Legacy: A Salvation Society Novel

by Rachel Robinson

  “Same for you? Chase isn’t bringing any club chicks over on your days off? Or do you get a hall pass and you’re the only one who gets to ride the jealousy train?”

  More uncharted territory. Never having a relationship I gave a shit about means I’ve never had to think about what that means for the rest of my life…and my hobbies. As if on cue, my cell chimes in my hand with a text from Chantal. She knows I’ll be home this weekend and wants to talk. It’s code for fuck her way back in my life. She’s texted a few times this week. A complete one-eighty compared to where I thought we were…nowhere.

  I swallow hard. “No. Exclusive for both of us.” It’s going to require creative lying. “Fair is fair.”

  Aarabelle seems relieved, leaning back on the bed. I swallow hard. “We can’t spend too much time together at work. Weekends off are game.”

  She speaks at the ceiling. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we’re making rules for something that we don’t even know is going to work? It’s preemptive. What if kissing you is like kissing my dad.”

  I crinkle my nose. “You kiss Liam often?”

  She groans. “You know what I mean. Sometimes there’s spark and sometimes there’s fizzle. I remember being enamored with…Henry at first sight.” She pops her head up to look at me towering over her. My gaze locked on every square inch of exposed skin. “Sorry for bringing him up.”

  I sigh. “Where are you going with this?”

  “When I kissed him for the first time it was just meh. But” —she holds up one finger— “the glamour I felt surrounding his personality made up for the meh kiss and I fell anyway. Do you know what I’m talking about? That weird feeling of loving someone, but only parts and pieces and not the whole form.”

  Dropping down on the bed, I lay next to her and turn my head to the side. She doesn’t meet my eyes. Her profile makes me weak all over, a dying man. I didn’t know it was possible to be so attracted to a woman in raw form. What she’s saying right now is the opposite of what I feel about her, and I haven’t explored her fully yet. I gulp in a breath. “Women don’t get that close to me, or rather, I don’t let them. I’ve never been in love with any one part or piece.”

  Aara’s head turns quickly. “Honestly. Not even one woman forced you to pause.”

  “Honestly?” I ask, furrowing my brow. When she nods, I admit, “Sure I’ve loved the swell of a breast, or a woman’s dimples right above her ass before her spine begins. If you’re talking about parts and pieces, then yes, there’s been things I love.” Chantal’s body comes to mind and then quickly vanishes when I think of Dempsey in a bikini. Fuck. I close my eyes. “I’m a broody son of a bitch. I don’t open up or get close to women because of…expectations.”

  “What kind of expectations?”

  “Are we really doing this while you’re shit faced?” My stomach flips.

  She props her head up on an elbow. “We’re not allowed to have sex. What else can we do other than talk?”

  “Maybe finish establishing ground rules?” My cock twitches.

  She rolls her eyes. “Not until I figure out if you’re worth ruining my life for.”

  Chuckling, I say, “That’s offensive…and honest. I like it.”

  “My life is abnormal. You grew up with it. You’ve lived it. Getting into a relationship with a woman, a serious one, never felt fair because it’s not normal. Dating is great and all but I’m at the age where women want more. They want commitment. Which would be fine if I had a nine to five, but I’m gone half of the time and what if things don’t work out? Then we’re wasting time. The inevitable is they won’t be able to accept the lifestyle nor will they be able to handle the distance.”

  “That’s it then. That’s the draw,” Dempsey says. “I’m in your lifestyle so I’m less of a risk.”

  I think about that for a second—a long pause. “No. You’re more of a risk because you will quite literally be surrounded near constantly with men just like me. I’m not the only SEAL attracted to you, Aara.”

  She blushes. “You don’t know that.”

  “Are you really embarrassed by me telling you how hot you are? I find it crazy you don’t know it. Listen,” I say, dragging two fingers down her forearm. Goosebumps trail in the wake. “You are insanely desirable. A pint-sized vessel of perfection. I do know it to be fact that most men find you sexy. My attraction to you has less to do with what you do for work as who you are as a person. Henry fucked up, Aara.”

  She sighs, watching my hand. I pull it away before I get carried away. “You’re fine with me wanting more then? Is that what I’m supposed to assume by what you just told me? Also, you really need to stop smiling. Your dimples distract me.”

  I smile wider and she closes her eyes. I’d give my life to kiss her full lips right now. My mouth goes dry. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’ll fuck up with the whole thing more. I’m sure of it. As long as you’re willing to be patient as we navigate whatever this is going to be.”

  “This isn’t going to be easy. Deployments. What about those? We’re deploying together soon. On a boat, Luke.”

  My heart leaps when she says my name.

  “We’ll get to see each other. It could be worse.”

  She reaches out and lays a hand on the side of my face. I haven’t shaved for a couple days so it’s scruffy. Her hand feels like silk in comparison. Her eyes sear into mine. “My dad is going to fucking kill me if he finds this out.”

  “What is there to find out? We’re just two friends hanging out.” I lick my lips and her gaze trails the movement. I should blame my own father for this, but I’m a grown adult.

  Her phone buzzes next to her and she picks it up. “It’s my mom. Let me grab this just in case it’s important.”

  I nod, content to listen to her talk. “Hey Mom. What’s going on?”

  Several seconds go by as Aara listens to whatever her mom is saying. Her face drops. “You couldn’t say no?” she replies to her mom, underlying alarm seeping out.

  I can’t hear exactly what her mom is saying, but I can tell the tone is rushed and irritated. “This is a nightmare!” Dempsey shrieks, sitting up, forgetting about me completely. “What are the odds? Seriously? You can’t tell him anything about me. Nothing. Do you hear me? You have to find a way to get out of this.”

  Aara listens again, and the voice on the other end of the phone is soothing and apologetic. There is so much you can understand by the way a person speaks. I’ve taken many classes on it. To interrogate proficiently, and also to be able to get what we want and make others think it was their idea.

  “I understand,” she replies, moving her mouth away from the speaker. “Yeah. Love you, too.” Another long pause. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” She clears her throat. “Bye.”

  She sets the phone down on the bed and stares ahead at the television that is powered off. “CJJ took on PR for Henry Durnin during the U.S. part of his world tour. My mom is representing him.” Folding her hands in her lap she says, “I can’t even be mad because it’s a huge deal for CJJ and her.”

  I take her hand, but she remains steadfast in her blank stare. “There’s bad luck, and then there’s oh, fuck. This falls into the latter. You won’t see him though. Artists on world tours aren’t worried about their ex-girlfriends. I’m sure they worry about very little.” Tits, tour, and T.H.C. I know the drill from being around Chase all my life. When she doesn’t reply, I go on. “I can have him killed?”

  That gets her attention—her head whipping in my direction. “No one gets to kill him except me, and I can’t do that and go to jail. I have too many plans.” She’s joking now—the mood lighter. I resist the urge to tell her if she’s doing it right, she won’t get caught. “He lands in Los Angeles tonight.”

  “That’s far enough away from San Diego,” I chime in.

  She crosses her legs and faces me. “How did he get a world tour? Isn’t a huge deal like that elusive for solo artists? For people like Henry? I kn
ew he was working on stuff when we were together. He’d play small joints and beg radio stations to play his new single. A world tour is Aerosmith status. Where everyone wants to see him, right? I haven’t kept up with him or his career after the, well, you know. He was rocked and blocked from my life.” Aara blows out a breath. “Should we search for him online and see what comes up?”

  I put my hands on her shoulders, fingers reaching behind her head. “It doesn’t matter. A lot of shit artists get world tours.” Not a full lie. “I’m sure he knows the right people.” Aurora Ball. That’s how he got the tour and I’m pretty sure we both know it. I release her and watch as the intoxication happens. The effect I have on her is immediate.

  Her phone pings with another text from her mom. We both look down at it and it’s another apology. She flips her phone over so she can’t look at it. “We shouldn’t search for him. You shouldn’t care.”

  “This is what happens when I’m careless. When I make mistakes, they haunt me forever. It’s not typical.”

  She scoots up to sit on her knees and I pull her into a hug. I feel those words in my soul. “Because you’re not normal. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “You’re touching me an awful lot,” Aara says, leaning her weight into my body. “This goes against the rules.”

  “Just comforting a friend.” I rub her back innocently. “See? Harmless.”

  “Except it’s not,” she says, leaning away. “Everything about what I feel for you is harmful. You’re going to haunt me, Luke Hart.” She licks her lips. “I know it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Aarabelle

  My careless fling in London is incurable. Once again, I feel like he’s everywhere I look. Worse still, they’re playing his songs on the radio on repeat. I slam my finger into the power button when his smooth voice starts singing about a jilted lover and sweet tart lips. My favorite candy. A candy that quite literally no one else in the world enjoys.

  “That absolute nitwit! I hate him so much. There aren’t enough hate words in the world to describe what hearing him makes me feel.”

  Marissa is in the passenger seat dutifully ignoring me as we drive home from the beach. “Did you know that beavers have glands next to their asshole that produce Castoreum? They put it in perfume and coffee creamer and stuff you’d never expect.”

  “Wrong direction,” I sigh, annoyed.

  “Do you want to plan a girl’s trip to wine country?”

  Now she’s talking. “For after deployment? Yes. That’s the best idea you’ve ever come up with.”

  “You’re not going to be able to avoid him completely.”

  I know. It’s still annoying. We spent the day not talking, just sitting next to each other, enjoying the ocean and the salty sea breeze. We had a quick lunch in our favorite café that overlooks a cave where seals, the actual animals, play and swim. “Don’t bring him up ever. As my best friend that’s your duty. That and to plan the wine country trip.”

  She tilts her pretend hat to me when I pull up next to her building and put the car in park. Marissa gathers her oversized bag and towel from the back seat and closes the door. Leaning into the open window, she clears her throat. “You ignored every question I asked you about Hart today. I noticed. Obviously. I’ll give you a few more hours and then I’m going to call you.” She snaps her fingers when I turn my gaze forward. I look back. “You’re going to tell me everything. You know what happens when you don’t tell me everything? I can’t protect you.”

  I slam my steering wheel with both hands. “There’s nothing to tell!” My voice is loud. “I’m sorry. There really isn’t anything to tell.” Lying to her isn’t easy. Lying in general isn’t easy, but I don’t want to make something out of nothing. If things progress with Luke, I will tell Marissa because having someone in my corner will be needed. “If there was something to tell I’d tell you.”

  If Luke were an average guy, I’d tell her about the drinking game. About how he makes me feel naked by merely looking in my direction. I’d tell her about skydiving alone with him…wait, that’s not a normal guy thing. I’d start at the beginning and give every gory detail. Pistachios, cars, touches that brought me to life. The way he tried to comfort me about Henry when God knows he shouldn’t have had to. I’m so self-centered when it comes to my mistakes. Like, mine are worse than anyone else’s. One day, I’ll get over it. Today is not that day.

  Marissa huffs, taps the window frame a couple times and walks away. Sighing, I roll up the window and drive to my place. It’s a short distance away. The second I pull into the parking lot of the condo complex, I know something is wholly and fully wrong. There are too many cars and people loitering around the entrance to the stairway that leads to my unit.

  News crews. Cameras. My heart thumps jaggedly as I try to make heads or tails of the scene before me. What are the chances someone got murdered and they’re here covering that? Someone spots my car and points at me. Fuck. This is unreal. No one should care this much about a female Navy SEAL. Narrowing my eyes as I pull into a parking spot far enough away, I see what some of the media folks are holding. Photos, no, posters of Henry. Then he appears, from the back of a white van.

  What in the ever-loving fuck is happening right now? I dial Marissa with no answer. She’s probably in the shower. I dial my mom without success, as he walks slowly to my car the press trailing behind him. I hit her voicemail and hang up. I don’t want to drag him into my shit spiral, but I call Luke.

  He answers on the first ring. “Hey, uh,” I say, swallowing when Henry is close enough to see details of his face. The schmuck is smiling. He’s happy. “The press is bad at my condo and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Are you okay?”

  My heart skips a beat. “Not really.”

  “Pack a bag and come over. You can stay at my house until this dies down. Do you need my help right now?”

  I can’t stay at his house, can I? How suspicious would that be? Living with Luke Hart? “Are you sure? I don’t think I need help now.” Will I be able to get out of this crowd alive?

  “We could go a month and not see each other at my house, Dempsey. I’m definitely sure. I’d offer this to any of my brothers.” There’s no hesitation in his tone and I think I fall for him a little more.

  “Are you home now?” It’s Sunday. I know he’s there. It’s his religion. His family is also probably there. “I don’t want to intrude on family time.”

  “They’re asking where you’re at. Remember your bathing suit this time.” Then he hangs up. The simplicity in his request is confusing. How can he tell me to move in and be so flippant? Maybe I mean less to him than I thought before. I don’t have long to ponder because my ex with several people following him, is almost to my car. My fingers on the handle, I pull down my worn-out Dodgers baseball cap to hide my face and get out. I lock it and keep my keys in my hand for a quick entry into my condo.

  “Aarabelle, love,” Henry drawls. “I’ve been waiting for you all day. We need to talk.” Funny, he wants to do the one thing that could have halted this mayhem way back when. If he’d just told me he wanted to break up with me because he wanted to screw other women, I would have brushed past this more easily. No. He didn’t want to talk. He only reacts.

  My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “What the hell, Henry? I’m not talking to you. How did you find my place?”

  He grins, it meets his eyes and they crinkle. I look away and continue speed walking across the lot. He follows, matching me stride for stride. “I’m sorry. It was an easy lookup. Please, love, won’t you talk to me for just a second. You’re a hero here. Let’s be a team again. I miss us.”

  That stops me in my tracks. “A team? That’s what you think we were? What we’ll be again? I know what a real team is, and it definitely doesn’t include you or your loose morals.” I spin on my heel. “The nerve,” I hiss. “You are such a self-centered prick, Henry Durnin.” That, I say loud enough for the people following us to hear. I’m
a few stairs up when he says my name again. A plea. “What?” I yell.

  “I’m sorry.” He opens his arms to the sides. “Think about it, would you?” Reporters are screaming questions at me and he’s so used to it, it seems to be a mild inconvenience.

  I wave to the circus he’s turned my parking lot into. “Did you think this would be some beautiful reunion? Where’s Aurora, Henry? You are delusional.” I take a few stairs and then glance over my shoulder to meet his eyes. “And your new music is absolute garbage. That sweet tart song? Trash!”

  I run up the remaining stairs, unlock my door and slam it closed. They’ll be there when I exit, I’m sure of it, but I don’t plan to be in here long. Heading straight to my closet, I throw open my suitcase and start piling in anything I think I might need for an extended stay. I don’t have much in my condo and haven’t bothered decorating. It’s furnished with all new furniture, but that’s where I’m at in the new house process. Huffing, I replay Henry’s words in my mind. The audacity. The nerve. The absolute out of touch, tone deaf moron thinks I’ll give him another chance. Because he knows I have a spotlight on me. He is such a user and it hurts. First, he uses Aurora to get where he wants with regard to his career, and now he wants to use me. Again. The nausea hits as I’m crouched over a packed suitcase filled with mostly workout gear and tennis shoes. I grab my toiletry bag, my makeup bag, and on a whim because I’m feeling sorry for myself, my stuffed fox, Clement.

  He’s a disgusting, old stuffie I’ve had since childhood. It was given to my mom as a gift. By my biological father, Aaron. Liam adopted me after birth because Aaron was too much of a loose cannon to raise a baby, or help my mom at all. The fox is the only thing I have left that reminds me of him. I try not to think about him very often. Aaron was also a SEAL. Not only was I raised by Liam, a stalwart operator, but biologically the spec ops blood runs through my veins. That overwhelming influence is how I validated my feelings when I always felt different, more mature than my peers, growing up. I was never like the normal girls, never into the things the magazines said I should be in to. I see Aaron every once in a while, but I’m nothing like him. Not in the ways you’d expect a daughter to be like her father.