“Fuck!” I yell out and punch the tree. My knuckles scream out in pain.

I pick up my pace and start to run again. I need to work out and be ready for the team. I can’t be sitting around and then not be in peak physical condition, but every damn day I’m at her house. I can’t stay away or stop myself from checking on her. It’s like a drug. So I run…I run and try to stop my mind from drifting to her and Aarabelle. I think about the way she laughs, how her smile lights up the room, and how much I like being the one to put it there. This shit needs to stop.

The music blares in my ears as I sprint. I count and breathe, focusing only on that. I can’t think about her blonde hair. I won’t worry about whether she’s read the letter. I refuse to worry about whether she remembered to call the mortgage company. Because I’m not her fucking anything. I’m the dickhead who won’t leave her alone because of a promise. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m nothing to her and I can never be. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this.

I run faster and stop to do some push-ups. I’ll show her fat and old.

My phone rings and it’s a California number.

“Hello?”

“Dreamboat, it’s Jackson.”

“Hey, Muffin. What’s up?” I ask as I try to catch my breath. I’ve met Jackson Cole a bunch of times. Aaron worked for him when he left the Navy and our teams were both deployed together at the same time to Africa. We weren’t really close but drank together a few times.

“Not much. Wanted to check on Natalie and see if she needs anything.”

Natalie told me about how he took Aaron’s death hard. He felt like he was responsible. He got himself shot when he went over to investigate and bring Aaron’s remains home. Not that there were many remains left. “She’s putting on a good show. She’s stubborn as all hell but finally taking care of some things.”

He sighs and I wonder what he was expecting. It’s only been about seven months since he died. No one would be ready for much more than she is.

“She starts working for me this week. I wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

I forgot about that. Shit. “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll be good. My leave is over this week and who knows what the deployment schedule is like.”

“Ahhh, I heard. Four, huh?”

“Yeah, man.” I lean against the tree since this is going to be another few minutes. “How’s Cali?”

He laughs and pauses, “I’m adjusting.”

“She worth it?”

“You have no idea.”

“Thank God,” I say. This is no life for a woman. The home-again-then-gone-again life. How the hell any of these guys are dumb enough to marry someone I’ll never know. It’s unfair and I don’t need anyone clouding my judgment when I’m on a mission.

Jackson laughs as if he knows something I don’t. “One day. One day everything you thought, you’ll forget—for her.”

My mind flashes to Natalie and Aarabelle. The grin comes without any thought. Fuck. I’m not supposed to feel anything for her. Goddammit. This isn’t allowed.

“Or not.”

I push it down because I’m sure it’s not anything.

“One day,” Jackson repeats.

It’s because I’m spending so much time there. Helping her hang pictures, mowing the lawn, and taking care of the things that need to be done. Yeah. That’s it. Nothing more. I’ll lock that shit down before it becomes anything else because she’s my friend. She’s my best friend’s wife.

“One day. I gotta run. Literally,” I say to Jackson and stretch so I can get back to running. I need to get this crap out of my head.

“Take care. I’ll be back east soon and maybe we can grab a beer.”

“Sounds good, Muff.” I disconnect the call and blare some Jay Z hoping I can get lost in the bass.

Trying to focus on the trees passing by and how bad my muscles are going to hate me later, I end up thinking about the letter sitting in my car. Why the fuck did he write to all of us? My letter sits in my rifle case and it goes to my mom, not any of the guys. I start to think of Natalie and how she’s doing. Did she read the letter? Did he tell her something that is going to cause her pain or will it put her at ease? I turn and head back on the trail, running faster than I did before.

Once I reach my car, I throw my phone on the dash. I can’t go back there. I’m not her boyfriend and I never will be. I need to get laid. I grab my phone and call my buddy who’s stationed here.

Quinn answers on the first ring. “What up, dirtbag?”

“Hey, fuckstick. I need to go out tonight. You game?”

“Hot Tuna? Lots of willing pussy.”

Sounds perfect. I need to get balls deep in some girl and get the other one out of my head. “Meet you there around ten.”

I disconnect the phone and lean back in my seat. My legs are screaming after the run I just did. Every time I would start to zone out, I’d start thinking about Lee and Aarabelle, wondering what they are doing. You can’t not love that kid. She looks like Aaron, only cuter. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? And where in the last few weeks did this shift at all? She’s Lee for Chrissake. She’s the messy hair, sweat pants, and no bra girl I’ve known for eight years. I’ve seen her practically naked and even though any man would have to be blind not to look twice at her, I’ve never had anything more than friendship towards her. So what the hell is different?

Enough thinking.

Time to get wasted and laid.

“Hey, fucker! Wasn’t sure you were going to show.” Quinn sits back with a beer in his hand.

“Passed out after my run,” I state.

Quinn and I have been friends for a few years. We both went to the same training site in Nevada and kept in touch. When I found out I was heading to SEAL Team Four, I was glad I at least knew a few guys.

“Been a while since you worked out, huh?”

“I’ve been busy,” I say and signal for a beer to the bartender.

He looks at me and smirks. “Busy…right.”

“That’s what I said.”

Quinn nods and looks at the game on TV as I look around the bar. He’s right. This place is crawling with women looking for some attention. They’re not even subtle. Fine by me.

“So, what’s been going on? I haven’t heard from you.”

“I’ve been helping Natalie get stuff done. Since Aaron wasn’t active, the Navy is no help.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Aaron was a good guy. Sucks about how he died.” Quinn taps my beer and we both take a gulp.

“It’s fucking weird. The whole thing.”

“What do you mean? The IED in Afghanistan?” He looks at me as if I sprouted another head. “Tell me where the weird part is.”

My training tells me there’s more to that explosion. “Why the fuck was he there? Why was his caravan hit? I know these assholes don’t give a shit, but Jackson’s company isn’t stupid. They know that region. Then the fact that Cole was shot when he went to the site doesn’t add up. Why and who is targeting Cole’s company?”

The thing about Quinn is he’s an easy read. Which is why he’s a sniper on our team and not intelligence. “Don’t start trying to look for shit that’s not there. He was killed by an IED and you said it yourself—they don’t care. So they killed him because they could. Plain and simple. As to why Jackson was shot, again they’re American—enough said.”

“Sure,” I reply to placate him. I don’t think it’s plain and simple, but Quinn is too stupid or self-absorbed to give a shit. He’s simple and follows orders, never thinking about it again. I, on the hand, don’t do either well.

“Hi there,” I hear from behind me. Quinn’s eyes widen as he takes in the company we have.

I shift and see the two women. One has black hair cut right above her clearly fake tits. The other has blonde hair pulled to one side. She’s fucking hot.

“Hi, ladies.”

“Is that seat taken?” the blonde asks, biting her lip. I’m fucked…and hopefully she will be soon too.

“What’s your poison?”

She smiles and sits on the stool next to me and crouches down, showing me her rack. Her fingertip traces the wood right by my arm and my cock stirs. “What’s your name?”

“Liam,” I reply and lean closer.

“Well, Liam…I’m Brit. How about you buy me a shot of whiskey and we’ll find out what else is my poison?”

On a normal day, this type of shit would piss me off, but today, Brit seems to be just what I need.

The hours pass and we drink and spend the evening with Brit and her friend, Claire. They’re both practically begging to go home with us. I’ll never understand what these bitches think. Why would any man want to take you home to Mom if I was able to fuck you the first night we met? That’s not the kind of girl I want to have a life with. That’s the girl I’m going to fuck and forget.

“I’m probably too drunk to drive,” Brit whispers in my ear.

“Want me to give you a ride?” I ask, and her lip is back between her teeth.

She nods and her tongue darts out and licks the red marks. I’m going to lose my shit.

“Let’s go then,” I sweep my arm forward and Brit stumbles into my arms.

“Yes. Let’s.”