Page 39 of SEAL's Patience
“Yes, Robbie, at least. The others are on ‘probation’. They do anything else while they’re here and they’re all out for life.”
“Good.” Quinn nodded and stepped toward the pool table. He needed some space between them before he did something stupid.
Doc smirked like he could read his mind. Quinn would make sure he wasn’t smirking at PT.
“That’s why I love working here. Pam and Tony take care of all of us. It’s more like a family than a business.”
Doc nodded. “Yes, it is. It’s always been this way. Although it’s a lot less of a seedy bar atmosphere after they rebuilt a few years ago.”
“I remember hearing about that. Anyway, I need to get back to work. Can I get you anything?”
Doc glanced at him. They’d been talking and not drinking yet.
“I’ll take a Smartmouth Seven Cities Lager if Pam still has some. If she’s out of that, give me whatever she’s got in craft beer.”
“That sounds good. I’ll have one too,” Doc said. “How about a platter of nachos, too?”
“You got it. I’ll be back in a few. And thank you again. I really appreciate you having my back.”
“Always, little doc,” Quinn said before he realized he’d used the endearment. Fuck. Doc wouldn’t let that go.
Grateful that Doc waited until Patience left, he braced himself for the inevitable. Stalking over to the pool table, heracked the balls and set the cue ball. As he waited for Doc to give him shit, he chalked his stick.
“Want to break?” Quinn asked. He turned to find his teammate standing next to him. His head quirked to the side, like he was trying to figure him out. “What?”
“Nothing. You’re different, and before you go off on me, I don’t mean because of what happened overseas. I mean, since yesterday. You going to spill it, or do I have to pry it out of you? My crowbar’s in the truck, but I’ll be happy to go get it.”
“Har har, Jackass.”
“C’mon, bossman. It won’t kill you to let go of all the pent up shit you carry around. We’re all alone, and we’ll hear Patience coming before she can overhear anything. I hope by now you know I’d won’t share a word you tell me in confidence.”
Quinn sighed. He trusted Doc. He wasn’t the problem. It was him. He was the problem. Quinn had killed his father. Most people couldn’t handle it. It didn’t even matter why he’d done it, just that he had.
Patricide.
He remembered hearing the word in his ancient history class. Who knew a year later he’d be the one committing it?
Quinn looked up from where he’d been studying the pool stick like it was the most important thing ever and met Doc’s gaze. “Fine. I’ll hold you to that promise because you don’t have a clue how bad this is.”
“Quinn, you’re my friend. I respect you. Hell. I love you like a brother. There’s nothing you can say that will ever change how I feel about you.”
He grunted.
“Does this have something to do with your reaction in Marikistan?”
“It does.”
Before he could continue, Patience came in with their drinks. “Okay, here are your beers. I’ll be back shortly with the nachos. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, little doc,” Doc said with a wink.
Patience rolled her eyes and smirked, then headed back out.
Quinn grabbed the beer and took a long drink. Then, with a sigh, he leveled his gaze at Doc and shared his history. “When I was seventeen, I killed my father.”
As he blurted out his devastating secret. He focused on Doc’s face, waiting to see disgust or horror. Except, neither of those things happened. Instead, he just put down his beer and gave Quinn his full attention.
“I’m sure there’s more to that story…”
