Page 13 of The Cold Ride

Deep in my soul, I knew she was different. Knew that I’d met my match. This was a woman who would keep me on my toes. She fit against my side like she belonged there.

And I had every intention of keeping her there.

6

Present Day

Wyatt headed to the store to pick up some beer and grab a bottle of wine for our hostess. While I felt stuck in the past. The night Rory and I first met was playing through my mind on repeat. She’d blown me away that night.

I’d seen myself committing to her, and not just for the night, but for the long haul. Even if it meant I had to travel to Maine to see her when I wasn’t deployed and had leave time. At my core, I had believed we could make it work. That there was much more between us than two people scratching an itch, only to experience a rude awakening that destroyed me. It had broken me beyond what any firefight or mission had ever done. Because it killed the last sliver of my soul that hadn’t been lost on the battlefield.

I didn’t know if I could ever forgive her for not telling me about Amelia. It killed me that I’d lost so much time with my kid.

The room was nice if a bit froufrou. The bed was softer than a marshmallow with a gray and ivory striped comforter with matching pillows. Granted, I was used to sleeping on the hard ground and on cots when I was overseas. The bathroom was the best, though, with a walk-in soft gray tiled shower with a surfeit of water pressure.

The inn itself was exactly what Rory had mentioned wanting that night. The old Victorian had great bones. The exterior was tan brick, a nod to its Gothic undertones. And I’d noticed to the left of the house were gardens that weren’t currently in bloom given the time of year.

Inside, it was a shame she had to tear down the dark mahogany wood-paneled walls. But the architecture was stunning, even with drop cloths everywhere on the first floor and the construction underway.

The guest room was spacious, with a huge king bed that dominated the carpeted room. The walls were eggshell, and there were exposed wooden beams on the ceiling in the same dark mahogany as the wood floors out in the hall.

After getting my bag inside, I took a long, hot shower. It didn’t alleviate my fury. But it did help me get it under wraps. Or at least, I hoped it was. When it was time for dinner, I trudged down the stairs. This place showed real promise, even with the first floor under construction.

The guys were in the lobby waiting for me.

“Are you going to be civil?” Wyatt asked with a stern glare.

Only because I had to be. But having him pull rank had me grinding my teeth, and I nodded. “Yes. But don’t fucking push me. I can’t guarantee I won’t go after anyone right now.”

“Noted. Let’s go.” Wyatt led our pack down the hall.

After about thirty-five feet, the hall angled to the left. We followed it another twenty feet, where it ended at a heavy oak door that was locked. Wyatt knocked politely. I was glad he was doing it because my knock would have been much more forceful than that. We weren’t forced to wait long before the door was opened by Amelia.

My heart squeezed.

Damn. She was beautiful, with her hair in two thick braids that hung over her shoulders. Her hair was a shade or so darker than mine. But the shape and color of her cornflower blue eyes were all my mom. God, my mom was going to adore having another granddaughter to spoil. She wore a cotton candy pink sweatshirt with black leggings and thick pink socks on her feet.

Was pink her favorite color? And what was her favorite food? Did she have a best friend? What was her favorite subject in school? Did she love living at the inn? A multitude of questions tumbled through my mind.

She grinned, and it was like a ray of sunshine. I noticed she had some front teeth missing, with some of her adult teeth growing in. “Come on in. Mom says you should have a seat in the dining room, and dinner will be right out.”

My buddies all chuckled because she was fucking darling, and they were goofballs.

Even stoic Wyatt couldn’t repress his smile, and he replied, “Lead the way.”

And so four hardened, battle-weary Navy SEALs followed a nine-year-old through a living room that looked lived in but was sparkling clean. The couches and tables were old, given the checkered pattern, but lovingly cared for. There were pictures on the wall of Amelia at different ages. I wanted to stop and stare at them. I wanted to see everything I missed.

But I didn’t stop. There would be time for that later.

The dining room table was already set for dinner with plates and glasses. And as we took our seats, awaiting our hostess, I wound up in the chair beside Amelia. The guys might give me headaches with their antics sometimes, but they always came through when it mattered. Enticing aromas wafted into the room from the direction of the kitchen. And I accepted a beer that Wyatt passed me.

Before I could say something to Amelia, Rory bustled in with a huge wooden salad bowl. She set the salad on the table with a smile, but she didn’t glance my way. “Glad you guys made it. I hope you’re hungry because there’s plenty of food.”

“Here, we thought you might like this.” Aiden handed her the bottle of wine that Wyatt picked up for her as our hostess.

“Oh, how thoughtful. Thank you, guys.”

“We also have some beer, but don’t know where you’d like us to put it,” Wyatt stated, holding up the twelve-pack sans the four beers we’d already removed.

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