“Yes. It reminds me of my team…” He trails off, looking in the distance.
“Do you miss it?” He still doesn’t look at me when he answers.
“I used to until Elaine died. Then I hated it. I rejected everything I learned as a frogman because it didn’t prepare me for her death. I saw brothers getting hurt in front of me. I got hurt and thought I’d lost the use of my eyes. I’ve had to do things that most men can’t even imagine, but I’ve always known how to react and what to do when facing every situation. But that day… The day she jumped…“ He swallows heavily and sighs before going on, “when her parachute didn’t open, it was the worst and longest four minutes of my life, and I was powerless. I hated being a retired SEAL and not being able to do shit. And I could see her falling, falling, falling and when I touched down, I ran to find her and… well…“ he exhales his pain. “I’ve never missed being a SEAL since that day. But you make me think of the parts I’d forgotten. Things I’ve locked deeply, like the loss of a brother, the trust we have in one another, the family we are, the things we do for each other...” His voice trails off, and he seems far, a little nostalgic and a lot alone.
“But you’re good friends with the Darling Devils, wouldn’t you do anything for them and your family?” I know it’s not the same, but I want him to continue speaking. I love the thick and throaty sound of his voice and how he seems able to open up with me about his painful past.
“It might be the same between the three of them. But I’m just another guy on the side. We’re family, but they are so much more.”
“But you have Mark. Seeing you two together is very special. The way he looks at you is…”
“Creepy?” Oliver laughs, and my stomach flips a couple of hundred times.
“I was going to say incredible, but yeah, it might be a touch creepy,” I join his laughter.
“Since the first time we met, we clicked. BUDs wouldn’t have been the same without him. My injury, neither.” His fingers are softly drawing circles in the palm of my hand in a sensual but an attentive way, and I try my luck with one more question about his past.
“How did you get injured?”
“Explosion. Blast-related ocular trauma. Nothing these pretty eyes couldn’t survive, but it meant I couldn’t go back afterward. And there was no way I was becoming a behind the desk plant somewhere else. But I missed the thrill, missed jumping off planes and being on missions, being part of something bigger, and serving my country. I missed it every day until that Oliver died.”
His fingers stop. I close my hand around his and squeeze his knee. “What do you mean?”
“It’s like she took this Oliver to the grave with her and in his place left a shadow of that guy.” I understand that. I fought hard to bury the Tessa I was with King and reinvented myself. Except Oliver didn’t reinvent himself for the best. He became a quieter version of himself when I became stronger and louder, or so I thought until last night.
“Do you miss the guy you were?”
“Yes. I don’t miss skydiving or taking risks that could have dreadful consequences for my life, but I miss his confidence. I miss how at peace he was with every decision he made. I miss his coolness.” You never see yourself the way your entourage does. And sometimes you need a little reminder of who you are in the eyes of others.
“I don’t know, the Oliver I know stole my car the day he met me, is pretty confident about his charms and body—and I might add he’s right about it—and seems very cool with his aviators folded in the collar of his shirt and his oh so trendy sneakers.”
“The Oliver you know also had a hard-on for the last hour,” he grins playfully, chasing the sadness and vulnerability he let me foresee.
“Even when I spoke about my dead fiancé?” I ask, pretending to be shocked.
“Especially when you spoke about him. As soon as I heard Humvee, I got hard.” He shrugs and winks at the same time, and for the first time in forever, I laugh thinking of a Humvee. “Dead fiancés and boners… quite a great conversation for a first date,” he adds. To my embarrassment, I snort, but Oliver puts me at ease right away. “So, fucking cute. Let it not be our last date Blue-hair,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Surely not, Green-eyes,” I whisper back before taking his lips. Surely not.
Chapter Eighteen
OLIVER
Tessa is on my mind so much that I can’t focus on work.
I’ve been searching for anything on VanHorn but I always come back to her, more precisely to her perfect breasts and her cunt I’m dying to taste.
The VanHorn trail is dead.
Except if the guy makes a monumental mistake, there is nothing to find that can lead me to him having lied about his military career.
The only odd thing is Tessa not being part of his life on paper, as if she was a ghost when she said he adopted her. Something is not adding up and if my brain wasn’t craving her, I would have certainly found what it is by now.
My whole body is hard and my heart is opening up to the possibilities I’ve been closed to for a while— the possibility of an us, of me with anyone—and I don’t feel out of control thinking about it.
I came to the conclusion that we’re inevitable and I’m done fighting what the universe wants.
That girl is under my skin.
Is it because she knows we will never be the love of each other’s lives or
