Page 40 of Loved by a SEAL

Fumbling with the lock, she pulled open the door. Ryan looked shocked to see her, his eyes sweeping over her camisole and skimpy boy shorts. She had half a mind to tug the cardigan tighter around herself, but why give him the satisfaction? It didn’t matter what he thought. She could wear whatever she wanted. It’s not like he could complain she was out in public this time.

Stormy gray eyes met hers. “Sarah.”

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

His jaw ticked. “Is Rebecca here?”

“Rebecca? No, she’s at the hos—on my God. Did something happen to Patrick? Is that why you’re here? Wait, doesn’t the military send special police or something? Holy—”

“Sarah,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “Calm down.”

“But Patrick—” tears smarted her eyes, and she scrubbed at them with the back of her hand, unwilling to let him see her cry.

“I’m coming inside.”

She stepped aside, glaring at him. It was his fault if something had happened to Patrick. He was the one in charge. The CO. They deployed on his orders—and now something had happened to her brother.

He stood in front of her acting as calm, cool, and collected as if they were discussing the weather or something. As if her entire life didn’t hinge on whatever he was about to say.

“Patrick was injured. They were conducting an op, and he suffered shrapnel wounds. Serious ones. Unfortunately, I can’t give you more details yet.”

“Oh my God!” Her hands flew to her face as her chest seized. She was frozen—unable to get any air in our out. She never knew what it meant to be paralyzed with fear, but at that moment she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything.

“Breathe, Sarah,” he commanded, taking a step closer. His large frame towered over hers, crowding her in the front hall. She felt small and helpless and fragile beside him, as if Ryan somehow held the answers, the key to making sense of the chaos churning through her. She was standing there barefoot, practically in her underwear, and he looked ready for battle in combat boots and fatigues. Like he could fight anything, do anything to make it right.

“We’re getting him out. He’s being airlifted to Landstuhl for further medical treatment.”

“Landstuhl? Where the hell is that?”

“Germany. And I need to speak with Rebecca.”

“Well she’s not here,” Sarah snapped, backing away from him. “And excuse me for worrying about my own damn brother—whose son is asleep down the hall right now. He already lost his mom years ago. Don’t you think I have a right to be worried?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Rebecca’s at the hospital. Alison went into pre-term labor earlier, and naturally, Evan wasn’t around.”

“Right, she called me,” he said, clenching his jaw. “Alison wanted to get a hold of Evan. There’s a lot going on. Things I can’t even talk about because they’re so highly classified. The men moved forward with the op, and I’m not sure that Evan’s even aware of her condition. And as for the news on Patrick’s injuries, I need to speak to Rebecca in person.”

“Like I said, she’s not here,” Sarah said, wrapping her arms around herself. “And seriously, you could act the least bit concerned about the welfare of everyone involved. You’re telling me this like you’re giving me the damn weather report or something!”

To her utter mortification, tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Sarah—”

“Go. Just go!”

Ignoring her, Ryan quietly shut the door and stepped closer. “Please don’t cry,” he said, his voice gruff.

“What do you care?” she whimpered. “You just—you came…”

His face was unreadable, but suddenly he crossed over to her and collected her in his arms, pulling her into his muscular embrace. She shook and trembled as she collapsed against his chest, feeling his solid arms wrap around her. Her tears soaked his uniform, but his warmth and scent surrounded her, and he tightened his embrace as she shook in his arms.

She felt next-to-naked in her cami and underwear, covered only by her wispy sweater, as she nestled against his fatigues. But he felt big and strong, and for a brief second, she felt safe and protected. Like everything would be okay.

“Shhh,” he murmured, running a large hand over her hair as her head rested beneath his chin. “Shhh. Don’t cry.”

His fingers threaded through her hair, and he was holding her to him. Protecting her. Keeping her standing while she trembled.

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