SEALed (A Standalone Navy SEAL Romance) (A Savery Brother Book) Page 9

  The fact that she was still on my brain, consuming my thoughts, was a little worrying. Normally I forgot about a girl approximately three seconds after climax. But Kelli was still there, crowding out everything else. I kept replaying the events of that afternoon in my head: the way she defended Father John Misty as one of the great artists of the twenty-first century, the way her hair fell into her face and her tits jiggled when we made love.

  This wasn’t what I had intended. All I had wanted to do was sleep with her and move on, but now she had taken up residence in my brain, refusing to be evicted. I wasn’t supposed to have feelings for her. I wasn’t supposed to have feelings for any girl.

  Carson, sensing my malaise, asked me about it at lunch.

  We were all gathered around the table eating steak, potatoes, and boiled carrots. Chuck and Jake were both saying how relieved they felt that she would be leaving in a couple of days, and the way they were talking about her frankly made my blood boil. “She’s great to have around if you want some eye candy,” said Jake. “But she makes the same mistake that most women make.”

  “What’s that?” Carson asked.

  “Opening her damned mouth.”

  “If only women knew they were just there to be looked at,” said Carson sadly. In the mouth of anyone else, it might have been a sarcastic statement, but Carson meant it.

  They went on like this for a while, and I sat there seething in silence, growing more and more angry. Eventually Carson turned to me and said, “You ought to have an opinion, Zack. You’ve spent more time with her than anyone.”

  “Yeah, how’d your interview go, anyway?” asked Chuck.

  I blinked a couple times, as though coming out of my own thoughts. “It was alright, I guess. Nothing much to talk about.”

  “What’d she ask you?”

  This was the question I had prepared for, and I stumbled numbly through the answers I had been rehearsing during PT. “Just your standard interview questions: what made me decide to join the Navy? Did I ever worry that I wouldn’t make it through recruitment? Have I ever killed anyone?”

  Chuck banged his hand on the table. “Typical gotcha questions,” he muttered. “God, I hate that shit.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” I said mildly. Belatedly, I realized I probably shouldn’t be defending her like I was; eyebrows were being raised up and down the table.

  Carson laughed and said, “It’s okay, Zeke. You can tell us what you really did yesterday. Dude probably got a better workout than any of us!”

  The rest of the table laughed, but I continued to sit there unsmiling. This only provoked them to more questions.

  “Was she hot?” asked Chuck.

  “Did you do the cowgirl?” asked Carson.

  “What did her boobs look like?” asked Bernie.

  “Right, like I’m going to tell you that.” I suddenly had a vivid image of Bernie sitting in his bed trying to draw Kelli naked based on my recollections. “It was nice to have a day off,” I said to the rest of the guys, “but I won’t be sad to see her go. She’s been hanging around here too damned long.”

  That much, at least, was true. She had hung around just long enough that I was beginning to fall for her.

  Carson wasn’t fooled, though, and after lunch he came striding up to me with a conspiratorial air as I stood at the soda fountain. Overhead, the XM radio was playing “Speak of the Devil” by Pirates of the Mississippi, and for a moment, I was transported back to my childhood in east Texas.

  I shut my eyes, and when I opened them again, Carson was still standing there, studying my face with a knowing look.

  “You okay, man?” he asked me. “You seem sort of out of it lately.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said with a shake of my head. “It’s just been a week, is all.”

  “You sure? Anything you need to talk about?”

  Carson didn’t usually show this level of concern, so I instinctively recoiled in suspicion. But the more I tried to avoid his questions, the more suspicious he was going to become. Realizing there was no other way out of this, I said, “Listen, don’t tell anyone else, but something happened between us yesterday.”

  I tensed up, as though bracing myself for the moment when he turned around and told everyone. But instead, his eyes glittered with pride as he said, “There wasn’t much of an interview, was there?”

  “We talked for about twenty minutes. The rest of the time, there wasn’t a lot of talking.”

  “How long did it take you to get her undressed?”

  “Believe it or not, I didn’t have to work that hard at it. She was the one who invited me upstairs. I think she had an inkling what we were going to do, although I don’t think she even realized it herself until we got up there. It was a pretty mutual decision on both our parts.”

  Carson couldn’t have looked happier if it had been him instead of me. “Are you going to see her again before you leave?”

  “Probably not,” I said sadly. “At least, not in any private capacity.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” he said. “This really couldn’t have happened at a better time. You get in there, you have some wild sex, she goes away, and you never have to see her again. Just like last time.”

  “Last time?” I had nearly forgotten about the encounter in the airport closet. I felt like I had lived several lives since then.

  Despite his vicarious enthusiasm, the look of concern still had not left Carson’s eyes. “It won’t take you more than a few days to forget about her, I would hope. She’ll be on that plane flying over the Atlantic, and you’ll already be thinking ahead to your next big score.”

  There was more than a hint of a warning in Carson’s voice. It felt like he knew what was going on inside my brain and was determined to punish me for it, like some Inspector Javert of the Navy.

  “Anyway,” he said, clapping me hard on the shoulders, “it’s probably best that you don’t catch any feelings. You know how women are towards men in the Armed Forces. If y’all were going out long-distance, she’d be fucking some other guy in a matter of weeks, and you’d never know.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” I said without much conviction. “Better that I save us both some trouble and cut it off now.”

  “The thing about women is you can’t let yourself get too attached to them,” said Carson. “They’re there to be fucked and to raise our kids. And frankly, I’m not too sure about the kids.”

  He turned and headed back toward the table. I watched him go, feeling strangely disgusted with his attitude. It took me a moment to realize I had said basically the same thing not too long ago.

  That in itself was a measure of how dangerous the situation with Kelli was getting: she was forcing me to rethink my feelings toward women in general. If a woman tried to go down on me in an airport closet now, I wondered if I would even let her. More likely, I would feel like I was cheating on Kelli, even though we weren’t really dating. Even though in two days she would be flying out, and I would never see her again.

  Chapter Fourteen Kelli

  “Kell? Kell, wake up. You’re going to be late again!”

  “Mmmm?” For a single disorienting moment, I wasn’t sure where I was. I had just come out of a pleasant and somewhat embarrassing dream where I was back in the Congo, trekking through the forest with Zack who was wearing an Indiana Jones-style fedora and looking rather dashing. But then we heard the ominous sound of a rattle and I turned to see an enormous snake slithering toward us. In the second before it destroyed my mind, I screamed, as I realized I was staring into Bernie’s face on a snake’s body…

  “Kelli, it’s okay,” Renee was saying. “You’re here now. You’re home.”

  I sat up straight in my bed and gripped my head with my hands. “Was I yelling again?”

  Renee reached under the table and produced a coffee, seemingly from thin air. “Here, drink this. It’s an organic vanilla soy latte. It’s all-natural, and there’s chocolate in it, of a sort. It
will make you feel better.”

  “Unless there’s actual chocolate in it,” I replied, “I doubt it will make me feel better.” But I took it and drank a few sips, after which I began to feel surprisingly calm. I took a few more, and within a few minutes had drunk the whole cup.

  Renee leaned back, looking pleased with herself. “Hey, where did you learn to make these, anyway?” I asked.

  “Perks of being a yoga instructor,” said Renee. “You remember my boyfriend, the one I was telling you about? He works at the coffee shop next door to the studio, and he’s been teaching me how to make his best drinks.”

  “I have to meet this guy,” I said, staring longingly into the bottom of my empty cup. A few months ago, I would have dreaded that meeting—had been dreading it, in fact—but now I was finally ready.

  “Anyway,” said Renee, “you still haven’t told me about your trip.”

  “That’s because I’ve been so out of it ever since I got back.” I must have slept for three days after my return to the states. Evan had expected me back at the end of last week, but Renee had had to call and tell him I needed a few days to recover. He hadn’t exactly been happy about it, not that he had much choice. “Anyway, there’s not much to tell. I went over there, did my job, and came back.”

  But Renee could tell, with that weird instinct that sisters have, that I was holding something back. “ Something must have happened during the month you were over there,” she said. “Were you rescued from a stampeding herd of elephants by the crown prince of an obscure European monarchy? Did you have to rescue a gangly orphan boy from the clutches of a singing orangutan?”

  “No, none of that happened.” I rose from the table and pulled a box of sausage patties out of the freezer. I took them out and placed them in the microwave. “I’d have been very surprised if it had.”

  “Did you meet a guy?” My shoulders flinched at the question, which gave me away immediately. “You did! He was handsome.”

  I shrugged and sighed in a resigned way. “Yes, he was very handsome. Yes, we did it in my hotel room, and no, I’m probably never going to see him again. Any other questions?”

  I had hoped that by answering all potential questions up front, I might end the discussion early. This proved to be a vain hope, as Renee wanted to know everything about him. Pulling my sausage patties out of the oven, I came over and slumped down in a chair across from her.

  “Is he a SEAL?” she asked, a mad flicker of excitement in her eyes.

  “He is a SEAL,” I said, nodding slowly and reluctantly. “Not that it matters, because he’ll probably move home in a few months and forget about me.”

  Renee lowered her eyes, and when she spoke again, there was a note of concern in her voice. “That’s for the best, though, really. You don’t want to go getting mixed up with a SEAL who’ll cheat on you the moment he has a chance.”

  This was a bewildering thing to hear from a woman who was dating a former Marine. “Did you and Marty have a falling out?”

  “His name is Max, and that’s different . He’s a former soldier. He sowed his wild oats in the military and got them all out years ago. I just think you should be wary of dating anyone who doesn’t even live in this country and, for all we know, could be hooking up with every reporter who passes through the Congo.”

  That was certainly a perspective I hadn’t considered. What if I was just the latest in a long line of journalists Zack had slept with? Hell, at this point I might not even be the latest.

  I continued to reflect on our conversation all the way through yoga. Renee could tell that I wasn’t paying attention because more than once she paused in the middle of talking and glared at me pointedly. I was too tired to care, though. It was late morning, and I was feeling irritable and the brilliantly gleaming sunlight pouring in through the studio windows annoyed me. I wasn’t looking forward to returning to work, and I didn’t want to have to field a lot of questions from my boss and co-workers about the trip, when the best part of it, and the most interesting, and the most personal to me, was the one part I couldn’t talk about.

  It was slightly disappointing returning to work and finding everything much the same as when I had left. Dennis was still eating off-brand Cheese Puffs at his desk and getting orange powder on the office stapler. The birthday balloon I had given to Rachel back in January was still floating in a corner, slowly leaking air. When I walked into the back office to hand my report in to Evan, I found him standing grimly in front of the TV watching a CNN report on the still-worsening oil spill disaster.

  “Thought you might like to have this,” I said as I handed him the essay, which I had placed in a glossy transparent folder. I had spent the morning trying to get it printed out, and it had cost a small fortune.

  Evan took it and leafed through it for approximately three seconds before setting it down on the table. “Close the door and sit down for a minute, Kelli,” he said.

  Instinctively, as I always did when he summoned me to private meetings, I began combing through all the things I had done since my trip that he might be upset about. Maybe he had learned about my fling with Zack? But somehow I couldn’t see Zack ever talking about it, not knowing the trouble it could get him into. Maybe the other guys had complained about the questions I had asked and the perspective they felt I was bringing to the piece. Not that any of them could know that for sure, and anyway, Evan would have had my back.

  At least I hoped he would.

  With a sense of hesitation and an irreducible knot of worry in my stomach, I sat down in the chair beside him.

  “You don’t have to worry,” he said, apparently seeing the tenseness in my face. “I just wanted to check in with you. It’s been a while since we’ve really talked.”

  “Sorry, the Wi-Fi in the Congo was so spotty,” I said. “I would have Skyped you every night if I was able.”

  “It’s fine. I just hope the guys over there treated you well and that you didn’t run into any problems.”

  This was the point where I either admitted that they had largely stonewalled my attempts to gather information or smile and pretend my visit had been thoroughly pleasant. I decided to tread carefully. “I had problems from a couple guys, but for the most part, they were perfect gentlemen. Whenever there was trouble, Sergeant Armstrong gave me his full support. And there was one guy in particular who was really helpful.”

  I regretted saying this almost instantly. You just couldn’t resist mentioning that one guy, could you? I scolded myself. Now he was going to know I had had a fling with one of the SEALS. Perhaps he could already see it in my face.

  But Evan seemed mostly oblivious to my inner struggle. “That’s great. I haven’t read your report yet, but I’ve skimmed through it, and I think it’s really going to reclaim the narrative from the media. These guys are constantly having to dodge scandals and controversies from folks who have no idea what they go through, and you’re playing a huge role in getting their side of the story out there.”

  I nodded weakly, clutching my belly, not knowing what to say. Truth was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to correct the damaging narrative that was clouding the reputation of the Armed Forces. Yes, there were moments when they amazed me with their bravery, stamina, and heroism. I could never in a hundred years have done what they did every morning.

  But there were also problems, problems I hadn’t had the courage to address in my article. And they weren’t the problems of a few bad apples, but went to the very core of SEAL culture, tainting the whole institution. I had experienced firsthand their appalling mistreatment of women, the way they expected us to be sexy or shut up and get out of the way. And I had brushed shoulders with their culture of loyalty toward one another and to the organization: the way they closed ranks in the face of outside opposition, refusing to answer questions, shunning anyone they viewed as disloyal. If there were abuses or injustices being committed, it would be all but impossible to expose them and root them out because no one would want to talk about it, and no o
ne would be able to investigate it.

  But I didn’t say any of this. Knowing Evan’s deference to his old friend, I knew it wouldn’t have gone well. Instead, I smiled a weak smile and said, “I hope it will change a few minds, at least.”

  Evan rose from the table to signal that the meeting was over. “I’ll send it off to our lead editor,” he said, “and it should make the features page within two to three weeks.”

  He escorted me from the office, and I returned to my desk, feeling conflicted and unhappy.

  Chapter Fifteen Zack

  It had been several months since Kelli had flown home and we had left the Congo. Now we were stationed in a remote outpost in the Sahara, far from any town. Here, temperatures regularly soared into the 120s, and Armstrong had taken the extraordinary step of cutting our morning exercises down to an hour a day because he feared the heat would prove lethal otherwise. The men were split evenly on whether or not this had been a good idea; a few of them thought it violated the whole point of our training, which was to suffer in extreme conditions, though even they didn’t complain too much.

  Regardless, my suffering was alleviated somewhat by the fact that every single day brought me closer to going home. The wonderful and terrible thing about time is that it doesn’t slow down. No effort was required on my part to make it go by: I just had to make it through the next moment, and the next, and the next, and the next. Eventually, assuming I survived this final ordeal in the desert, I would be headed home. It was already done, and there was no way to stop it. I just had to keep moving forward until I made it over the finish line.

  Despite the isolation and extreme heat, I was glad to see the back of the jungle. Maybe because I could sense the end approaching, or maybe because the worst of my deployment was over and I knew we were unlikely to be killed by radicals out here in the desert where no man lived, I was in weirdly high spirits. Me and the other guys were getting on well, all of them except Bernie, and it had been several weeks since there’d been a serious incident. More than that, I think my brief fling with Kelli had instilled in me a confidence I hadn’t had before. It was one thing to enjoy a quickie with a clueless bimbo in a filthy airport closet, but to woo a sophisticated journalist, a woman of the world, was something else entirely. Something I hadn’t known I was capable of before it happened. And it was going to make it hard to go back to the kind of girl I was used to. Anyone I banged in the future would have to be at least as intelligent and thoughtful and charming as Kelli. I deserved that much.