Page 40 of The Playboy SEAL
She takes my shoulders and faces me head-on. “Don’t compare the past to your future.”
“Only idiots don’t learn from mistakes, Mom,” I say. A traitorous tear cuts down my cheek. “Why did he do that to you? You’re perfect. Look at you!” If she can’t hold onto an awful man, how am I supposed to keep Macs Newstead? It’s hopeless.
“Because it was a lesson I needed. That’s it. You deserve to be happy. You’re already successful. What makes you think you can’t have a successful relationship? You think I don’t know about your commitment issues, Teala? Anyone can see them from a mile away. That man watches you like you alone shift the earth on its axis. I’m not wrong about these things.” She hugs me, and I go willingly into the crook of her neck and inhale the sweet scent of her facial lotion. It smells like flowers and honey. It reminds me of so much.
Closing my eyes, I breathe. I’m an adult woman seeking solace in my mother’s embrace. What must she think of me? How weak can one person be? “I’m scared,” I admit.
“If you weren’t scared, it wouldn’t be worth it,” she says, smoothing my hair down like she did when I was a little girl. “Macs is probably just as scared, honey. Loveis funny like that. It pushes you up to the edge of a really steep cliff and gives you an option to jump and fly or jump and fall.”
I pull away to look at her face. “That’s utterly morbid, Mom.” I narrow my eyes, letting my tears stay where they are.
She smiles and wipes at my face with her thumbs. “All you have to do is remember to flap your wings. A little falling is inevitable.” She pats my head, turns off the light, and walks out of my room without a backward glance. She doesn’t shut the door, and I hear the television in her room. She has the news on.
I close my door against more bad news about the state of our world. Retreating to my bed, I throw myself back and slip under my covers, feeling like a small child.
I think about a lot of things while I’m trying to fall asleep. Like, does my mom adhere to her own advice? Is Macs scared too? What happens to us when he deploys? Do I even want a relationship? Will it affect my studio? No, I won’t let it. What happens if it doesn’t work out between us?
What happens if it does? I need to talk to Carina. She’s in the same boat I am. She’ll know what to tell me.
I fall asleep eventually, my thoughts on one very masculine, dimpled smile and the words he said that changed everything.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Macs
Teala is sittingon the porch swing next to my mother. I’m watching them through the kitchen window while my father fixes lunch. My hands are twitching by my sides, and my heart is thumping jaggedly—a reminder I’m not myself. I have no clue how the fuck to control my emotions, or my own body, or my thoughts. Wild doesn’t even describe how I’m feeling. She sucked my dick on the drive here. I had to pull over a few seconds after she started because my eyes started rolling back in my damn head.
See? No control over my body. She’s good, but it’s more than that. She swallowed my hot load without spilling a drop, leaned back into her seat, and smiled at me. She reminded me of a tiger hunting prey. Eventually I regained enough composure to pull back into traffic and finish the drive. It helped for a little while, but I’m having withdrawals again. Not just for her mouth. I want to be close enough to touch her body, smell the skin on her neck that’s been swept by fragrant hair.
It didn’t happen gradually. Falling for her happened like a landslide. A light was switch thrown, and in its wake lies a mess of emotions I have no fucking clue what to do with. My dad is prattling on about the football game and how he lost a bet with Murray from down the street. He’s cursing under his breath, and I’m offering a few words here and there. He has no idea how wrapped up I am in my staring. It’s not often I get to glimpse her when she is unaware.
My mother can’t stop looking at her either. Teala’s beauty is truly something to behold. You can’t really appreciate it fully unless you do stare rudely for a while. That’s how you notice the freckle on her cheek, or the flecks of color in her eyes, or the way her slender neck curves so perfectly before her chin begins. It’s all too much to take in at the same time. So, I stare now—I practice being enamored by her even though I hate the essence of it to the core.
My father clears his throat from right behind me. “Sure is a looker, Son,” he says. “I said that a few times, but it seems you were too busy thinking the same thing to hear your old pops.”
My rudeness knows no bounds today, obviously. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” I turn to face him, as politeness dictates. “Mom looks well,” I say, trying to change the subject.
He claps me on the shoulder and offers the trademark grin he passed down to me. “She’s well and fine now that you’re home. Seems she’s takin’ a liking to your new bird, huh?”
He turns it around again. “Seems so,” I reply. “Needany help?” I nod over to the counter where he’s spreading cold cuts and cheeses for sandwiches.
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’d rather have a chat with my boy. It’s been too long, Son. You’re taking off again now, aren’t ya?”
I sigh, relieved he’s asked about work. Work is safe. Work is a known entity I can talk about for as long as he wants. My job is foreign to him. He’s worked a white-collar job his whole life. The military isn’t some handed-down tradition in my home. It’s my thing and my thing only. With my penchant for hair products and designer jeans, one of the only things he’s interested in is my career. I tell him what I can, but I don’t tell him where I’m deploying. He asks me about the terrorist attacks that are cropping up all over the world and if I know who is fully responsible. He’s happy with the answers I give him even if they’re veiled truths.
I glance out the window every once in a while and catch sight of Teala. She’s talking with her hands and smiling a lot, and a pang of envy strikes me square in the chest. It’s too new to share her with anyone else.
My father asks about my training trip coming up. The one where we shoot each other.
“It’s paintballs this time, Dad. Don’t worry,” I say.
His eyes still turn down in the corner, and I’m reminded that he’ll always worry about me whether I tell him to or not. He nods and turns his gaze to the porch swing.
I clear my throat. “Lunch?” I ask.
Distraction. That’s what I need. Before, when I didn’t know any better, I thought I needed space away fromTeala. I didn’t want to see texts from her or hear her voice on the phone and only see her for bits and pieces of time. Now, I realize the only way I can fix myself is if I give myself over to this completely and hope I can fuck her out of my system.
He goes out to the porch and tells my mother it’s time for lunch. Both of the women look up at him and smile their acknowledgments. He sits back down in front of me. “You still thinking of moving to Virginia Beach?” he asks.
