Page 70 of My Fiancé's Brother

“Now don’t be like that,” Irene lightly scolded. “You have to settle down at some point.”

Jackson rubbed the back of his neck.

“What about kids. Don’t you want a family?”

“Not going to happen.”

He might as well have turned around and stuck a 9-inch blade into my chest, his words cut so deep. Jackson wasn’t my boyfriend. I was engaged to his pseudo-brother. A hollowness carved out into my chest, but I couldn’t face the reason why.

“You just need to find yourself a nice girl.”

Jackson’s eyes glanced at me in the review mirror.

The conversation moved on, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had just heard. Jackson didn’t want a wife, and he didn’t want babies. Jackson and I were on two different paths, and we wanted very different things. This crush of mine was getting out of control, and if I weren’t careful, it would destroy everything I had worked tobuild with Matt. I needed to get my act together here and stop thinking about him in any capacity other than as a friend.

We droppedIrene off and found ourselves back on the road. I bounced my knee while sitting beside him. We were alone. For two hours. Who was I to Jackson? I was his future sister-in-law. Nothing more, nothing less. He was gentle and protective of me, and he made me feel good about myself when he was so encouraging, but that was where it ended. I vowed to refocus my energy on Matt and our wedding. I had to.

I looked out the window and didn’t even attempt to make conversation.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Jackson said.

“I guess,” I said. I glanced over at him. He casually held the steering wheel, his sunglasses pushing back through his messy hair.

The words poured out of my mouth before I could stop them, “Why don’t you want kids or marriage?”

He frowned.

“Is that too personal?”

He leaned forward to look at his side mirror, while he merged onto the highway. “My job complicates stuff.”

I needed to know. I just needed to hear his words. “Why?”

He shrugged. “We're gone a lot.”

I wanted to, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Lots of relationships deal with separation.”

He glanced at me. “My job comes with a lot of uncertainty.”

“What does that mean?”

He threw me a smile and shrugged. Refusing to answer.

“Why are you so elusive about your job?”

“It’s just a job.”

I picked up my phone and typed in “navy seal” into Google. Hundreds of articles popped up. I scrolled through some of them.

I started to read off the screen. “It's almost impossible to become a Navy SEAL and only the most elite of the elite, actually make it through the training program. Then they spend over a year training in some of the harshest environments possible.”

He looked at my phone. “What are you doing?”

“I'm reading about your job. I want to know what you do.” I scrolled down through another article and began to read out loud. “Combat operations take place in some of the most dangerous locations in the world….Navy SEALs remain calm while fighting terrorists, criminals, pirates, all the while sleep deprived and mentally exhausted.”

I paused while my mind absorbed that. “You get into fights with terrorists?”

He rolled his shoulders. “Sometimes.”

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