Vince: One Night with a Marine: A Second Chance Military Romance (Anchor Me Book 2)

by Lisa Carlisle

  She wouldn’t have to feel anything.

  Half-an-hour later, Emma rinsed the chlorine off in the shower. As the hot water flowed over her body, she took deep breaths, visualizing it washing those negatives thoughts down the drain. She’d tried every sort of yoga and meditation and self-help mantras to help her get through the divorce, and used them now to cope with Peter’s announcement.

  She’d started a new life without him and was in a better place. No way would she let him continue to drain her emotions like a damn energy vampire.

  Maybe she didn’t yet know what the future held with her and Vince. That didn’t mean she had to let her past with Peter ruin it before she even gave it a chance.

  By the time she’d dressed, she’d resolved to not think about Peter and continued on with her day.

  That evening, Vince picked up a rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables and returned to her apartment. When he stepped into her living room, the anguish from Peter’s news didn’t cut as deep.

  As soon as Vince put the food down on the table, she greeted him with passionate kiss.

  “What a welcome.” He grinned and his eyes gleamed with delight. “I’ll be sure to bring over dinner every night if that’s how I’m greeted.”

  “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.” She took his hand and led him into her bedroom. “Let’s start with dessert.”

  Vince

  Soon after leaving Emma’s the next day, Vince headed to the weight room on base. While he worked on supersets, he thought about Emma. They were growing closer, no doubt. What could that possibly mean for them going forward?

  Fuck if he knew. None of his relationships had lasted more than six months, and that longest one had dated back to high school.

  He returned to his parents’ house and ate a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich with his mother.

  “What have you been up to?” his mother asked.

  He shrugged. “Staying busy.”

  “Doing?” she prodded.

  “Just came back from working out on base.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded at him with a knowing look. “Ah ha.” Her tone sounded unconvinced.

  That’s all she was going to get out of him. He didn’t want to talk about Emma and face questions he didn’t know how to answer.

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Probably read a bit.”

  “I’m going to head out to do some errands. Do you need anything?”

  “No, thanks, Ma.”

  After lunch, Vince escaped into his room and pulled out a fantasy novel to read. After a couple of hours, he checked his messages. Maybe he should send something flirty to Emma.

  When he saw an email from Marianne, O’Brien’s widow, his muscles tightened. The subject read Thank You. A strange tightness clamped his gut, an odd reaction to a thank you.

  Considering the context, it made more sense.

  He drew a deep breath and then opened the email.

  Dear Vince,

  Thank you so much for your kindness in sending Christmas presents. The kids loved them all, as you can see in the attached photos.

  We’re all doing as well as can be expected. I appreciate you asking. It’s an adjustment for sure, but we’re doing our best.

  I hope you are well and that you’re enjoying the holidays wherever you are.

  Happy new year,

  Marianne

  Vince opened the first photo. The kids had mile wide smiles as they held up their presents. Emma was right on target with her suggestions. Wrapping paper was scattered about, appearing like a casualty in the battle for gift unveiling.

  The next photo was of the entire family in front of the Christmas tree. Nope, not the whole family, just what was left after their unit had been shattered by an IED. Marianne held the youngest and the two other kids stood on either side. They all smiled but Vince could swear he detected a note of sadness underneath, especially in Marianne’s expression. The dark circles under her eyes exposed the anguish underneath.

  Was she just putting on a brave face for the kids’ sake? Trying to give them some joy this Christmas despite the loss of their father?

  Vince’s already hardened stomach hollowed out. This wasn’t right. O’Brien should have been there.

  Despite the brave faces, they’d all be affected by his death—forever. This was their first Christmas without their father or her husband. No amount of money or gifts could lessen that grief. O’Brien was gone. They’d never enjoy a holiday meal as a family again.

  That picture ripped through Vince like barbed wire.

  He closed the message and shoved the phone into his pocket. He leaned onto his bed and stared at the white circular patterns on the ceiling, the same as he used to do as a teen. Only now his grief eclipsed any of the angst he had when he was younger. He could no longer see the photos, but they were burned onto his memory. He’d tried to do something nice for them but had never felt so useless and hollow.

  It should have been him.

  It wasn’t the first time he had that thought. Countless versions of that idea burned in his brain and no amount of counseling had changed that. Vince didn’t have a wife or a family depending on him. It would have been far better for the world for him to have been the one who had been taken out by the IED.

  But then he’d pictured his mother’s devastation on losing a child. He swallowed a lump. It would destroy her.

  Fuck.

  He stood and stared out the window, his gaze skimming over one Cape after another. Each house was likely filled with a couple or a family. Or one spouse was home taking care of the family while the other was shipped off overseas. That stress was already high enough. He knew firsthand as his father had been gone for months at a time. Combine that toll with an IED tech sent to deal with explosives and the stakes were even higher.

  That was why Marines in his field shouldn’t gamble with a family. In an already unsteady game of Jenga, every mission pulled another piece out of the unsteady stack. One wrong move and the entire structure would collapse.

  Or explode.

  One split second and lives would be destroyed.

  If Vince was careless enough to drag someone into his dangerous lifestyle, she could end up like Marianne—a widow forcing a smile on Christmas morning, trying to create some normalcy for her torn-apart family.

  Could Vince do that to someone? Someone like Emma?

  He swallowed. It was too much of a risk. Too cruel.

  And he already cared about her too much.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vince

  Vince attempted to compartmentalize his feelings after reading Marianne’s email, but the sharp pain gutted him like a bayonet. He tried to lose himself back in the fantasy novel, but with no luck. Then he sought distraction with video games. Still those photos of O’Brien’s family haunted him.

  He wanted to be near Emma. Snow was expected tonight, four to six inches. It would have been the perfect night to snuggle inside with Emma, drink hot chocolate and watch a movie or play a game.

  When he’d left this morning, he’d said he’d call her later, but he couldn’t see her like this—he was too fucked up to be around anyone. With all the shit swarming in his head, any ideas of romance would be smothered by survivor’s guilt.

  He texted, Have some family stuff tonight. Stay warm. Maybe we’ll get together tomorrow.

  He swallowed. It wasn’t technically a lie. He’d be with his family. They’d be doing stuff.

  Have a good night, she replied.

  He didn’t. During dinner, Vince had been even more withdrawn than usual. His parents exchanged glances more than once. Before they selected another puzzle as a weird form of family analysis, he retreated into his room. He put on the Lord of the Rings movie in the background and then pulled out his phone. He sought diversion by playing against others in chess, word games, and any sort of trivia to distract him from the chaos in his brain.r />
  And how often he thought of Emma.

  The next morning, he moved through the house like a ghost. He responded with minimal conversation with his parents before they went outside to shovel the snow. After they returned inside and warmed up with more coffee, he debated what to do about Emma.

  By noon, he gave up trying to stay away.

  He texted, Can I see you later?

  During the two minutes he waited for her reply, muscles corded in his neck. Fuck. He was being selfish by reaching out to her when what he should be doing was creating more distance. He rubbed his muscles to work out the tension.

  Sure, she replied.

  He exhaled with a low whoosh. I’m ready when you are.

  I was thinking of cross-country skiing today with all the new snow. Interested?

  Sounds great. I don’t have equipment, though.

  You can rent some there.

  When she picked him up that afternoon, her presence comforted him, yet didn’t remove the raw hell gnawing at his nerves.

  Once they were on the trail head, she asked, “Want to lead?”

  “No, it’s been years and I’m rusty. I’ll follow.”

  She planted her skis in the established tracks in the snow and started. He followed, awkward in coordinating his limbs until he got into the flow. Once he grew accustomed to the motion, he took in the scenery. With the recent fallen snow, the trees on either side of the path were covered and looked like painted brush strokes. The quiet out here with just the two of them was soothing. They passed a few others as they skied, and the physical exertion didn’t leave much time for conversation.

  Until he started to think again.

  O’Brien’s family. The photos. The possible consequence of a relationship with someone in his field.

  He fixed his gaze on Emma ahead. She glided so smoothly down the tracks, her dark hair flowing down her back under a red winter hat and her body covered in fitted workout pants and a fleece jacket. He followed along, chasing her. Like chasing a dream.

  Was that all this short time with her was? A dream. And then one day he’d wake up to the harsh reality of being deployed once again and facing an IED that could blow him into pieces?

  His thoughts twisted down this dark path despite the bright white snow and sun piercing through the pine trees. Shit.

  After a couple of hours, they’d both worked up a sweat and were ready for some sustenance. They went home to shower and change and then met up down at one of the wharves at a pub.

  He gulped a beer and then ordered another while she was still at the top quarter of her sangria.

  “What’s going on, Vince? You’ve been weird all day.”

  Quiet was nothing new, but the jumpiness was unlike him. He was always the cool one under pressure. He had to be. One jerky motion while he was dismantling an explosive could detonate it. Yet, he was squirming in the booth like someone had slipped leeches down his boxer shorts.

  “Nothing, nothing,” he lied. “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Some Marine stuff. Nothing you’d want to hear.”

  “Oh?” She replied. “Why don’t you try me?”

  He drummed his fingers on the table. “No.” He shook his head. “No shop talk while I’m on leave. I have enough of that waiting for me when I go back.”

  Although he tried to focus on more neutral conversation while he ate a Reuben sandwich, he couldn’t shake the image of O’Brien’s shattered family from his mind. Was he dragging Emma into a miserable future?

  A worry line had formed in between her eyes. Was his anxiety rubbing off on her?

  Shit. He rubbed his jaw and squirmed again.

  “How’s the Caesar wrap?” He forced a neutral tone.

  “Fine.” She continued to watch him as if trying to read into the chaos inside his skull. “Your Reuben?”

  “Great.” The upbeat tone sounded as forced as it was. He’d barely taken three bites. His appetite had been squashed like an armored vehicle had trampled the life out of it.

  After they left the restaurant, they walked along the water’s edge. A few snowflakes fell, the start of another few inches expected tonight.

  With recent snowfall blanketing the trees, and the lights twinkling on the water’s surface, it was another magical night in Newport during the holidays. But all the joy was sucked out of it.

  He shoved his hands into his pocket rather than holding one of hers.

  “Vince, seriously, what’s going on? It’s clear that something is bothering you.” Her tone was edged with worry.

  He took a deep breath and dropped his head. Shit. Man up. Speak.

  Otherwise he was prolonging their torment.

  Right. He nodded to solidify his resolve.

  “You know, you were right all along, Emma.”

  She glanced “About what?”

  “About not dating guys in the military.”

  She jerked back. He tore his gaze away, avoiding her eyes.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  He fixed his stare on a boat moored farthest from his location. How he wished he could just sail away rather than have this conversation.

  Suck it up and do the right thing. It’s better for her. Better for you both.

  “You’re smart to not want to get involved with someone like me.” He motioned before him. “You have a new life here in Newport. I’m sent wherever my orders tell me to go.”

  “Right,” she replied in a wary tone. “I’ve served in the Navy. I know what that’s like.”

  “You said that we could be friends—and maybe now, we’re still only friends with benefits. But it can’t work that way.”

  “What? Why not?”

  Because I care about you. Because I want more than that from you.

  He pulled the metaphorical pin.

  “Because our relationship has developed into something more intense, at least for me. That can’t be good for either of us.”

  She blinked a couple of times and rubbed between her brows but didn’t say anything.

  “You deserve better.” He grimaced before he uttered the words. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  And tossed the metaphorical grenade.

  Why did it feel like he was blowing up his own chance at happiness as well as hers?

  “What the?” Her mouth widened into an O. “What is this?”

  “Emma, I’m uh—” Fuck, this was worse than he thought it would be. “Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he pleaded.

  “Harder than it needs to be?” she echoed with a tone between surprise and sarcasm.

  “Right.”

  “Vince.”

  “What?”

  “Look at me,” she demanded.

  He brought his gaze back to her. The surprised expression was gone, replaced by fury. Pure, clear anger.

  “If you’re going to pull this shit, you can at least have the decency to look me in the eye.”

  He swallowed. This sucked. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but… fuck!

  “I don’t know who the hell you think you are trying to play me like this.” She raised her index finger and pointed at his chest.

  “Emma, I’m not trying to hurt—”

  “I’m not done.” She stepped closer. “You’re playing games with me. I don’t do games. I don’t do drama.”

  “I’m not playing games with you.” He raised both hands palms up. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

  “Ha! The right thing? You’re portraying yourself as the good guy here?”

  “I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Vince.” She pointed at him. “You’re trying to protect yourself.”

  His eyes widened. Her words hit him like a fresh slap. “What?”

  “I should have known better. No, I did. But I fooled myself by thinking you were different. But you’re just. Like. Them.” She poked him hard in the chest.

  Anger
roiled through him. “What the fuck, Emma? You’re the one who ran out on me. Then you didn’t want me. And then you only want me as a fuck buddy. You never indicated you wanted me for anything more than sex while I’m in town, so who’s the one playing games here?”

  “Fuck buddy?” Her pitch rose. “Oh, you’re such a fucking saint!” Her expression contorted with fury.

  He raised his hands to his temples. “Damn it, Emma. I care about you. Can’t you see that?”

  She scowled. “Not at all.”

  He took a deep breath, trying to sort through their train wreck. “I’m everything you don’t want. You told me that from the beginning and I get it. I can’t give you anything. No security. No promise that I’d be there for your birthday or Christmas. Nothing.”

  She raised both hands before dropping them with a frustrating slap to her sides. “Don’t give me bullshit excuses. I’ve heard so many over the years, I can give your goddamn speech for you.” She shook her head. “First with my father.”

  Where was this mention of her father from out of nowhere? She’d never mentioned him before. “What?”

  “Then, there was that hell with Peter. And now…” She gave a mirthless laugh and hateful look. “You’re so damn righteous!”

  Pedestrians across the street glanced over. A growl rumbled in his chest.

  “Please,” he pleaded in a lower tone. “Can we talk this out?”

  “No.” She raised one hand, palm out. “I’m too screwed up. I warned you I had issues.”

  “We’re all screwed up in some way.”

  She blinked a few times. “Yeah, maybe. She snorted. “Well, here’s the rundown of my pathetic family life and shitty choices since. My father was in the Army. He’d go away for trainings and things. We discovered those were lies. He had another woman and a kid in another state. Another family! He lived a double life for two years, and we didn’t have a clue. Apparently, we weren’t good enough for him.”

  Vince’s heart ached for her. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” His family might drive him crazy, especially with the way they poked into his privacy, but he appreciated that they were close. He had no doubt they loved him, and he loved them too. He took a step toward Emma.