I’m not judging her. I served with plenty of men who came from poor means in the SEALs, and I grew up pretty damn hard-off myself.
It’s just that she’s my woman and she deserves so much more than this.
I am going to give her so much more than this.
She leads me into the kitchen slash living room area. Her mom smiles at me over the kitchen partition as she pours a glass of water. She looks much as I remember her, except she’s cut her hair short now.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” she says. “How are you, Trent?”
“No bad, ma’am,” I say. “And yourself?”
“Can’t complain.” She trails off, her eyes shifting between me and her daughter. “Something tells me this isn’t a social call.”
“I think you should sit down, Mom,” Tessa says, her voice wavering.
I clench my fist even harder, somehow resisting the overwhelming urge to grab her shoulder and give it a supportive squeeze.
“Okay…”
Caitlin walks into the living room and over to the couch, sitting down and tilting her head at Tessa.
Tessa takes the armchair and I stand next to her, my arms behind my back out of habit.
“Mom…”
“Trent Tanner is the mystery man you’ve been seeing,” Caitlin says, waving a hand.
Tessa glances at me and I almost shrug. I don’t know what to tell her. Her mother is a shrewd woman.
“Well,” she goes on. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
When Tessa just stares at her mother, I step forward with a nod.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. “Your daughter and I are in a relationship. I’m crazy about her and she means the world to me.”
My voice becomes choked with emotion, something which seems to surprise them as much as it surprises me.
“I know this will seem crazy to you,” I say. “But it all started two days ago. I walked into the diner and I saw her standing there, looking beautiful and captivating, and I just knew I had to be with her. I don’t want a fling. I want to be with her, dedicate myself to her, and that’s what I plan to do.”
“Two days ago?” she gasps, looking between us like we’ve gone crazy.
“I know,” Tessa says. “It seems so fast. But I feel the same, Mom. I want to be with him. We’re together, really together. This isn’t some fling. I wanted you to know because you deserve to know. I love you and I don’t want to lie to you.”
She keeps staring, like any second we’re going to deliver the punchline to some joke.
“Does the age gap not bother you?” she asks matter of fact. “With all due respect, Trent, you’re my age. Tessa just turned twenty-one a few months ago.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” I snarl passionately, unable to stop a flicker of rage from entering my words.
The rage isn’t directed at Tessa’s mother – no man should get angry at his woman’s mother – but at the idea that something as stupid as age could stand in the way of what we have.
“Tessa is the perfect match for me. She’s silly and funny and talented and intelligent and caring and beautiful. But it’s more than that. It’s a feeling, a fucking fate-fueled feeling, and I know how crazy that sounds and I apologize for cursing. But it’s the truth. I didn’t even believe in fate until yesterday.”
“Neither did I,” Tessa murmurs, her voice cracking with tears.
I can’t fight it anymore. I reach over and touch her shoulder.
She darts her hand up and grabs onto me, telling me I made the right choice.
Her mother stares at us for a moment longer, and then she lets out a laugh. At first, I think she’s making fun of us, but then I see the joy-filled smile that spreads across her cheeks and the tears that glisten in her eyes. She laughs and laughs and I glance down at Tessa, judging her expression.
She’s smiling.
“It’s crazy, alright,” Caitlin says once she’s recovered. “It’s the craziest freaking thing I ever heard. But look at the two of you. I’ve never seen two people, well, crazier about each other in all my life. I know Tessa better than anyone, Trent, and I’ve never seen her like this before. I’ve never seen her so… so free.”
“Free?” Tessa mutters.
“All those nerves, all that self-consciousness, all that anxiety—it went away the second Trent put his hand on your shoulder. If you’re both happy, I don’t care how unconventional this is. I don’t care about the age gap.
“I wish you the best. Because all that matters to me is your happiness, Teepee, and there’s no way I can deny that. I can’t even try to deny it.”
Tessa rushes over to her mother, wrapping her arms around her. I clear my throat as budding emotions try to escape me, gripping my hands behind my back to stop myself from punching the air.
Caitlin hugs her daughter and peers at me over the top of her head, giving me a silent message with her eyes.
Take care of her, she tells me.
I always will, I roar back silently.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tessa
I drive to Trent’s early, relieved that he got my car fixed. It’s running smoothly now, no longer making those cranking and jerking noises I had become so accustomed to.
The past three days with Trent have been like a dream – kissing, making love, fucking and holding each other, and talking about how bright our future will be – but now it’s time to wake up.
Angie is getting home soon and we have to tell her.
It could shatter everything we’ve built.
Shock rioted through me when mom burst out into laughter.
I thought she was laughing at us for a moment, but then I saw the kindness in her eyes, the support glimmering there, and I knew she wanted the best for us.
I pull up outside Trent’s house—outside Angie’s house.
The sun shines brightly over their well-tended lawn.
Trent sits on the porch with one leg laid across the other, his cellphone held to his ear. He doesn’t see me and for long moments I watch him, studying the way his lips shape into a smile, or as close to a smile as Trent Tanner can get.
He’s talking to Angie. I just know it.
I climb from the car and he stands when he sees me approaching, laying his cellphone on the table. He’s wearing a sports T-shirt and jogging bottoms that hug closely to his body, highlighting the gargantuan muscles that drive me wild, that will never stop driving me wild.
We stop bare inches from each other on his lawn, close enough for me to scent the sweat from his workout. It reminds me of the way he smelled when we devoured each other in the cabin, and then after in his bedroom back here.
It was better than I ever could’ve dreamed it would be, the way we collapsed into each other and consumed each other like nobody else existed, like the rest of the world was just a lie.
“I’ve missed you, Snapshot,” he growls.
“I’ve missed you too,” I murmur. “Which is crazy, right? It makes no freaking sense. It’s only been a few hours.”
I was at his place late last night, lying in his arms after we made love and watched a movie as his fingers moved through my hair, sending tingling sensations to every part of me.
“Was that Angie?” I ask.
He sighs and nods.
I can read all the emotion stowed up in that sigh, the uncertainty and the need butting heads, his conviction that we’re going to be together forever clashing horns with the knowledge that Angie’s reaction may shatter it all.
“Come inside,” he says firmly. “I need to kiss you. It’s killing me not being able to touch you in public. It’s not right. You’re my woman.”
We’ve agreed to keep our relationship quiet until Angie knows, just in case…
Just in case what? the sizzling in my womb screams. You’re pregnant, Tessa. There’s no going back now.
I try to force the voice away because it’s too messy to think about what we’ll do if I’m pregnant and Angie disapproves. But I don’t
even feel as though there is an if.
It feels like a fact that there’s a baby growing inside of me, already changing me.
I nod and make to walk up the steps, and then laughter cuts across the lawn, a peal of laughter I recognize very well.
It’s the throaty mean harg-harg-harg of Derrick Wilson, one of the biggest douchebags my high school ever graduated… and he only managed that feat by copying off anybody who was smaller than him. Which, being a frontline player on the football team, was pretty much everyone.
A chord of anxiety quivers through me and I turn.
Derrick stands at the head of a group of four, all of them in their lettermen jackets, as though they can’t quite let high school go. He’s even bigger than I remember like he’s been using steroids since the last time I saw him. His hair is black and cut spiky, his eyes narrowed, his smile sarcastic and cold.
The men behind him have the same narrowed mean eyes like they’re getting ready for their troupe leader to tell a cruel joke.
“Look here, fellas,” he says, grinning like a jackal. And a jackass. “It’s not-so-little Tessa Tantrum.”
Even after all this time – with three years and mom’s breakdown separating the nickname – it still stings.
They called me Tessa Tantrum because once when they filled my locker with spiders I went to the principal and complained about them. Apparently, to them, that’s the same as throwing a tantrum.
Derrick went to California to work with his uncle after graduation, I’d heard, but I guess he’s back now.
Back and douchier than ever.
“Well?” he cackles. “Haven’t you got anything to say to an old friend?”
“How about fuck off?” I snap. “Freaking hell, Derrick, high school was a million years ago. Why are you still wearing that stupid jacket?”
“Hey now,” he snaps, taking a few steps onto the lawn. “Don’t talk shit about my jacket. I’m proud of this thing. I’m just joking with ya.”
“I don’t find your jokes funny. I never have. Please just leave me alone.”
“Maybe I was going to ask you out on a date. I can see you’ve kept your… eh, figure.”
The men behind him laugh cruelly, letting me know exactly what he means when he says figure.
“Apologize,” Trent growls, striding across the lawn and stopping a few inches short of Derrick and his pals.
My heart quivers in my chest as Derrick’s lettermen buddies stalk up behind their leader, forming a gang of five around my man. Trent remains still, unfazed, focusing all his attention on Derrick.
“What?” Derrick laughs, looking around with exaggerated movements. “I don’t see any backup, old man. Maybe you ought to sit this one out, eh?”
“Tell her you’re sorry,” Trent says, his voice trembling a tiny bit, but otherwise level and calm, “or I’ll make you.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Derrick says, staring Trent in the eye.
He’s one of the few men tall enough to do that.
Several of his friends too short, grimacing.
“Says the fuckwit who’s still wearing his lettermen jacket three years after high school,” Trent snarls, and a voice inside of me screams at him to stop.
Derrick’s going to attack him. I saw him leap on countless kids in high school, savaging them with his bullying strength. And there’s five of them against Trent.
I know he’s strong and tough and capable, but five against one are bad odds, against anyone.
“You’re really starting to piss me off, old-timer,” Derrick growls. “So back. The fuck. Off.”
He takes a few steps forward, standing toe to toe with Trent now, both of them glaring at each other.
“Please, just calm down everybody,” I say, but it’s like I haven’t even spoken.
The stink of violence tinges the air.
“You have no right to talk to her like that,” Trent snarls. “So say sorry and I’ll let you walk away.”
“Let me? Let me? Fuck this.”
I scream when Derrick throws a right hook at Trent and it strikes him across the face.
Trent takes the blow, turning his face with the impact, and then takes another to the stomach.
Then he laughs.
It comes out like an alpha lion’s roar.
“That was assault,” he says as Derrick winds up for another punch. “Which makes this self-defense.”
Derrick swings at him again and Trent slides back, dodging the punch like he’s moving at light speed.
He punches Derrick in the stomach and then spins as one of Derrick’s goons tries to grab at him.
It all happens so fast, Trent sliding effortlessly between them like he knows exactly what they’re going to do.
He throws one to the ground and then elbows the other in the nose, causing blood to go flying, and then lifts his hands to block a flurry of blows to his face.
I gasp as another man lays into him, but then Trent explodes with three well-aimed punches.
By the time he’s finished, three of the men – including Derrick – are on the ground groaning. The other two apparently have important appointments elsewhere because they hightail it as fast as they can.
Trent grabs Derrick by the back of his lettermen jacket, as though he’s grabbing a dog by the scruff of the neck, and yanks him to his feet.
“Tell her you’re sorry,” he snarls. “Now.”
“What the fuck?” Derrick cries, his voice wavering, cracking with the onset of tears. “There were five of us, man…”
Trent shakes him firmly. “Now.”
Derrick tugs his gaze to me, his eyes watery, as his other two so-called friends abandon him.
“I’m sorry,” he whines. “Okay? Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
I know why he said it. He’s a bully and he hates himself, and the only way he can forget how much he hates himself for a few paltry moments is to make other people feel like that.
“Whatever,” I snap.
Trent stares at me with a message in his intense forest eyes.
Do you accept his apology?
I stare back at him, part of me wanting to tell him no. Part of me wants to tell my man to hurt this bully worse than he already has, to break his bones and shatter his nose. But then Trent would go to jail, and I don’t that.
I want what we’re building together.
A family, a future, a home.
I nod and Trent tosses him away. Derrick stumbles over his feet and sits down with a tangled cry. He leaps up, wiping snot and blood across his face as he races down the street.
“Fuck, I almost lost control there,” Trent says as I walk across the lawn.
“But you didn’t,” I say firmly. “I was so scared. You let them hit you.”
“I need to be with you,” he says, voice quivering with intensity. “If I just attacked him and fucked them up – worse than that little lesson I just taught them – I’d be risking that.”
My fingers twitch with the need to reach up and touch his face.
I almost do, my body screaming at me to do it, do it now, touch my man and make sure he’s okay.
But then Angie pulls up outside the house, waving at us, a radiant smile on her face.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Trent
“It was so, so, so amazing,” Angie says, waving her hands like she can’t stand the thought of keeping them still with so much excitement bursting out of her.
We sit in the living room, with Angie on the armchair and Tessa and me on the couch… with the middle seat left free, which is a damn hard thing to do when all I want is to reach across and grab her after what just happened with those high school fuck-heads.
They were idiots for bullying my woman in front of me.
I’ve had harder sparring sessions than that dozens of times in the SEALs.
“I know it’s just a TV advertisement, but everyone was so nice, so friendly. The director was this lovely woman named Gail. I don’t know
if she was joking, but she said I had what it takes to be a real actor. Can you believe that?”
“Yes,” Tessa and I say at the same time, with the same passionate certainty in our voices.
Angela giggles, looking between us.
I smirk and say, “You’re incredibly talented, Angela. It doesn’t surprise me in the least. This is just the first step on a very bright and wonderful journey. I know it.”
She looks between us again, the same way Tessa’s mother did when we told her. There must be something about Tessa and me that roars out what we’re doing, even if we’ve made the effort to sit separately, even if we haven’t looked at each other since we all sat down.
I can’t look at her, because then I’ll study the way that summer dress hugs her body, the way it highlights the curvaceous form of her, and it might drive me wild. Even with my daughter sitting right there, I can’t stop the love and lust-tipped arrows from soaring across at me, captivating me, enthralling me as only my woman can.
“Why are you sitting like that?” Angela asks, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees.
She’s got a look in her eyes I recognize well from when she was a kid, a perceptive precocious look that misses nothing. It’s the same look she got when she asked me once if I’d ever loved – truly loved – her mother.
I wanted to tell her, yes, but I couldn’t lie to her.
Even if I’d wanted to, she would’ve seen straight through it with her perceptive precocious gaze.
“Like what?” Tessa murmurs.
Angela laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Like you want to sit as far away from each other as possible while also sitting as close together as you can get. I know that makes no sense. But that’s how you’re sitting.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair, not sure where to begin, how to begin.
Caitlin made it easy for us by guessing and immediately approving, but my daughter just stares, waiting for one of us to speak.
“Well?” she snaps. “What the heck is going on here?”
“Tessa and I are together,” I say.
Angela leaps to her feet. Something in my chest cracks when I see the way she paces up and down the room, her hands clasped in front of her. She looks exactly the same as when I told her that her mother and I were separating.
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