by Kirsten Lynn
Brynn shifts Ella to her hip and takes the paperwork on the clipboard. “Thank you.”
As we take a seat, I adjust Michael so he can keep his arm straight. “Won’t be long, bud.”
“Okay.” The weariness in his voice and hurt in his eyes tell me it’s already been an excruciating long time to be a little one in pain.
Brynn amazes me by having the mother thing down, filling out forms around Ella on her lap. But when she glances up at me, I see a woman about to crack. Despite the fact she’s dealt with wounds a thousand times more severe and in battle, those men weren’t her son. “Do you have you still have my driver’s license and insurance card?”
“Yeah.” Reaching in my back pocket, trying not to jostle Michael, I tug out my wallet and hand it over. It’s a good thing she gave me the ID and insurance card earlier, so she didn’t have to bring a bag with her from the lighthouse, or we’d be hurting since the children aren’t on my insurance yet.
I point to the line for relationship. “What are you putting there?”
“Guardian and aunt. We’re not legally Mom and Dad yet.” I nod even though she can’t see, since her head is down. “Ella, sit still.” She sounds like she’s back on the battlefield ordering a Marine around. The little girl glances up at me and I wink even as my gut squeezes at her wet, red, puffy cheeks.
Michael is sitting like a statue. His cheeks are just as wet and red, but without the dramatics of his little sister.
When Frank comes in, Brynn glances up. “Dad, take Ella, please.”
I expect a riot, but clearly Ella understands the tone Brynn is using is the one you don’t argue with. I’ve seen Marines take a step back from that tone. Hell, I’ve stepped back from that tone. Frank settles with Ella, and Brynn takes the paperwork up to the desk.
When she comes back to the chairs, she stops and combs her fingers through Michael’s hair. “It’s gonna be okay, baby.”
“I know, Momma.”
“Michael Quinlin.”
“Hold on, bud.” I push out of the chair, and we finally get into an examination room. After setting Michael on the exam table, Brynn and I move out of the way when the doctor comes in.
“Broken arm?”
Michael nods. Brynn steps forward. “I think it’s a buckle fracture. Seems bent, not broken.”
The doctor inspects the splint. “You have medical training?”
I want to snort. Brynn nods. “Hospital Corpsman. Green.”
The doctor huffs a laugh. “Definite medical training.” He looks to me. “And you’re…”
“The Marine she trained on, and Michael’s uncle.”
“I see.” His forehead creases for a second. I smile at the look of disappointment when Brynn takes my hand. Yeah, asshole, this smart, brave, badass woman…she’s all mine. “All right, we’re going to confirm it’s a buckle, not that I doubt it, but we’ll get some X-rays.”
Through X-rays, where Brynn’s diagnosis is confirmed, and getting the plaster cast from just above the elbow to over his hand, Michael weathers it all like a true Devil Pup. Brynn and I take turns holding his hand and cheering him on. The ride back to the hotel feels as excruciatingly long as the drive to the hospital. Stepping out of the SUV we mumble another ‘thanks’ to Frank and zombie walk inside.
Mom meets us in the hotel lobby as we enter much like we left. I’m holding Michael, but this time he’s conked out his head on my shoulder, and Brynn is carrying an equally zonked-out Ella.
Her eyes cut to the cast. “Poor boy. Sorry…”
“Not your fault, Mom,” I interrupt. “And I’m sorry I was a shit to you about it.”
“You were shocked.” She hands Brynn a bag. “There’s jeans, sneakers, and a sweater in there for you for tomorrow, so you don’t have to ruin your dress.”
“Thanks so much, Audrey.”
“Sorry I don’t have anything for you.”
I shrug. “I’m not balancing on spike heels.”
“You want to bring the kids to my room?”
“No, they’ll want to be with us and we want them with us too. We’ll see you for breakfast at eight, though.”
“Sounds good. Just text me if you need to make it later.”
I lean down and brush a kiss on her cheek. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The ride up to the room seems longer than the ride to Camden. Brynn pushes off the wall when the doors open on our floor. I scan of the key and nudge the door open. Finally, we can tuck the kids into bed. We switch children, and I press a kiss to Ella’s cheek. The little bit snuggles farther under the covers. Brynn arranges a pillow under Michael’s arm. “With the local anesthetic, he shouldn’t hurt for a bit.” She drops a kiss on his forehead and then Ella’s cheek. Neither respond to the caress.
Once Ella and Michael are settled, I step behind Brynn and wrap my arms around her, tugging her close and dropping a kiss to her shoulder. “How you doing, Angel?”
“I feel like I’m crashing from a huge adrenaline rush. When I saw him…”
“Yeah, I know.”
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I think we have to face the reality—we need to move from the lighthouse. If this, or worse, happened there and it was storming, I just can’t even let my mind go there. Hell, when you landed at my feet the other night, I should have demanded Brian take you to the hospital.”
“No one can heal me like you, Brynn.” She leans back into me. I wish I could argue with her knowing how much the lighthouse means to her, but I can’t. If anything happened to her or the kids and we couldn’t get to help… “But you’re right. We’ll stay through the holidays and then start looking.”
She glances back at the bed. “I don’t have anything for nightclothes.”
“You can wear my T-shirt. It’s not all that clean.”
“It’ll work.”
Breaking from my embrace, she checks the children, then turns to me and steps back into my orbit. “You want to shower with me? Clean up, relax under some hot water?”
“Sounds good, Angel.”
She takes my hand and starts walking. I grab the T-shirt I didn’t bother with earlier in the rush to get downstairs, and follow her into the bathroom. She kicks off her shoes and unzips her dress. When it falls to the floor, this time there’s nothing sexual, but almost the release of the last few hours. I hook my hip to the doorframe, watching her pull the band from her hair and shake out the thick waves.
She angles her face over her shoulder and keeps her voice low. “You’re showering with your clothes on?” She peels off her panties and bra.
“Just admiring the view this room has.”
“Caleb.” The gold specks are back in her eyes.
“Showering together might not be the best idea.”
Her mouth curves in a sweet grin laced with a lot of spice. “Come on, Caleb, don’t be shy. Strip.”
Pushing off the frame, I follow orders, and then step into the tub behind her. I adjust the water in the shower before sealing my lips to hers in a kiss. She is so sweet it lasts longer than I planned, and I break the connection before it leads to deeper contact. With the children just a thin wall away, and Ella’s penchant for walking into rooms without knocking we can’t risk even a quickie. “Turn around.”
She offers her back to me, and I empty the sample-sized bottle of shampoo, then start washing her hair. The soft moans have my mind and body reconsidering the, no-sex-because-the-kids-are-too-close, rule I imposed on myself before stepping into this steamy box of temptation. At the same time, I keep an ear trained to the other room for any calls for Mom or Dad. Watching the suds run down her back, I admire one of my favorite parts of her body, and those are the Venus dimples above her ass.
She rinses her hair and I repeat the process with the conditioner. Only this time I admire her body for the scars of a warrior. Tracing the long scar on her back, I feel her intake of breath, but continue to trace the white line where a piece of shrapnel sliced into her while
she was making sure a young corporal didn’t bleed out when his leg was amputated by an IED.
“What are you doing?”
“You are so fucking strong.”
“It’s nothing, Caleb.”
“It’s everything because you’re everything. And I’m not just talking about Ramadi, Helmand, Syria, Africa or any other hell where you’ve saved Marines. I’m talking about you in four-inch heels and a tight red dress holding Ella while filling out forms and taking on shit like a badass.”
She turns and shakes her head like she always does to diminish her skills. “As I recall, I had a big, hard, charging Marine by my side step for step, holding precious cargo.”
“Fine, Brynn, if you don’t want to admit it, I’m game, but you are the strongest person I have ever known.”
“Tonight, I’m exhausted, and I’m regretting offering a shared shower when we can’t make the best use of it.” She reaches for the soap. “I’ll scrub your back and you scrub mine.”
I close my hand around hers. “Negative, Angel. If you touch me, either we’re going to break the no sex rule, or I’m going to be in serious pain and we won’t have time to ease it. We’ll scrub our own backs tonight.”
Without a fight, she starts washing down, and I grab another bar of soap and make quick work of getting hosed down and out of the sweltering box of lust as fast as possible.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and hand her the other fluffy white towel. I’m barely into my skivvies and a small voice startles me.
“Daddy, I need water.”
I pivot like a DI barked my name. Ella stands at the door rubbing her eyes; the breathing reminder of why I washed my own back tonight. “What did you need, Little Bit?”
She juts her tiny finger to the sink. “Water, please.”
“You got it.”
Brynn finishes tugging my T-shirt on and starts gathering our discarded clothes, then cups the back of Ella’s head and kisses her forehead. “I’m going to check on Michael.”
“Roger.”
“Thank you, Caleb.”
“Any time.”
After handing Ella her water, I hold the cup, securing it as she tips her head back and gulps the liquid down. When Brynn comes back to the doorway, I meet her gaze. “He up?”
“Yeah, he’s hurting pretty bad. I’m going to give him the pain medicine.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She nods down to where my hand still holds the cup as Ella takes a moment to breathe. “See? Teamwork.”
“You’re still tough as boiled owl…” I glance down and back up. “Crap.”
“Bad word,” Ella mumbles, and I roll my eyes.
“Sorry, Little Bit. Let’s hit the rack.”
She frowns. “The rack?”
“Go to bed.”
Swinging her into my arms, I carry her out to the bed and tuck her back in. My attention goes to Brynn and Michael. “You hurtin’, son?”
His attempt at a smile turns south fast. “Some.”
I know that dismissal of extreme pain. I’ve given more than I can count in an attempt to appear stronger than I was at the time. “I know when I broke my arm it hurt like a—well, it hurt a whole lot.”
“It did?”
“Sure did. We’re not made of steel.”
He takes the pill from Brynn and washes it down. She raises her eyebrows at me like I helped her win some big debate. I feel like I won so much more; like I’m really their father beyond what any court document is going to say. “Do you think sitting up would help him?”
“I don’t think so, but do you want to try that?”
The boy’s eyes are already drooping and his lips part as he starts fading. “No.”
She watches him and I watch her with equal amazement. The gentleness in her touch as she presses the back of her fingers to his cheeks and forehead, searching for fever, and then drops a kiss on his cheek and Ella’s. She was born to care for others, to heal with a touch, a word, a whisper.
I spoon behind her after she joins the children under the covers and shelter her with my body. She exhales a deep breath and sinks as close as humanly possible to me, her hand linked to mine when she tugs my arm more secure around her.
I swipe send for the text. Eight o’clock breakfast with Mom wasn’t happening this morning with as slow as we’re moving. With a gentle pull, I bring the sweatshirt over Michael’s head. “Okay, next the good arm.” He nods and I smile. “I’m going to need verbal confirmation on that.”
A brief smile is my reward. “Ready.”
I help him shrug into that sleeve. Then I turn to the sleeve I cut up the seam earlier to accommodate for the cast. With a quick move, I get his arm in the open sleeve.
His shoulders relax. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Sure thing. You gonna be okay to sit for breakfast or should I text your gramma again and call it off?”
“I’ll be okay. And I’m hungry.”
“We wouldn’t call off the chow—just sitting in a restaurant.”
“I’ll be okay.”
I ruffle his hair and look toward the bathroom where Brynn and Ella are stepping out after getting ready. I sweep my gaze over Brynn and smile. Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you say a word, Caleb Quinlin.”
“What, you in my mom’s jeans and her—what is that? A reindeer sweater? Outstanding.”
The kids giggle even as she gives us all the death glare. “It’s clean.”
“And that’s about all it is.”
When she advances on Michael and me, I prepare for a gut punch. Instead she tosses me one more glower before cupping Michael’s face. “You okay, baby?”
“Yeah.”
Any thoughts I avoided retribution are dashed when she leans closer to me. “You remember tonight when the kids are in bed and you turn to me on the couch, I’ll be wearing your mother’s jeans and her festive reindeer sweater.”
I stumble back, adding a bit of dramatics by clutching my chest. “Knew you had a mean streak, but that was below the belt.”
“And that’s the only thing happening below the belt today.”
“Vicious.”
Ella plants herself in front of me with hands on hips. “She’s not ish-ous.”
I sit on my heels in front of the pixie, ignoring Brynn’s chuckle. “No, she’s not ish-ous. We’re just being silly.”
She tips her head back to check Brynn’s reaction, and Brynn nods. Ella wraps her arms around my neck. “Okay. Up, please.” And just like that all is forgiven.
Standing, I hook my arm around her legs. “Okay, let’s move out.”
As we start walking, Michael wavers. Without a word, I hand Ella to Brynn and pick him up. That he doesn’t protest and try to convince me he’s fine tells me he’s not.
Like times on the FOB or even in battle, Brynn and I communicate with only a look between us, deciding we’ll cancel with Mom, grab breakfast to go, and get home.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Caleb
Slowing to a walk, I inhale the pine and sea air. I’ve been lax in my morning PT since moving back and that fact is driven home with rough breathing after a run of five miles, something I should be able to do without being winded. In the past few days, things have settled down; I can get back to regular exercise. Life is settling into a routine, and routine is good.
A shadow moves across the light in the lantern room of the lighthouse tower. After confirming his boat is there, I change course to meet up with Brian. I’m intercepted by a pixie in a puffy winter coat looking like a tick ready to pop. “Daddy!”
Unable to resist those little arms raised for me to pick her up, I swoop her into my arms. She snuggles close and reminds me just how little routine there is when there’s a four-year-old and seven-year-old in your life. “What are you doing out here, Little Bit?”
“Momma said to.”
“She told you to go out in the cold?”
“For you.”
“Oh, that
was nice of her.”
“Come color with me.”
“Oh, your dad should like that. Just don’t let him eat the crayons.”
The shit-eatin’ grin Brian shoots my way says he knows damn well I can’t respond like I want to because Ella will scold me for the string of profanity. I chose to ignore him, but Ella does not.
“Daddy doesn’t eat crayons.” She tosses back her head and laughs like it was the greatest joke.
I start walking toward the house. “Of course I do, green is my favorite.”
She continues to laugh like she knows the joke. Brian falls in line next to us. I shift her in my arms. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but Brynn and I are planning to marry on New Year’s Eve. Small deal. Would you stand as my best man?”
“Ella, can you go in with your mom?”
She looks to me and I set her on the ground. “Go on in, baby, I’ll be right there.”
When the back door closes after her, I turn back to Brian. “Something wrong?”
“No, for the first time in a long time I think things are going to be all right. When you first got back and had that letter, I resented Liz for doing this to Brynn. But now watching you all become a family, I understand. If she and Mark couldn’t raise the children, you and Brynn together would be the best option. A team since you were born. I’d be honored to stand up with you when you finally marry my sister. It’s about time.”
“Thanks, Brian, I appreciate it. Man, I really do. And I agree, I should have married Brynn years ago.” I nod to the door. “How about some coffee?”
“Perfect.”
Brian and I step across the threshold; stepping inside the house, a rush of warmth fills me that has nothing to do with the heater or fireplace, but with candles in the window and greenery, holly berries and white lights up the staircase and more garland over the fireplace with four stockings hanging like a Norman Rockwell painting. The tree lights are glinting, and there’s a sweet reason why the tree lights are on at nine in the morning. Michael’s on the couch and Brynn thinks they’ll cheer him up. I cut my gaze to Ella drinking a cup of cocoa at the kitchen table, coloring and singing a song she made up. It’s the kind of moment a man cherishes for the rest of his life.
