Set In Stone

by Rachel Robinson

  I kiss her pouty mouth once and pull away. “I have to make a phone call, baby. Wait for me?” I ask, avoiding her question and her hazy accusations. The corners of her mouth turn down and those emerald green eyes tell me all I need to know. Pissed bitch. Shit. “I’ll be quick, I promise. I just have to check on her. I promised.” I don’t break promises. Especially to M. Morganna Sterns is the only woman with priority in my life. Cassidy knows as much. We don’t have secrets between us, but I can also see why it’s a problem.

  “Whatever, Steve. I don’t know why you waste your time with her. She’s never, ever going to agree to one of your arrangements.” Cass hisses the last word. She doesn’t know that M is the only person, probably in the entire universe, that I don’t want some fucked up arrangement with.

  I won’t let myself admit that I want M, but I’m a smart asshole and can’t fool myself. I grab both sides of Cass’s face and bring her lips toward mine, spinning my tongue to meet with hers. I put a force behind the kiss that I know she won’t be able to ignore. Her eyes flutter closed the same time her body molds to mine. Putty in capable hands. I know exactly what she needs from me. I’m just not sure how long it will be enough for her.

  I let my wet lips pull away and speak against her mouth, “Sex only, Cass. Remember?” She nods, a glazed over look on her face. I nod once, walk into my office, and close the door behind me. I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket and hit speed dial number one. She picks up after the first ring.

  “I thought you forgot about me,” Morganna says, a sleepy tone lacing her southern accent. I laugh because the accent is rare. I eat it up any chance I get. “I had a good day today. Are you still going to come over tomorrow and hang out, maybe help me swap out the lock on my side door?”

  I sigh. “What are best friends for?” I mock. “I didn’t know you needed a new lock. Why?” I pace around the small office, kicking off my shoes as I go, stretching my neck side to side. It gets sore from the choppy waters at sea. Most SEALs have broken bodies by age forty. It’s a tough lifestyle. I rub my lower back, making mental plans to schedule a massage.

  “The doorknob seemed wiggly yesterday morning. I’d call one of those handymen, but then I figured I got one of those guys on speed dial. Might as well put your skills to good use.”

  I chuckle under my breath. “Use my skills, huh? I do have a lot to offer, but it makes me nervous about the doorknob. Did your exterior security camera pick up anything unusual?”

  “I didn’t check.”

  Of course. She’s an attorney, a brilliantly successful, shrewd attorney, who thinks she’s invincible. I guess I can’t blame her. She thinks all her bad luck was used up when her husband, Stone was killed. I mean, that must give you a pass at the rest of life, right? All of the guys remained her friends after he passed. She’s just as involved in our Naval community as she ever was. She attends events, is asked to speak at fundraisers, and is an integral part of the Teams.

  “Maybe I should come over tonight and check it out. Is Phillipe staying with you?” Morganna Sterns lives in a sleek, white mansion smack dab on the water. Sometimes when we’re out on the boats late at night I can see lights glowing from her second story windows. There’s so many windows, at least fifteen, that some nights it distracts me, and other nights it’s like a beacon we can gauge our position on.

  Morganna is west. Her assistant, Phillipe, stays some nights, when she’s lonely—when she’s missing Stone. Stone Sterns was my teammate. The type of SEAL we all struggle to be. He’s also the reason I don’t let myself admit that I want Morganna Sterns. With my relationship statuses, plural, how could I?

  Morganna sighs. “No, Phillipe is at his boyfriend’s house. I’m fine. Just come over first thing?” If I had it my way, I’d be over there in seven minutes flat. She knows it. “My guns are loaded, Steven. I’ll be fine tonight.” I envision her kitted up in camo gear, peering around the large columns that line her foyer. It makes me grin because it’s something I can envision actually happening.

  “Your guns are always loaded. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. Night, M. Sleep well.” She sighs a sleepy little noise and I swallow down my feelings. I try not to think of her raven black hair that falls down her back, or the way my cock gets hard when I merely see the woman in a bikini. Like a fucking teenager.

  “Bring breakfast from Cappy’s and your loaded guns. You’ll need them. Night,” Morganna whispers into the phone, joking about my abnormally large biceps.

  I imagine the smile on her face and bite my lip to keep from smiling into the thin, vacant air. I tap the end call button and plug my iPhone into my laptop to charge. When I walk out into the living room, Cass is sitting on the sofa waiting for me. I rub my palms down the front of my pants and approach her, forcing my mind to a state of black. It gets harder and harder to pretend this is enough. When I kiss Cassidy, I almost feel dirty. My hands wander from her tight ass to the hem of her black pleather skirt.

  I pray I can keep up the charade long enough because it’s only a matter of time now. Pulling wet panties to the side, I slide two fingers into her and new verses come to mind.

  Ol’ Stevey Warner is a fucked up man

  No one has a clue about his master plan

  He’s been in love with a woman for most of his life

  And that chick has always been someone else’s wife.

  I groan. Luckily, it’s timed well because Cass just wrapped her soft hands around my dick.

  Morganna

  “There is no way in hell that man is getting anywhere near you, Penny,” I tell my client. She has a crazy ass husband she’s trying to get rid of with a true fiery passion. I glance around to make sure everything is in place and nothing needs straightening as she chatters away about all of her husband’s mistresses and all the times he hit her. This is an easy case. He hit her. There’s photo evidence. He cheated. There’s photo evidence. The guy might as well hop the train to asshole, wife-beater town and check his wallet with the conductor. To say I’m confident about this case is an understatement. I’ve taken on several cases like this in the past and they’ve all ended the same—in my favor.

  “He promised to make my life a living hell, Ms. Sterns. Of course I’m going to worry! I’ll probably even worry after the divorce is final,” Penelope admits, her lip trembling. I agreed to meet her in my home office at six a.m. She’s the epitome of worried and paranoid.

  Steven won’t be coming over until at least nine. He worked late, so I’m sure he’s going to sleep in a little bit. And God knows which woman he spent his time with last night. One and two seem to tire him more so than number three. As soon as I think it, I realize how messed up it is that I know this private information about him.

  I know a lot of things about him. We’re friends. He’s been there for me. When my husband Stone passed away, Steven was a bittersweet reminder of everything. Good memories and tragic, depressing memories always sneak in when I spend a lot of time with Steven. Eventually, I decided that it’s worth it to have his friendship and his humor included in my life.

  I lay a hand on Penny’s forearm. “You are a successful physician. He lost his job a year ago. Don’t worry about your money. Don’t worry about your safety. I promise everything is going to be okay.” I smile and, with what I think is a reassuring gesture, pat her arm. “I’m going to nail his ass to the wall in court.” I nod. Convincing someone of something is almost an art form. Especially if you don’t know one hundred percent it’s going to work out. “The detective got amazing photos of him with one of the women. Remember that?”

  At the mention of her safety, I imagine sending one of The Guys to stake out her house. Let that philandering, wife beating devil run into one of those men. Bodies like brick walls and personalities that morph in any situation. They are breathing, brawny, true blue heroes or villains—whichever you desire at a particular time.

  I smile tightly through the pang in my chest. It’s how I’ve learned to cope with losing my husband.
Smile through the pain. Laugh through the grief. Thrive in the throes of emptiness. It’s a catch twenty-two because the SEAL community is still my community, regardless of my late husband’s breathing status. I’ll never leave the friends and family I’ve made here in Virginia Beach or in San Diego where this all started so many years ago.

  It doesn’t make it any easier to think about Stone. He was the great love of my life. Living without him is the largest challenge I’ve ever taken on. I miss him every second he’s not here, but life doesn’t stop. Tragedy doesn’t halt the future. It propels you into it with a brand new outlook. You suck it up. You smile. You go on.

  I feel pride that he died saving his best friend, Maverick’s life. He wouldn’t be the man I married if he didn’t. It still doesn’t negate the fact that he left me with a massive sized hole in every aspect of my life. I didn’t function for the first few months after he died. I was left with the decision to push forward through the grief, or to wallow in self-pity and blame. I chose the first option because self-pity isn’t something I know how to do for long amounts of time.

  Penelope sniffles. “Thank you for meeting with me instead of talking on the phone. You must think I’m crazy. Thank you,” she repeats.

  Standing, I clasp her hands in mine. “I will win this for you. Please don’t be fearful. That’s what he wants.”

  She smiles as a tear falls down her face. The sight makes me uneasy. Emotion in general makes me uneasy these days. Sometimes I think throwing myself into my work, but staying emotionally detached, is the best way to score a victory. Ushering her forward, we make our way to the large foyer by my front door.

  When I sling it open Steven is standing there, a large, silver, destroyed doorknob in one hand and a take-out bag in the other. The smart-ass smile on his chiseled face is the most comforting thing in my world on most days. I reckon the fact that most everything else on him is chiseled is sort of nice too.

  Penelope smiles at me and moves around Steven and down the driveway. “I’ll call you later, Penny,” I yell after her, my work voice still firmly in place. To Steven I say, “You’re early.”

  He rolls his eyes and drops the broken piece of door in my hand, like a cat handing off a dead mouse. “This worried me. I figured you’d want breakfast at normal breakfast time,” he explains, moving around me and sauntering into my kitchen like he’s at home. He sort of is. We spend a lot of time together.

  In the beginning it was too hard to be his friend because of the familiarity. Familiarity is what forces a smile when I see an old friend, but it’s also what forms a black pit in my stomach. It coils deep and doesn’t relent. SEALs are all pretty similar as a general rule. Stone and Steven have their differences, but for the most part they are jarringly alike. The humor is what always reeled me toward Steven. Who doesn’t want to laugh? A better question is who doesn’t want to laugh after their husband dies? His comic relief is always welcome in the dark corners of my world.

  I join him at the bar, pulling a stool next to him, and dive into the breakfast burrito made to my exact preferences.

  “I have the tools in the garage to fix the door. I picked up a new knob this morning. Did you check the surveillance footage yet?” he says around a mouthful of food. I tilt the burrito toward him, swallowing a huge bite.

  “Thank you. Perfect,” I say. He smiles and nods. “I pulled the footage and set it out for Phillipe to go through when he gets here Monday morning.” I take another bite, kicking my heels off to the side. I always uphold a certain look when I’m working, be it at home or out and about. When I’m with my friends, I can relax a little bit. I can be myself. “One. Two. Or Three,” I ask jokingly. I mean, I definitely want to know, but I kind of don’t too.

  Steven chuckles, pushing his lips to one side, deciding if he should lie or be honest. We talk about everything. He has absolutely no reason to lie to me. He sighs. “It was two. I broke it off, though. She’s a little more clingy than I’m comfortable with. She knows it, too. I think last night was an ode to goodbye.” He watches my hands and fingers as he talks. I’m not sure why, but hands are his thing. I wiggle my fingers and his gaze darts up to meet mine.

  “You’re down to two? No way. Shock and awe, Steven Warner. Shock and awe. I bet you’ll mend fences with her.” This knowledge makes me happy for some unknown reason. I actually hope he doesn’t get back together with her. I guess it’s one less girl I have to worry about sharing Steven with. That thought excites and confuses me even more.

  After seeing pretty much everything in my career, I don’t judge anyone for anything anymore. If someone is happy and not breaking any laws, and all parties are well informed, let them be happy. There’s no deceit in what Steven does. I guess I’ve just come to realize that it’s his normal for whatever reason. Love isn’t his thing. Sex is. Dating normally never met his needs as far as I can tell.

  “You know the non-exclusivity clause will make it pretty fucking difficult to find a replacement. Whatever is a man to do? You wouldn’t happen to want to put in an application for the coveted position?” The Steven smirk flicks over his mouth. I narrow my eyes at him. He continues, “You’ll submit to an STD test and sign a non-disclosure. Agreed?” Now he’s making jokes.

  I don’t blink. His full lips twitch. I hold his gaze. This is a game. He’s trying to play dirty. I see his black fringed eyelashes flutter, trying as hard as he can to not blink. It’s officially a stare-off, but I take his joke of an offer and I actually consider it. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it a million times before.

  It would be easy like Sunday morning with Steven. The guilt of replacing Stone would be more than I could bear, though. What if I did begin a non-exclusive relationship with Steven? That’s not cheating on Stone’s memory at all. It’s actually the opposite.

  Steven seems to know the thoughts that are churning through my mind, because his eyes slit further and he cocks his head to the side, his brown eyes studying mine.

  “You blinked,” he growls. “More than once. You never lose a stare off, M. What in the hell is going through your mind? Are you worried about the security footage on the camera? You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?”

  I shake my head, caught off guard by his insane assumption. The non-blink is a non-action I’ve perfected for use in court, but it comes in handy when we do our stare-off contests.

  “Hell no, I’m not afraid,” I almost yell, my southern drawl licking each syllable. Damn it. “I was just thinking about a case, that’s all.” He looks at me sideways, knowing eyes calling me a big, fat fibber.

  “Whatever you say, Morga-liar. I’m going to hang in the garage and find what I need. My offer stands,” he says. I think I hear him whisper, “always” when he walks off, a Home Depot bag in one hand.

  There it is. The reason I can’t be with Steven. The reason I have a date tonight with some random guy I met on Daterpro.com. He’s a struggling guitarist who burns incense and probably hasn’t been in a home improvement store throughout his entire life. He’s the opposite of Stone. He’s the opposite of any of The Guys. He’s safe.

  I can honestly say SEALs never make the same mistake twice. It goes against their genetic code. That doesn’t mean I won’t or can’t. It’s my solitary weakness. It’s best to steer clear of temptation. Even non-exclusive temptation.

  Steven peels off a faded, gray t-shirt as he walks down the hallway to my garage. Tanned, smooth skin stretches over bulging muscles. The large, frog skeleton crawling up one shoulder is the only thing marking his flawless skin. It should also mark him as off limits.

  Why am I looking at him this way now? Literally after years of placing him in the friend zone. Maybe I’ve denied myself the privilege before. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop. The realization hits—I don’t want to stop. The truth creeps out and penetrates the air around me. My heart pounds in response, blood whooshing in my ears.

  Steven turns his head and looks back at me, fully aware I’m staring. He
raises one perfectly manly, dark brow, and then he winks, turning around to continue down the hall, humming a song I’ve never heard before. Normally I’d scoff or fling a small insult about his ego, but this time I don’t. He notices the small absence because I see his broad shoulders shake with laughter.

  When he disappears into the garage I let out a breath and a string of obscenities leak from my mouth in a whisper.

  They aren’t really that similar. Right?

  Steve

  She’s actually doing this. “I can’t believe you’re going out on a date with some douche lord! Someone you met off the internet, to boot. You’re going to end up swinging by your feet, gutted like a fish, massive amounts of blood trickling down ruining your Brazilian Blowout.” I bang my palm down on the cold cement slab in her kitchen. Morganna merely smirks at me, knowing damned well I’d never let that happen to her. It’s mother fucking infuriating. “Does Maverick know?”

  I only ask because I know Windsor wouldn’t approve of her dating some dude off of a dating website. They’ve been friends since undergrad. While Morganna ultimately has the last say, Windsor’s opinion is surely factored somewhere into the equation. Any one of her girlfriends would be angry. I know exactly why I’m so pissed, but Morganna can’t know why. Hell, maybe she already knows. I think everyone does. The thought just incenses me further.

  “Of course he doesn’t know. As it should be. It’s none of his business anyways. It’s time I start dating again, Steven. You have to agree with that,” she explains, her voice clear, true, almost as if she’s asking permission. She knows damn well she doesn’t need permission from anyone. She’s a force. She knows she’s a fucking force. Forces don’t need help finding a date. They can have whoever they fucking want. Whenever they fucking want.