by Tawny Weber
“However serious you are, you need to factor this in,” he demanded. “You can’t agree to marry someone else when this is here, between us. That’s every kind of wrong, Gwen. To him, to you, to us.”
She knew her mouth was hanging open, but Gwen couldn’t find the strength to pull it closed. Us? He was talking about the two of them as a couple?
For a brief second she wondered if the government was involved in some sort of cloning program, making multiple sexy SEALs for combat and this was a fake Noah. But she knew better. Only the real Noah could make her explode like he had.
Thinking about that last orgasm reminded her that she was still pretty much naked. Gwen finished pulling her dress into place.
“Why?” she asked again, pulling her zipper closed before folding the halter over her still tingling, over-sensitized breasts. Before she could find the hooks, Noah stepped around to secure the straps himself. His hands were gentle as they brushed her hair aside, his fingers warm as he ran one hand down her back when he was done.
“We’re good together,” he said when he faced her again. “There’s a passion between us, a history. We deserve to give it a chance.”
Her eyes locked on his face, Gwen absently adjusted her dress, tugging here, pulling there until everything was in place and presentable.
He was right. They were great together, and not only because of their passion and history. They had so much in common. From their taste in food to their way of thinking and approach to life. Once, they’d liked the same movies and voted for the same leaders. They’d shared music and books and hobbies.
Once.
And that probably hadn’t changed.
But that was the problem.
Three years ago she’d thought they had enough. She’d believed they were meant to be together. She’d even offered to wait.
Gwen’s chin quivered.
She’d almost begged.
And he’d walked away.
Gwen ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb through the passion-knotted tangles.
She couldn’t live through Noah hurting her again.
She wouldn’t be able to survive the pain of a second time.
So she did the only thing she could.
She angled her chin, straightened her shoulders and tilted her head to one side.
“Three years ago you told me that you had to sacrifice everything to be a SEAL. And I was a part of that everything. You made your choice, Noah. Now we both have to live with it.”
“And the fact that I’ve changed my mind? That I’ve decided that I can be a SEAL and have a relationship?” A scowl flashed across his handsome face before he arched his brow. “You’ve never been small-minded, Gwen. Since when do you believe people can’t learn and grow?”
Since believing means I’ll be hurt again.
But she didn’t say it aloud.
She couldn’t give him the opening to try to convince her that they could make it work. If she did, he just might succeed.
And then what?
Gwen’s heart wept, but she forced herself to shrug.
“I still believe all of that. I know people can change, and I have faith that you’ll be happy with the changes you’ve made. But not with me.” She offered a bittersweet smile. “Because however well-learned, sometimes lessons come too late.”
“You’re forgetting something.”
Her heart? Her belief that she’d ever be happy with another man? Her faith in love?
Nope, she wasn’t forgetting them.
She was simply leaving them behind.
And walking away with dignity.
Sometimes that’s all a girl could ask for.
“I won’t forget anything,” she said quietly, giving in for both of their sakes and leaning forward to brush a kiss over his cheek before reaching for the doorknob.
And forcing herself to twist that metal and open the door to the rest of her life.
She’d made it a few steps down the hall, grateful it was still empty.
“Gwen.”
Something in his voice stopped her. Unable to help herself, she glanced over her shoulder.
Heat washed over her cheeks at the sight of her panties dangling like a filmy black flag from his fingers. Fingers that just moments before had shown her heaven.
But she couldn’t go back.
Not even one step.
She knew if she did, she’d grab ahold of him and promise anything.
Give him everything.
But he’d hurt her once and she couldn’t believe he wouldn’t again.
So instead of turning around, she shrugged.
“Keep them.” Her smile was shaky, but she offered it anyway. “Something to remember me by.”
A SEAL’s Sacrifice: Chapter Seven
Noah had once taken a shot to the thigh that’d sent him into a dive off a three-story building. The landing had jarred his body, dislocated his shoulder and put him in a dizzy fog for hours afterward.
He’d still completed his mission.
Something he kept reminding himself of as he made his way through the ballroom filled with relatives, acquaintances and strangers. Talking to them, putting on a good face to celebrate his brother’s happiness was his current mission.
Gwen’s rejection on the heels of their lovemaking?
He’d rather take a bullet and a few broken bones.
But he’d get through by focusing on the mission, by ignoring the pain.
Listening with half an ear to his uncle expand on his views of the military situation in the Middle East, Noah deliberately turned his back on the east side of the room. He knew she was over there somewhere. He didn’t have to see her to pinpoint her location. Hers and Russell’s.
His gut clenched along with his fists. But Noah ignored the former and shoved the latter into his pockets.
Sam had told him that Russell was going to propose tonight, which meant that announcement could come at any time.
Knowing he couldn’t stop it, but unable to stand witnessing Gwen commit to spend her life with someone other than him, Noah excused himself.
He wanted to leave. He’d rather be on an aircraft carrier, heading to a battle, the uglier the better. But he’d promised Sam he’d stick around for the toast. And he always kept his promises.
Including the stupid ones. Like the blood vow he’d made with Eli when they were fifteen, planning to join the Navy and dreaming of being SEALs. They’d learned everything they could about the Navy, including what it took to be the best. Then they’d cut their palms and promised that if they ever made it into the SEALs, they’d go into it unencumbered by emotional ties.
A promise was a promise, after all. Even when it hurt.
So Noah headed for the balcony.
Outside, he welcomed the chill as the foggy air wrapped around him. Relieved that nobody else had ventured out, he made his way to the railing to stare out at the mist-shrouded Golden Gate.
It was a beautiful sight. One he’d seen hundreds of times over the years. He’d always appreciated it in a vague sort of way, probably because he’d always known it would be there.
Just like he’d figured Gwen would.
Noah leaned his elbows on the stone rail, contemplating that realization.
He’d known Gwen had a thing for him when she was in high school. But been able to walk away because she was too young for him. So he’d followed his dream. He’d joined the Navy, pursued his goals and lived his life. And told himself he was better off. Because he’d always known if they got together, she’d get so deep under his skin that he’d never get her out of his mind.
Then she’d come home from college while he was there on leave. And just like that, all of his resistance, and most of his good sense, had disappeared. He’d had to have her. He’d known the timing sucked. He’d just been accepted to BUDs. His chances of completing the training program and making the SEAL team were high. From the first time he’d touched her, he’d known he’d have to walk away.<
br />
When he’d left her three years ago, he’d been honest when he’d told her not to wait for him.
But somewhere inside, he’d figured she would. That if he ever decided that he was ready to combine a relationship and his career, she’d welcome him back with open arms. He gave a humorless laugh at his arrogance.
He knew the odds were against military marriages. But over the last year or so, he’d found himself carefully watching his teammates, the ones in relationships. It wasn’t until he’d heard that Gwen was about to be off limits that he realized he’d been tucking away all of those observations, memorizing all the advice from the guys who managed to have it all. He’d dubbed it relationship recon in his head, figuring he’d put it all to use now that he was coming back for Gwen.
Nowhere in his mind had he figured that when he came back she wouldn’t want him.
Noah leaned is head on his hands, his sigh a misty fog.
No. She wanted him.
But she didn’t trust him.
And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about that.
“Yo, Noah. What’re you doing out here? The party is inside.”
Trying to suffer in peace.
Since he wouldn’t actually admit that, he shrugged instead.
“Chilling.” He looked at his brother. “Aren’t you supposed to be in there, practicing your husband face.”
“What’s that look like?” Sam asked with a laugh, letting the balcony door close behind him as he joined Noah.
“You’ve seen it. Wide smile and glazed eyes.” Thinking it over, Noah leaned back, his elbows resting on the rail. “Maybe a slight stoop to your shoulders from being weighed down by all that marriage stress.”
“Don’t forget the twitchy lip from having a hook pierced through it,” Sam chuckled. His grin faded when Noah nodded, though. “Wait a minute. You’re serious?”
“About you being in there with your bride to be?”
“About marriage being a boring stress-fest.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest so the ornate overhead lights glinted off the medals on his chest.
Noah debated.
Sam cared enough about Bryanna to want to marry her. Was a party commemorating that the right time to point out the reasons why it might not be a good idea?
But the tight knot of misery in Noah’s gut said a warning might be in order.
Except Sam hadn’t dumped Bryanna when he joined the SEALs like Noah had. So maybe he wouldn’t face having his gut kicked in over eventually losing her.
“Where’s Eli?” he asked instead.
“Cairo.” Sam pulled a face. “He’d tapped out his available leave.”
“Uh huh.” Noah jerked his chin in a nod that was as full of sarcasm as his words. “Because he used it all up trying to talk you out of marrying his sister?”
“That Eli’s a protective SOB.”
Noah couldn’t help it. He had to laugh. And damn, it felt good to let go of that miserable knot of pain for a little while.
“That he is. I’d have to say he’s probably more protective of some things than he is of others, though.”
“Like archaic vows of emotional abstinence and knight-like commitment to purpose at the expense of anything resembling happiness?”
Noah grinned. That’s what he loved about his brother. Things never had to be spelled out for Sam to get them.
“He’s one hell of a SEAL, though. He’s got a rep that they talk about even in BUD/S.” Sam frowned, but Noah didn’t see any doubt there. Just consideration. “I guess the vow worked for him. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be one hell of a SEAL, too.”
“I hear you’re good enough that you beat my record,” Noah pointed out with a grin that was both proud and yes, a little irritated. After all, that record had stood for three years. “So, yeah. I’d say you’ll make one hell of a SEAL.”
Tilting his head, Sam’s eyes narrowed as he arched one brow.
“But?”
No point denying there was a but.
“But, training and doing are two different things. You’re a Morelli. That means you kick ass. But out in the field, in the middle of an operation when you could be kissing that ass goodbye at any second?” Noah shrugged even as images, vicious and ugly, filled his mind. It was stubborn determination as much as training that set those images aside. “It’s different. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
“I don’t think there’s any way for me—or you, for that matter—to have any real idea how you’ll do. You could be victorious in the field of battle, come through with a chest full of medals and a big ass smile. You could cave after one mission, realize that it’s more than you bargained for.” Noah paused, then because it had to be said, added, “Or you could come home in a flag-draped box, leaving your pretty new bride a widow.”
Sam’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t blink, he didn’t wince, he didn’t frown. He simply dropped his arms to his sides, widened his stance and considered.
Since his brother was near his weight and height, and because Noah knew he had a wicked left hook, he shifted his own stance to match. Even as he did, though, Noah had to admit he was proud. His brother took the hit of reality on the chin and handled it like a man. Maybe better than Noah himself had a few years back.
“So in your opinion, I shouldn’t marry Bryanna?” Sam asked in the same neutral tone he’d use talking about the weather. “You’re of the same mind as Eli? That being successful—or to your point, alive—as a SEAL can only be done if a man is single and unattached, therefore able to commit completely and only to duty?”
“Does it matter what I think?”
Sam did frown now, as if he were looking for the trick in that question. Then he shrugged.
“Yeah. It does. But only as much as you’re my brother and I respect your advice. More, you’re already a SEAL, and I respect your experience.” Before Noah could respond to that—hell, before the glow even faded—Sam continued. “But caring doesn’t mean doing.”
“So you want to hear what I think you should do, but won’t do it. Figures.” Relaxed enough to laugh now, Noah leaned against the railing again and shook his head before continuing.
“Okay, here you go. Advice. I think you should do what you know is right. You’ll know it’s right if it clicks in your head, in your heart, in your gut. Not one or two, but all three. If you become a SEAL, you make sure you’re the best SEAL you can be. If you marry Bryanna, you make sure you’re the best husband you can be. If you do both, you make damned sure you give both one-hundred-percent.” He shrugged. “Pretty typical as far as advice goes.”
“And the pledge?” Sam prompted.
Noah let out a slow breath and wondered how to answer that. To Sam, or to himself.
“You’re going to find yourself on missions where you’ll have to make split-second decisions. Decisions that could seem to fly in the face of your orders.” Noah stared, unseeingly, at the far wall. “When you make those decisions, you need to do it with the mission objective in mind. You’re taught to think because blindly following orders can get people killed. Always remember the objective.”
“Because sometimes orders are at odds with the mission objective?” Sam repeated when Noah went silent.
“Sometimes. And sometimes, not following orders is treason.”
“Dude,” Sam laughed. “Way to keep it confusing.”
“There’s no pat answer. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You’ve got to do what is right for you. Only you know if you can balance the demands of your reassignment and marriage.”
Comprehension replaced amused frustration in his eyes as Sam nodded.
“I respect Eli. The man is a machine and I’m damned glad he’s on our team,” Sam said slowly. “But I figure we all have our strengths and our weaknesses. Maybe distractions are his and that’s why he chose the route he did. But it’s not the one for me.”
“Then there you go.” Noah stepp
ed forward to slap Sam on the shoulder. “Now if we’re done with SEAL philosophy one-oh-one, I want a beer.”
“Almost done.” Looking a little abashed but determined, Sam wrapped one arm around Noah’s shoulder, turning the return slap into a manly guy-hug. “Thanks.”
Since clearing his throat would be a giveaway that he was a little choked up, Noah just nodded.
At ease now, they strode into the ballroom together, automatically heading for the bar without needing to consult each other on their destination. Dodging greetings slowed them down, so they’d only made it halfway to destination: beer before Sam angled his head.
“Did you ever meet Tansy Berk?”
Following his brother’s direction, Noah narrowed his eyes. It only took Noah a moment to connect the name with the long, leggy brunette standing at the food buffet with Sam’s pretty Bryanna.
“Macy’s sister, right? Twin?” This time it didn’t even take a moment to make the connections. “Eli dumped Macy when he earned his trident, right?”
“Yeah.” Sam shouldered his way up to the bar, lifting two fingers then pointing at the draft he wanted before giving Noah a serious look. “Gotta say, big brother, I’m glad you didn’t do that. I actually forgot about that pledge until Eli reminded me a few weeks ago. But we both know he had it front and center in his mind, so he knew he was going to dump her when he hooked up with Macy Berk. That’s kind of a dick move.”
Nonplussed, Noah could only stare. Had his brother just meant to insult him?
Thankfully, Sam had already turned to thank another well-wisher so he missed Noah’s reaction. He’d forgotten that only he and Gwen knew that their relationship had been anything more than friendly neighbors.
So the insult hadn’t been intentional.
But Sam was right.
It had been a total dick move.
A SEAL’s Sacrifice: Chapter Eight
It took every bit of Gwen’s nerve to walk back into that ballroom instead of scurrying home to hide. Well, nerve and the fact that when the elevator reached the lobby, she’d realized that she’d have to explain why she’d ran when she later faced the dozen or more people up there she knew, including Russell.
