SEAL My Love: A SEAL Brotherhood Novel

by Sharon Hamilton

  Clover’s fingers were immobilized, and she finally got a shower and a change of clothes she’d desperately wanted. Clean, warm, and near the ones she loved, Clover’s pink cheeks returned, and she began to express worry about her mother. Gretchen shrugged it off and tried not to let her concern for Trace show. There was time enough to have the “talk” with Clover, if and when that time was right. Tonight was about getting rest and healing.

  Gretchen had spent nearly an hour with her before she finally retired, holding her, helping her to call her sisters and her grandparents.

  So when Trace was moved to a room, they allowed her to accompany him. She was exhausted, but was much more comfortable waiting for news in a hospital bed next to him than in the waiting room filled with too many voices and activity. There were not enough beds in the ICU, which is where he belonged, the doctor told her, but he’d be treated the same, just without some of the equipment.

  Trace had been taken to the hospital unconscious, and when they last checked, he was still unconscious. The specialists were worried about his lungs. Although a portable chest x-ray didn’t reveal anything serious, problems were likely to develop later on.

  His brothers had also been treated, and although it was recommended they stay in the hospital overnight, they weren’t having any of it. They sat with Gretchen and continued the vigil right with her every step of the way.

  As the early morning hours turned into dawn, Gretchen awoke to the sounds of heavy snoring. Fredo had tried to sleep in the lounge chair usually reserved for nursing moms or senior citizens. His knees were pulled to his chest as he curled up around a pillow at his side.

  Coop’s ankles and nearly half of his lower legs hung off the couch, which had been moved from the vacant waiting room. He was on his back, and Gretchen had asked for and received a blanket to cover his chest up. Both his hands had been burned and, due to their size, resembled white boxing gloves after the treatment.

  Armando slept with his chest and arms draped over Trace’s bed, his head buried in the blanket to ward off the oncoming sunrise. He was seated in a chair, his upper torso bent at the waist.

  Gretchen had slept in the bed in Patient Number Two’s slot, which finally had been offered after all the evening shift nurses were unsuccessful peeling the SEALs off the floor in order to give her a seat. They gave her a hospital gown to wear, a towel and soap for a shower in the morning. She was grateful for the courtesy.

  Trace had ointment on his eyes and a breathing mask, along with an IV in his right arm. He hadn’t moved since they’d brought him. His clothes had been cut off, the pieces of the sooty fabric in a large blue hospital bag, hanging from the chair Armando was sitting in.

  As she studied him, his quiet repose belied how sick he really was. The vision of his chest gently rising and falling with each breath got blurry when tears welled up and spilled over her cheeks. It wasn’t lost on her the story that Clover revealed, how Trace hung on to her no matter how hard she hit him. Her teen felt awful about it, but at the same time, Gretchen knew he wouldn’t abandon her no matter if it cost him his life. It made a huge impression on her oldest. Even if Trace would not go on to become a permanent fixture in their lives, that life lesson he bestowed on her daughter was worth the entire world in gold.

  She’d be eternally grateful.

  So she’d come to this juncture in her life, along a rocky pathway filled with disappointments while every day living her life for her girls. Now she found she had someone else so precious it was unimaginable that he would not be there in the coming days and months. She knew it was selfish to expect much and way too soon to even say she had a relationship with this man. But something about him told her he was tough, just like she was. A survivor of the love wars. Someone, like herself, who had been unloved and probably mistreated. Whatever was in store for the two of them, she knew it would be worth it in the long run.

  Instead of dwelling on any kind of future, she found herself just asking for his healing, to be restored to his particular brand of perfection with that quirky smile and the dark stubble on his cheeks and chin contrasting with his deep blue eyes. Once he was healthy, he’d be in a position to make some decisions, and she would not obligate him nor beg. It had to be something of his own choosing. She just prayed he be given the chance to make that choice, whatever it was.

  She wiped her eyes with the sheet again. When she looked back over at him, he’d turned, opened his eyes, and stared right back at her. She wondered if he’d suffered brain injury; he had no expression and didn’t try to talk or move a muscle.

  He tried to say something, but creases formed at the top of his nose as his raspiness appeared to hurt him. But it didn’t stop him. He tried again, and again, all he could get was a small squeak, which was enough to awaken Armando.

  “Holy fuck, you didn’t die after all.”

  She could see Trace trying not to laugh. He wasn’t looking at Armando, but remained staring back at her. Cooper and Fredo were at the bedside, too, asking him questions. Coop was even checking his pulse, raising his eyelids, and listening to his chest with a stethoscope left over the bedrail. But Trace didn’t take his eyes off Gretchen.

  “You did good, you big dufus. Now if you irritate me, I’ll just punch you, and it will be like a marshmallow punch,” Coop said, air-punching close to his face.

  Gretchen watched a tear streak down into his pillow. Once more he tried to say something, and this time, she understood him.

  “Clover?” he was asking.

  Gretchen leaned on her side and gave him a big smile. “She’s going to be fine. She’s sleeping right now, which is what you should be doing.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.

  Coop, Fredo, and Armando got the full import of the fact that Trace wasn’t in the least bit interested in them. He didn’t look at Coop’s boxing gloves. Fredo showed him the burn on his right forearm and another angry scrape to his side. Armando had a bandage over his forehead from a glass cut during the explosion and several other bandages on his arms. But Trace didn’t react.

  Finally, Fredo had had enough. He jumped up and landed on Trace’s bed, causing him to bounce to near sitting position. That got his attention.

  “Amigo. Join the living.”

  “I am. I’m right here with you all. It’s just that”—he turned his face again to stare back at her—“I’ve just found the most beautiful view in the whole world, and it’s a shame she can’t see it.”

  Gretchen touched her chest with her palm and allowed her tears to flow.

  “Come here,” Trace said. He kneed Fredo off the bed, flipped up his sheets and covers, and showed her his bare legs underneath, scooting to the side to make room for her. He did all this sporting a huge boner.

  “You are a mean motherfucker, Trace Bennett,” Fredo announced in mock offense.

  “Yea but I sound like a pussy cat,” Trace whispered in return. All four of the SEALs laughed together. As the silence returned, Trace added one other request. “Help her get over here so I can feel her naked beside me. That’s the best kind of medicine right now. And then get the fuck out of my room for, oh, say about three days, okay?”

  They took turns messing with him and then dutifully brought her over to his bedside. “Take that stupid hospital gown off her and close your eyes, dammit,” he continued to whisper.

  Gretchen was beginning to giggle uncontrollably as one of them untied the gown and someone else pulled it away from her body, and she stood in front of Trace completely naked.

  “Now that’s more like it,” he whispered. “Gretchen, get your butt in here, and give me your medicine.”

  Chapter 14

  The Portland television stations made the foiled kidnapping attempt huge news. The story had all the earmarks of a blockbuster, even making it to the networks. Tony was a much-beloved star with the Trailblazers, partly because of his antics as a bad boy. The fact that four Navy SEALs rescued his daughter made the story grow to gargantuan proportions. A
nd then there was the drug ring angle, the ransom demand—which was exaggerated to over two million dollars, all the interviews Tony was doing, and the fact that no one lost their lives in the process.

  Gretchen put her foot down about Clover doing any interviews, but TV crews camped outside her door the day the story broke. They even followed her to the grocery market and, despite a City ordinance, to the girls’ schools.

  Trace and the other SEALs were given an award by the mayor, who was also a big Trailblazers fan and responsible for keeping the team in Portland. It all worked well. No guns were used, or so the story went, but large caches of weapons and drugs were seized.

  It turned out that one of the janitors at Clover’s school had heard Tony give a pep talk to the girls volleyball team. He and his brothers had been in and out of trouble all during their youths. He saw this as their opportunity to score big.

  He used to watch Clover being picked up by her mom day after day when practice was over. The brothers hatched a plan, never intending to hurt her, but knew the Trailblazers would cough up the money.

  After Trace got out of the hospital two days later, he wanted to spend more alone time with Gretchen, but time was not on their side. His days were growing short. He put in for an extra week for medical purposes, but he knew he couldn’t push that more than he had. Already a “Bone Frog” or silver-haired SEAL, and new to Kyle’s squad, it meant he still needed to prove himself.

  His first mission with the Team was coming up. If he missed that, his longevity as a SEAL would be compromised. Another young froglette would replace him—someone without the wear and tear of hundreds of HALO jumps and strenuous PT workouts. He needed to do something other than blow up a warehouse with one of Fredo’s matches.

  He declined all the interviews, but couldn’t get out of the award ceremony with the mayor. The other three Teammates took off right after, and he planned to follow in six more days. Six very short days. Not much time at all.

  His mission was to convince Gretchen to move down to San Diego, where he could eventually get her to move in with him, if everything worked out. But the girls had school and roots in the Portland community. He and Gretchen barely had time to discuss anything. It was going to be tough.

  When he came home from the hospital, he slept in Clover’s room, alone. This was Gretchen’s request. He understood he was going to have to rely on her to introduce him properly to the daughters and their daily routine, or he’d have no chance at all with her.

  So the next six days were critical. Though he barely knew her, he knew that this would be the most important mission of his life. If he blew it, he decided he’d go down to the Scupper and join Morgan Hansen’s Bone Frog Brotherhood—the group started for the single guys who kept striking out with women. At least he could be part of that family. The beer would help. The ladies who frequented the SEAL bars were never a problem for him. But he was after the brass ring, not the party central crowd. He wanted that one special lady he could love, honor, and protect for the rest of his life. He thought there was more than a little chance Gretchen could be the one.

  Clover opened the door to her bedroom and shouted, “Breakfast.” Then she slammed it shut behind her. She was as tough as any instructor he’d had in BUD/S. But he’d caught her glancing his way more than once. He was just going to give her time and not force any friendship. It was thin ice. So much of this was out of his control. But it was the only way it could happen.

  Having been summarily ordered to the breakfast table, he hoisted himself out of the pink sheets and way too soft mattress, slipped his jeans over his boxers, smelled the pits of a tee shirt he’d worn yesterday and deemed it acceptable enough, brushed his hair and his teeth, gave himself a “It’s showtime!” smile in the mirror, and headed downstairs in his bare feet.

  Gretchen was dressed. He went weak at the knees recalling the steamy night they’d had, how they kept holding their hands over each other’s mouths all the while they were fucking, trying desperately not to wake the girls. The way little Rebecca stared down at her plate without making eye contact with him told Trace they’d not been quiet enough.

  Yes, it’s a lot to take in. I’m trespassing on your father’s territory. Except that jerk doesn’t deserve you.

  But he knew full well, no matter how bad Tony’s behavior was, their loyalties would always side with him, and there wasn’t anything Trace could do about it.

  Gretchen blushed and slid herself next to Trace, allowing his right upper arm to feel the space between her breasts very discretely. She smelled wonderful, and her wry smile told him she was enjoying herself.

  Tease me all you want, sweetheart. I’ll get even tonight. Or maybe this afternoon if you finish all the dropping off and picking ups.

  He gave that look to her long enough so she’d share eye contact. “You smell great, and you’re the most beautiful cook I’ve ever met.”

  Clover had her ear nestled in the open palm of her hand, her elbow on the table, slouching, eating a bowl of cereal. But this made her sit up and roll her eyes when Rebecca and Angie looked to her for a reaction.

  Yeah, so I’m gonna make lots of mistakes. I’m patient. Give me a chance, girls.

  Like Gretchen had read his thoughts, she gave a soft command, “Clover, sit up straight and eat like a lady.”

  And all three of the girls sat up, focusing back on their breakfast, and ignored him.

  Several minutes of silence was followed by the sound of a car horn honking.

  “April’s here,” announced Rebecca. “Mom, can I have the two dollars for chocolate milk this week?”

  “Sure. Let me go upstairs and get my purse, and then—”

  “I got it,” Trace said, forgetting himself. He pulled out two crumpled dollar bills from his jeans pocket and laid them on the table in front of Rebecca. The three girls examined the paper money unfolding like it was the last throes of a dying rat, and then they all gave him the look as if he was some sort of alien being.

  Which of course he was.

  He was on his own. Gretchen didn’t come to his defense, which was good. “It’s only two dollars, and I wanted to save your mother a trip upstairs, that’s all. No big deal, ladies.” He went back to his eggs and pretended to ignore them. He hoped to God it was the right move. Women were complicated. Girls were women becoming complicated without any of the coping tools.

  And like baby rattlesnakes, they were deadly.

  Clover and Rebecca slipped on their coats and backpacks by the rear door off the kitchen. Trace’s two dollars was still making a stain on the breakfast table. Gretchen reached over, picked them up, and handed them to her middle daughter.

  “Here you go, and say thank you to Mr. Bennett.”

  Trace looked up to see her fire off her ‘thank you’ without a smile. Gretchen hugged and kissed them both, reminded the two of what their afternoon schedule was, then walked them through the back porch and out onto the driveway to see that they got into the carpool mom’s car. He heard her exchanging words with April, but was just far enough away not to make out any of the specific words.

  Angela slipped out of her chair and took up Rebecca’s seat next to Trace, scooting it first a little closer to him. He felt he was going to get a lecture from this precocious four-year-old.

  “That wasn’t very nice of Rebecca and Clover. They should have said good-bye.” Angie’s honest blue eyes reflected a self-confidence he seldom noticed in a child so young.

  “That’s a very nice thing for you to say, Angie. Thank you for that.”

  “No problem. I have good manners. It’s important.”

  With that settled, Trace was feeling encouraged that at least he’d managed to soften one heart of the three.

  Angela folded her hands neatly on the table, which came chest-high on her little body.

  Here it comes.

  “Do you like dogs, Mr. Bennett?”

  “Yes, I do. Very much.”

  “Mom says we can get a dog, a big dog tha
t barks.” She wrinkled her face to show her canines.

  “A dog for protection,” added Trace, nodding his approval.

  “Yes. Because after you go home, it will just be us all alone again.”

  Trace’s breath hitched on the matter-of-fact way Angie said after you go home. Had Gretchen told them he was merely here as a thank you for the rescue and then he’d be gone? Of course, it made perfect sense, but he was surprised she’d done that.

  “Do you like the beach, Angie?”

  “Yes. But in the summer. Too cold right now.”

  “I know some beaches that are warm all the time. That’s where I live. Maybe some time you could come down and I can show them to you. Would you like that?”

  Angie nodded. A second later, she hit him with a question he didn’t know how to answer. “Are you and mommy getting naked all the time now?”

  He tilted his head to see if Gretchen was on her way back to save him, but when she didn’t appear, he decided to take a chance. “Well, not all the time. But I get the feeling you all know that your mommy and I like each other.”

  “How much do you have to like each other to get naked?”

  Hoping Gretchen would enter the kitchen any second, he stumbled along with this very tough interview. “Well, I think you should like each other a lot before you get naked. I mean, you reserve that spot for someone very special in your life.”

  “Did you know I have a daddy?”

  “Oh, yes. I haven’t met him, though.”

  “My daddy plays basketball. It’s his job. He does some bad things sometimes. He makes Mommy cry a lot.”

  “That should never be. Your mommy is a wonderful lady, and I happen to know she’d do anything for you.”

  “Yes. I think she’s happy now.”

  “Really? And what makes you say that?”

  “Because she smiles more. I think she’s pretty when she smiles, don’t you?”