Chapter Twenty-Nine
WILL
“Captain, I am looking at your discharge papers. Would you care to explain this shit to me?”
I knew this was going to happen eventually. Word was getting out, wheels were turning, and one irate Lieutenant General wanted my ass. There was no way for me to leave the teams quietly when my command of this new task force was a foregone conclusion in McGardil’s eyes.
“The nerve damage isn’t improving, sir, and I’ve decided it’s time,” I said. “I’ve fulfilled my service.”
“Do I need to remind you that this country is at war?” he roared. “Men and women are losing their lives every day, sailor. I expect this shit from a bedwetting tadpole during Phase One of BUD/S, not a decorated officer when there’s a team ready to load out.”
I leaned against the refrigerator, softly knocking my head on the glass door while the Lieutenant General ranted about the need for battle-tested leaders, and expecting more from me, and the impact of my departure on critical missions. In the twenty minutes that he yelled and swore, he barely stopped for a breath. It was remarkable.
But it was hard to hear. Nothing he said was new—I’d been thinking the same things since this leave started last month—but the gravity of it was much greater coming from a man I respected as much as McGardil.
My decisions affected more than me, and this was the smack upside the head to remind me of that.
“You are a highly skilled operative,” McGardil continued. “You are among the most lethal in the teams, and the United States has spent millions of dollars on your training. If you’re not mission-ready, there are other critical roles to assume.”
“I’m aware, sir,” I said. “This wasn’t a light decision.”
“I should hope not, Captain,” he said with a grunt. “Are you writing a book? A fucking screenplay?”
“No, sir. I’m…” I glanced around the kitchen, where I’d abandoned my lasagna preparations. I decided to keep those details to myself. Without a doubt, my newfound domesticity would land with a thud. “I’m exploring private security and defense contracting.”
McGardil huffed out a breath. “Have you given any consideration to returning to Coronado as an instructor?”
And there it was: my least favorite option. I enjoyed working with SEALs who’d finished all their qualifying courses—the baby SEALs, as Shannon liked to call them—but the last thing I wanted to do was holler at a bunch of guys during midnight rock portage drills on San Clemente Island.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, “though I’d rather not return to BUD/S. One visit was plenty.”
“It’s a loss,” he said. “There aren’t many men with your experience, even fewer with your cool head. This is a loss for the teams.” I heard McGardil shuffling and tapping papers across the line. “Allow me to thank you for your service, sailor. It’s been a pleasure, and I do hope you keep in touch.”
The call ended and I was left banging my head against the refrigerator. Leaving the teams wasn’t a simple decision. It was the only thing I knew how to do, the only thing I’d ever wanted to do, and it wasn’t as though I could discard the responsibility like a pair of dirty socks. This duty pumped in my blood and gathered in my soul, and I would always live with the fire to push myself further than anyone thought possible.
When I’d banged myself right into a dull headache, I spied a new message waiting on my phone.
Shannon: I’ve been dealing with the most obstinate agent all morning. This guy is arguing every single point on this purchase and sale agreement. There’s nothing special about the terms, either.
Shannon: This guy’s just a dick
Will: When you get home, I’m taking your panties
Will: You’re not getting them back until Monday
Will: Then I’m tying you to the bed
Will: Just keep that in mind as you’re dealing with this fool
Shannon: Wow. That actually helped.
Will: Surprised?
Shannon: No…I don’t know. Maybe.
Will: Also, I’m making lasagna.
Smiling, I swiped through my contacts until I found the one I needed. I’d been putting off this call—and a few others—for weeks, but I was ready. The pieces were coming together, and I knew what I wanted now.
“Halsted,” Kaisall shouted when he answered. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been shopping my offer with the way you’re dodging calls.”
“But you know better,” I chuckled.
Kaisall and I connected shortly before the visit to San Diego, and he shared plans to overhaul his firm, Redtop. He wanted to continue taking high-profile security details—gotta pay the bills—while branching out into kidnapping and smuggling cases, hostage negotiations, and the occasional clandestine task. In order to execute on this, he was reorganizing the company’s structure.
“Are we getting into bed together?” he asked. Sounds of the airport accompanied his voice. Travel dominated his life, and it suited him. He liked the thrill of chasing down contacts and clients, and being in the know. “All toasty warm for me yet?”
He needed someone in the command center; someone who could watch all the pieces on the chessboard and make the right moves. The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. The work was still important, even when it included running background checks on an heiress’s boyfriend of the month, and there was plenty of it.
“There’s a strong possibility, yeah,” I said.
“That’s going to piss the special warfare command right off,” he said. Flight announcements drowned him out, and he paused before continuing. “How long’s it been for you? Two, three months now? You need to get back in the action. I bet you’re playing Call of Duty at three in the morning and yelling ‘hooyah’ at the screen.”
That was partially true. I missed the strategic nature of planning operations and working through variables, but I didn’t miss a war with no end in sight, bullets flying at my head, meals in vacuum-sealed pouches, or the thousands of miles between me and the woman I loved.
“Let me sort through a few more issues this week,” I said. “We’ll go from there.”
“You say that like you haven’t already decided that we’re going to be the best team in private defense contracting. This is the start of a long, profitable marriage,” he said. Another flight announcement trilled through the line. “That’s me. Talk soon, partner.”
When we disconnected, I saw another message waiting. I wasn’t ready to dump this information on Shannon yet. Given my contemplative mood, she’d launch right into problem solving mode, and I wasn’t adding another issue on her plate. I’d think it all over this afternoon, and we’d take this to the next step.
Shannon: Does it make me old and boring because I want to stay in, eat lasagna and drink wine, and watch The Sopranos with you on a Friday night?
Will: No, but you forgot about being tied to the bed and fucked straight through to Saturday
Shannon: The whole package works for me
Will: Let’s go to the beach tomorrow
Shannon: You’re in New England now, commando. It’s December.
Shannon: Beach season is over
Will: We can go for a walk
Will: I need some time near the ocean
Shannon: We jogged through the Waterfront this morning.
Will: That doesn’t count. That’s the bay. The harbor. I want a beach with dunes, sand, waves.
Will: Being in the city isn’t even close to the same.
Shannon: Ok, ok, relax, we’ll get you a beach
Shannon: Well…I was supposed to swing by that house I bought on the North Shore today, but since I’m dicking around with this asshole, I’m not going to make it up there. I’ve put it off a couple times now.
Will: The one where nothing was straight? With that rocky cove?
Shannon: Yep
Will: That’s a great beach. We can do your stuff and then we can walk for a couple of miles and back
Shannon: Ok but seriously – I hate having wet socks. Being cold and wet makes me very unhappy.
Will: Good. I prefer you hot and wet.
Shannon: …
Will: I won’t let you get cold and wet, peanut
*
We were headed north on Saturday morning, away from the city and all its congestion, and I was humming with anticipation. I loved being with Shannon; I could pack that parachute nineteen different ways and still come to the same conclusion, but I didn’t love the city as much as she did.
There were the usual urban complaints: nonstop noise, pollution, close quarters, the hurry up and go mentality, but all of that was manageable. It didn’t matter where I was, so long as Shannon was with me…and I got to hit the beach with some regularity.
“Talked to Kaisall yesterday,” I said, turning off the highway and onto the coast road. “I’m going to give it a shot.”
Shannon glanced up from the floor plans in her lap. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So…that means you’re moving to Washington, D.C.? Isn’t that where Redtop is based?”
I drummed my fingers on the gearshift for a moment, searching the horizon for the right combination of words. We’d talked about me staying in Boston to sort out my life and deal with my shoulder, but we never discussed anything of permanence. Maybe that was embedded in each declaration of love that we shared, or the simple fact that we never discussed not living together, but this was where it stopped being temporary.
“No,” I said. “I’m staying here.”
She tucked her papers into a folder and filed it in her bag before responding. “How’s that going to work?”
Veering into a residential area, I glanced at Shannon. Her arms were crossed, her fingers tapping her elbows, and she was staring out her window. “Logistics command isn’t field work,” I said. “It’s about running comms, tracking intel, and monitoring operations from the eye in the sky.” Reaching out, I caught her hand and laced my fingers with hers. “I can do that anywhere. We could share an office. Wouldn’t you enjoy me, parked three feet away from you all day?”
“That’s not a good idea. We can’t be giving orders at the same time. We’d confuse the minions.” She shook her head resolutely. “And this is what you want to do?”
Gray blueness shimmered in the distance, and despite the thick cloud cover, I breathed a sigh of relief. The sea did good things for my soul.
“I think so.” It was the most sincere answer I had, and I accepted that I wouldn’t know for sure until I waded into the work. “A couple years ago, Kaisall only did big game accounts—defamed CEOs with bounties on their heads, mid-scandal politicians, and the occasional foreign diplomat. Not my scene, but it worked for him. These days,” I said, pulling into the stone driveway, “he’s branching out. He’s got some new contracts, and some of them are interesting projects. Human trafficking, small arms dealers, hostage recovery. I’d be into that.”
Shannon’s eyes cut to the side, studying me under her lashes, and she gnawed on her lower lip. “Are you sure about this, commando? You’re not going to miss invading countries? Shooting the dictators? Blowing shit up?”
I brought her palm to my lips, leaving a quick kiss there. “I know what I want, Shannon.”
She stared at me for a long beat, then blinked and nodded toward the house. “Let’s walk first,” she said. “I need to work off those pancakes before I deal with this place.”
We hiked down to the shore, and followed the narrow strip of sandy beach. Shannon was quiet at first, and then started pointing out unique features of the beachfront homes. This area was growing on me. I never expected that I’d enjoy the cold, turbulent Atlantic, or its unforgiving coastline. Now, with Shannon and the sea on either sides of me, I couldn’t imagine it any other way.
When we came to a sharp, rocky bend in the coastline where waves were beating against the shore, we turned around instead of trying to scale it. No wet socks today.
She stopped at the stone path leading back to the house, gazing at the structure.
We took the long way around, traversing the large lot and locating the property lines before arriving at the entry.
“All right. Let’s get inside.”
I followed her, hanging back while she walked the first floor. She wandered through each room repeatedly, her fingers grazing the fixtures while her lips drew tight in concentration.
“What’s our objective?” I asked eventually.
She settled on a window seat in the living room. “I don’t know why I bought this house,” she said, her words rushing out in a gasp. “The room dynamics are odd. The structure needs work. It’s a nice piece of land and…it feels like a good place, but I can’t remember what I wanted when I was negotiating this deal.”
“Do you always know?” I asked.
“Yes,” she cried. “The one thing I can do with any consistency is look at a property and know how to sell it, but…” She stood, shaking her head, and propped her hands on her hips. “The last time I was here, I loved this place. It seemed perfect for…I don’t know. For something.”
“Let’s keep walking around,” I said. “It’ll come to you.”
We climbed the stairs and walked through all seven bedrooms. She stayed quiet, occasionally making notes or running her palm down the walls.
“There’s something about this place,” she murmured from the center of a large bedroom that would surely bathe in the warmest morning sunlight. She held out her hands and turned in a slow circle, and it was right then, with her face tipped up and her green eyes wide, that I felt my forever winding around me. “I can’t explain it, but it feels like people were happy here. It feels like a home. Is it just me? Do you get that vibe?”
“I think you’re right,” I said, and it wasn’t without effort that I kept my voice steady. “It is a home.”
But that sentiment owed nothing to the four walls and roof. This was about permanence. Our permanence and it was possible this was where it would start.
Our eyes met across the room, and Shannon sensed it too. She didn’t know it yet, but she felt it.
“I know what to do, technically-speaking,” she said. “Or, I know what the boys would do. Patrick would get rid of all the wallpaper, paint, carpeting. Anything that wasn’t original. Matt would reinforce the foundation, pop out the dropped ceilings, and open up the layout. Sam would hit the sustainability features hard: rainwater catchment, solar, and tons of organic insulation products. Riley…” She looked around, her eyebrows pinching together as she thought. “He’d figure out how to replace the missing tiles in the entryway mosaic.”
“And what would you do?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I have no idea, and right now, I’m tempted to leave and not worry about this until spring.” She leaned against the wall, her hands open and falling to her sides. “We have enough going on with the wrap up on Turlan, and starting Mount Vernon, and we still have the freaking Castavechias. And a dozen others on deck. My pet project doesn’t need to consume everyone’s time and energy right now. This can wait. I can wait.”
Of course that was her reasoning.
She wandered out of the bedroom and toward the stairs leading to the third floor. Her fingers traced the intricate woodwork on the banister as she ascended. The rooms were narrower up here, but the views stretched off into the horizon for miles. There were small, rocky islands in the distance, and the faint outline of sailing vessels.
“It’s a nice place,” she said. “There’s a lot of potential here. I just don’t know what to do with it.”
We’d share this home for the next seventy years. We’d celebrate holidays and birthdays and everything in between here. We’d grow a family here. This was our escape.
I pointed out the window, drawing her attention to the grassy yard that rolled straight down to the beach. “Plenty of room for commando drills. Running, jumping, climbing. And those trees?” I gestured to the ancient oaks on the far edge of the lot. “They need tree houses, and a zip line. And down there? That old patio? We’ll have barbeques and parties, and Lo will manage to pass out with a bottle of tequila every time.”
It was bait, pure and simple, and I wanted her to take it.
Shannon’s expression morphed from confused to curious to pained within seconds.
“You don’t want to be here,” she said. “You want to live in San Diego. You’re going to get bored, and then you’re going to resent me, and you’re going to leave, and I probably won’t survive it this time. So please, let me have right now. Don’t give me a story about us, and zip lines, and barbeques. Don’t play with me. Don’t pretend.”
Fuck. That. Noise.
“I’m not leaving,” I said. “I’m not getting bored, and there’s no way in hell I’d resent you.”
Shannon pushed away from the windows and paced the length of the room. It was small, the ceilings vaulted, and it didn’t give her much space to work out that nervous energy. “But you will!” she cried. “You’re going to hate spending your days behind a computer screen when you’re used to blowing shit up and being a badass.”
“I knew I was ready about a year ago,” I said, watching while she continued pacing. “I didn’t acknowledge it, not really, but I knew I needed a change. I always thought I was career military, but I never saw a life beyond running special operations. That last tour was brutal, just fucking brutal. I’m ready, and even if all I do is cook you dinner, I’ll be happy. I don’t require much.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” she asked, stopping on the other side of the room.
“Because I needed to get it straight first. I needed a plan, and before you tell me that you would’ve helped, I know. I know you’ll do fucking anything for your people, and sometimes it’s crazy, but I love that about you—”
“You think you’re one of my people?” Arms crossed over her chest, she marched up to me, her lips twisted in a smirk and eyebrow cocked.
“I’d like to be,” I said. “You’re one of mine.”
“You might get bored,” she countered.
I reached out, grabbing her ponytail and wrapping it around my palm. Tugging, I lifted her gaze to meet mine. “Shannon, I don’t need much. Most of my possessions fit into a rucksack. If necessary, I can survive off the land for weeks. Maybe longer. All I really care about is being near the ocean and waking up beside you. I’ve had plenty of time to think this over, and I know there’s nothing else.”
She swallowed hard. “You’re serious,” she said, and it wasn’t a question. “Serious about…” She waved toward the window, quietly gathering everything—the sea, the house, us—into the permanence we’d earned. “Why?”
My hands shifted to her waist, and I fit her against my chest. “I’ve spent too many months leaving you. I’m not doing that again.”
“Are you sure about all this? I mean, we haven’t—”
“Don’t even start with that shit, peanut,” I interrupted. “I am going to marry you so hard you won’t remember your maiden name. I’m going to love you and protect you, and I’m going to put up with your brothers and the violent citrus-throwing, too. You better get used to it because I’m here to stay.”
At first, I thought I was she was crying when her shoulders started jostling. Then, I felt her laughter vibrating against my sternum. “Your proposals are about as good as my compliments.”
Shaking my head, I pulled her closer. “It’s not like you want roses and champagne, peanut,” I said. “Was that a yes?”
“No,” she said, looking up at me with her dark, dark green eyes. “It was a fuck yes and let’s christen our house now.”