by Ivy Jordan
Blake. That was a name I hadn’t heard in a while, a long while.
“Blake, your sister, Blake?” I asked, shocked.
Liam nodded without a smile. The look on his face was far from enthused.
“When did she get into town?” I asked.
“Last night. Alyssa made me call her to make amends before the wedding,” he explained.
“Wow. Little Blake. I haven’t seen her in years, since…” I stopped myself from completing that sentence.
We didn’t talk about Liam and Blake’s parents’ death. Even though it was over twelve years ago, it was a topic that was better left alone.
“She’s still holding a grudge that I didn’t come home,” Liam sulked.
“That was a long time ago, and besides, she took off and never came back too,” I offered up some encouragement.
“Yeah, but you know Blake. She has a way of making everything someone else’s fault,” Liam grumbled.
I remembered Blake was sometimes hard to handle, but that didn’t change the fact she was one of my best friends when I was younger. Liam’s kid sister, a little bratty, very beautiful, and so smart, she could outwit anyone. I was looking forward to seeing her again.
“A lot of time has gone by. I’m sure she’s grown up by now,” I smiled, patting my friend on the shoulder.
“Let’s hope,” he grinned nervously.
“Let’s plan on getting together, that is, once you two bury the hatchet,” I offered.
“Sounds good,” Liam reached out, slapping his hand on my back.
He turned, nodded, and started on his way down the sidewalk. The chuckle I’d been holding back finally let loose as I watched Liam walk down the street of the small town in his black suit. He stood out like a sore thumb.
Chapter 2
Blake
The environment surrounding me was surreal. Nothing had changed in the small town I grew up in. Nothing.
“What can I get ya?” the waitress asked with a thick Southern accent.
“Just coffee, thank you,” I smiled, my own voice sounding unfamiliar and odd to me as I spoke.
The Southern twang was gone; that little girl who grew up in the small Texas town, she was gone too.
The woman smiled, poured my coffee, and walked away, leaving me alone to stare out the window by my booth, watching the people as they walked by. They all looked happy, happy to be there in the nowhere town. I was glad to have escaped, living in Las Vegas, writing, happy, or so I thought I’d been, until now. This place, the coffee shop, the town, the people, it was giving me a strange sense of belonging, of home.
Aiden?
My eyes followed the tall man walking by the window. He held his phone in front of him, his head tucked down as he took an interest in whatever was on the small screen. Was that him?
A strong urge to rush from the coffee shop and chase him down, surprising him with my presence, took over, but before I could act on it, the chair across from me slid across the floor, creating a loud squeal.
“Hey, sis.” Liam’s voice hadn’t changed, still deep-rooted in Southern twang.
My eyes lifted to the man who’d spoken. He was taller, not by much, but taller. His eyes were surrounded by small lines from squinting and age, his hair finally grown back out, no longer buzzed military style, and his smile nervous, but still warm.
“Liam,” I gasped.
I lifted from my seat and moved towards him slowly, taking in how much he’d changed, and then pulled him in for a tight embrace.
As I stepped back from our greeting, my eyes filled with his image. His stance was militant, stiff, and the suit he wore professionally pressed, creating even more stiffness in his appearance.
“Wow, you’re all grown up,” I teased with a crooked smile as I scanned his formal attire.
Liam shook his head, and his cheeks started to turn pink; he was embarrassed.
“I have to wear this for work,” he shrugged, pulling out the seat at the table.
I watched as he sat, his movements, his demeanor, so familiar. The longer I stared at him, the more he reminded me of our dad, just a slightly younger version.
“What?” he scoffed, his face wrinkled with confusion.
I laughed. I didn’t mean to, but I did. “You look just like Dad,” I blurted out.
My throat began to swell, causing me to choke on my laughter. Heat rushed over my body, my skin tingling from the sensation, and suddenly, that familiar pain returned. I remembered why I hadn’t spoken to Liam in so many years, why I hadn’t seen him.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said softly, not looking up from the empty coffee cup he spun around his thumb.
I wasn’t glad I was back. I wasn’t sure I could do this, or why I even tried to do it in the first place.
“I’m not back,” I mumbled.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about staying gone for so long,” he sighed.
My eyes locked on his as they lifted from the table. Sorry? That wasn’t enough, or it was too much. At the moment, I wasn’t sure.
His hand reached across the table, but I quickly pulled my arms to my side. The look in his eyes told me how badly that simple movement hurt. Tears began rolling from my eyes and down my cheeks, burning my flesh as they traced through my makeup, probably leaving horrible lines of paler skin, smearing black under my eyes as the tears pulled the mascara from my lashes. I couldn’t do this, not now, maybe not ever. I didn’t want to be the talk of the small town, my messy face the main topic of discussion at town hall. Fuck, I had to get out of there.
I quickly wiped my face, clearing the tears that had fallen and the black smudges they’d left behind.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, scooting my chair back from the table.
The chair against the floor created a loud shriek, one that brought everyone’s attention to Liam and me.
“Blake, don’t leave,” Liam sighed, standing and reaching towards me.
I turned, quickly making my way out of the coffee shop, just barely escaping his grip, one that would have surely brought more tears.
I ran down the alley between the coffee shop and the red brick building as tears built back up with a vengeance in my eyes nearly blinding me.
Sounds of cars whizzing by on the road behind me, a work truck beeping as it backed up, and the thud of my feet hitting the pavement filled my ears, while tears blurred my vision.
I stopped at the end of the alley, leaning down to catch my breath. My hands wiped away my tears, and my mind started to race. Why was I so mad at Liam? I’d run away from here too, from the pain. If he did come back, I would’ve been long gone, in Las Vegas, working on my writing career.
I was so used to blaming him, telling myself that I wouldn’t have left my home, my friends, if he had come back. Now, standing here in this alley, I wasn’t so certain of that.
I stood, slowly, taking in a long, deep breath. My eyes adjusted to the bright sun blasting down, causing me to squint. I looked behind me, expecting to find Liam, but no one was there. The small road in front of me was for deliveries mainly, so I knew no one would be out there, at least not anyone I knew. I wasn’t ready to walk back down the same street, in front of the same coffee shop, where I’d just moments ago run from, crying. If Liam hadn’t chased after me, I certainly didn’t want to run into him, so I moved forward.
My thoughts had me preoccupied, away from paying attention to my surroundings. As I turned the corner, a door flung open from the back of the red brick building, and my nose slammed into the hard chest of the man who just exited.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, taking a step back.
As I looked up, Aiden stood tall, smiling, and his blue eyes fixated on mine.
“Ya know, I keep bumping into your family this morning, literally,” he joked, a deep chuckle rolling from his throat as he spoke.
I started to speak, but nothing came out. A single tear rolled from my eye and down my cheek, opening the floodgates for
the rest. My body trembled as I desperately tried to calm myself, to hold myself together in front of my old friend.
Aiden’s eyes filled with compassion, although I knew it to be confused. He was friendly with Liam as well; we were all close growing up, so he’d heard his side and probably thought I was nuts.
“Come here,” Aiden whispered, pulling me back against his chest.
His heartbeat was rapid and his breaths deep and slow as I rested in the comfort of his arms. He held me closely while I fell apart in his arms, sobbing like a child about things I couldn’t even explain anymore.
“I’m okay,” I sniffled, pulling back from his embrace.
“Yeah, you look like you’re great,” he teased with a smirk.
I chuckled, wiped my nose, and tossed a playful punch that landed on his chest. Wow, it really was hard.
“I-I just,” I started to explain my situation when he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to me.
“I know, you were meeting with Liam. I take it things didn’t go so well?” he chuckled.
I blew my nose and then tried to hand the handkerchief back to Aiden, who stepped back and smiled.
“You keep it,” he laughed.
“It didn’t go—at all,” I sighed.
“He didn’t show? He was on his way when I ran into him this morning,” Aiden said, quickly coming to his friend’s defense.
“He showed. I just couldn’t do it,” I sniffled.
Aiden gave me a look, one that made me feel silly, childish even. I knew he didn’t understand. Hell, I didn’t even understand.
“I could go with you if you think that would help,” he offered.
“No. I have to do it on my own, but not today, not now,” I sighed.
“What happened? Did he say something to upset you?” Aiden pried.
“I’ve been mad at him for so long, but when he sat down in front of me, I couldn’t remember why,” I explained.
Aiden gave me that same look, making me feel even more foolish. “If you aren’t mad any longer, what is stopping you from talking to him?” Aiden asked.
“He looked just like our dad,” I blurted out, tears filling my eyes once again.
Aiden reached out and gently wiped the single tear that fell from my cheek. His smile was warm, understanding, and that look that made me feel silly was gone, hopefully forever.
“I know this is hard for you,” he said softly, sliding the long loose strand of my hair that dangled to behind my ear.
“Thanks for being here,” I smiled.
“Like old times,” Aiden grinned, causing me to giggle.
He always had a way of being in the right spot at the right time, even when we were kids.
“Why are you here?” I asked, scanning the area only delivery trucks frequented, and, of course, the occasional woman in distress.
“I own the place,” he smiled, waving his hand towards the large red brick building.
“Really?” I gasped, taking a step back to read the sign above the delivery door where he exited as my knight in shining armor.
Lopez Construction Company
“I opened it up a few years back. I got tired of working for other people, making them rich while I broke my back,” he groaned.
“Oh yeah, so you rich now?” I teased.
“Nope. Come to find out, it costs a lot to keep a business afloat, but my back’s not broke at the end of the day,” he chuckled. “Where ya stayin’?” he asked, modestly changing the topic from himself.
Aiden was always a quiet guy, even in high school. The star quarterback on the football team, he kept to himself, never bragged, and hardly ever had a girl on his arm.
“A bed and breakfast just outside town,” I replied, still staring into his dark eyes.
He was a handsome man, even more handsome than he’d been as a boy. I’d always had a crush on Aiden, but we were just friends, and as far as I could tell, he wanted to keep it that way.
“Do you need a lift?” he asked.
“No. I have my car here. I ju-just took off down this alley. Not sure why,” I laughed.
“You just wanted to see me,” he smirked.
“Maybe,” I flirted, my cheeks instantly flushing with color. “I’ll let you get back to work,” I stammered, realizing things were growing awkward.
“If you need me, you know where to find me,” Aiden smiled, waving as I turned to head back up the alley to my car parked outside the coffee shop.
Click Here To Read The Entire Book
SEAL OBSESSED
By Ivy Jordan
Click Here To Read The Entire Book
Chapter 1
Elijah
Fireworks exploded over the ocean in a wild display of color. I leaned back in my lounger, took a long swig of my fifth beer, and watched the world celebrate the New Year. Big fuckin’ deal.
The Miami winter breeze was cool, actually cool enough to send shivers up my arms. It couldn’t be excitement from the lights in the sky; I’d seen plenty of those overseas, and they weren’t celebration lights.
My thoughts drifted to the men lost over the years during service. Good men, strong men; men that I was proud I’d known. I often wondered why I came back home instead of them, why was I spared? What the hell did I have to offer this world? Quit feeling sorry for yourself, sissy pants, my dad’s voice echoed in my mind. It made me laugh. Not because it was funny, or even endearing. I just found it odd that I was even thinking about the old man.
Loud reports from the fireworks brought my attention back to the sky. It was the finale, the sendoff that alerted all who watched that it was midnight, and a new year had just begun.
Silhouettes of couples on the beach just below my deck hugged, kissed, and clung to one another like they feared the ocean breeze would carry them off, never to be seen again. Another thing that made me laugh. Kissing a loved one at midnight on the New Year, how was that supposed to bring you luck? I didn't buy into it any more than I bought into eating sauerkraut to bring good luck into the next year. Blah! No thank you, on either tradition.
I’d been alone since I got back to the states, and that’s just how I liked it—for now, anyway. Women were everywhere, easy to seduce with my backstory of fallen soldiers, combat stories, and a few flexes of my thick muscles. An emergency always called me away, kept me from staying overnight and facing that awkward morning after. It was best that way. I wasn’t exactly boyfriend material or husband material; not like Isaac. He never shut up about Maddie the entire time we served together, and at one point, I really thought he’d made the girl up in his mind just to keep him sane during those chaotic times. We all wanted someone to love back home, someone who was waiting for us, praying for us, and that would welcome us home with open arms. I knew I didn’t have that, and I learned not to care.
I mocked love, at least until I watched my old pal get the girl of his dreams. He was willing to risk anything, everything, just to keep her safe, even if it meant losing her forever. Wow, now that’s enough to make anyone believe in love. I just wasn’t sure love was right for me.
My phone lit up like an encore to the fireworks show, beeping hysterically as texts flooded through. I opened my messages, read through all the generic texts from friends, ex-lovers, and SEAL brothers, all wishing me well in the new year. I slid to the last text, one that stopped me short.
Unknown: Elijah, please call me as soon as possible regarding your father’s estate.
I stared at the text from the unknown number, wondering if it possible to be the wrong number, the wrong Elijah. My dad was a strong, willful, old man. He couldn’t die.
It was midnight, after midnight. Who would send such a text so late? Shit, Molokai, Hawaii was six hours behind Miami time, so it was only six o’clock there. It wasn’t a wrong number.
Is this how I wanted to start my year? Not kissing someone, not eating sauerkraut, but calling whoever this was to talk about my father’s estate? Fuckin’ traditions, just because
I didn’t follow through, this is how my year starts?
I hit the number above the text, and held the phone to my ear.
“John Sanderson, here,” a cheerful voice greeted me after just three rings.
“This is Elijah Grant. You left me a message…” I trailed off as he interrupted my explanation.
“Yes, Elijah. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m sure your father’s death was no surprise given his illness,” he spouted.
“Illness?” I questioned.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you knew. He’d been battling cancer for several years now. He was a fighter, your old man; stubborn as a mule, and determined to prove the doctors wrong,” the man chuckled.
“I can only imagine,” I exhaled.
Why hadn’t he told me about his illness? He never called, but then again, neither did I. Coming back from overseas, I made Florida my home, never planning on going back to Hawaii, ever.
“Well, the matter of the home here is why I’m calling. You are the next of kin, and he did have you named in his last will and testament, even though it was never properly filed. The home is yours to do with as you wish, I just need to have you sign a few papers,” John Sanderson, bearer of bad news, spoke quickly.
“Just sell it,” I sighed.
It was my childhood home, one that didn’t carry too many happy memories. I didn’t want it. “We can surely do that, but I’ll still need you to sign some papers,” he instructed.
“I’ll make plans for the trip, but it will be a couple weeks,” I explained without detail for my delay.
“That will be fine. I’ll send you my office address. You can come pick up the keys and make your final decision from there,” he offered, like I would change my mind once I stepped foot in that house. No thanks.
“Sure,” I rushed, saying a quick goodbye, and hanging up the phone.
My head was spinning. My father was sick? Battling cancer? For years? Just like good ole’ dad to keep that to himself. I’m sure it was his plan to have me find out just this way, surprised, shocked, and of course, left with the guilt of not knowing, not helping, and not being able to say goodbye.