by RC Boldt
“Do you want to be with me? For the long haul?”
His lips pressed thin and when he opened his mouth to speak, she felt her breath hitch in anticipation. Only to have him close it with absolutely no response.
None.
Her eyes fell closed, lips pressing together firmly. She had her answer. Turning away from him abruptly, she bent, hurriedly scooping up her things, shoving them into her bag before heading for the bedroom door. “I’ve got to go,” she muttered, her voice hoarse with unshed tears.
“Tate, I—”
She whirled around on him. “Have something to say? That you want to be with me forever? The way we talked about years ago?”
But he just stood there. Silent.
“Exactly.” She released a sad sigh, her shoulders slouching with defeat. “I need to move on.” Giving a humorless laugh, she added, “God knows, it’s long overdue.” She turned, opened the bedroom door, and rushed down the hall. Attempting to wave off Kane’s concerned look, she exited the house, backpack slung over her shoulder, wheeling her small suitcase behind her.
She didn’t allow the first of her tears to fall until she got to the driveway. Frantically, she sent out a text to the three people she knew she could count on. Almost immediately, her phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. Accepting it, she placed the phone to her ear and heard words that couldn’t have made her feel more relief.
“I’m on my way.”
* * *
Miller wasn’t sure how long he remained standing there in the same spot Tate had left him in. Just standing there in his bedroom, numbly staring at the bedsheets which were mussed from them merely an hour earlier.
“Dude, you’ve got to realize by now how thin these walls are, right?”
Eyes falling closed on a defeated sigh, Miller muttered, “Not now, man.”
“Oh, but you’re going to hear it. Now.” Kane’s words had an unusual edge to them, unlike his normal jovial tone.
Jerking his head in his roommate’s direction, he eyed him warily.
“I heard everything that was said. And everything you didn’t say.” Kane pointed his index finger toward Miller accusingly. “What. The. Fuck is with you?”
He glared at him. “It’s none of your business.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Kane stepped closer. “It’s my business when it involves two people I fucking care about!”
Turning his eyes away, Miller scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t need this.”
“Yeah. Actually, you do. You need to pull your head out of your ass and admit that you’re fucking scared shitless and you just choked.”
Miller let his hands drop from his face and eyed his friend.
Kane stared at him for a moment and his next words came out gentler. “Look, I get being scared. Especially with y’alls past. But you drove a stake through that poor girl’s heart just now. And I know, deep down, that’s not what you want. That’s not what this,” Kane tapped his finger to the center of Miller’s chest, “wants.
“We can all blame lots of shit on drunkenness. But we all know that you got those initials tattooed on your chest for a reason. Because you never let her go. She’s always been a part of your heart. A part of you.”
The two men stared at one another for a long moment before Miller ran a hand over his hair. Closing his eyes with a wince, he shook his head. “I don’t know, man.” He let out a long sigh. “I keep thinking back to what happened before. What if …” He broke off, shaking his head, staring blindly at the floor. “I can’t do that again. I can’t handle being without her again.”
He felt the weight of Kane’s eyes on him and huffed out a mirthless laugh. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s hilarious, right? A fucking SEAL is scared shitless of losing the love of his life all over again, afraid of getting his heart broken again.” He shook his head with disgust.
“Yeah, it is pretty fucking pathetic.”
Miller’s head snapped up, leveling a hard glare at his friend.
Kane gave a half shrug. “Well, it is. I mean, come on, dude. We’ve both seen—and been through—some seriously fucked up shit. Enough to know that finding the right person who will stay by your side isn’t easy.” Giving him a pointed look with raised eyebrows, Kane continued. “And don’t think I haven’t heard about your aversion to any woman who didn’t resemble your sweet, little Ted.”
Miller turned away. But, of course, his friend wasn’t finished. And, damn, if Kane’s next words didn’t send him reeling.
“My Granny is a wise woman and she’s always had this saying: Pay attention to where your mind wanders. That’s where you’ll find your heart.”
Kane gripped his shoulder affectionately before turning and leaving Miller alone in the silence of his bedroom.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“WHAT. THE. HELL?” LANEY THREW up her arms, face contorted in anger. “He’s an asshole. Forget him, Tate. For. Get. Him.” She plopped down on the couch beside Tate and threw her arm around her.
“Yeah, what she just said.” Raine took a seat on the other side, smoothing down Tate’s blonde hair, picking away strands which were sticking to her cheeks from her tears.
Tate glanced up at Pearce who was sitting across from them in his living room chair, watching them with an expression of concern. God, he was such an amazing guy. He had dropped everything to come and pick her up from Miller’s place as soon as he had seen the text message she had sent out to the three of them. Laney had been out surfing with Zach while Raine and Mac had been about thirty minutes away doing some furniture shopping.
She loved Pearce. That much was certain. But why couldn’t she be in love with Pearce, damn it?
“Pearce,” her voice was thick and she sounded horribly congested due to her crying, “I love you.”
He flashed her a sweet smile. “Love you, too, sweetie.”
“Sorry I bothered you all and made you stop your plans.” She shook her head, glancing down at her lap, fingers knitted. “I’m pathetic. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Raine’s firm tone made her look up to see her friend gazing at her with affection. “Sweetie, we’ve been here before. We know what it’s like. And,” she gave her a look, “you should know better than to ever think you’re bothering us. We’re not just your friends.” She leaned her head on Tate’s shoulder. “We’re family.”
“Yep,” Laney chimed in, giving a quick kiss to Tate’s temple before mimicking Raine’s pose, resting her head on Tate’s other shoulder. “You’re stuck with us, girly.”
Pearce stood from his chair and came on over to where the women were seated on his couch, his brown eyes meeting Tate’s.
“You’re stuck with me, too.” He gave her a half smile. “You okay with that?”
She let out a tiny, wet laugh, giving a brief nod. “Totally okay with that.”
He winked. “Good.” He held out his hands. “Now, get over here, already.”
Tate placed her hands in his, allowing him to help her up, eyeing him curiously. Tugging her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace, his hands rubbed her back soothingly.
“This BFF can give you better hugs than those two,” he whispered softly, humor lacing his tone.
She smiled against his chest. Because she had to admit that he was a pretty great hugger. Before she could respond, she felt two additional sets of arms wrap around them.
“Not as good as all of us combined,” Laney declared as she and Raine wrapped their arms around both Pearce and Tate.
“Who just cupped my ass?” Pearce asked.
Raine answered immediately, “Not me.”
“Not me,” she answered.
“It was an accident. Sorry.” Laney laughed. “I’m so used to doing it to Zach when we hug that I didn’t even think about it.” She laid her forehead against Tate’s back and muttered, “So. Awkward.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Pearce joked.
“Oh
, my gosh, you guys,” Raine laughed.
“What? It’s not every day I not only get hugged by three gorgeous women but also get felt up by an engaged one. I can die a happy man now.”
“Pearce?”
“Tate?”
“Don’t ever change.” Her words were soft as she spoke, eyes closed, basking in the embrace of her three friends.
For Tate, this was what family was all about. People who made you laugh when you truly felt like you might not be able to laugh anymore. People who came running when you needed them.
People who tried to hug you tight enough to try and make the broken pieces of your heart fit back together again.
* * *
“I fucked up.”
“Yep.”
“It’s too late now. It’s really over.” His chest felt like it had cracked open at the thought of never being with Tate, never having those moments with her. No sushi dates, no yoga classes, no helping her in her classroom or just holding her hand. No sweet smiles or kisses from her. Nothing. And she wasn’t taking his calls or responding to his text messages. There was complete radio silence.
“You’re wrong.”
Mac’s words drew him from his troubling thoughts. He looked over at his friend who was sitting across from him. Kane had dragged him out of the house and over to The Surfside restaurant and bar where the majority of their seating was outdoors and directly across the street from the beach with a great view of the Atlantic Ocean. He should have known it would be an intervention, of sorts. The place was pretty empty for a Sunday morning since it was a bit overcast and hazy. Their table was located in the outer portion of the patio, away from the majority of the patrons.
When Foster and Doc promptly slid into the other chairs at their large table, Miller eyed the remaining three chairs. Yep. This reeked of an intervention.
“How do you figure?” He blew out a disgusted breath, staring down at the glass of beer he’d been nursing.
“Darlin’, haven’t you ever heard about the fat lady?”
Confused, he turned to Kane and slowly asked, “The fat lady?”
“Yeah. The one who hasn’t sung yet.” The corners of his friend’s lips tipped upward. “That means you can redeem yourself.” With a half shrug, Kane added, “With a shit ton of work, that is.”
“You think so?” The flutter of hope tempted Miller beyond words.
“I know so.” Kane’s response made a minuscule amount of the tight, painful feeling in his chest subside.
“Of course,” Foster began, “you’ll need some serious reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements?”
“Hells, yes.” Lawson and Zach joined them. Tossing a thumb in Zach’s direction, Lawson said, “Trust me when I say that between this guy and,” he gestured to Mac on the other side of the table, “this one here, we’ve got you covered.”
“You’ve definitely got your work cut out for you.”
Miller looked over at the man who had slid into the last remaining seat, eyeing him suspiciously.
Pearce leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his brown gaze piercing. “I’m not going to bullshit you. You’ll be facing Hindu Kush-like terrain to redeem yourself.”
Miller stared at him for a long moment. “You think I still have a chance with her?” he asked quietly. When Pearce didn’t immediately answer, Miller tensed.
Finally, the man answered, somber expression on his face.
“Tate gave her heart to you, years ago.” Pearce paused before quietly adding, “Not only being someone’s first, great love but their only great love? That shit is pretty powerful. So, yeah. I think there’s still a chance.”
He held the man’s gaze before blowing out a long breath. “I have no clue how I’m going to fix this.” He ran a hand over his face, the beginning of his stubble rasping slightly beneath his hand.
“That’s why we’re going to plan,” Mac said, slapping down a notepad and pulling a pen from one of the pockets on his cargo shorts. “I’ve already got some ideas, and with everyone’s help, we should be able to get you your girl back.” He glanced around the table at each of the guys. “I think we can all agree that this is going to take an epic group effort.”
The men all mumbled their agreement and Mac flipped open the notepad, pen poised to begin jotting things down. He raised an eyebrow at Miller. “First off, I’d like to say that I believe this one is going to be classified as the ‘Go big or go home’ kind of gesture.”
“Here, here.” Kane raised his beer and the others followed suit, clinking their glasses together.
“Well, we talked a bit on the way over and I think we all know that there’s only one person who can play the role of Tate,” Lawson said with great posture, cracking his knuckles. “Since I tend to be the best at channeling my inner chick.”
“Totally saw that coming,” Mac mumbled.
Foster shot Lawson a look. “You are not going to play the role of a woman.”
Mac chuckled, shrugging. “Why not let him channel his inner chick?”
Zach agreed. “He is really good at it.”
Miller rested his face in his hands with a low laugh as the guys went back and forth, good-naturedly arguing about Lawson being “the designated chick”. It was then he realized that, even though he wasn’t serving his country, he still had “brothers” who would be by his side through some great times … and some really shitty ones, too.
And it was only at that point that he felt as though he could breathe a little bit easier. Because with these men having his back, he just might be able to tackle any obstacle.
Maybe even win back the only woman who’d ever had his heart.
Tate,
Well, I’ve decided that I should set a deadline for myself. I can’t go on forever writing to you like this. Pretty damn pathetic. Figure I’ll stop once we’re done here, once we ship out of this godforsaken place.
I still think of you every night. I wonder if you ever think of me. If I ever cross your mind and you’re like, Hey, I wonder how that guy’s doing. The one I used to love.
Shit. That even hurts to write it. Used to. I wish like hell I could say that. That I used to love you. But I can’t. Not yet.
I wonder if I’ll ever get over you. If I’ll ever stop loving you.
M.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“MS. DONNELLY?” TATE LOOKED UP from where she was sitting at her teaching table, doing some last minute prep work for the week, to see one of her students standing in the open doorway of her classroom. It was early Monday morning and the bell wouldn’t ring to signify that students were able to enter their classrooms for another five minutes. She usually kept her door propped open with the doorstop in preparation for students.
“Yes, Jackson?” She noticed the young boy—whom she had come to affectionately think of as her “transformational student”—appeared nervous.
Jackson had come to her classroom this school year with a giant chip on his shoulder as well as an attitude of the same size. It had taken about three weeks for him to realize that she wasn’t like the other adults he’d come across in his life. She’d spoken calmly and respectfully to him, talking him through each time he had copped an attitude. And, after those three weeks, Jackson had emerged to be one of her best students; always happy, helpful to others, and never disrespectful toward her again. She had a feeling his home life wasn’t pleasant, to say the least, so she tried to give him, and all of her students, as much affectionate praise as possible.
“I wanted to give this to you,” he said with a shy smile, one hand emerging from behind his back. He was holding an envelope with a large chocolate bar taped to it.
“Aw, Jackson. You’re so sweet.” She smiled at him as he blushed furiously. She stood and walked around her table to accept his gifts, stooping down to give him a quick hug. Straightening up, she thanked him. “What’s the occasion?”
“I saved up my money from taking out the trash for my Paw-Paw and bought y
ou the card and chocolate,” he said proudly. “To let you know I think you’re the best teacher ever.”
Tate felt her eyes grow misty and she smiled down at him. “You are pretty awesome. You know that, right?”
He glanced down at his feet, embarrassed, before looking back up, mumbling, “You’re the most awesome teacher I’ve ever had.” He quickly exited the room to sit outside against the hallway wall with the others awaiting the bell.
Gazing at the doorway her student had just exited through, she saw two faces peek in. Laney and Pearce looked at her.
“We overheard,” Laney said as she entered, Pearce following behind. “He is so stinking sweet!”
Pearce studied her for a moment before he quietly asked, “You doing okay, Donnelly?”
Tate forced a smiled. “I’m hanging in there.”
“We’re going to get through this together, sweets.” Laney slung an arm around her shoulders.
“Roger that,” Pearce agreed with an encouraging smile.
“Happy Monday, girlie.” Tate’s attention was drawn to her classroom door to see Raine walk in with a large takeout bag in her hands. Her friend lifted it up before turning to head over to where Tate’s mini fridge sat on her back counter. “Your favorite sub for lunch.” She opened the fridge to stuff it inside.
“And organic cheese puffs, of course,” Mac chimed in, carrying the large bag with him. “Raine insisted,” he added with a smile as he handed the bag to Tate.
Overwhelmed, Tate just stood there holding it, looking at her friends. “You guys—”
“Nope,” Lawson interrupted as he and Zach entered her room. “No sappy stuff on a Monday.” He walked up to her and stopped, reaching into the back pocket of his pants to pull out a feathered boa, draping it around her shoulders.
She looked at him questioningly and he shrugged. “A feathered boa always makes things a little better.”
“Makes sense to me. Cher had one on in one of her videos about getting over heartbreak.” They all turned to stare at Zach. Seeing their expressions, he raised a hand out, palm up. “What? She’s like the diva of all time.”
