by LJ Evans
Performed by Green Day
Written by Armstrong / Dirnt / Cool / Phillips / Jones
Hannah was cooing at me from her high chair. All smiles, babbling with the half words, half nonsense she was good at these days. She had two pigtails sticking out from the sides of her head with soft curls spiraling out of them. Add in her golden eyes and shiny hair, and she was the prettiest damn baby I’d ever seen. Not that I’d seen many. I’d certainly never been around them as much as I’d been around this little lady.
When I’d first started helping Tristan with the baby, I’d been all bumbles and mistakes, which had made me feel like an idiot. Give me a gun and a target, and I could hit my mark every single time, but getting one wiggling baby to stop long enough to close the tabs on a diaper had been nearly impossible. The pride I’d felt when I’d finally gotten her to take a bottle from me instead of only Tristan? That had been almost as big as the day I’d gotten my brown shirt at BUD/S.
Molly squirmed, tail wagging as she sat below the high chair’s tray, waiting expectantly for the next morsel to drop. She started to jump up, I gave her a look, and she sat her butt back on the ground. If only dealing with humans was as easy as training the dog had been.
Hannah, covered in spaghetti sauce and pasta, stuck her hand out to share the noodle which had just been in her mouth. “NaNa. You.”
Her name for me hit me in the heart every single time she said it. “I have my own, see,” I said, lifting my fork and scooping spaghetti into my mouth.
She shook her head. “No. You.”
I was not eating her spaghetti drool.
“Hannah, eat,” I told her, folding her tiny clenched fist with the gooshy noodle back toward her face.
She giggled but ate it, and I sighed with relief. Trying to get this girl off of a topic was nearly impossible until she changed it herself. She was focused. Like her dad. My heart clenched.
I took my plate to the sink, rinsed it, and stacked it in the dishwasher before turning back to the eighteen-month-old. Molly was dancing on her hind legs as Hannah dropped food at the dog who caught every piece.
“No more for Molly,” I said, smiling, and Hannah smiled back. She had Darren’s smile. I wasn’t sure how Tristan could deal with looking at it every day. Sadness hit me at how much Darren was missing. He’d loved this kid like nothing else. He’d loved her so much he probably would have eaten her spaghetti drool.
I cleaned up Hannah’s plate and tray before unbuckling her from the seat she was pushing herself out of regardless of the safety contraption. Once I had her in my arms, I couldn’t help smiling at the mess she was. Covered in sauce from her forehead to her belly button. “I think you need a bath, Bo Peep.”
She smiled and patted my face, leaving a trail of wetness that had me wiping it off with a shoulder. She squeezed my T-shirt with her sauce-covered hands, and I wondered if the stain would ever come out. Another shirt to toss in the rag pile.
Molly tagged along at my heels as we made our way upstairs to the bath in the main bedroom. Tristan had a baby seat that suctioned into the tub, and I got it set up with one arm. The whole while, Hannah was garbling at me and Molly. She kicked her feet and her hands, excited in a way that always took me by surprise. When was the last time I’d seen anyone full of that much joy? Never. No one past the age of three seemed to have this amount of uncontained love for everything in their life. Probably because, by then, they’d already had too many disappointments.
I got the warm water running, added some bubbles, and then tossed Hannah’s diaper in the trash before sitting her in the bath seat. I added a few toys and watched her push the rubber ducky around while I got the spray nozzle warmed up. Tristan said we were supposed to talk to her a lot because the pediatrician had said her speech was a little delayed. But what did you say to a child who could barely understand the concept of bubbles?
The silence in the house had been large enough to be its own being this year. Tristan was lost in her head as much as I was. Even when I was here, the words we spoke to each other were few. I wasn’t a babbler. I hadn’t ever been much of a talker unless I was smooth-talking a female into coming home with me. It was one of the reasons Angie had broken up with me. She said it wasn’t just the missions, or me being gone for months at a time with no correspondence, but the fact that when I was home, I still didn’t speak.
Out of my peripheral, I saw Molly make a lunge, and as I turned to catch her, she slipped by me into the tub with the baby. Hannah laughed, and the giggle settled itself into my veins like a tranquilizer. The dog licked her face, and Hannah shoved the stupid duck at the mutt. With all my heart, I wanted to give this moment, this image, back to my dead friend.
In the process of getting the dog and Hannah dried off, I got drenched myself. I tossed the sauce- and water-covered T-shirt in the hamper and picked up the baby from the changing table. I stopped at the sight of myself in the mirror. My dark hair, even as short as it was, was sticking up at weird angles. My green eyes were almost black from exhaustion, and the baby in my arms looked fragile against my muscled chest covered with tattoos and scars. It was like one of those “which of these things doesn’t belong” pictures. It was easy to see I was the odd man out.
I turned away from the stranger in the mirror, taking the baby downstairs to read her a book before putting her to bed. If I knew Tristan, she’d be home not long after Hannah’s bedtime, if not before. She could hardly keep away from the baby. In taking care of Hannah, she could forget everything but the basics of survival—Maslow’s hierarchy of needs at its simplest.
That was exactly why Tristan needed the night out. She actually needed a vacation from parenting all together just so she could figure out her own emotions. I certainly didn’t begrudge her the time. I wished I was around even more so I could force her out the door regularly.
Unfortunately, knowing she was out on the town with Dani had my body stirring a response that certainly wasn’t directed at Tristan. Mac would kill me for the thoughts I’d had over his sister ever since meeting her the very first time.
Dani was a force of nature all her own. A tornado. A hurricane. A gale-force wind blowing in and out wherever she showed up. The thought of her and Tristan out shaking their bodies together on some dance floor made me want to follow them. Made me want to give the stink eye to every man in the place who was looking at them. And, by God, there would be a lot of staring, because Dani was a knockout, and Tristan was damn cute.
Telling Tristan she was cute had only been the first of my mistakes before she’d gone out.
“Cute? Really? Cute is what you say about the dog,” Tristan had huffed. “This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t even be going out.”
She’d started back up the stairs when I’d caught her by the arm.
“Don’t,” I’d said, stopping her. She’d looked at my hand on her arm with shock, as if the human touch was something she didn’t understand anymore. “You look good, Tristan. I…I just don’t know how to say that to you when Darren would have put me in a headlock if I’d uttered it before.”
Mistake number two—because I’d said his name. Her eyes had welled up with tears as she’d pulled her arm from me. She’d sat on the step and put her head in her hands. “What am I doing?” she’d mumbled.
“Going out. Having a drink. Letting your hair down.”
She did have her hair down, and she was wearing makeup and had clothes on without holes. She’d looked almost like the Tristan from before we’d lost Darren. Except for the dark shadows that still existed below her eyes. I wasn’t sure those would ever go away.
“I…I don’t know how to do any of that anymore,” she’d said.
“He’d want you to,” I’d said quietly.
She hadn’t responded. Referring to him was all but forbidden, and now, I’d done it twice in the same conversation. When she didn’t respond, I pushed.
“Go. Hang with Dani. Let yourself forget for a few hours.”
Which was mistake number three. But instead of shouting that she’d never forget, she’d straightened her back and stood. She’d grabbed her purse from the hook by the door before turning back to me.
“Don’t forget the spaghetti.”
Then the door had shut with a bang behind her.
I hoped she was drinking herself into forgetfulness the way I did, but I knew she wouldn’t. She’d taken the SUV, and she’d never drink and drive. She hadn’t let any of the team get behind the wheel for as long as I’d known her. I’d be surprised if she let herself even have one drink.
I sank into the armchair with Molly curled up next to me and Hannah resting her head on my chest. It was another visual I was sure no one who knew me would expect. Nasty with a kid and a dog, reading from a stack of books I almost knew by heart because I’d read them—or heard Tristan read them—too many times to count.
The baby fell asleep, and I just sat there, watching her little chest go up and down, her frog security blanket clutched tight in her arms. I didn’t have enough energy to get up and put her in her crib in Tristan’s room. I didn’t want to disturb the dog or walk back up the stairs. I just wanted to sit and take in the smell of the baby shampoo that clung to everything, even the stupid mutt.
I laid my head back against the cushion of the armchair and stared at the ceiling. The crown molding along the edges reminded me of the crown molding in my bedroom growing up. That ceiling seemed miles away, just like the memories of a warm arm holding me and a gentle voice reading to me were. Mom. I let my eyes close, and I let the memories of her follow me into my dreams.
♫ ♫ ♫
There was something about having survived everything I’d been through―the missions and the trainings―which meant a part of my brain and my body rarely shut off unless I knew one of my brothers was watching my back. So, the fact I was out hard enough for Tristan to pull Hannah from my grasp without me having heard her come in made my entire body tighten reflexively. Brain and senses on alert to danger before I realized who it was. Tristan looked the same as when she’d left the house, as if hours hadn’t passed. She flinched as if I was going to attack her.
“Sorry,” I said in a hushed tone. Whether it was for falling asleep with the baby or for scaring her with a look, I wasn’t sure.
She gave me a weak smile in response, and my heart unclenched a little. Sometimes I thought she’d forgotten how to smile. As soon as she walked toward the stairs, my heart tightened right back up because behind her stood Dani.
Her tall, lean body was encased in a pair of jeans that accented every delightful curve. The spiked heels she had on made her legs seem even longer than usual. The top she wore barely covered anything. Sparkling, shimmering, tantalizing me with softly tinted skin peeking out everywhere. When my gaze finally made it back up to her face, she was smiling at me. A sardonic smile that was all Dani. She was done up in her normal way with makeup accenting those deep-blue eyes and her dark hair twisted up into some kind of hairdo that spoke of the forties and yet the twenty-first century all at the same time. Only her outfit was different than her norm. It was more casual than anything I’d seen her in—except the time I’d seen her in her bathing suit and almost lost it like a pubescent teen.
Her blue eyes repeated my slow gaze, taking me in from head to toe and back again, and damn if that didn’t cause my body to go on high alert in a different way, a way that made it difficult to move. As her appraisal stalled on my chest, covered in tattoos and scars, I realized I’d never put a T-shirt back on. My skin was on display, revealing my secrets to her. The marks on my body spoke more than I ever did of my past or my future.
I sat up, running a hand over the rough stubble on my face and then up through my hair.
“You always make yourself this comfortable in someone else’s home?” Dani finally spoke, and even her voice cut through my thick skin, layering itself over my veins and bringing them to life.
I stood and stretched, and she watched me. She didn’t look away or duck her eyes in embarrassment when I met her gaze like some people would if you caught them staring. Not Dani. She just returned the stare.
“You don’t seem to mind,” I said, lifting an eyebrow.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Otter. I’ve had a few drinks; my alcohol goggles would probably take in a Blobfish if it were here,” she sassed back, using the cute and cuddly sea creature nickname that she’d used since we first met as a teasing contradiction of what I really was. All SEAL. All Nasty.
She dropped down onto the couch, where she proceeded to unstrap her heels. I watched, wondering what she’d do if I took over the job for her before kissing the graceful curve of each arch.
I shook myself out of my thoughts and moved farther away, going to the door to the basement stairs where I’d left my duffel. I took out a T-shirt and pulled it on. When I turned back, Dani had picked up one of the books I’d been reading to Hannah and was looking through the pages.
“I didn’t know you were coming back with Tristan,” I told her.
“So, the naked chest thing was for her benefit?”
God, no, but I couldn’t help a tease. “Why? Would it bother you?”
She snorted. “What have you been drinking tonight?”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I moved to the kitchen to finish cleaning the mess Bo Peep had left before I’d taken her up for her bath. To my surprise, Dani followed me. She jumped on the counter, watching me wash things and put them away.
“What happened at Little Creek?” she asked.
It didn’t surprise me Dani had heard that things had gone down. Mac had his ear to the ground for every tidbit he got about me and the SEALs these days. It was his way of trying to make up for what we’d lost.
“An asshole happened,” I said, catching myself before I said more. There was something about Dani that had me wanting to tell her my truths. The truths I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Darren had known some of them.
“Do you mean yourself or someone else equally asshole-ish?” she teased.
I turned toward her, arms crossed over my chest. “I’m not an asshole.”
She didn’t bat an eye, gazing at me. “You’re right. I take it back. You’re a flirt. Player. Egomaniac and an otter. But you’re not usually an ass, even if that is Mac’s favorite nickname for you.”
“Why’d you decide to leave D.C.?” I asked just to even the playing field. To let her know I’d heard about her walking away from Matherton’s team just like she’d heard about me. To let her know I didn’t want to talk about my departure any more than she wanted to talk about hers.
She didn’t get a chance to respond before Tristan came in, flustered with a worried energy pouring off of her. My body automatically responded to it, ready to move where needed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My grandma took a bad spill, cracked her hip. They’re going to do surgery on her tomorrow.”
“Oh no!” Dani said.
“Mom’s upset,” Tristan said, waving at her phone before sliding it in her back pocket. She turned to the cupboard and started grabbing things and throwing them into an oversized diaper bag. “She can’t leave Bailey while her husband is in South America building that stupid bridge. There’s no way my sister will survive the triplets on her own. She’s barely recovering from her C-section.”
“So, you’re going?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm to counter her nerves.
She nodded.
“How long are you going to be gone?” I asked.
“I don’t know. A couple of weeks at least. When Ted gets home from South America, Mom can join me in New York.”
“New York?” Dani asked, surprised. Tristan’s parents lived a few blocks over from Tristan’s rental, so it was easy to assume her grandma was close by. I’d met the woman only a handful of times, but she was the spriest eighty-nine-year-old I’d ever met. She wouldn’t let you forget it, either.
Tri
stan took in the items in the diaper bag with a frown. “Yeah, Grandma lives in a small town upstate.”
She looked up from the bag to Dani before turning to me. “Can you look after Molls for us? I don’t want to take her. I don’t know what my schedule will be like with Grandma at the hospital, and you know how she gets if she’s left alone too long. I don’t want her to destroy Gram’s house.”
My heart rocketed to a stop. Shit. The one fucking time she actually asked me for help, and I couldn’t say yes.
“You know I would, but I’ve got to be on base on Monday.” Her crushed face had me backtracking. “Let me see if I can make arrangements to bring her with me.”
It wouldn’t have been the first time a SEAL team had a dog with them.
Dani snorted. “The therapist will love that. Bringing Darren’s dog to your first session.”
Tristan’s hand holding another can of baby formula dropped, and she looked at me with huge eyes. “What’s she talking about?”
The question was delivered to me, but I didn’t know how to answer it. I didn’t want to acknowledge how bad I’d fucked up before I’d landed on her doorstep Friday night.
“You didn’t tell her?” Dani’s voice was full of reproach.
“Tell me what? What the hell is going on, Nash?”
“I punched Dainty,” I told Tristan. I’d talked about the new team with her some, enough for her to know the guy had been driving me completely batty before Friday’s debacle.
“Why?” Tristan asked.
I shrugged. “Does it really matter why?”
“Yes, it matters. It’s going to matter even more when they put you in front of the review board.” It was Dani talking. Dani, who knew the ins and outs of the military because she’d grown up in a military family.
Tristan just stared at me, tears welling up in her eyes before she brushed at them, got up, and continued shoving things in the already bulging bag. “He’d be so mad at you,” she said so quietly it was hardly a whisper, and my heart about jumped from my chest because I’d made her cry several times in the last two days. She was right. Darren would have skinned me alive for so many reasons, but losing my cool with Dainty was one of the biggest ones.
