by J. P. Comeau
Well, maybe not that intense. But, the damn thing smelled delicious, and I was ready to dig into it.
However, when I got to Clint’s place, something was wrong. I found his apartment door ajar, and I smelled the heavy scent of booze filtering through the crack. My gut turned over onto itself at the smell. It made me sick to my stomach. But, I also knew something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
“Clint?” I called out.
I eased the door open with my foot and found him slumped against the couch.
“Clint? Sweetheart?” I asked softly.
I watched him throw back the rest of the amber liquid in his glass before something tumbled to the floor. He leaned forward, slamming his glass onto the crooked coffee table, but not once did he look at me. I walked into his studio apartment and closed the door with my foot, trying to swallow down my own bile.
When he finally turned to look at me, I saw nothing but sorrow in his features.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered.
I dropped the food by the door and rushed to his side. I sat down, taking his trembling hand in mine. His cheeks were wet, almost as if he had been crying. And as I brushed his tears away, I heard a voice wafting up from the floor.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
I paused. “Uh, hello?”
“Down here. Clint’s phone.”
I eyed Clint curiously before I bent down and picked up his phone. Which was what had apparently dropped to the floor. And when I turned it over, I saw a video feed with three other guys staring back at me.
“Uh, hi?” I asked.
“Are you Roxy?”
I stared at the man with a scar running down his left cheek. “Yeah. I am. Who are you?”
Scarface waved. “I’m Riley. The one with the blonde hair is Ashton. And the big guy with the crooked nose is Brutus.”
“Hey,” they both said as they waved.
I looked over at Clint. “How do you guys know each other?”
Clint didn’t even look at me as Riley answered my question.
“We were all on the same SEAL team.”
I looked back at the phone. “Do you mind if I ask you guys what you were talking about? Clint doesn’t look very well.”
Brutus spoke up. “Bryce.”
I blinked. “Who’s Bryce?”
Ashton sighed. “Oh, boy.”
“Clint?” Riley asked.
“Hang up the phone,” he murmured.
I peeked over at him. “Honey, I really think--.”
He whipped his eyes over toward mine. “I said, hang up the fucking phone.”
I did as he asked without hesitation, though I felt bad for the other guys on the line. I tossed his phone onto the coffee table before I took his hand within mine, scooting ever so closely to the man I’d come to care for. I smoothed my hand over his chest. I pressed my palm against his heart. I watched his eyes as they panned across the room, looking for nothing in particular.
Then, I sat there and waited until he was ready to talk.
“Bryce was the best SEAL I’d ever come across,” he said.
I nodded as I sat there silently, listening to whatever he had to say.
“Bryce was my buddy. We went through BUD/S training together.”
“What’s that?”
“Part of specialized training for underwater maneuvers, and we took the SEAL test together. Damn near puked up our guts together after all the salt water we swallowed. But we did it. Together. And we were supposed to do this together, too.”
I grinned. “What? Have a baby?”
He slowly looked over at me. “Life, Roxy. We were supposed to do life together.”
I cupped his cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Do you need to talk about it?”
“The guys think so.”
I slid into his lap. “Then, maybe we should try talking about it. Just a little bit. Okay?”
His eyes stared off into the distance. “His favorite color was red.”
“It’s a good color.”
“I hate that color now.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the last color he was covered in before I had to pull his lifeless body into the nook.”
“The nook?”
His eyes found mine. “A chinook?”
I blinked. “What’s that?’
“The helicopters with two blades?”
“Oh, oh, oh! Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what its name was.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. Most people don’t.”
I ran my fingers through his hair. “What happened out there? When Bryce died?”
He sniffled. “Gunfire. And lots of it.”
“Were you on a mission?”
His arm wrapped around me tightly. “An overnight mission.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means we were pulled out of our beds in the middle of the night for a rescue mission.”
“Oh.”
His head fell back. “We choppered into this small, innocent town in the middle of some deserted nowhere. After a while, they all start to look the same, but the mission was simple: find our man, recover him, and take out anyone who tried to stop us.”
“So, someone was captured.”
He slowly raised his head to look at me. “Yeah. Bryce was.”
I swallowed hard. “Bryce had been captured?”
He nodded. “By the enemy. He was on a mission with another SEAL team to recover some stollen weapons and ammo, and he got spotted. Took us damn near five months to track him down, but we finally got to him. And things were supposed to be simple, Roxy. We were supposed to go in, take out the guards, get Bryce, and get the hell back to the nook.”
I cupped both of his cheeks. “What happened, Clint?”
His eyes watered. “They came out of nowhere, Roxy. Dozens of them. Men, screaming at the top of their lungs while spraying bullets everywhere they could. I mean, they didn’t even have a target. They didn’t care who they picked off, who they killed, or whose blood they spilled. All they wanted was to take out as many of us as possible.”
“I’m so sorry, Clint.”
His arm started trembling around me. “I picked off as many as I could. I swear I did. I kept my men close as we ignored the women and children gurgling on their own blood around us. It was hell on earth. I’ll never forget the young girls reaching out for us, begging us to rescue them.”
“Why couldn’t you?”
He shook his head slowly. “Always focus on the mission. Nothing’s more important than the mission. That’s what they teach you, and that’s all I understood. All I knew was saving Bryce. All I knew was getting him out of there. Because of that, women and children died that never should have understood the horrors of war in the first place.”
I felt my own tears dripping down my face. “My God.”
“All of that, for nothing. All of that death, for a failed mission. By the time we got to Bryce, he was already dead. Covered in nothing but red. His body had been flung onto another soldier’s. Almost as if he were trying to protect someone. It’s funny, that’s so like Bryce. Giving whatever he had to in order to save someone else. It’s what made him such a good SEAL. It’s what made him such a good friend, Roxy. And he’s gone. He’s gone because I couldn't get there quickly enough, and I let dozens of women and children die in the process. For nothing but a failure.”
I turned his head toward me. “Clint, none of that is your fault.”
“How can you say that?”
I gazed deeply into his eyes. “You didn't kill Bryce. You didn’t kill those people. They did. They captured him. They’re the ones that did this.”
He sniffled. “Then, why the hell doesn’t it feel that way?”
I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him close. “I don’t know, Clint. But, I do know you won’t ever have to experience this sadness alone ever again. Okay?”
/> He hugged me tightly. “Oh, God, Roxy. I miss him so fucking much.”
I’d never heard a grown man cry before. But that night? I not only heard a grown man cry, but I felt it, too. I felt his tears as they stained my shirt. I felt his trembling body as he held me close. I heard his hiccups and his sobs and his wheezing as his nose clogged, and he had to cough to breathe. It broke my heart. It shattered my soul. I wanted to do something to take his pain away. To help him see that he could live his life in honor of his fallen friend instead of being trapped in the memory of Bryce’s death.
“I’ve got you. It’s okay,” I whispered.
“Why couldn't I get to him quickly enough?” he sobbed.
I kissed his tears away. “I don’t know. I don’t have answers. I can’t even sympathize. But, you’re not alone, Clint. Your SEAL buddies get it. They lost him, too. And you won’t ever have to deal with this alone, because you have me. Got it?”
His eyes found mine again. “Promise?”
I smiled softly. “I promise with all my belly.”
He snickered. “It looks great on you, you know.”
“Bah, you’re just saying that.”
His eyes grew stern. “No, I’m not. Curves have never looked better on a woman. And I’ve seen plenty of them.”
I paused. “Thanks…?”
He wiped at his face. “Sorry. Fucking hell, I’m so so--.”
“Clint Hearthstone, if you apologize one more time, I swear I’ll slap you myself.”
He snickered. “Good luck. My reflexes are outstanding.”
I grinned. “That’s a promise?”
He sighed. “I’ve never told anyone about that night before.”
I straddled him. “I’m honored that you felt comfortable enough to tell me.”
“Thank you for not running.”
“Thank you for letting me in.”
He licked his lips. “How about we just put all of that food in the fridge for later and order something in? Maybe pizza?”
I kissed the tip of his nose. “Under one condition.”
“Name it.”
“We eat it in bed, and you keep telling me about Bryce.”
He shook his head. “I’d love nothing more than to tell you about him, Roxy. Because I really think he would’ve loved you.”
“Good. Then, it’s settled. You order the pizza, I’ll get this stuff in the refrigerator.”
As I stood from his lap, offering my hands to him, I helped pull him onto his feet. His arms cloaked my back, and his lips crashed against mine in a passionate kiss that stole my breath away.
“Mmm, what was that for?” I murmured against his mouth.
His forehead fell against my own. “That was for being the most amazing human being I’ve ever come across.”
I blushed. “You keep fueling my ego like that, and you’re going to have an issue with me fitting through that door.”
He chuckled. “Fine by me. Just means I’ll have to get a bigger place with a bigger door.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
He patted my ass softly. “Come on. Let’s get this show on the road. I already know the first story I want to tell you.”
“Tell me while I put the groceries up, then?”
He smiled. “As you wish, beautiful.”
20
_____
CLINT
THREE MONTHS LATER
My fingers flew across the keyboard as quickly as they could fly. I was eager to get out of the office and whisk Roxy away to our next shopping adventure. I loved parading her around on my arm, especially now that she was starting to show. We were finally at the end of her second trimester, and things were going splendidly. My parents knew about us and had taken her in like family. After having an earnest talk with her father, I got his approval to continue being there for and to support her and the baby. Not that his disapproval would have stopped that. But, having our families work in tandem with one another could only help instead of hinder.
Sometimes, though, Roxy still acted as if she were doing it alone.
I have to get a crib set up in my apartment.
Should I worry about baby-proofing now?
I need a safer car. I’ll never be okay toting our kid around in this thing.
No, no, I can pay for that. It’s not an issue. I’ve been saving up anyway. Might as well put the money to good use.
I mean, I understood Roxy wanting to retain her independence. But, it was almost as if she were preparing for the moment when I left her in the dust. And I didn’t like that one bit. It’s one of the reasons why I enjoyed people seeing us together, whether in the office or out in public. I enjoyed people knowing that she was mine, and I was hers. I enjoyed people seeing her swell with my child and knowing damn good and well I wasn’t going anywhere.
I just needed to convince her of that now.
“Just bring up wanting to move in together,” I murmured to myself.
We were approaching a breaking point for both of us. Because I knew she’d get to a point in her pregnancy where she’d start to nest. At least, that’s what I kept reading. I read anything and everything I could get my hands on about what was changing with her body and happening with her hormones. I tracked every moment of the pregnancy. I even called my guys looking for advice on how to slowly merge mine and Roxy’s life so she didn’t feel as if her independent spirit was being snuffed out by me.
“And… done,” I said.
I slid my pen back into its holder and flipped the files closed. I stood up and packed my things in my briefcase, ready to deliver it all downstairs to the new front desk secretary. She was only here part-time, but it was better than nothing. And she was handy whenever she was around. I locked up my office and made my way toward the elevator, anxious to get to Roxy’s office.
After dropping those files with my new hire in the front lobby, I backtracked down the hallway.
“Roxy?” I asked.
I knocked on her door before I heard her shuffling around.
“Come in. I’m just wrapping things up.”
I opened her door. “Having a good day?”
She sighed. “If you call dealing with a bunch of grumpy, over-muscled meatheads a good day, then sure. It was fine.”
I paused. “Do I need to speak with someone?”
She eyed me hotly. “What? I’m not capable of speaking with them myself?”
“I didn’t mean personally. I meant professionally.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
I furrowed my brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She shoved something inside her desk. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m just hurting a bit today.”
“What hurts?”
“What doesn’t hurt? My feet. My back. My thighs. My elbows. Why do my elbows hurt? I’m not carrying a child in my elbows.”
I chuckled. “Well, hopefully, my plans for this afternoon will help cheer you up.”
She slammed her desk drawer closed. “Say what now?”
I smiled. “I have a surprise for you. Come on.”
“Clint, I really just want to go home.”
“Give me an hour, and then I’ll take you wherever you want. I promise.”
She sighed. “Can we at least get a cinnamon roll on the way there? I was dreaming about them all last night.”
I chuckled. “Whatever you want, beautiful.”
I couldn't help but notice just how exhausted Roxy looked, but I knew better than to bring it up. I wanted to start scaling back her schedule and the hours she worked, but I knew she’d fight me on that, too. I watched her limp over to me, and I wrapped my arm around her. I looked down at her ankles and noticed how swollen they were. Her feet looked like they were crying out for mercy from beyond the seams of her flats. And it made me worried that something bigger might be wrong.
“Roxy, maybe we should--.”
She groaned. “Clint, please stop. Just--just stop.”
I paused. “What?”
“I c
an’t have you worrying over me with every step I take. I see you staring at my ankles. I know they’re swollen. I know they don’t look good. But, can you at least not stare.”
“I’m not staring because--.”
She pulled away from me. “Cinnamon roll, before you die, please.”
I grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
But, the further we walked, the more her limp grew. The more she waddled instead of strutted. Her hand pressed into the small of her back, and she began to massage it, and it called attention to her shoulders. The way they were hunched over.
I can’t take her shopping like this.
“How about this?” I asked.
She grumbled. “Just pick a plan, Clint.”
I wrapped my arms around her. “Why don’t we get you that cinnamon roll, then go back to your place and order some takeout, yeah? We can rest on your couch, put our feet up. I could make us some milkshakes.”
“Mmm, talk dirty to me.”
I pressed my lips against her ear. “Maybe move the television into her bedroom.”
She groaned. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”
I kissed the shell of her ear. “Come on. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
She gripped my arm. “Wait, wait, wait.”
I paused. “What is it?”
She sighed. “You know my place is an absolute wreck right now, with everything I’m moving around.”
I paused. “What are you moving around?”
“You know, rearranging things to make it more baby-friendly.”
I turned to face her. “You’ve been moving furniture? By yourself?”
She blinked. “I didn’t tell you?”
My eyes grew hard on her face. “No, Roxy. You didn’t tell me you were moving furniture all by yourself while you’re five and a half months pregnant.”
“Well, excuse me for not filling you in on every detail of my life.”
“What in the world are you doing moving furniture around without someone there? You could really hurt yourself.”
She walked to my car door. “Look, there’s a lot of work involved when it comes to turning that apartment into a place fit for a child. I’m sure you’re experiencing the same thing with that bachelor pad of yours.”
I gripped her arm. “You need to take a second to breathe, Roxy. You're overtaxing yourself, and you remember what the doctor said. Whatever you feel, the baby feels? That ringing any bells?”
