by M. S. Parker
It was more like a three-week long bender.
“You pathetic piece of shit,” I said to my reflection.
I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself though. I was pissed off and getting more so with every passing minute. If the fit of my clothes was anything to go by, I’d lost at least fifteen pounds in the past month, all of it muscle. I’d spent most of my time drinking, very little time eating and my brain felt like it was full of holes, like a piece of Swiss cheese, one left out in the sun too long.
I was furious, and as I stood there in the bedroom in the house I’d lived with my mother, shame hit me hard.
I got why Hawk had dragged me back here.
He’d probably known this would happen.
Had to give it to the man. He wasn’t my CO anymore – I didn’t have a commanding officer – but he knew how to read me better than anybody alive.
No CO. No mission.
I was no longer a member of the US Navy. No longer a SEAL.
You have a choice, son. You can face a court martial and I think you know how it will go, or we can discharge you. Right here, right now.
I’d stood in front of two officers, one of whom I’d never even met, and had to listen while they told me my two only choices.
They were right.
I knew how a court martial would go.
I should appreciate that they’d considered certain facts – everything that had gone down with the mission that had killed Rake and Dog, then the drunk who’d killed my mom – before deciding to even offer me a choice. And I guess in a way I did.
I didn’t deserve that choice, not really. I’d dishonored the Navy, everything I stood for.
And for the past few weeks, instead of sucking it up and figuring out where to go, I laid around like a bum and got drunk off my ass.
A knock at the door had me straightening away from the sink – slowly. My head still didn’t feel like it was attached right. At the moment, my blood probably had more alcohol in it than actual blood, and I needed to spend the next week drinking nothing but water so I could get the poison out of my system.
Hawk was standing there, hands on his hips, staring down the hall.
He met my eyes, looked me up and down. “You still look like shit.”
“This will make you happy – I still feel like shit.”
He smiled. “That doesn’t make me happy, son. Come on. You need food.”
The very thought made my stomach protest, but he was right. I needed to eat, and there was something in the air that made my mouth water, despite the protest from my stomach.
A few feet away from the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at him. “Shit, did you let Gator into my mom’s kitchen?”
“Not like I can cook.” Hawk kept walking. “And you’re so full of booze, you might spontaneously combust if you got near an open heat source. Quit your bitching, Reaper, and get in here.”
Warily, I edged in closer and eyed the table where Mom and I had shared so many meals.
It was empty.
Gator caught sight of me, and his dark face went sly with saturnine humor. “I make the food, dickhead. I don’t set the table. Don’t worry…I didn’t make no gator meat. I’ll save that for when you’re looking a little less lily-white.”
“Suck my dick,” I suggested.
He snorted and jerked a thumb at the table. “Get that done or you can eat with your hands.”
Gator had a thing for cooking. Before I…left, I’d figured that out. He also believed that people should actually sit down at a table when they ate a meal. Somebody had ragged him about it, and he told the guy to take it up with his mama.
Seeing as how my mama and his mama saw things the same, I figured I’d just avoid the headache and set the fucking table. Especially since my stomach had decided food might be a good idea. It was rumbling.
Ten minutes later, we all sat down to eat.
The only thing to drink was water and sweet tea – and the sweet tea was enough to give cavities with one sip. Gator drank half of it himself. I drank the other half.
Hawk stuck with water.
The food was a chicken and pasta dish that settled easily on my raw stomach, and Hawk laid into Gator, telling him how he’d make somebody a great wife someday.
Gator just flipped him off and ate, mostly in silence.
I eyed the black eye, and when he caught me doing it for the third time, I said, “Sorry.”
Gator jerked up a shoulder. “Bet your hand hurts just as much as my face. Been told I got a head like a rock.”
My hand was bruised, the knuckles swollen. “Feels like I hit a brick wall.”
Gator nodded.
He was the one to break the awkward silence again five minutes later.
“You know, you can spend the rest of your life feeling sorry for the fuck-ups you made, or you can do something with your life. Ain’t like you don’t have the training to do a whole bunch of shit. Plus, you’re smart. I mean, you can always go private. Plenty of ex-SEALs do.”
“That ain’t me,” I said, irritated already. I’d joined the Navy to serve my country.
“Yeah, figured.” Gator shrugged. “Not surprised. Like I said, you’re smart. Plenty more you can do than be a hired gun.”
I bent over my food, focused on shoveling more of it into my mouth. But I heard every word.
Problem was, I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do, and thanks to the spectacle I had behind me, there’d be plenty who gave me a wide berth.
Thoughts like that had put me on that three-week bender.
Feeling even more unsettled, I reached for the glass of sugary-sweet tea and drained it, then got up to get some water to cool the burn in my gut.
“I’ll figure something out,” I said from the sink.
Sure I would.
Chapter Three
Reaper
My head was still pounding the next morning.
I guzzled another twenty ounces or so of water and hit the pavement, running until my legs felt like putty and I was breathing way too hard.
I had to walk it off and wait for my heart to settle before I could make the trip back home. I’d run for a good forty-five minutes, but that shouldn’t have been enough to leave me feeling so wasted.
Unless, of course, I’d spent the past few weeks trying to slowly poison myself with alcohol. There was a good possibility it would take a few more days before I felt even close to myself again.
Whatever it was to feel like myself again.
By the time I got home, the sun was creeping up the horizon. No lights were on in the house.
Hawk and Gator were crashing for a while yet – they’d both requested leave. Gator was starting the drive back sometime today. Hawk had said he’d make the determination later.
I assumed that meant he’d be heading back once he was sure I wasn’t going to fall back into a bottle.
Pacing back and forth in front of the house, waiting for my breathing to settle, I caught sight of a car coming toward me.
When it slowed, something that might have been both dread and anticipation bloomed in my gut, and I wasn’t at all surprised when the door opened, and I saw that sleek, dark cap of hair.
I should have known.
The house had been looking a little too neat, the grass a little too well kept, the flowers all nice and pretty.
As O came toward me, I swiped my hand over the back of my forehead and decided that maybe I’d just go ahead and sit down. Might be easier to hide the raging hard-on I’d developed.
Months.
It had been months since I’d had that long, lean body under mine and I still wanted to feel it again, feel her. Taste her.
Turning on my heel, I headed for the porch.
“What did you do, bug the damn house?” I asked. The mean bastard was already showing in my voice, but it was either be mean or…touch her.
“No. Good morning to you, Reaper. Nice to see you, Reaper. Been in town long, Reaper?”
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The deliberate politeness in her voice rubbed me raw, and I dropped down on the top step and reached for the bottle of water I’d left there before going on my run. Without saying anything, I opened it and guzzled half. Knowing I’d procrastinated enough, I capped it and looked at my wrist before cursing. I’d stopped wearing my watch back when I’d told myself I didn’t need to worry about being called out on missions anymore. Didn’t make it any easier to accept it, but the watch had been yet one more punch to the face I didn’t want to deal with.
“I don’t know what time it is, O, but it’s too fucking early to play games. What do you want?”
“Now, Reaper…if I wanted to play games, I’d let you know.” She joined me on the step, and the scent of her almost had me drooling, ready to go to my knees and press my face to her neck, her breasts, her lap…her everywhere.
Play games. Please…play games. Or let me play them.
“You going to tell me how long you’ve been back? Or are you in the mood to play games yourself?” She stared out over the yard, her expression bland.
“Well, let me think.” I ran my tongue across my teeth and did a quick mental calculation. “Probably about thirteen hours, give or take.”
“Thirteen hours. Give or take.” She seemed to turn that over in her head, then nodded. “I don’t want to sound rude, but you look like shit.”
“You don’t.” It popped out of me.
It was the truth though. She’d done…something. It was subtle. Her hair was a little different. Softer somehow, but nothing major. And the blocky, ugly suits she’d worn each time I’d seen her were gone.
She wore red.
Power red.
That’s what it had to be. The LT was married, and his wife had used that term a time or two. Tina – Hawk’s wife – ran her own marketing and promotion company out of her home, as well as raising their son. I was sort of terrified of the woman, if I had to be honest. I can recall a barbeque he’d had at his place once and some of the women had been gushing over a pair of red shoes featured on some website but had hated the price. Tina had said, “Get them and screw the price. Every woman needs a pair of shoes in that shade of red at least once. Power red. It makes the world sit up and notice.”
Only it wasn’t a red pair of shoes O was wearing.
It was a form-fitting dress that highlighted those long legs and those strong shoulders, and I wanted to peel that skirt up and find out what she was wearing underneath. Then I wanted to get rid of it and bury myself inside her.
Tina was right. That shade of red made the world – and my dick – sit up and take notice.
When I reached over and skimmed a finger over her knee, she slanted me a look.
“You went and added some color to your wardrobe.”
“You’ve seen me maybe ten times in your entire life, Reaper. For all you know, my wardrobe has every shade in the rainbow.”
“Nah.” Her skin was like silk. I wanted to feel her thighs rubbing against mine and wondered if I had a chance in hell of getting her naked under me again. Of course, she was here because of…shit. “You’re determined to get me to talk to him, aren’t you?”
“Bet your ass.”
The door opened behind me at that very same moment, and I decided that I was going to find myself some new friends – or new friend. I doubted I could consider Gator a friend. Hawk, though…well. Yeah. He was a friend. Had been. Right now, he was on the top of my shit list for even putting me in this position.
Shoving upright, I turned to face him. O did the same, moving with far more grace than I was capable of at the moment.
“Hawk.”
I sounded about as irritated as I felt, but Hawk didn’t look perturbed or even surprised.
“Hello.” O held out a hand.
“Hi. I’m betting you’re Olivia.”
Narrowing my eyes, I watched as they introduced themselves, or at least exchanged names. Somehow, they already knew each other. When Hawk caught my eyes, he lifted a shoulder. “I had a friend come by to check on the house, but somebody was already doing it. Turns out O had made arrangements. We got in contact.”
“So it wasn’t just coincidence you were in the neighborhood today,” I said sourly.
“Oh, it was.” She smoothed a hand down the side of her dress.
Was she doing it on purpose? Drawing attention to her hips, those legs…
Pay attention, dumb ass.
“I didn’t know you were coming home anytime soon. If I had, I would have arranged to have the kitchen stocked.” O lifted a shoulder and turned critical eyes to the yard. “At least the grass was cut recently, and the roses tended to.”
“I can stock the damn kitchen myself,” I snapped. “And I didn’t come home. My home is in California.”
“Dedman,” Hawk said, his voice low.
O didn’t so much as blink, merely cocked her head as she studied me. “Then I assume you’ll head back there. You have a job waiting? A house?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“That’s enough, Chief Dedman,” Hawk said, cutting between us.
“I’m not chief anything.” I shoved at him while the pounding in my head got worse. But the pounding wasn’t the only thing going on inside my skull. The voice of recrimination was speaking up too – and not quietly. You already going back to acting like a jackass? When are you going to grow up?
“No. You’re not. You’re Adam Dedman, civilian,” Hawk said, each word hard and flat, like a slap. “And you were kicked out of your house. You haven’t been able to find a job in Coronado, and you won’t have much luck finding one there and you know it. Your life there is over, man. Why are you trying to pretend otherwise?”
I shoved past him and stalked to the end of the sidewalk, staring down the street.
The sound of O coming up behind me, her heels clicking against the concrete, wasn’t really what I wanted to hear.
“Why don’t you shower and come for a ride with me?”
“Why?” I was tired. I felt it all the way down to my soul. “I don’t want to go and meet Daddy Warbucks, okay?”
“Sooner or later, you’ll have to get over this apathy, Adam.”
“Back to Adam, are we?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I half-turned, meeting her eyes.
She smiled faintly. “Would you prefer I called you Reaper?”
She could call me pretty much whatever she wanted. Her wide, lush mouth curved up in a faint smile, and I wondered what she’d do if I kissed her.
“Come with me. Whether or not we see Daddy Warbucks will depend on what you think after our first stop.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Actually, our second. I need coffee. That’s the first stop.”
“Fine. But only because you said coffee.”
* * *
“We won’t be here when you get back.”
Both Gator and Hawk were sitting at the table when I came out of the bedroom, showered and dressed in a pair of khakis and a white button-down that wasn’t too wrinkled.
Stopping short, I looked from one face to the other.
The glorious bruise on Gator’s face looked even more colorful today.
Both of them looked grim.
“That a fact?”
Gator busied himself with the bowl of cereal in front of him. Hawk looked down into his cup of coffee and then slowly, methodically put it down.
O had declined the invitation to come inside, saying she’d wait in the car and get some work done. It was just the three of us in the house, yet it still felt too crowded as Hawk closed the distance between us.
“Yeah, it’s a fact. Listen…” He looked away, his jaw working as he hesitated, apparently not happy with whatever it was he had to say. “You need to focus on whatever it is you’re going to do next. Your life isn’t over, not unless you decide to keep trying to throw it away, Adam.”
The words fuck you jumped up, almost flung themselves out of my mouth, but I bit them back.
“
I know this wasn’t the way you wanted to leave the Navy. But hell, you’re alive. You’re young. You’re smart.” He punched me on the shoulder. “It could be a lot worse.”
I managed a strained smile.
I got what he was saying in theory.
“Sure, man. Sure.”
An awkward silence fell.
I gave him a nod and turned away. Halfway to the door, Gator called out, “Take it easy, Dedman.”
I stopped but kept my back to the both of them. “You too, Gator. Sorry ‘bout the eye.”
And that was it.
My old life was now officially over.
Chapter Four
Olivia
He was quiet.
Too quiet.
After I passed him his coffee, I tried to bring him out of the uneasy silence with an invitation for him and his friends to join me for dinner. “I can cook, or I can take you someplace in the city. I know you’re local, but a lot of things have changed in the past few years.”
“They’re heading out this morning.” Reaper spoke in a monotone that revealed absolutely no emotion – and revealed everything.
Tightening my hands on the wheel, I bit back the apology. He wouldn’t want to hear it. It wouldn’t help.
Then it came out anyway. “I’m sorry everything’s gotten so messed up for you.”
He snorted. “I’m the one who’s messed it all up, O.”
“You had a rough time of it. Seemed like you should have caught a break somewhere along the way.”
“I had plenty of breaks. I got a slap on the hand for what I did here. I was able to take an honorable discharge. Who knows how many favors my commander had to call in for that? I should have faced a court martial.” He stared out the window instead of looking at me, and I wondered if he had any idea where we were. “I walked away from firefight after firefight, watched friends go down. I had plenty of breaks.”
Turning the corner, I pulled up to the curb and put the car into park.
Finally, Reaper seemed to notice where we were. The boarded up windows, the lots overrun with grass and the houses that had seen better days, better years…the whole damn place was so miserable, it wouldn’t be a bad thing if these blocks were razed and everything was just built all over again.
