Page 110 of Body Shot

“I just wanted to help. I just wanted to make her life a little easier. She’s killing herself working so hard. She’s going to end up like my fucking father, having a heart attack or something, which is really ironic since her mission in life is to save people. Jesus Christ.”

“Maybe you should tell her that.”

“She told me to get lost, in no uncertain terms.” I pause. “And then I, uh, said some things.”

“Oh, Jesus. What’d you say?”

“I, ah, told her that maybe she works so hard because she’s hiding from life, and if that’s what she wants, she can have it.”

They both make low sounds in their throats.

Remorse curls inside me, but I say, with a touch of defensiveness, “I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“Maybe not,” Marco agrees. “But . . . yikes.”

“Oh, come on.” Cade sighs. “Sack up.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you’re scared.”

I narrow my eyes.

Cade meets my gaze head-on, eyebrows lifted. “Remember how fucking terrified you were to jump out of a plane?”

“Yeah.” I continue my steady glare.

“Feel that way now?”

Fuck yeah. But what am I scared of?

Cade continues. “Remember when you had to climb a rock face? How you had to learn not to look down or you’d freak out?”

“What’s your point?” I growl.

“We all had to overcome fears,” Cade says. “Whatever they were. How’d we learn to do that?”

“Focus on what you can control,” I say slowly.

“Right. Don’t focus on the things youcan’tcontrol. Just on what you can. Focus on your next move.”

I nod. My head is messed up. I don’t even know what I’m afraid of, so I sure as hell don’t know what to focus on. I swipe a hand down my face. “Okay, right. I’ll, uh, give that some thought.” I pause. “I need to think about going back to Boston. I’ll make a decision. And thanks, guys. For looking after things while I was gone.”

“Whatever you need, man.” Cade claps a hand on my shoulder as the three of us leave the office. “Whatever you need.”

I can’t hang around here. The noise and laughter make my head hurt. I need to think. So I go home.

I pour myself a shot of Don Alvaro and carry it out onto my patio. I lean on the railing, looking out toward the bay. City lights glimmer in the distance.

For some reason, I find myself thinking about Tom Devereux—another member of SEAL Team One. A teammate I came to despise. We’d been on a mission in Ramadi, Iraq, and Devereux lost it. He let the fear get to him and it turned him into a coward. I know the reason I hated Devereux and his weakness—it was because I feared that weakness in myself.

I’m afraid of heights. I hated that. But even more than heights, I was afraid of not being brave enough. Not being smart enough. Not being . . . enough.

And now my biggest fear of all is not being good enough for Hayden.

It’s too late. She already told me that. Her research is more important than I am.

The tequila warms my insides as I swallow another mouthful.

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