious. If she reached out at all, I know I would run with that shit and I don’t do second chances for anyone or anything.

  “Want me to suck your dick? Let’s go in the back,” Alligator breath rasps into my mouth.

  I shrug, noncommittally. With a quick glance around the room and a nod to the bartender I let her lead me to the back rooms. It’s like a baby whore house. I finish off the cigarette right before she pulls me into the blue room. I started smoking to hide the fact that my breath never tasted like alcohol. I was surprised by how well it worked, if not completely appalled by how quickly I got used to it.

  “Suck it while I’m standing this time,” I command.

  Dropping to her knees, she glances up at me. I hand her a condom, because there is no way I want her tongue anywhere near my actual dick. She rolls it on like a champ and swallows my cock whole. It’s a fumbling mess. I feign disinterest, because that’s her thing and scroll on my phone.

  I’m checking my personal email account when it finally starts to feel good. Delete a few messages. “Ahhhh, yes. Like that.” Junk mail folder. Tap. Teala Smart, Subject: I’m sorry. Another one from Teala, Subject: Disregard my last message, and then another, Subject: You are a cruel man. “FUCK!” I roar. I tap to open the first email so quickly the phone falls out of my hands and lands on the bimbo with a solid thwack.

  She falls back, clutching her forehead.

  “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” I say. I have visions of singing drop it down low, but that would be too much like my real self and right now I have to read the messages. They were from months ago. What have I done? Why didn’t the message hit my inbox? My stomach turns and my head gets light. I zip my pants up and rip the condom off. Grabbing a tissue, I wad the condom up and pocket it.

  “Jesus, Will, what’s up with you tonight?” she asks. Tears of pain fill her eyes and her black makeup starts smearing down her cheeks.

  No. This isn’t good. I stoop to collect my phone.

  “Disinterest is one thing. Being so tied up in whatever is on your phone is offensive.”

  Fuck. I slipped up. Literally and figuratively.

  I cup her cheeks an
d try to wipe away the black streaks. Her head will have a large knot on it. There’s no way around it. She must realize I’m panicked. “I’m clumsy. I fall all the time. Don’t worry. He won’t even notice. Kind of like you not noticing I was giving you the best blowjob of your life.”

  I laugh. “That was not the best blowjob of my life, sweetie. Nice try, though.”

  Her brows knit together. “You’re a dick. Maybe I will tell my husband.”

  I don’t have the heart to tell her a mass of people are heading to his business right now to lock him away…forever. Her too, if they find she had any intel of it. At this point I highly doubt it, but she knows her husband has been up to no good. I just don’t think she knows how destructive he’s been.

  “I have to go.” With the swift goodbye, I leave her on her knees in the blue room.

  I nod at Moose in the corner of the bar as I enter the large smoky space. He smiles widely and stands to join me. We walk outside together and hop into the large white SUV. The teammates in the vehicle cheer and slap our backs as we get in.

  “It was mostly me,” I say, correcting the raucous bunch, flashing a vain grin.

  Moose disagrees and the tone of the vehicle stays elated as we drive away. We’re finished. This job is complete. No knife fights like last time either. Success.

  I sit in the back seat and read the emails from Teala labeled as junk. The first email makes my chest hurt, because I know what comes next.

  Subject: Disregard my last message

  I’m not sure what came over me. I never should have sent the last message. You obviously have no need for my forgiveness, so I never should have offered it. I’m mad at you. Now that I’m far enough away from the situation to see things clearly, I’m pissed as hell. You can’t tell someone you love them and then never come back around regardless of their crazy status. I’ve decided you must have been mistaken. It wasn’t love. It was something else. He’s made me realize no one is irreplaceable. Consider yourself aware of my feelings on the matter.