SEAL Dearest (Navy SEAL Brotherhood Romance Love Story)

by Ivy Jordan

  “Everyone deserves to go out with dignity,” she said just before hanging up.

  I thought about her statement, and it brought tears to my eyes. My father was very proud and had always been. As a man, a husband, a father, and a soldier, he was proud. He deserved to handle his life, and his death, in his own way. It hurt to make the call, to admit that the end was near, but I knew it was selfish to push treatments on him that were only making him sick.

  Stage four cancer had beaten him nearly to a pulp. Without the treatment and the sickness that came with it, he was regaining control of his mind once again, his energy level was growing, and he was happier, more himself. I hated seeing him lay in bed all day and night, only turning him to avoid bed rashes. He did deserve his dignity.

  I walked into the house, straight into his room, just to tell him I loved him, and I understood. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t upset, that my sadness was only for what was to come, but I was happy about the days we’d spend together with him alert, feeling more like himself.

  “There you are,” he smiled as I entered his room.

  He was sitting on the edge of his bed with clean pajamas and clean sheets. His day nurse left while I was on the phone. She had already bathed him and cleaned up his room.

  “You look nice,” I complimented, and sat on the bed beside him.

  “You had a phone call,” he reported.

  “Shit. I promised Lila I would call her, and I forgot,” I sighed.

  “Xander Landry,” he said calmly, avoiding the lecture about my language.

  My heart raced. Xander called?

  “What did he say?” I chirped, unable to hide my eagerness.

  My dad reached his hand across my lap, taking mine in his. His skin was soft and loose, but he squeezed with a tight grip.

  “He just wanted to check on you. He sounds like a very nice man,” my dad noted.

  “He is very nice,” I admitted.

  “Very good manners, and he asked about me,” he continued.

  The thought of Xander talking to my dad warmed my heart. I wished they could’ve met. I knew my dad would love Xander, and Xander would love my dad.

  “I thought it was very nice that he checked on you,” he smiled. “He said he found you on the path,” he went on.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  I knew my dad hadn’t been very alert when I arrived home, so any details were probably fuzzy.

  “I was hiking when the storm hit, and I slipped and fell on the mountain side not far from his cabin,” I explained.

  “He lives on the mountain?” my dad questioned.

  “Yes, on top of the mountain,” I chuckled.

  “I didn’t think there were any houses up there,” he gasped.

  “There isn’t, just the one. It’s an old hunting cabin I believe,” I said.

  “What on earth is he doing out there all alone in this weather? He a hunter?” he pushed.

  “No, he’s was a soldier, like you were. He prefers to be alone,” I revealed.

  “I see,” he sighed, releasing his grip on my hand.

  He pushed himself back on the bed, propping up on the pillows behind him. He still hadn’t regained all of his energy, and he probably never would, but we hoped for it to get better before it got worse. The bath and the bed change always wore him out, so it was obvious he wanted to rest.

  “I’ll let you get some sleep. I just wanted to tell you I love you and that I understand your decision,” I smiled.

  “Good girl,” he grinned.

  “Your hospice nurse’s name is Joy. She will be here in the morning,” I added.

  “Good. So, this Xander, does he have a problem being around people?” my dad asked.

  I found it odd that he was so interested in a man he’d only spoken to once.

  “Yes. He has bad nightmares, and he doesn’t feel comfortable around people,” I told him.

  “PTSD. A lot of the boys came home with that. It’s a serious disorder that gets a bad rap,” he sighed.

  “Yes. He said PTSD, that’s what he called it,” I agreed.

  “You were up there with him a long time,” he noted.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “So you must’ve meant something to him for him to call and check on you,” he insinuated.

  I sighed. Maybe I did mean more to Xander than he was ready to admit.

  “The way your eyes lit up when I mentioned his name, he obviously meant something to you too,” he pointed out.

  Tears started to stream down my face as I struggled for a response. Xander did mean a lot to me, a whole lot. My heart had done nothing but ache for him since I left that mountainside. I was happy to be home, to be here with my dad, but it killed me to leave Xander on that mountain.

  “Why don’t you go to him?” he asked.

  “I have a life here, with you, the kids at school, with Lila,” I explained, wiping my tears.

  “I won’t be here long, dear. My life was with your mother. After she left, I just went through the motions. I can’t wait to get back to her, in her arms. Love is what it’s all about,” he smiled.

  I watched as his eyes welled up with tears. They were filled with joy and admiration as he looked upward towards the ceiling. I knew he missed her terribly and had all these years. I hated that he was alone, but now I see, he never really was alone; he had her in his heart and on his mind all the time. She was always with him.

  “I’m not sure we could ever work,” I sighed.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “His PTSD. I can’t live on a mountain and seclude myself from the world, and even though I gave him an ultimatum to come with me, he refused,” I explained.

  My dad’s eyes narrowed on mine. “Oh, you can’t give him an ultimatum,” he growled.

  “If he truly did care for me as much as he said, he would’ve at least tried to come with me,” I whined.

  My dad chuckled and then grabbed my hand. He squeezed it tightly and let out a long sigh. “You have no idea the turmoil and chaos that is in that man’s mind. He doesn’t think he can be loved, he is too busy beating himself up for things he saw, he done, or things he didn’t do,” he said sternly.

  “His nightmares went away with me there, when he held me at night,” I gushed.

  “That doesn’t mean they won’t come back, and that doesn’t mean that the rest of his life is in order. Sleeping is only part of the problem. He still has the rest of the day to try and calm his mind,” he explained.

  I started to understand that I was pushing Xander, and it was selfish. He had no option but to refuse, no matter how he felt about me.

  “The fact that he let you into his world means a lot, and if he shared his stories and his life with you, just know, it’s not even scratching the surface. There is so much more that he carries, things he’s told no one, and may never tell anyone, not even you,” he sighed.

  Tears fell down my face as my dad’s eyes started to close. He was exhausted from his day. I wanted to ask him more, to hear his own stories that he’d never told anyone, maybe not even Mom, but I knew he needed his rest.

  “If you love him, go to him,” he mumbled before he fell asleep.

  I gripped his hand tightly in mine and laid my head on his chest. I cried there for almost an hour, thinking about Xander while listening to my father’s heartbeat. The two things I knew I loved, but couldn’t keep in my life.

  I wanted to take my dad’s advice, to run to Xander, but I was scared.

  I shut off the bedroom light, leaving my dad to sleep in peace. In my bedroom, I fell on my bed, opened my phone, and started researching PTSD. I’d heard the term and was very familiar with what it was in general, but I never had a reason to try and understand it until now.

  I wanted to know everything, to understand everything. If I was to run to Xander, I had to know what I was in for and if he was capable of loving me back.

  The thousands of pages filled with information were overwhelming and not as helpful
as I expected. I stumbled onto a forum where men and women discussed PTSD, not only about their own disorder, but that of their loved ones. It was amazing to read all the people who shared their lives with someone who suffered from the disorder. The words were inspiring, and the message clear: someone with PTSD was more than capable of loving. In fact, most of the victims of the disorder had one thing other than war in common: they all had huge hearts.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Xander

  “Wow, you look great,” Liam boasted.

  I was shocked to see him again. After the way I’d acted, I really didn’t expect that he would return, or at least not so soon.

  “What are you doing here?” I gasped.

  “Well, that’s a nice fuckin’ welcome back,” he snorted.

  I was really glad to see him. It was a lot harder to be alone after Bailey left than I’d expected.

  “I’m glad you’re back, brother,” I patted him on the shoulder, offering a quick smile.

  “I brought some supplies,” he grinned, slamming the large back pack from his shoulder to the counter.

  I watched as he unloaded the pack. My mouth started to water as he pulled out fresh bacon, eggs, bread, lunchmeat, and a new jar of mayonnaise. Being away from town this long was unusual for me, but I just couldn’t bring myself to make the trip, not with Bailey down there.

  “Oh, and for dinner,” he pulled out a pack of thick steaks, slapping them down on the counter.

  “Hell yeah,” I beamed, still shocked by his kind nature. “I’m sorry I was such a bear,” I admitted.

  Liam shook his head as he pulled out a bottle of my grandfather’s whiskey from the bottom of his pack.

  “I figured I should replace this,” he chuckled.

  My grin widened as I reached for two glasses.

  “I’ll make breakfast, you pour us a glass,” I smirked.

  I turned on my griddle, thankful that I had electricity once again, and opened the bacon. Liam poured our drinks, pushed a glass towards me, and then raised his in the air for a toast.

  “To brothers, to love, and to loving your brothers,” he sloshed.

  I tipped my glass to his, took a long swig of the sweet, smoky whiskey, and started slapping slices of bacon on the hot pan.

  “How’ve you been?” he questioned.

  “It’s been rough,” I confessed.

  “Any word from Bailey?” he pushed.

  “I called, talked to her dad, but she wasn’t home,” I sighed.

  “You called?” His eyes widened.

  I knew he was shocked that I made the move. I was shocked that I’d made it.

  “You gonna go see her?” Liam asked.

  I shrugged.

  I picked up a fork and carefully turned the bacon, letting it brown on each side. I moved the pieces of meat around the griddle, wanting more than anything to avoid his conversation.

  “Why not?” he urged.

  “Her dad said she was happy to be home, and I don’t want to cause her any stress,” I sighed.

  “Happy to be home doesn’t mean happy,” Liam pointed out.

  I wasn’t sure I saw the difference. She was happy. That was all that mattered. I’d get over the feeling of emptiness, and I’d go back to my life out here on the mountainside. Maybe I’d go back to Molokai or find another cabin on some other mountain.

  “I just want to move on,” I exhaled.

  I pulled the bacon from the griddle, placing it on a plate lined with paper towels to sop up the grease. It smelled amazing, and I was ready to eat and ready to stop talking about Bailey.

  “I met a girl last year,” Liam said softly.

  My eyes moved to his, suddenly interested in what he had to say. He never told me about a girl.

  “She was amazing,” Liam sighed, his eyes squinting as if he were remembering her as he spoke.

  “You never mentioned that,” I smirked at my friend.

  “Because I ruined it,” he said sternly, his eyes dark and serious.

  I broke the eggs over the griddle, letting the yolk flop to the surface and the whites spread out around them in a not-so-perfect circle.

  “Grab a couple plates,” I instructed Liam.

  I didn’t want to push for details, but I was curious. He was still in another world, his eyes drifting upward, and his mind obviously preoccupied. My request snapped him out of his trance for a moment, long enough for him to pull two plates down from the top shelf.

  I slid the spatula under the eggs one by one and flipped them like an expert line cook. I’d made enough eggs in the military for my SEAL brothers that I knew my way around a spatula.

  “You’ll make some woman a good bitch one day,” Tommy used to say.

  Damn, I miss that kid.

  I slid two eggs on one plate and two on another. I grabbed a few slices of bacon for each, and then pushed one towards Liam.

  “Let’s eat outside,” I suggested, grabbing my plate and heading towards the door.

  Liam followed me, still off in deep thought about whoever this woman had been.

  “So, are you gonna tell me how you ruined it?” I finally asked.

  We sat down at the picnic table outside. It needed work, but it was good enough for now. I found a spot on the seat that didn’t have chunks of wood missing from it, and waited for Liam to sit down before expecting a response.

  He played with his eggs, sliding the fork tines through the yolk and spreading yellow goo over his plate.

  “I didn’t think I was good enough for her,” he admitted.

  I bit into the bacon. Holy hell, that’s good. Better than coyote.

  “You’re good enough for anyone, brother. The girl should’ve been lucky to have you in her life,” I boasted.

  “She thought I was good enough. It was me that had the issue,” he corrected.

  I watched him struggle across the table. He was always so confident, so strong, it was odd to see him weak and unsure of himself.

  “I wouldn’t open up to her. I didn’t want her to think I was weak or that I was broken, so I never told her about the nightmares. I wouldn’t stay the night with her, and she thought it was because I didn’t want to commit to her, that it was her,” he went on.

  “I understand that,” I nodded.

  “She confronted me, demanded I explain why I wouldn’t stay, and I froze. I just fuckin froze. I loved this girl, I truly loved her, but I couldn’t let go of my pride to fuckin’ talk to her. I let her walk away, giving her no explanation, and no assurance that it wasn’t her. It was easier for me to let her believe she was the problem, for me to believe she was the problem, than it was to admit I had one and thay I needed help,” he continued.

  This wasn’t the type of conversation I was used to having with one of my brothers, with Liam, with anyone. I wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “So, where is she now?” I finally asked.

  “She’s engaged to be married, happy,” he sighed.

  I could see the pain in his eyes and feel the pain in his heart. I wanted to reach out and hug him, to tell him she wasn’t worth it, but it was obvious she had been.

  “I started talking to someone after that,” he gulped.

  “Talking to someone?” I questioned curiously.

  “Yes. A counselor, and it’s really helped,” he admitted.

  “Good,” I offered, shoving a large bite of egg into my mouth.

  I could feel the direction of the conversation turning from him to me, and I wasn’t in the mood.

  “You should try it,” he pushed.

  Here we go. Fuck no.

  “I’m good,” I chuckled.

  “Are ya?” he teased.

  I knew I wasn’t, at least not right now, but that would pass, eventually.

  “I’m serious, Xander. If you truly want to make things work with Bailey, you need to work this out,” he insisted.

  “I’ve already accepted there isn’t anything to work out,” I sighed.

  Liam’s e
yes narrowed as he stared at me with disbelief. He knew I was full of shit. Hell, I knew I was too. I wouldn’t have called if I thought I could just let her go. All those letters, the dreams, the constant glances of the pictures of her on my phone, it was obvious I was in deep.

  “I just want you to know, I’m here to help you, and if you truly want to make this happen, we can make it happen,” he claimed.

  He made it all sound so simple. It wasn’t. There wasn’t anything about my life that was simple. Bailey didn’t need that complication in her world.

  “You’re willing to just lose her?” Liam questioned.

  “Like you said, I may have never had her,” I snorted.

  “I was protecting you, but I was wrong. You can’t hide from love, from life, you have to learn to embrace it, live it,” he chanted.

  I picked up my empty plate and reached across the table to grab Liam’s. I walked into the cabin, placed the dishes in the sink, and poured another glass of whiskey.

  “You want one?” I offered as Liam walked in behind me.

  He nodded, extending his glass to the bottle in my hand.

  I moved to the couch, leaned against the cushions, and thought about what he was saying. I didn’t want to lose her, but I wasn’t sure if there was anything to salvage. I hated going after something without knowing the outcome. In war, we planned, we strategized, and we had a pretty damn good idea of what would happen in the end. Even when there was a chance for a poor outcome or causality, we planned for it, accepted it. This was like walking onto a mine field blindfolded without any idea of where the bombs were buried.

  “What’s this?” Liam asked, picking up the stack of envelopes on the coffee table. He held them in his hand as he sat, shuffling through them, each one addressed to Bailey.

  I reached up, snatching the letters from his hand, and shoved them under a book on the table.

  “Nothing,” I growled.

  “You’ve been writing her. Have you sent anything yet?” he asked.