Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “That was to help me calm down and focus. In Cyber Crimes I would get hit with so many cases, and so much data coming in on a daily basis that I needed a way to relax and give my lizard brain a chance to process some of it. Yoga and meditation were key.”

  “So, you didn’t get into any of the spirituality aspects?” Finn asked.

  “I was raised Catholic. My parents go to Mass on Sundays and Wednesdays. Beth and I were raised in a very strict household, but then to find out he was working for a drug cartel, it really disillusioned me. How could a man who preached such devotion do something like that? How could he think to betray us like that? How could he use us like that?”

  Finn stilled.

  “Use you?” he asked quietly.

  Lydia realized she’d said too much. “I mean allowing us to get caught up in his crimes,” Lydia covered.

  “I knew he was money laundering for the cartel, but he ended up testifying against them, didn’t he?” Angie asked.

  Lydia nodded.

  “Are you talking about being targeted and left in the jungle? Are you talking about Berto coming after Beth when he came across her at your father’s office?” Finn asked.

  She nodded mutely.

  “You don’t blame him for that, do you?” Angie asked.

  Lydia gave the slightest shake of her head, lying to her friends.

  She had to leave it at that.

  But she’d heard the words her father had said at the trial. He’d said: “The men who worked for Guzman had to do whatever he said. If they didn’t, they would be tortured and killed. Their family would be tortured and killed. It didn’t matter what they demanded. You did it.”

  Those words had stuck with her, and she suspected the worst. No, she’d known. She was sure that he had offered up Beth to be sexually abused at sixteen to save his own life. His perfidy knew no bounds. But Lydia had never confronted him, sticking her head in the sand. Because then she’d have to act, then it would become a family matter. And her mother would be involved. Lydia would die if her mother forgave her father, or worse yet, stood by him. So, she tamped down these thoughts into the smallest compartment of her soul, and she could go months without thinking about it. But having this secret would sometimes eat at her in the middle of the night, like a beetle boring into her ear with its sharp mandibles nipping and snapping, going so deep she could never get it out. She’d wake up in a cold sweat, praying that Clint wouldn’t notice. If she told him, he would know just what a coward she was. How deeply she had betrayed her oath as an officer of the law, her sister, and their relationship.

  “Lydia, you’re so pale. Are you all right?” Angie asked with concern.

  Lydia looked down and grabbed at the empty straw wrapper and nodded quickly. She tilted her head so she could rub her ear against her shoulder.

  The waitress came to the table. “Would you like your bill, or would you like to look at the dessert menu?” she asked.

  “Dessert.” Finn smiled easily as he took the proffered menu.

  “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Lydia took that time to smile. She wasn’t going to go down that road with Finn and Angie. She’d stick to the easy stuff, like lacrosse, yoga, Finn’s PTSD. Hell, she’d even be happy to talk about spirituality. Anything but why she knew her father was destined for hell. She put on a false smile and put down her dessert menu.

  “I’m going for the berry pie. I know it won’t be as good as anything that Sophia would make, but it’ll remind me of home.”

  “I’ll second that,” Finn said as he put his menu down.

  “I’m all about the chocolate decadent cake,” Angie grinned. “I can’t resist chocolate.”

  “Finn, Clint told me you did a lot of things to cope when you were on leave. I’m wondering if you’d mind sharing some of those things with me. I think Clint’s in for a longer haul than he realizes.” Lydia tore at the paper straw wrapper.

  “Sure, I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Angie told me that she’s been explaining things from her point of view, which I think is great.”

  That was a relief.

  “Rationally I get that Clint is subject to mood swings, emotional outbursts, a whole gamut of emotions. Hell, I’d really be screwed if he went the blank-slash-apathy route. I can’t imagine a life with Clint stonewalling me. But he’s angry, intolerant, depressed, and anxious.”

  “Is he verbally abusive?” Finn asked gently.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Lydia tore some more of the wrapper.

  “How far would you go? I’m not taking sides. I just want to get a clear picture.”

  Something was soothing about Finn’s voice, it made you want to listen and respond. Emily Murphy could learn a thing or two from him.

  “He doesn’t yell.” Lydia stopped. “At least not at me.”

  “Does it scare you when he yells?”

  “Hell no. A man raising his voice is no big deal. That happens all the time at the precinct,” Lydia scoffed.

  “I’m sure they do, but Lydia, I don’t remember Clint ever being a yeller.”

  Her shoulders fell. He was right. Sure, Clint would bark out commands when the situation warranted it, but yell for no reason? Nope, that wasn’t him.

  “No,” she said slowly, “he was never a yeller. Even when I was in danger and he was worried, he would keep it together.”

  “So, it doesn’t bother you that he’s yelling now?”

  Lydia looked up at Finn under her lashes.

  “Fine, it does. It bothers me. Even when it isn’t directed at me.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d fucked up. But Finn didn’t make it a gotcha moment; he let her sit with her words. Lydia was thankful when the desserts arrived. It gave her even more time to think.

  “Finn. Angie. I don’t want you to think badly of Clint. Please don’t. He’s still the best man I know.” She pointed her fork at Finn, “Except for you. You’re tied with Clint.”

  Finn nodded solemnly.

  “His moods are all over the place. But it isn’t the yelling, which has only happened a couple of times to me. He saves most of it for his docs. No, it’s the killer remarks. He knows how to cut me up with just one sentence. I try to grin and bear it and put it down to his injury, but it’s getting to the point that I can’t anymore.”

  Again, Finn didn’t ask anything further. He understood that if she wanted to divulge more, she would have.

  “See, this is why I wanted you to talk to Finn,” Angie chimed in. “He couldn’t pull that with me, because as he was dealing with his issues, we were just meeting. So, we didn’t have a history where he knew all my pressure points.”

  “But I did resent her at times, because I found myself relying on her.” Finn rubbed the back of Angie’s neck and she arched into his touch. Lydia felt envious. “But Lydia, nine times out of ten, she was my touchstone. Clint’s in early days.”

  “It seems like forever.” She put down her fork, her stomach too upset to eat anymore.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” Angie asked gently. “You need some moral support. Not that we won’t be here for you. We will, always. But right now, you could benefit from a counselor who supports spouses of TBI victims, or a support group.”

  Lydia leaned back in the booth and rested her head. She’d really been hoping for a magic bullet from Finn, since he had gone through so much, and come out the other side. And she wanted to go to a psychologist as much as Clint did. Which was not! She’d had to do it after the trauma of her beating at the hands of the cartel, but she’d found Clint’s words, his arms, his support had been what truly healed her. Now he was the problem.

  “We’ve done some snooping,” Finn said as he pulled a sheaf of papers out of his jacket pocket. “A lot of this is just bullshit, but this page has the meat.” He handed her the page he had indicated.

  Lydia began to read this over. Someone had hacked Clint’s medical records and the doctor and psychologist’s not
es. If she had been on her game, she would have done that herself. Where the hell had her brain been? She had been relying on the little bit they had been telling her, instead of going directly into their files. That’s what she always did. When had she become that trusting?

  Her eyes widened when she got to the part that Clint was basically fouling up his own recovering by pushing too hard. She laughed.

  “What?” Angie asked.

  “Trust my man to be pushing too hard, and fucking himself over,” Lydia said as she shook her head in disbelief. “Why the hell hasn’t Murphy just been upfront with him? Just how sensitive does she think he is?”

  “I still don’t understand,” Angie said.

  “A lot of the reasons for his setbacks and migraines are because he will force himself to stay awake and work so hard to remember. If I know Clint, he’s probably sweet-talked someone to give him some electronics, which is a big ole no-no.” She shoved the paper back at Finn. “I’m going to kill him. And Emily Murphy. If Clint knew—”

  “He does,” Finn interrupted her. “Drake showed him this today. We got the report from Dex from the Black Dawn SEAL team when we arrived stateside. He didn’t know you well enough to give it to you.”

  “Well, he better get to know me, because if he keeps another goddamn thing from me, I’ll rip off parts that he would hate to part with.”

  Angie snorted. “You can say dick, it won’t offend me.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Finn, I’ve been an ass not doing this kind of hacking myself.”

  “Cut yourself some slack, Lydia,” Finn said gently. “You’ve been in the thick of things. What’s more, your major support system, Beth and Sophia, have had their hands full. If I had to guess, you’re still trying to be there for them. Am I right?”

  Lydia rubbed the back of her neck.

  “Not going to answer that, huh?” he smiled.

  “It has been a lot. I just want him to get better.” She looked up at the stained ceiling of the restaurant. “I want to take him home to California.”

  Finn reached out and touched her hand that was resting on the table. “You do realize that’s not going to happen, right? Home’s still a stretch. Darius is checking out good rehabilitation centers in Southern California. They’re mostly for people with real physical and cognitive issues. I’m not sure there is something for Clint’s situation. He’s looking for centers that will allow for spouses, but those are few and far between.”

  Lydia shuddered at that word. “I’m not his spouse,” Lydia said emphatically. Clint had made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t his wife.

  “Finn meant to say loved ones. It won’t matter if you’re his fiancée or wife,” Angie chimed in.

  “I’m not sure he’s going to want me there,” Lydia admitted in a whisper.

  Finn looked shocked. “Of course, he is. I know that I’d be lost without Angie, and Clint’s the same way about you. You have to know that, Lydia.”

  “Not lately.” She couldn’t look at the couple across from her.

  Finn squeezed her hand tighter.

  “All the more reason for you to be there with him.”

  “Unless…” Angie started. “Unless you don’t want to be there.”

  Lydia shut her eyes.

  Do I? Shut up, of course I do. And the big baby will just have to put up with me.

  “Clint has been a royal ass, hasn’t he?” Finn growled.

  “No, he hasn’t. It’s the injury,” Lydia protested.

  “Yeah, I get that. But I know my friend. With enough time, with the right tools, medicine, and patience on his part, he has a big shot of pulling himself together. It’ll take time and concentration, but he can do it. I talked to him today. He’s willing to put in the work. He needs to focus.”

  “The doctors say not to expect too much,” Lydia cautioned Finn. “He’s never going to be the man I fell in love with. This is my new Clint.”

  “He is never going to be a man who emotionally hurts you. This is an anomaly, I know it. Just wait and see.”

  13

  Clint had woken up tired, and this time he didn’t push through. He rolled over and went back to sleep. When he woke up again, he felt more rested than he had since being in this ugly-assed room. He pulled the cell phone out from his pillowcase and realized it was ten fifty in the morning. He was so going to owe the janitor big-time when he was released.

  The wireless internet connection was crap, but he still could catch some of the current news. Lots going on overseas, but even more going on in Washington. There was a senator who was trying to make a name for himself who kept catching his eye. He gave Clint the creeps.

  The screen began to swim in front of him, and he felt the beginning of a headache. He powered off the phone and shoved it back in hiding. Any minute the nurse would be in for her hourly vitals check. She’d also want to know if he was oriented, and with the couple of hours of extra rest, he’d nail it today!

  The door opened.

  “Good morning, Chief. You slept later than normal, but I see you’re upright and bright-eyed. This is a nice change. You ready for the barrage of questions?”

  “Hit me.”

  “What is today’s date?”

  “December thirteenth.”

  “That’s one,” the nurse smiled. “Let’s see if you can do another. Where are you?”

  “Bethesda, Maryland, which was always where I wanted to vacation, right after Fiji. Specifically, Walter Reed Medical Center.”

  “That’s two,” she held up two fingers. Can you tell me who some of your visitors were in the last couple of days, and who your doctors are?”

  “My fiancée, Lydia Hildalgo. Two teammates of mine, Finn Crandall, and somebody who probably flirted with you, a big guy by the name of Drake Avery.”

  “Yes, he did indeed,” she grinned. “And your doctors?”

  “Ivanhoe, Varma, and Murphy.”

  “You just passed with flying colors. If it weren’t for the strain around your eyes, I would say everything was perfect. How bad is your pain?”

  “What pain?” Clint asked innocently.

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Chief. How long have you been up? Were you practicing your answers before I came in?”

  “Nope, not me. I was sleeping.”

  What eye strain? Did the phone do that?

  She came closer to the monitors. “Well, your blood pressure looks good, so does your pulse. How’s your pain?”

  “I’m not in pain,” he lied.

  “On a scale of one to ten?”

  “Zero.”

  “Want to try that again?”

  “Three.”

  She stared at him. He stared back. Finally, he lifted his pinky. “This has been hurting. Don’t know why. Maybe this is at a four.”

  “God save me from Special Forces. I’m going to call your fiancée; she wanted to know when you’re awake. I don’t know if she’s coming or she’s going to send Handsome over. It’s a win either way.”

  She gave a cheeky grin as she left the room.

  Clint pulled out the cell phone, pulled up the internet, and started doing some real research on TBIs, something he should have been doing a week ago, ever since his vision had improved.

  I’m an idiot.

  Yep. Blue light and screen time totally contributed to migraines. Small screens were extremely detrimental. Clint sighed. As per his usual, he made a quick decision; he’d use the phone up until he felt just a niggle of a headache coming on, then he’d stop. He needed to keep up with the outside world. He needed to find out as much as he could about his kind of brain injuries so he could be more participatory in his recovery. He’d be damned if he would continue to have these goddamn mood swings that would hurt Lydia.

  It was probably twenty minutes later that he heard Drake outside yakking it up with one of the nurses. Finn would be coming in first. The door swung open. There he was, Mr. Calm Cool and Collected.

  Anger hit.

>   The bastard. That used to be me!

  Finn laughed. “And here I had heard you were in a good mood.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m in a great mood!”

  Finn pulled up a chair as he chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll let Drake know when he comes in. So, what has your tail in a twist?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty damned happy to see you again. I’ll even be happy to see Drake’s ass,” Clint bit out.

  “Yeah, your voice sounds like it. Why in the hell are you trying to hide it from me of all people? I’ve been in your shoes.”

  “No, you haven’t! Yours was all psychological, mine’s actual brain damage. I’ve read about it. We don’t know just how much trauma my brain has sustained, and whether I’ll ever be able to control my mood swings. Yours was just you pulling up your big girl panties and sucking it up!”

  “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Drake shook his head in disgust as he walked in the door. “Maybe your memory of four years ago is gone too, huh, man? Finn had to drag himself back from hell. It was guts and determination. You were one of the guys on his side who helped him fight back those devils. And here you are making light of it. I take it back—you’re not an asshole, you’re a prick.”

  Drake turned to Finn. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Finn sighed. “You’re so easy, Avery. Now get in here, shut the door, and let’s have a reasonable conversation.”

  “Not with this dick, no way.”

  “Did you not read any of the info that Dex put together? And for that matter, how about you, Archer?” Finn turned to Clint. “Did you? Because Drake’s right, you are being kind of dickish.”

  Did the man have to smile? Or sound reasonable? Or sound actually nice? Bastard.

  “So, what set you off when I walked in?” Finn’s question was reasonable, but Clint didn’t want to answer, because if he did, he’d sound pretty fucking petty.