Chapter Twenty-Four

Smith

I’VE FUCKED UP EVERYTHING. In a world where general safety isn’t promised and evil villains are your next-door neighbors, that’s a mighty feat to admit. It’s hard to focus on work when my personal life is in such upheaval. It’s hard to focus on work when part of the reason my life is in such upheaval is sitting next to me talking to my ex-fiancée on the phone. The high bay at work in San Diego is full of SEALs. We’ve been here all day, attending meeting after meeting.

Macs, the dude with perfect hair and a penchant for Armani T-shirts, saunters in through a side door. “We need the prettiest motherfuckers over here on this side of the room,” he barks. “I’ll need five. Maybe six if we have that many decent looking men. It’s for Hero Hair,” he explains, smiling. It’s the mission name and I immediately know why we need to send good-looking guys.

Laughter breaks out, booming around the room. “Who is deciding who’s the prettiest?” someone yells out. It’s a welcome change of subject. Moose’s voice and his words still carry. Megan moved in with him almost immediately after the book meeting. I’m stuck at a house full of shit I don’t want, lonely beyond belief. It’s ironic now that I’m stationed in San Diego, there’s no reason for me to be.

Zane stands. “I volunteer as tribute,” he shouts, raising one arm in the air, three fingers pointed skyward.

“Sit down, dude,” someone says. The tactics we have to employ are different than they are in usual war. It’s a guessing game, but one that we’re picking up on quickly. The head figures use financiers to back their initiatives. The financiers typically live an upper class lifestyle. We’ve discovered it means lonely, drunk wives with loose lips. Zane argues his finer attributes, but in the end gets shut down by Macs.

While the guys squabble about who has more symmetrical features and better abs, I think about how bad I fucked up with Carina. I don’t have a dog in this fight. My looks are long gone. They send me when they want to scare people with sheer muscle mass and jagged scars—similar to the bad guy in superhero films. I feel like the bad guy.

It’s hard to say who is at fault. Some would argue I am for trying to escape my feelings and by leading Megan on for so long. Others would say it was Carina for meddling in fate. I can’t be mad at her for speaking the truth. I can be irritated she won’t return my calls or emails. Her attorney returned one of my emails because she’d forwarded it to him. I’d asked a simple question about the book, but it was mostly begging for her to meet with me.

Never Forever is slated for a summer release and with the current state of affairs reading is the number one pastime in every age group. Given the subject matter, it’s also highly anticipated. The military and all the facets of SEALs are a mystery. People know the basics, but chances are they don’t know a real SEAL. That’s different from actors portraying them in movies. It’s real. It’s life outside of combat. It’s me. Advertisements are everywhere. Every single one reminding me of the only true love I’ll ever experience. One that I was lucky to have while it lasted because it changed me—it saved me. She’s so damn beautiful. Her headshot side by side with the cover. She’s smirking—her full, glossy lips tilted to one side. It’s not the shy smile of a girl I met on the floor of a theater. It’s the confident, knowing smile of a woman who has risen to such great heights that nothing in the world can touch her. Her brown hair is waving well past her shoulders and her almond eyes are taunting me, reminding me what I’ll never have again. At the rate I’m going, I don’t know if I’ll ever see those eyes again in person.

My stomach coils with anger. In a situation I can’t control, my mind dives to dark places. It transports me back to a hospital bed when I was unable to move or talk or do anything for myself. Those were my darkest days and this feeling right now is comparable to that.

“Moose. It’s you. Get up here, you beautiful bastard,” Macs commands.

Moose stands, laughs, and makes his way to the pretty group. Guys slap his back as he saunters to the other side of the room like he’s won an award. I’m relieved. It means his conversation is finished and I don’t have to hear the warble of her voice on the other end of his phone. Do I feel guilty? Yes. She made sure I wouldn’t for long, though. She dove headfirst in with my best friend. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they took our wedding date and made it their own. I wouldn’t care.

Moose throws his arms in the air when he reaches his mark. “Thank you. Thank you. I’d like to thank the academy and my mother. Because without her genes I’d look like a wolverine mated with a grizzly. Sorry, Dad. I love you,” Moose says, throwing one arm out to take an awkward bow. “Most beautiful,” he shouts in an accented tone.

Macs groans. “Okay, okay. Go to the meeting room and make sure your ready bags are packed.”

Everyone sighs. We’re tired. Several troops are overseas, but most of the SEALs are spread across the U.S. We’ve infiltrated big cities and small cities, going wherever there’s a lead. We have to take big and small tips in the same manner because no one knows what something small may snowball into. “The rest of you, train.”

I pull my cell out and check my messages. Nothing. “You should call her from the office line. She won’t have that number blocked,” Moose says over my shoulder.

“She has my number blocked?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I spoke with her the other day and she’s traveling this week. Manhattan, I think? Maybe L.A.? PR is gearing up for the release.” When he reads my face he adds, “She called me, bro.”

“I swear to God I will fucking kill you, Moose. End you—if you screw in this part of my life. Do you have feelings for Carina too? Do you want to adhere to polygamy just so you can fuck every woman I’ve ever been inside of?” It’s harsh and I know for a fact I’ve pissed him off. A few guys overhear and sidle in closer in case a punch is thrown. Fuck, I should throw a punch.

“Fuck you, Smith.”

I push his chest, and he stumbles backward but rights himself quickly. “I’ve stayed quiet for too long. You don’t get to ruin everything and talk to her too.”

He holds his palms out in front of his body. “I don’t want to fight you. I didn’t ruin anything that wasn’t already ruined. She’s not yours anymore, either. Like I said, she called me.”

Rage boils and I think I will hit him—clock this asshole in the face so many times that his face will never be considered pretty. “Why did she call you?”

He clears his throat. “Let’s get out of here. The gym, yeah? We can talk somewhere else,” he says, subtly glancing around us to force me to notice our audience. Everyone knows our business anyways, but he’s right. I don’t want to be the unstable bastard of the bunch. There’s always one. Brushing his shoulder on my way by, I storm out of the room and head for my locker. Someone catcalls, and another person growls. Goddamn animals.

Moose follows me. I hear his boots heavy on the cement floor.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend,” I say.

“I am your fucking best friend. I should have knocked you the fuck out in there, Smith. You’re raving mad.”

I turn. “I’ve lost everything. Everything.”

He shakes his head. We’re alone in the hallway leading to our cages. “You have your life. Or have you already forgotten how lucky you are to have that? I surely didn’t forget. You haven’t lost everything. She calls me to ask about you,” he whispers. His gaze turns serious.

“Isn’t that fucking bullshit? She forbids me from talking to her friends and yet she’s allowed to do whatever the hell she wants. She breaks up my engagement. Well, you both did that, and Carina gets to come out on the other side as the good guy.” I’m vibrating with anger. I’m going to hit something, and I don’t want it to be Moose. The wall is closest, and I punch it swiftly once. The crunch echoes and blood sprays everywhere, splattering against the white stucco.

“Jesus Christ. I won’t tell her that,” he says, shaking his head. “The fact she cares enough to call me is a good sign. Go over there. I have to get to the meeting room. We’re taking off tonight. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I growl. Grabbing my wounded fist, I pull it against my chest. “I’m going to call her from the office phone.”

“That’s a fabulous idea,” Moose says, using a tone you’d use with a child. “Smith. I’m sorry. As fucked up as it sounds, I kind of did you a favor. Until you realize that know I’m sorry. Okay?” He hasn’t said that to my face yet. Part of me doesn’t want to hear it, because it validates the fact that he disrespected our friendship. I meet his gaze only briefly. It’s enough to tell exactly what he’s apologizing for. Everything. “I’ll see you soon.” He clears his throat, unsure if I’m going to respond.

I nod. “Don’t mention it. Kick ass,” I reply.

He turns and leaves with a nod and smile. I’ve forgiven him and I’m not sure I had anything to forgive. He’s the better choice for Megan. I try to put my fists through solid walls because of Carina. It was never fair to hold on to Megan. I was selfish in my pursuit to honor Henry’s memory. I’m not ready to admit it, but Moose did do me a favor.

If I can’t be true to Henry with my final promise it makes me feel like he didn’t exist at all. As more and more time passes I can’t recall certain things about him and our friendship. His memory is fading from existence in the opposite way of his death. His death and life was swift. I’m grasping at straws of his being. Of his memory. To keep him alive I need to find my happiness. The way I see it, there’s only one way to obtain that.

The office door is unlocked and I head for the closest phone. I move a bag of almonds out of my way and dial to get an outside line. Like Moose said, Carina answers on the first ring. “Hello?” The number that pops up on her screen will seem odd: maybe only a few digits instead of a whole phone number. Horns blare in the background and there’s the static of people talking.

“Care,” I reply, breathing out deeply. I clear my throat.

“Ben, is that you?”

My heart drops.

“Where are you calling me from?”

“Who the fuck is Ben?” I ask.

She waits a beat of two, then says, “Smith. Where are you?”

“Answer my question first.”

“My boyfriend. What’s up? Did my attorney not give you what you needed? I told him to answer any questions you have.”

A female voice calls out for her. It must be Jasmine.

“You have to be joking,” I reply. The hand holding the receiver shakes. I look down at the blood on my hand to watch it roll off and onto the desk. He’ll forgive me. Whoever owns this desk has to forgive me. “To answer your question, I’m at work. I called you from here because you don’t answer my calls or texts coming from my cell phone.”

“I’ve been busy,” she says. Like that’s why she hasn’t answered. “Listen, I’m in Gaslamp right now. I’m about to go into a meet and greet at the bookstore. Was there something you needed?” Her play at nonchalance is too good. It’s ripping my heart out and slamming it back, like a rubber band vibrating. She’s not in N.Y.C. or L.A. She’s here. Close.

I clear my throat. “I need to see you.”

She remains silent for a while. I count my breaths. Nine. It takes her nine breaths to make a decision. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” She’s moved away to somewhere quieter. The background noise has vanished.

“Why? Your boyfriend won’t like it?” I’m so surprised about this turn of events I can’t get angry about it. Yet.

“Because I’m finally doing well. I’m afraid if I see you I won’t be able to control myself. I need to keep myself, Smith. I don’t think you realize what it’s taken to get over this. Whatever this was…with you. You have some idea because of Never Forever,” she explains.

“Don’t mention that, please.” That fucking book tore my heart out of my chest while making me long for her so badly that I couldn’t breathe. I read it three times in one week to see if it affected me differently when I wasn’t surprised by what happened next. It did. Because it was honest. That’s what makes it so good. The truth. That’s also what makes it so painful.

“Still upset about your character?” she asks, eager to change the subject.

“What you don’t realize is that this has been just as hard for me. Harder even. Forgetting you is impossible. And I’m not using some random girl to erase you. I need to see you, Carina. I’m glad you’re doing well, but I’m not. I need you.”

“It’s taken me a long time to come to this conclusion, and to have the courage to say this, but I’m not a second place woman. I’m not the woman you get to run back to because Megan left you for Moose. I want to be someone’s first choice—their only choice. Ben is my boyfriend, yes, but he doesn’t erase you. You’re still inside my soul like you’ll remain for the rest of time, but to Ben I’m number one. There’s not anyone else vying for his love. It’s not complicated. He has helped me get over you in some ways. Your hold was so strong that I couldn’t function in life. I’ve closed our chapter. Literally.”

I run my bloody hand through my hair as panic sets in. “Don’t say that. Never say that!” I yell. “You were never second place. I tried to do the right thing and I fucked up. You said you understood that. You were always first. Always. Never, not for a second since the day I met you was there any doubt that you were the one for me. I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You have to give me another chance. Think about us together. You won’t have that with anyone else.” It’s a bold statement, but one I think I can truthfully admit. She said so in the book.

“I gave you another chance and you still chose differently. I won’t even say you chose Megan because I don’t think it was her you were choosing. It could have been any person, really. You chose your promise to a dead man over your love for me. It’s not fair to put me in this twisted game. I’ve gotta go, okay?”

“Don’t hang up on me. I need you.” I feel out of control. Wild, even. I’m fearful what I’ll say and do next. I need to get out of here before I self-destruct.

“Smith, people are lined up to meet Greenleigh right now. It’s the pre-release meet and greet. I have to go. As much as Jasmine helps me, I don’t think she can pass for me when there’s a poster of my face behind the table. I have a date tonight with Ben, but maybe we can get together another time?” Another time is as good as a nail in the proverbial coffin.

“Sure,” I reply, voice monotone. “Goodbye, Greenleigh.” I hang up the phone softly, then taking it in both hands, I throw the fucker against the wall so hard it shatters into a million pieces. The door cracks when I slam it on my way out. I run out of the building so fast that people give me odd stares. I pay them no attention and I don’t respond when my brothers ask what’s up. They can’t help me right now.

When I pass a car in the parking lot, I catch sight of my reflection in the side window. Blood runs down my face from my knuckles. I’d forgotten. I take off my uniform jacket and wrap it around my hand in a makeshift bandage.

I’m supposed to be training right now, but there’s only one thing on my mind. One task I need to complete. I look like an insane psycho, but maybe it will add to the desperation of my plea.

****

There are so many people here. It makes me uneasy. I’m in work mode and personal mode at the same time and that’s a dangerous place to be. In uniform, I’m able to carry my weapon without issue, but my bloody appearance attracts a lot of attention. There are both men and women flooding the street outside of the bookstore. Parking was so crowded that I ended up in a lot several blocks away. It gave me a chance to scope out the situation from every angle. Two hundred people? Maybe even more? Some have copies of her book in their hands. Others clutch handbags.

Handbags are dangerous. I don’t remember hearing about any events this large in San Diego since 9/11. There is security here, but not enough. Uneasiness washes over me in spades. My anger transforms into fear for her safety. Fuck. I swallow down the terror and function in stealth mode. I’d give anything to have on civies right now. I slip my bloody jacket back on, remove my name tag and trident for anonymity, and run my hands over my face and hair to try to smear away the dried blood. I’m out of regulation, but it’s a chance I’m going to take.

I enter the back of the crowd and try to keep a scowl off my face as I assess threats. These people look harmless, but harmless is the new norm. I’ve hunted harmless for months now. It sends a shiver down my spine. I should call for backup, but I’m leading with my heart right now. I nod at a security guard, who narrows his eyes in my direction. When I’m close enough to the window, I chance a glance away from the crowd and see Carina sitting down at a small table in the center of the store. She looks like a sitting duck. A beautiful, stunning author who wrote a novel about a SEAL: a target. The prettiest target there ever was.

She fixes her hair, pulling it over one shoulder as Jasmine sits next to her and brushes an eyelash from the top of Carina’s cheek. She smiles, but I see a sadness in the pull of her mouth. From talking to me. I did that. It makes me happy and fucking miserable at the same exact time. I’m caught up in thoughts when the doors open. It’s like cattle pouring into a barnyard. Carina’s eyes widen as she sees the flood of people, and she smiles a false grin.

I watch her. Caught up in this moment viewing a woman I don’t know. The author. The person she’s hidden behind for so many years. Several security guards direct two groups of people to the sides and the line thins outside the door. Carina is already distracted talking to her visitors and signing books. I edge my way out of the line and head for the rear of the store. The door is propped open with a brick, which makes for easy access. I slide in undetected and let the door close to a locking position behind me. Now it’s secure. Lazy security guards are worthless here. Finding her is easy. The voices of all of her admirers are loud and raucous. Excitement reverberates the air. No one is worried about an attack. They’re just happy. It lets me calm down a touch.

Taking a deep breath, I count in my head until I’m no longer visibly upset. I push my way through the side of the crowd until I’m the next person in line. A few people groan, but no one says anything once they see my uniform, or realize my sheer size and appearance. Add in the blood and I might as well be a dirty video game character from Call of Duty 3.

“Next,” Jasmine says. They’re both so distracted their eyes aren’t even registering the people who are next in line. I walk up first before the person in the other group and hold out my arm to halt the woman who is supposed to meet Carina from that side. She takes a step back, eyes frightened. Perfect. This, right here, is me self-destructing.

I stop in front of her table and stare at the top of her head. She’s signing a flyer of some sort, ready to give it to the next person in line. Jasmine sees me first and her mouth opens in a small O. “Greenleigh,” I rasp.

Carina swallows and slowly tilts her face up. “Oh my God,” she whispers, covering her mouth. Tears form in her eyes immediately. “Are you okay?” My attempt at cleaning myself up didn’t work.

I shake my head. “I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay. Not since the moment I met you,” I reply. I place my hands on the table in front of me. The bloody one leaves a smear on the white tablecloth. Finally, two security guards approach, but they don’t touch me.

Jasmine stands and tells them it’s fine and leads them away to control the crowds. “I can’t do this right now, Smith,” she whispers, tears flowing unmercifully down her perfect face.

“Why not? Because of this?” I pick up one of the books on her table and hold it in the air. “This is just fiction. Right, Greenleigh?”

Carina sobs and covers her face. “I can’t.”

“Fine. You don’t have to. But I’m going to. I love you. I love you. I love you. You can’t love someone you never had,” I say, quoting her from Never Forever. “I disagree. Because I love you and I never had you. Not the way I was supposed to, anyways.”

She swallows, puts her hands down, but remains sitting. There are gasps from behind us and small rumblings of conversation begin in the masses. I turn toward them. A few women shirk back, afraid of what I’m going to do. I raise the book in the air again. “I love this woman more than anything in this godforsaken world. Before the attacks even, when the world was a beautiful place she was still the thing I loved the most. The only thing I wanted to keep. The only person I’ve ever loved so much that words fail to define my love,” I yell.

Several women start crying. Others put their hands over their mouths as they realize the magnitude of what is happening. “Is this part of the show? Is this a skit?” someone calls out. The smart thing to do would be to agree with this, that yes, it’s a show and I’m an actor hired to portray the asshole from her novel. I’m already in too deep. I dig in my heels.

I shake my head and turn to face Carina again. “No, this isn’t part of the show. This is real life. I love you and I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when I should have been. I made a mistake. You are the only thing I want. I need you. I do,” I say. I bring the book to lay it over my heart. “We are real. This book is fiction.”

She stands, keeping her gaze aimed at my face. “Oh, Smith. I can’t believe you’re doing this right now.”

“I wanted your attention,” I call out.

“You got it. And the hundreds of people here.” She nods to the camera to our right. “And the millions that will see this on television.”

My heart skips a beat. I didn’t see the camera. I was too transfixed with her proximity. It’s surreal being this close to her after all this time.

“I’m the douchebag in this book!” I shout. People cheer—shouts and hoots of praise and boos of disapproval.

Carina hangs her head. “I love you too,” she whispers quietly. “You douchebag.”

“Forever?” I ask.

Her chest rises and falls quickly, nervous behavior from a woman who is making one of the most important decisions of her life. Her lips pressed in a firm line, they curl up in the corner. “And always.”

We stare at each other, the table separating us. I catch my breath and she loses hers. “I need to do something then.”

Carina shakes her head, laughing, her tears changing from sad to happy. “Go ahead. You have a captive audience.” She leans closer, assuming I’m going to kiss her. Instead, I take the book in my hand and flip to page 452, the beginning of the end, and rip the last forty pages from the book.

With wide eyes and mouth ajar Carina watches. I crumple them with my right fist, the one still leaking blood everywhere and throw the pages on the floor. Then I hop over the table and take her in my arms.

“This is the ending,” I whisper so only she can hear.

She blinks away a tear and like autopilot, her arms rise up to hook around my neck. I close my eyes, breathe her in, and relish this moment like it may be my last. She reaches up, I bring my head down, and she presses her lips against mine in a kiss that fixes everything.

I’m holding, tasting, feeling her—my home. My love. My life. “My God, this feels so good,” I say, pulling away.

Her eyes are still closed. “I can’t believe it feels like this. After everything.”

I nod in agreement.

Carina leans away to look at me. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

“You committed book murder,” she says.

Grinning widely, I say, “You did first.”

She lifts and lowers one shoulder. “You should acknowledge your fans, Smith.” It’s only now that I hear the applause and the loud screams. With Carina in my arms, I turn around.

“I’m not the douchebag anymore!” I yell.