A SEAL's Heart

by Winter, Nikki

  Kamilah was gesturing wildly to her but Zuly waved her off.

  Her eyes closed. “Fitz, sweetheart, have you been drinking?”

  “Just a leetle, teenie, tiny, bit.” He snorted. “Teenie is a funny word.”

  Zuly bit the inside of her cheek. “Where are you, baby?”

  “Uhh...” There was movement--the rustle of sheets if she was guessing right. “I dunno.” He sighed. “I...I think it’s a hotel.” A pause. “A really big hotel...like...one of the nice ones. The...the manager is really...really nice. He uh...he gave me a free stay when I told him I used to be a SEAL.” Fitz chuckled but it was humorless. “He didn’t care that I’m damaged.”

  She opened her eyes to find Kamilah setting a piece of paper and a pen on the table. “Which one, Fitz?”

  His exhale was hard. “I shouldn’t tell you...” he said softly. “I should...should leave you alone. But you told me. You said...you said to call when I need you.” Fitz’s tone went low, sad. “I need you, Z. I need you bad.”

  Zuly swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know you do. But you have to tell me which hotel it is so I can come find you, okay?”

  “Okay,” Fitz whispered. “If I tell you...you’ll come, right? You...you won’t be angry with me? Like Riley?”

  The despondency in his voice broke her heart.

  “No, baby. I won’t be angry. Not like Riley. I promise.”

  ***

  “Zuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuly!”

  Zuly’s eyes crossed as he swung the heavy wood open to his suite, leaning against the jamb with a crooked grin, his face flushed, eyes glassy.

  “Hiya, pretty lady.”

  “Handle with care, Z or you both could end up hurt.”

  Zuly kept Kamilah’s warning in mind. Fitz had been given a suite at a five-star hotel just inside White Sulphur Springs, hours away from home. She stopped, wondering if she should’ve called someone else to come here, wondering what might or might not happen once she got on the other side of the door.

  She knew Fitz would never hurt her, at least not intentionally, but what if she was wrong? What if something happened here that couldn’t be taken back?

  “C’mere.” He reached out and tugged her across the threshold, his movements sloppy and slow as he managed to get her into his arms. “You smell good.”

  She wrapped her own arms around him just as tightly. “And you smell like a distillery.”

  Pulling back, he frowned down at her. “That’s not...not nice.”

  Zuly sighed, patted his back. “I’m sorry.”

  Swaying back and forth, he started humming a little. “Don’t be mad, okay?”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, she nodded. “Okay.”

  Fitz let her go and wobbled over to the sitting area where the coffee table was lined with empty bottles. He reached for some of them. “I wanted to clean up before you got here.” His hands missed every attempt to pick up the trash. “But nothing works like its s’posed to right now.” Standing straight, he waved his hands in front of his face, flexing his fingers back and forth like a toddler discovering something new.

  Obviously frustrated, he let them drop to his sides, his shoulders slumping. “I fucked up.”

  She leaned against the wall and silently watched him flop down on one of the couches.

  “I fucked up sooo bad,” Fitz continued, lying on his back, eyes toward the ceiling. He glanced at her. “You don’t love me anymore, do you?” Waving his arms, he said, “I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t love me anymore.”

  “I’ll always love you, Fitz. That’ll never change.” Zuly walked toward him. “But, sweetheart, you need help.” She took a seat near his legs. “You need to see a counselor.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “No. No counselor. I don’t need a fucking counselor.”

  “You do.”

  Fitz looked to her, eyes wide. “All I need is you...”

  Jesus.

  He sat up on his elbows and intertwined their fingers. “That’s all I’ve ever needed.” Rubbing the back of her hand against his face, where his beard had begun to regrow, he added. “My sweet Zuly. All mine.”

  She swallowed, whispering, “I can do a lot of things, but I can’t make your PTSD disappear, baby.

  Crystalline eyes open now, he glared at her as he let go of her hand. “You think something’s wrong with me.”

  “No,” Zuly said slowly. “I think you’re hurt and you need to see someone.”

  Fitz turned over, away from her. “No help.” He mumbled, voice beginning to sound farther and farther away. “Just you...always you...”

  Rubbing her temples, Zuly started to stand but his hand shot out to stop her. “Where’re you going?”

  “To clean up.”

  “Unh-unh.” Turning back toward her, he pulled until she lay between his thighs, resting against his chest. “Stay right here...with me...”

  “Fitz–”

  “Shh,” he hushed her. “Just for a little bit?” Pressing his face to her hair, he dropped his tone to a murmur. “Need to feel something other than sad...”

  Hot moisture pricked her eyes. God, she hadn’t cried this much or this often since the nickname Bush head had come along and stuck as a kid.

  Zuly settled into his embrace until she was comfortable. “Just for a little bit...”

  Chapter Seven

  If the good Lord truly loved him as he said he did, he’d spare Fitz and bring him through the pearly gates now. Like right now. What the fuck had he been thinking? Why in the name of all that was sweet and holy had he figured a drinking binge would fix his life?

  “God,” Fitz rasped in a whisper as he slowly lifted one hand to cover his eyes, praying he’d never have to experience sunlight again. “I solemnly swear–”

  “You might as well stop, Fitz, because right about now your promises mean shit.”

  Zuly? Oh, God, Zuly!

  Jerking upwards, his eyes squinted on the figure sitting on the far side of the room and realized it was nowhere near daylight out but that she had all the lights turned on in his suite. His suite that was now spotless...

  She didn’t even lift her head from the magazine in her hands, just turned the pages with an easy demeanor that completely belied the frustration rolling off her.

  “Z–”

  “Do you really wanna do this now?” Zuly questioned, cutting in calmly. “Right now?” Those pages kept turning.

  He didn’t know what bothered him more--the fact she wouldn’t look at him or the fact her voice had yet to surpass a whisper. Standing, Fitz pushed his hair back from his forehead before scratching his jaw. “How long have I, uh...” He gestured to the couch.

  “Not that long.” She answered his incomplete question. “About six hours at the most.”

  He nodded, awkwardly searching for his next words. Where did he go from here? He’d confessed the one thing he’d been holding onto for years, and then he disappeared just to end up calling her to clean up his shit. How had she not slit his throat and dumped him by now?

  Nights ago, he’d walked until he was tired, until the sound of his brother crashing through his parents’ coffee table had been enough to drive him to the brink of insanity. Calling a cabbie had been his only option because he could not go home and he couldn’t call Zuly. Or at least he felt like he couldn’t. Leaving town to escape his family was a sensible option at the time, and when he’d checked in at the hotel he hadn’t expected the manager–a fellow veteran–to comp his room for a week-long stay, but it had been much appreciated. The first day went by without him touching a drink. As did the second day. By the third, he called himself all kinds of coward as he found a corner store and hauled back a case of beer along with Jack and vodka.

  Inevitably guilt from breaking his promise began to gnaw at him. Guilt from his family’s pain. Guilt from the look on Zuly’s face when he left her. What could he do but call? He should’ve known she’d come. She always came.

  “You may want to showe
r,” Zuly suggested mildly as she stood and set down that magazine. “Housekeeping brought by fresh toiletries, and room service should be up with dinner in a bit.” Walking past him as though he weren’t there, she grabbed her jacket and bag. “Ordered something light for you since I wasn’t exactly sure what your stomach may or may not be able to handle.”

  She reached the door, opening it, and Fitz moved as fast as possible to close it, pinning her between himself and the heavy wood. “Stay.” It wasn’t a request. Couldn’t have even been called a plea. But something instinctively told him that if he let Zuly walk away from him again, things would change forever in a way that would break his already fractured spirit.

  “Give me a reason,” she whispered. “Give me a good reason.”

  He dropped his forehead to her hair and did something he swore he would never do. Fitz admitted the truth. “I need you.”

  Silence.

  “I need you, Zuly. I can’t help but to feel like something precious is slipping through my fingers right now, and I’m trying to grasp it so if you love me at all–”

  “If I love you?”

  So that had been the wrong thing to say if the low growl that left her was any indication.

  “Fitzgerald Carrigan, I stand on the rock of my Lord and Savior when I say I am keeping my composure by a miniscule thread, baby,” Zuly continued. “A thread so thin the Fates would only have to pluck it to watch it break.”

  A reaction. He was getting a reaction. Good.

  “Love, I am more than willing to take total and complete responsibility for that. I am more than willing to say I am one fucked-up individual right now and that I owe not only my brothers but my parents and you an apology. But what I’m not more than willing to do is sit back and allow you to walk out this door. My heart can’t take that, Z. So this is me”--he backed away from her, lowering himself onto his good knee--“begging you to give a dying man another chance. I fully acknowledge that I need help. I need a counselor. I need you. If you step away from me...I really don’t know how I’ll be able to fix this.” When she slowly turned, he wrapped his arms around her torso and pressed his face to the soft warmth of her belly, remembering the feel of her in his arms right before he’d drifted off into his first dreamless sleep in months. “Don’t leave me,” Fitz murmured.

  They’d stood there like that for what felt like hours when gentle hands finally combed through his hair, nails raking against his scalp in a comforting caress that sent a shiver down his spine.

  “I wasn’t leaving you, Fitz,” Zuly murmured back. “It’s impossible for me to leave you, in case you haven’t noticed yet.” She cupped his face, making him stare up at her. Brushing his locks back, she added, “I just needed to scare the shit out of you so you’d see reason.”

  Fitz’s mouth curled up on the sides at the same time as her own. Then a snort slipped past his lips before a chuckle rumbled up from his chest and rolled out. Zuly squealed as he pulled her to the floor, the both of them landing in a tangle with her on top of his outstretched body.

  He ran his fingers down her sides. “That was mean, Z. Really mean.”

  She gasped for breath, laughing. “But so fucking necessary, you drama queen!”

  “Hey, hey, hey!” He popped her on the ass and grinned when she yelped. “There is nothing feminine about this beautiful hunk of man meat you have beneath you.”

  Zuly blinked. “This conversation ended the moment you decided to use the words man meat in a sentence.” Rolling off him, she stood and lent him her hands. “Go shower.”

  Lips twitching, he started in that direction before pausing and asking, “Wanna come scrub my back?”

  “Oh, no, sir. We’re still on the subject of you confessing your undying love for me, wandering off into a completely different city, drinking yourself into possibly needing a new liver and then drunkenly calling me.”

  “So is that a no or...”

  “Fitz. Gerald.”

  Wincing, he walked toward the bathroom. “I know that tone.”

  “Damn right you do.”

  ***

  “You just saved me from possibly getting commandeered. I’m not quite sure if I’m grateful or disappointed,” Gabriela stated as she answered her phone.

  Zuly snorted as she placed their food on the small dinette table in the suite and waited for Fitz to come out of the bathroom. “I found Fitz.”

  There was a pause, then what sounded like a door closing. “Is he all right?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Zuly replied. “He was drinking, though.”

  Gabriela’s sigh was heartfelt. “He needs a counselor.”

  “We’ve come to that conclusion.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “How’s Riley?”

  The other woman chuckled. “Sulking.”

  “You know Fitz would never–”

  “Stop,” Gabriela cut in. “Riley got exactly what he deserved for being a tactless dick in front of everyone and he knows it–which is why he’s been climbing the walls for the last few days. My wonderful husband is a lot more sensitive than he looks. He won’t say it but he’s worried. He was always worried.”

  “They need to talk.”

  “In a room without breakable shit.”

  Zuly’s lips curled. “With foam bats and Oprah playing in the background.”

  “And a possible cameo from Iyanla.”

  Laughing softly now, Gabriela added, “Reality dictates that the most they’ll do is grunt at each other in that extremely awkward way, shrug then go sit down to watch something that involves more grunting and awkward shrugging.”

  “Because neither have any idea what to do with actual emotions.”

  “I think we should sort of be grateful for that.”

  Zuly grimaced as she thought about the damage done to the Carrigans’ coffee table. “We really should.”

  “Where’s he at now?”

  She cut her eyes toward the bedroom. “Hotel suite shower.”

  Silence descended and then, “Zuly...sweetheart...my love...I think your vagina needs to be checked for malfunctions.”

  Pulling the phone away from her ear, Zuly stared down at it. “And this conversation just took a turn for the worse.”

  “Pumpkin, if you’re on the phone with me instead of playing Sacagawea all over Fitz’s Lewis and Clark...something is terribly wrong here.”

  “I’m...I’m hanging up now,” Zuly said softly. “Because we can’t be friends anymore.”

  “Are you breaking up with me because you’re bi-curious? Is my loving not enough for you?”

  “I simply refuse to continue this. Good day, ma’am.”

  “But Zuly–”

  “I said good day!” With that she hung up, laughing hard enough to draw a curious stare from Fitz as he finally emerged from the bathroom in a robe, hair wet and curling around his nape.

  Humina humina...

  “Please tell me your amusement doesn’t have to do with the fact that I may or may not find videos of myself naked, wet, and singing on the Internet,” he said, moving slowly toward the small dinette table to sit.

  “On the Internet? No,” Zuly answered. “On one of my many electronic devices? Mebbe...”

  Smirking, he sat back and that damn robe spread, distracting her with all the naked, hard flesh in between. They should be talking, analyzing, working things out, and figuring out the next step. Logic. They needed logic. They did not need Zuly carrying out all her adolescent fantasies on him, involving unholy acts. They hadn’t even gotten past his not-so-small confession. Or the fact she hadn’t said a word about it.

  Or that goddamn kiss! So no, there wouldn’t be any fucking Fitz on the table. Not today--not when she was trying to remain a rational, level-headed individual.

  “Zuly.”

  She was not looking up from her plate. No. Wasn’t gonna happen. Her eyes were exactly where they needed to be–down. And her mind was focused on the goodness of the Lord. So yeah. She was staying out of trou
ble here.

  “Zuly, baby, look at me.”

  Why’d he have to do that? Why’d he have to go into SEAL mode where he simply handed out a command and made it sound like her life was dependent on her obedience? Why’d that tone of voice send a pulse thumping in her clit that she could’ve sworn could be heard?

  Zuly lifted her head slowly, met those incredibly blue eyes and felt lost.

  Fitz pushed his seat back, parted his legs in a move that made her mouth go dry and simply said, “Come. Here.”

  Her body moved on his command instead of her own, the low words sending her to her feet and toward him in seconds. When he reached up to pull her down into straddling his lap she knew trouble was most assuredly in her future, and in that moment Zuly found herself thinking, “Why in the name of all that is holy and righteous have I not done this before?”

  Chapter Eight

  Why in the name of all that is holy and righteous have I not done this before? Fitz’s hands smoothed up the skirt of Zuly’s sundress, his palms connecting with the bare, buttery skin of her thighs as she came to rest on his lap. The moment the swell of her ass met his groin, his eyes closed. There was something about the curves on a woman’s body that left Fitz breathless. Correction. There was something about the curves on Zuly’s body that left Fitz breathless.

  She’d remained soft in all the right places over time. Her athletic build from years of swimming and hiking had slowly rounded out in a way that caused the sway of her hips to become more pronounced. The rise of her breasts noticeable as she inhaled. The round firmness of her buttocks lust-inspiring. Every part of her made him ache.

  His fingertips danced along her uncovered flesh as he slowly made his way around to the ass he’d been watching from the moment he was old enough to understand what arousal was.

  “You’re thinking entirely too hard about something that comes as naturally as breathing to me,” Fitz said, placing his forehead to her collarbone. “I’ve wanted you since I began to truly understand what want was. And if you’re not aware by now that you belong to me–mind, body, and spirit–obviously I’m doing something wrong here, baby.”