Page 87 of Operation K-9 Brothers
Until then, it was her last night with her brother.“Let’s make popcorn and watch a movie.”
He looked at her with a challenge in his eyes.“Better yet, let’s make popcorn and play my game.”
“Give me thirty minutes to practice it, and then your ass is grass.”
He laughed.“Game on.”
Nichole managed not to cry when sending Mark back to their parents.In the short time he’d been here, a different brother was leaving than the one who’d arrived with an attitude.Thanks to Jack, her brother had a bright future ahead of him.
Mark was walking on clouds, and she was thrilled for him.She was also relieved that he was leaving.As far as she knew, Lane didn’t know where their parents lived.Her brother’s game had been a blast to play, and with a big-name gamer interested, Mark had a purpose that his life had been missing.
After his car turned the corner, disappearing from sight, she headed for her pottery studio.Since she had a lot of catching up to do, it was good that she had the next three days off from her booth.
She had the dinnerware commissions to finish, more sad fairies to make, and she was running low on her glitter fairies and mugs.The day flew by, and when she stood, stretching her aching back, she glanced at her watch, surprised to see it was after five.Other than a few breaks to walk Rambo, she’d been hard at it and was pleased with her progress.
After Mark left, she’d debated between going back to bed and just staying there for the rest of her life or losing herself so thoroughly in the one thing she could count on to make her happy so that she wouldn’t think of Jack.She chose the second option.She was tired of crying, and that was what she’d do if she spent her day in bed, missing him.
“It’s wine time,” she told Rambo.
He jumped up from his bed, bringing his chew toy with him, his tail wagging with excitement.Both her boys were new and improved from a few weeks ago even.Mark was a joy to be around now, and Rambo’s progress was remarkable.
Now, it was only she who wasn’t new and improved.Whatever.Someday Jack would be a distant memory.Maybe.
After washing the clay from her hands and arms, she headed into the house.The doorbell rang as she took her first sip of wine.Rambo barked as he raced for the door.As far as she knew, Lane was still in the hospital, but she wasn’t taking any chances.She pushed Rambo aside with her leg, then put her eye to the peephole.
“Jack,” she whispered.
Of course she had on her ratty pottery clothes, clay under her fingernails, no makeup, and her hair in a messy bun.Well, that was what he got for not calling.She opened the door, wishing that her stupid heart wasn’t happy to see him.
“Can I come in?”he asked when she just stared at him.
Without answering but leaving the door open, she headed back for her wine.Deciding she hadn’t poured enough for the coming conversation, she filled up the glass.She glanced at Jack, and the uncertainty and vulnerability she saw on his face and in his eyes softened her anger with him, but it wasn’t gone completely.
“Beer?”she said.
“I’m taking a few days off on beer.”
She bit back a snarky retort.Too bad he hadn’t done that a few days ago instead of ending up at a biker bar.“Okay.Let’s sit on the patio.”
The view from her deck wasn’t close to as nice as his, but inside her little house, his presence was so overwhelming that he stole all her air.She could smell his unique—and okay, mouthwatering—masculine scent, even feel his body heat.Never mind that he’d stomped on her heart, said organ was apparently a glutton for punishment, ready to throw itself at him all over again.
Even her mind was wavering.If they had a chance, she needed him to convince her that she mattered to him, but it had to happen where she could still think, and that wasn’t standing in her kitchen where his essence surrounded her.Before she walked right into his arms without a word of explanation and an apology from him, she went out her back door.He could follow her or not.His choice.
Jack had never been so unsure of himself or so nervous.If he didn’t find the right words, he was going to lose her...if he hadn’t already.She hadn’t smiled at him the way she used to, before he got stupid and acted like a jerk.
He took a deep breath, then followed her out.Because he was trained to prepare for missions—and this was one of the most important missions he’d ever undertaken—he’d rehearsed what he was going to say.But as he took a seat in the chair next to Nichole’s, he didn’t remember a word of it.Some operator he was.
Maybe she’d say something, giving him time to get his brain back on track.She didn’t, just sipped her wine and stared at the house behind hers, apparently unaware that he was close to climbing out of his skin.He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I fucked up, Nichole, and I’m sorry.”That wasn’t what he had planned to say.Well, it was, but he’d intended to be more articulate than that.
“I know.”
And?Was he forgiven?Kicked out of her life?She remained quiet, and since she hadn’t told him to leave, he let himself feel a little hope.He got it, though.A simpleI’m sorrywasn’t going to cut it.She needed him to bleed, and for her, he would.
“When I...”He swallowed past the rock lodged in his throat.It wasn’t going to be easy, baring his soul.Although he didn’t remember exactly what he’d said to her, he’d hurt her.Because of that, he’d cut open a vein and bleed.He stared at the floor.“Being a SEAL has defined me since the day I made it through BUD/S school.”He glanced at her.“That’s like SEAL boot camp, and it’s damn hard to make it through.Only about twenty to thirty percent of a given class graduates.”
“I guess that makes you special,” she said, darting a glance at him.
