Page 19 of The Desperate Warrior

“I told you I was.”

Luke’s lips parted like he wanted to argue, but then he clamped his mouth shut.

“You got something to say, then do it,” Brock demanded.

He shook his head back and forth. “Man ... for someone who can strategize a four-man exfil under enemy fire, you’re completely clueless when it comes to relationships.”

Brock snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I know. Pot, kettle, whatever. But hear me out. You and Adrian couldn’t make it work when you were married. You think it’ll be any better now?”

Brock’s hands curled into fists. “Don’t do this, Luke.”

“I’m just saying,” Luke pressed. “Shortly after you got back from your honeymoon, I remember you coming to my house and sitting on the couch bawling your eyes out, saying that marrying Adrian was the worst decision you ever made.”

Brock’s jaw clenched so tightly that it hurt. “Thanks for the reminder.” The truth was that he’d fallen for Adrian hard and fast. Her terrific looks and charm had pulled him in like a riptide. But then things unraveled fast. Adrian’s erratic mood swings always had him walking on thin ice. She would become intolerable, making unreasonable demands that no person could live up to. When Brock tried to reason with her, she’d threaten suicide, telling him in great detail all of the various ways she’d devised to do the deed. She set up so many emotional landmines that he hardly knew where to step.

When they were dating, Adrian told him that she struggled with anxiety. He didn’t think much of it. In his line of work, anxiety went with the territory. Later, he learned that Adrian had a personality disorder. For her, people were mere objects to be manipulated and controlled.

Brock had contemplated getting out so many times. Ironically, him serving as a Navy SEAL was what had prolonged the relationship. He was required to spend large amounts of time away on missions. It was easier to navigate Adrian’s illness when he was able to have some space from her.

When Trevor came along, Brock felt shackled. Not by his son—never by Trev. But by the commitment he’d made. He wasn’t going to be like his old man, who’d left when Luke was ten and Brock was eight. “I made a vow. You don’t just walk away from that.”

“You sure this isn’t fear talking?”

Brock’s head snapped up. “You think I’m doing this out of fear?”

“I think,” Luke said evenly, “that you’ve never been able to let yourself be happy. You think that sacrificing your happiness is the only option.” He leaned forward and jabbed his index finger into the table as he spoke. “That’s just not true.” His voice grew husky with urgency. “You deserve to be happy, bro.”

Brock’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t aboutme. It’s about Trevor.”

“Exactly,” Luke exclaimed. “Do you really think that going back into a toxic relationship is going to help Trevor?”

“I’m his father,” he thundered.

Luke wasn’t the least bit quelled by the outburst. “You can still be his father without going back to Adrian.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” Luke gave him a piercing look. “You know what I think?”

“No, but I get the feeling you’re gonna tell me,” he said dryly.

“This isn’t about Trev. Not really.”

Brock’s rebuttal came rushing out. “Of course, it’s about Trev. I dare you to suggest otherwise.”

Luke talked over him. “It’s aboutyou.You’re afraid. Plain and simple. And you’re using Trev as an excuse.”

Brock wanted to punch something. His older brother could be such a jerk—thinking he knew everything. “Ofcourse,this is about Trev,” Brock snapped. “Do you know how it felt when I got that call?” His voice rose. “Do you?”

Luke held up his hands. “Hey, man. Take it down a notch.”

Brock grunted. “Well, let me tell you—it didn’t feel good to get that call from Adrian telling me that Trev was beating up kids at school.” He pointed to his chest. “I was the one who was bullied. I know how that feels. And to think my own kid could turn into something like that ...” His voice cracked. “It makes me sick. When I taught Trev those self-defense moves, I had no idea he’d turn around and use them on other kids.”

“Brock, the kid is seven years old. He’s going through—I don’t know—some kind of mean streak or whatever. He’ll get over it. He’s got you to help him through it.”

“Yeah, he’ll have me if I can live in the same house as him,” Brock fired back. “You and I both know it’s nearly impossible to have any kind of influence from a distance. Adrian’s always setting parameters on when I can see Trev and then changing her mind at the last minute.”

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