Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  She shrugged.

  “Can’t we come up with our own code, so we don’t end up hurting one another day after day, week after week?”

  A tear dripped down her cheek, but she didn’t shake her head. She didn’t nod. She didn’t say a word.

  “Give me something, Baby. I have to know how I’m fucking up. Maybe you make me tattoo it on my arm after I do it, then make me apologize on my knees, then I have to read it when I wake up again? How does that sound?” he cajoled.

  Still nothing.

  “Come on, Honey, what’s going on?”

  “It’s a lot of little things,” she said quietly. “I’m finding out you have a whole hell of a lot of pent-up bitterness and resentment built up against me. Knowing that, how can I help but think that deep down, deep deep down, you don’t like or trust me.” Her words were merely a whisper in the end.

  Oh God.

  “Is this true, or is this part of the injury? Because right here, right now, I’ve got to tell you I like and trust you more than my parents and my teammates.”

  Lydia barked out a laugh and pulled her hand out of his. “Yeah sure, that’s why you were just saying you wanted to talk to your mom and dad so you could find out the truth.”

  Clint didn’t know how to respond.

  Lydia stood there with her arms crossed over her stomach, obviously trying to protect herself from harm. “Help me out here, Lydia. Let’s start from the beginning. First, it’s been about a half-hour now. I remember Mom and Dad coming. I even remember them telling me that I’m an uncle, which is way cool, by the way. So, I know you’re not keeping anything from me.”

  Lydia shrugged her left shoulder. “Hmm, mmm.”

  “Next, I remember Dr. Varma, Sal, and the evil Emily Murphy who is my psychologist. How could something so mean be wrapped up in such a pretty package?” He rolled his eyes.

  Lydia let out a little laugh. “You really have something against psychologists, don’t you? I can’t wait to hear you tell Finn about your aversion,” she smirked, then it turned into a sad sigh.

  Shit, I had her for a second.

  Something pinged for Clint and he remembered his teammate Finn needing not only a psychologist but a psychiatrist to help him with his post-traumatic stress disorder a few years ago. The man had not been thrilled to begin with, but in the end, he said they had helped him a lot. Oh, Christ, Finn had even needed meds. Clint had to stop himself from groaning out loud.

  Okay, okay, at least I’m remembering shit. This is good.

  Clint looked at the dark-haired beauty in front of him and wanted to weep. How could he have ever made Lydia Hildalgo, the woman he desperately wanted to make his wife, ever feel less than completely loved by him?

  “Sweetheart, can you sit down next to me so we can get straight? From everything Dr. Murphy and Dr. Varma have had to say, this is a long road. I want to know how you feel about this.”

  Clint practically gagged on the words. As much as he needed to say those words. Ask those words, he wanted to scream and beg for Lydia to never leave him. He loved her down to his bones and not having her in his life would kill him. But, loving her down to his bones meant that he had to do what was right for this woman. Obviously, he had been hurting her. It was bad enough that he was literally fucked in the head, but if he was being an abusive asshole as well, then she was right to run.

  She shook her head sadly. “You know how I feel about this, Clint. I’ve told you.”

  He patted the space beside him on the bed. “Sit down and tell me again.”

  He braced himself.

  She sat and released her arms. One hand hovered over his chest until it landed as lightly as a butterfly. Then she stretched out her fingers, caressing him. Clint shut his eyes, savoring her touch, loving this feeling. Would it be his last?

  “You are my heart. You have been for five years. But half the time you don’t believe me. I can handle the TBI, I can. I understand there is going to be anger and paranoia. I have read all the literature, I’ve talked to Varma, Ivanhoe, and Murphy. I’ve talked to other spouses of men and women with traumatic brain injuries, and they’ve told me what I can expect. But what you’re saying is different.”

  “How?” Clint asked as he softly pressed his hand on top of hers, holding her even closer as he looked into the brown depths of her eyes. She turned away, but with his other hand, he tilted her jaw back toward him. “What am I saying that’s different? How am I pushing you away, Lydia?”

  “You don’t trust me. It’s like you don’t believe in our relationship. You keep bringing up that we’re not married.”

  Clint picked up her hand from his chest and looked at her dainty fingertips. She was petite. She looked fragile, but her strength was unimaginable. He flashed back five years ago to when she was fighting for her life in the jungle. Like she was fighting for her life right now. His Lydia would always take the bull by the horns.

  “And?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That can’t be all, not for how upset you are. What else is there?”

  “It’s everything.”

  He bit out a laugh. “Well, we’ve always known that there are times I’ve needed a personality transplant, maybe this is a good thing. Instead of being the class clown, I can be more serious like Darius. Or I can start doing more handyman types of things. I can learn from Mason’s dad. Maybe I can become Finn’s assistant coach at lacrosse. Can’t you see me wrangling a bunch of twelve-year-olds?”

  Lydia tried to extract her hand, but Clint wouldn’t let her.

  “What? If that’s not it, what is it, Lydia? I’m flying blind here, ya gotta help me.”

  She stifled back a sob but let him keep her hand. “Clint, it’s been more than that. If you were angry at everybody, that would be one thing.” Then she hiccupped. “Okay, you’re angry a lot, I grant you, but with me, you seem both angry and disappointed. I just don’t get it, it’s like I’m trying to bail out a sinking ship with my cupped hands. It’s not working. I never knew we had such deep underlying problems.”

  “We don’t, Babe. We don’t.”

  Clint felt the panic skittering along every one of his nerve endings. What the fuck had he been saying? Doing? How could Lydia ever have been a disappointment to him? She was his own personal miracle. He’d come close to losing her to death too often for him to ever be disappointed in her.

  “Clint?” She pulled back and cupped his face. He leaned forward.

  “What? Tell me?”

  “Honey, this is what I want you to tattoo on your arm. I want you to think long and hard about this. You need to figure out why you are angry and disappointed with me. I buy into the fact that we have your brain injury to deal with. I’m here for you. I’m not leaving ’til you’re one hundred percent. But if after that this isn’t working…I’m going to give you the freedom you seem to want.”

  He gripped her wrists, thankful that even in his state of raw terror, he was still careful with this precious woman. “Lydia, there’s nothing. I swear it to you.”

  She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Honey, I truly believe that this is a good thing. Not that I would ever in my wildest dreams want you hurt, but I think there is something going on in your heart that is finally coming to the surface that you’ve only been able to speak about freely now.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  His head pounded. His vision was beginning to blur. If he had any sense it would be tears, but instead, he felt the edges of a migraine begin to scrape his eyeballs. He deserved as much pain as the world could throw at him for having hurt Lydia.

  “Let me call for a nurse.”

  “I don’t need one, we need to talk.”

  This time the kiss that she gave him wasn’t placating, it was a smoldering temptation that reminded him of all that he needed to fight for. She was pleasure, laughter, and all that was good in the world. She slid one of her hands from his jaw to the back of his head to spear it through
the short hair at the back of his neck. He winced and she felt it. She drew back.

  “I’m calling a nurse,” she said as she got up and left the room.

  This time when his vision blurred, he was pretty sure it was tears.

  12

  Drake Avery and Finn Crandall walked into his room as the second round of drugs was taking hold.

  “Damn, guys. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He laughed. His eyes were sore, so it was funny.

  “Ah God, Finn. He’s stoned.” Drake dragged a chair close to Clint’s bedside and sat next to his head. “For Fuck’s sake, Archer, you were supposed to be better than this by now, what the hell? You’ve been here at Walter Reed almost five weeks.””

  Clint laughed. That was Drake; he couldn’t be tactful even if somebody paid him a million dollars and duct-taped his mouth. He laughed again.

  “He’s really stoned.” Drake rolled his eyes.

  “Just imagining you wish your moush duct-taped.” Clint grinned.

  “Doesn’t sound stoned to me,” Finn said drolly. “He actually sounds pretty with it. I wish your mouth was duct-taped shut on a regular basis.” Drake shot a glare over his shoulder at Finn.

  “So, what’s been going on now that you’re in the land of the living? Been getting any hospital nooky?”

  “Jesus, Avery, just shut the hell up.” Finn pushed forward and looked at Clint. Thank God he had received meds, otherwise, it would be disconcerting. Lydia had left hours ago, but the pain from the conversation still lingered.

  “Thanks, Finn, I knew I could count on you.”

  “You look like shit. Happy and loopy because of good drugs, but I’d say life is not going your way.”

  Clint frowned. “Sures, my brain is mushy, Finn. My career is in the shitter. What the hell did you expects?” Hot damn, he hadn’t slurred his words. He found the button beside his bed and pushed it so his head was lifted.

  “I expected my friend, who is a freaking medical miracle, to be doing a little bit better,” Finn said gently.

  Two sets of eyes examined him, and it was ten times worse than whenever Emily looked at him. She might have the degree in psychology, but she didn’t have the senses of a SEAL, and she’d never been in combat with him. These guys knew him down to the grit under his toenails. Nope, couldn’t fool them, but he was damn well going to try.

  “Half the time I can’t remember what day it is. Then, I was asking Lydia why my parents hadn’t visited when I woke up this morning. Of coursh, they’d already been here for a while before my lovely personality chased them back to Colorado.”

  “You taking a page out of my book?” Drake asked.

  Finn gave Clint a long look.

  “I thought you liked your parents. I mean if they were anything like mine, I could understand being a touch surly,” Drake winked.

  Like a shining beacon, Clint remembered everything that had happened with Drake’s dysfunctional family from the eighth circle of hell. “You know, Avery, I always thought you were a little rough around the edges, but knowing where you come from, you’re the freaking miracle, and those sisters of yours are angels.”

  Drake preened.

  Finn continued to watch their byplay.

  “Finn, you can stop staring at me anytime you’d like,” Clint invited.

  “I’m just standing here being entertained.”

  “Like hell,” Clint said bitterly. Oops, he was talking too slow.

  “Guess they didn’t give you enough happy sauce. I thought you’d be glad to see the men who saved your ass.”

  Clint stared at them blankly. “Tell me what happened.”

  Both of their expressions turned serious. “It was a shitshow,” Drake started. “We were in Syria and you got caught in a bomb explosion rescuing all of us. I really thought you’d bought the farm.”

  “Drake caught you, though,” Finn chimed in.

  Clint looked over at Drake who didn’t change expression.

  “Thank you,” Clint said solemnly.

  “You would have done the same thing. Only difference is, I would have had the decency to remember,” Drake grinned.

  “Fuck yous, Avery.”

  “So how bad is it, do you know yet, or are they telling you all the same crap they told me, way back when?” Finn stuck out his fingers and made quotes in the air, “It depends on how you progress, then we’ll know.” Finn grimaced. “Are you getting that kind of happy horseshit?”

  “God, I wish they hadn’t topped the tank with meds before you came, then I could talk about this with my whole half a brain I have left. But yeah, thash pretty much what they’re saying.”

  Drake reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some papers. From what Clint could see it looked like printed-out e-mails. “Not for nothing, but we pulled some strings with Dex over at Black Dawn. He got some of the real scoopage, if you’re interested.”

  Clint struggled to sit up even straighter.

  “Hell yeah, I wantz that.” But he realized that as he had sat up straighter, he got woozier. “Ah shit, these meds are going to put me out for the count, realz soon. Can you come back? I want to hear about Mason and Sophia too. I figure that’s why he’s not here, right?”

  Finn and Drake nodded at the same time. Clint let his head drop back down onto the pillows and instantly regretted it as he let out a moan.

  “Does any of Dex’s info tell you what I have to accomplish to get the fuck out of here?”

  “Yep, it’s spelled out. We can get your ass back to California if you can hit certain benchmarks. According to what Dex has found you’re not excelling at the ADLs, you’re not always oriented. Apparently, when you are conscious, you’re pushing too hard, and that’s probably causing you setbacks. What a surprise, you’re your own worst enemy.”

  Clint tried to take in what they were saying, but it was too much.

  “Then there’s Lydia. I’ve got to figure her out.”

  He couldn’t stop the yawn that overtook him. He wasn’t going to last. He really wanted to hear more.

  “What?” Finn asked. “What about Lydia?”

  “She’s broken. Or I’m broken. I don’t know. I need to fix it.”

  “That can’t be right, Clint. You guys are solid,” Drake said emphatically.

  Clint tried to shake his head, but it wouldn’t move.

  “Need to unbreak us.”

  He closed his eyes so he could remember his train of thought, but it never came back to him.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Sweetheart. Right now, I’m going to go FaceTime with Karen and the kids,” Drake said as he left the booth. He threw down far too much cash. Lydia would have objected, but she’d just be wasting her breath.

  “You are such a softie,” Lydia teased as she reached up to kiss Drake’s cheek.

  “Don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin my rep.”

  “Bullshit. As soon as we saw you with your younger sisters, excluding Evie, we all knew you had a heart of gold.”

  Lydia watched as he blushed. Rylie would have loved it if she had still been here, but she’d gone back to California early. There’d been an issue with her young charge Georgie that she needed to handle.

  “If you two need to go on up too, that’s fine. I’ll just stay here and do a catch-up on my laptop,” Lydia smiled at Finn and Angie.

  Finn draped his arm around the back of the booth behind Angie and sat back. “Nope, I’m enjoying myself. It’s nice to spend time in the normal world.”

  Lydia gave an inward sigh of relief. Truth be told, she didn’t want to be alone. She’d talked to Beth a little bit, but her sister had her hands full right now. Maybe she’d tell her more now that Jack had come home to the ranch. Then there was Sophia, another good friend who she would normally lean on, but she was struggling with her pregnancy. If anything, Lydia was always calling her trying to keep her spirits up.

  Who the hell was she kidding, the person she relied on the most in this world, was Clint. They were the Nerd
King and the Dork Queen. They’d been solid for five years. He was her best friend. She didn’t just love the man, he was her soulmate. But finding out she wasn’t his, was killing her.

  But let’s get real, I did this to myself. I’m so sick of being alone with my own pitiful thoughts. Thank God Angie and Finn are here to keep me occupied tonight.

  “So, Clint was teasing me about possibly being your assistant lacrosse coach, what do you think?” Lydia asked.

  Finn laughed. So did Angie. Their response was so immediate that even though Lydia agreed with them, she kind of took offense. “Why couldn’t he be? He’s good with kids. Look how he was with Billy when he was growing up. Let’s not forget how he is with Rylie and Dare’s kids.”

  Finn took a sip of his lemonade. “There’s no question that the kids would think he was the man. He’d do great with them.”

  “So why the laughter?”

  “He’s too competitive,” Finn’s grin was rueful. “You have to be willing to let the kids lose. Don’t get me wrong—he would never come down hard on the kids, but he’d try every angle possible to make sure the team won, and it would suck a lot of the fun out of it for the kids. What’s more, they have to learn how to lose, and lose well. It’s part of what this is all about.”

  Lydia frowned. It was a dog-eat-dog world out there; personally, she felt it was important for kids to learn how to come out on top.

  Finn chuckled.

  “She’s doing it too, you can see her thinking of ways to win,” Angie said to Finn. “That’s why you and Clint are perfect for one another. You can’t handle the thought of losing either, can you?”

  “Not really,” Lydia admitted.

  “That’s what makes you such a damn good cop,” Angie said.

  “So, you’re a private investigator, are you telling me you ever set out to lose?” Lydia asked.

  “Absolutely not.” Angie agreed. “I go for the win every single time. I’m still pissed about some things that happened years ago. But, because of my dad, and Pops especially, they taught me how to get past that. I couldn’t have stayed in business if I hadn’t learned to let things go. Anyway, I thought you were getting into yoga and meditation?”