Page 42 of The Destined SEAL
Robin bird, Robin bird, I’ll give you my all.
Robin bird, fly high. Soar free. Never fall.
“We can name her Robin,” Norah whispers into the dark.
Sliding back up to my pillow, I cradle her face in my hands. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be gone when you wake up,” she says, smiling. “I have to check on a patient at five a.m.”
“Sleep well,” I reply, kissing her forehead. “I’ll call you when I get up. I’m leaving for Arizona mid-morning.”
Norah nods, rolls over, sighs contentedly, and falls asleep in a matter of minutes.
Tahoe is next to me, grumbling about his gun. Our Pelican Cases that contain all of our equipment are being loaded into our private plane. “Motherfucking thing isn’t sighted in properly.” He’s eyeing the scope.
“Looks like you won’t be killing anyone today,” I joke. We have multiple guns, but we all have a favorite. I’m at ease this morning—existing in the area of mental Harper blocks. “What are you thinking? Twenty-four hours tops?” I’d really like to be home for the weekend.
“Who knows? They said there could be a few quads,” he says, grinning.
I realize it’s quite wrong of me to be disappointed, because that means it will take longer, and I don’t even care. At this point, this is merely a job. One I enjoy for the moral benefits and the brotherhood. The excitement and thrill aren’t too shabby either.
I’m screwing around with my kit, a pair of pliers in my hand, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see it’s my mom asking me to call her when I get a chance. She wants to have us over for dinner. The plus about this whole fucking mess is no one except Harper and I know exactly how atrocious the start was. My parents were shocked as hell when I said I was marrying Norah. They softened when they realized she was pregnant—that I was manning up. My father clapped me on the back and gave me a smile that looked more like a grimace.
Harper’s parents were more upset. I think her mom even cried. She excused herself to the kitchen after I mumbled the words. It made my stomach hurt. She looks like Harper. She knows Harper. The pain transfer was evident. This is how Harper truly feels about my marriage. Not proud. Sad. Horrified that our bad fucking timing really did screw any chance we ever had for happiness. I text her back that hopefully Sunday we’ll be over for dinner.
She texts back that Harper is going to be there, too. “Fuck!” I yell.
“You scared me, pussy. What’s the deal?” Tahoe barks.
Macs and Smith, two other SEALs, walk by and shake their heads at my outburst. Macs mumbles something about getting my shit together. Shit ruins missions. Ask any SEAL. As elite a force as we are, we’re also only human. With lives and loves, and pregnant wives we aren’t in love with and will probably never be in love with. We have friends we’re in love with that we’ll have to be around for the rest of our lives even though it shreds our souls.
Groaning, I tell him. As quietly as possible. “It’s complicated.” I finish the story.
Tahoe grins, his toothy white smile seeming more like a kill face than a comforting gesture. “You have the least complicated issues of any of these fuckers. You realize that, right?” He nods around to our brothers. We all have our share of highs and lows, but at the moment I don’t see how any of them can compete with the utter shitshow that has become my life.
I pocket my phone. “You’re insane. I married her. I’m fucking married.” Remember what I said about repeating the mantra? Obviously saying it out loud doesn’t work either. It still tastes like chalk.
“I don’t know why you went and did that,” Tahoe says, cradling his gun in his lap, cleaning it before he packs it away. “A rash solution to a bad decision.”
“What’s the bad decision?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. He knows more about my situation than anyone else. I think it’s because he keeps his relationship such a secret that his meddling in all of ours seems natural. He’s a Yoda. A killing machine masquerading as a love whisperer.
“Letting her go,” he says, meeting my gaze. “That’s one you’ll never live down. It’s 2017, you don’t have to marry your baby momma anymore. You be a father. I don’t peg you for a deadbeat. You have some religious hang-ups I’m not aware of?” he asks. It’s an honest question. He’s trying to understand.
Shrugging, I say, “It seems crazy even to me. The thing is, doing the right thing regardless of cost is sort of my thing. It’s why I’m not already married to Harper with a basketball team of kids right now. I joined the Navy instead of going to college with her. Do you know how many times a day I think about what could have been? How happy I’d be right now if I’d made a different decision? Then feel guilty for thinking it because I love my job. And I love my baby girl.”
“How’s that fair to Norah?”
I shake my head. “It’s not. It hurts her more than me because she knows. Dude, every day I wake up and she’s in my bed, I think how lucky I am she agreed to marry me.”
“She’s either stupid in love with you or just stupid,” Tahoe replies. “If she knows you’re in love with another woman, she won’t be surprised when you tell her you don’t want to be married. You’ll be a good dad regardless. So many of these guys have kids from other marriages that they make work. Your morals and obligations don’t change because your love is aimed at a woman who isn’t her mother.”
“I need to get over Harper.”
“How are you going to do that?”
I’ve thought long and hard about this, and the only way to not love Harper Rosehall is to be indifferent. “Not think about her,” I reply. “Or look at her. Blame her for this mess in the first place.”
Tahoe chuckles, and it sounds like tits cutting glass. “Some moral high ground you’re on. Blaming her for your indecision. I take it back, you’re more fucked up than they are. Keep up the twisted game. Soon your daughter will be here to see it. That will be fun.”
