Chapter Eleven

Tahoe

“I have to do it,” I say, a sheen of sweat cropping up across my hairline. Leif is on the other end of the phone. “Can I leave next week?” I have dinner with Caroline’s parents tonight and I really, really don’t want to miss it. We’ve jumped out of the airplane about eight times today. It was the stress relief I’ve needed. It’s the adrenaline I’ve craved. My muscles are coiled hard and my mindset is intense.

“Yeah, next week shouldn’t be a problem,” Leif says, rattling off details about the mission I’m needed on. One of my brother’s in San Diego has business to attend to and I’m needed to go fill in for him. It should be a quick mission—one that is in and out, and has me back to Bronze Bay in a few weeks. They’re confident I’ve had enough time away to jump back into the game if only for a bit. My shooting is still top notch, and if anything, my mind is clearer now than it’s ever been. As Leif tells me about the terrorist quad we’re hunting in N.Y.C., I let my gaze trace the vast landscape of the airport until I see her. She’s been ghosting around all day—staying out of our way almost completely. She’s wearing that fucking white dress and a pair of Converse sneakers, her hair up in a massive bun on top of her head, arms full of some sort of metal piece that looks half the size of her body. Aidan rushes to help her carry the part the rest of the way into a hangar. She lets him.

“Three weeks, you said?” I ask, when there’s a lull on the other end of the line.

He grunts. “Yeah, maybe longer, but you saw the intel last week. They can’t have moved very far.” When Leif called today, I knew exactly who they were going after. We may be on the opposite coast, living in small town, U.S.A. but they do a good job of keeping us up to speed. “It will be a quick flight from Bronze Bay, so you can leave any time of the day, really, especially now that we have our planes and pilot there,” Leif explains. After a beat or two he adds, “You’re going to miss your puppy. Awww.”

“Shut the fuck up, Leif,” I retort. “I can’t wait to get back in it. I’ve been out of the game so long.”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t having the time of your fucking life here. With her,” he throws back. “You are constantly smiling like a lunatic and your testosterone levels are at an all-time low. Don’t fuck up again. Before, it was because you were overworked. Now, it would be because you’re underworked and underfucked,” he says, changing our conversation completely. Not for long, I muse. Readjusting the parachute harness caging my chest, I look back at the hangar. Aidan and Caroline are laughing about something. Her white smile visible from here, and Aidan’s body language says everything. He touches her arm before bending over to touch a part on whatever the fuck thing Caroline is working on. “Fuck you, Leif,” I mutter, then click off the call.

With deadly purpose, I march toward the hangar. Mentally flipping through all the jealous insults I can’t say for fear of being judged by my friend, and they would offend Caroline in a way I’d never dream of.

Their backs are toward me when I stop at the wide opening. “You didn’t reply to my text,” I growl. A greeting would be too easy, too simple.

Aidan spins first, his eyes wide, and fists clenched and ready. Caroline merely turns her head, a wide, lovesick smile on her face when she sees me. Guilt washes away any trace of envy.

Her cheeks pink as she stands and covers her mouth with a dainty, grease covered hand. “The phone,” she exclaims. “It’s in my bed. I’m not used to carrying something like that around with me. I’m so sorry. You messaged me?” Her blue eyes are clear and hopeful. If Aidan didn’t realize I had her so completely before, he does now—his narrowed eyes and pinched mouth a clear indicator of defeat. “What does it say?” she says, lowering her hand to show black streaks now on her face.

I tilt my head toward my friend. “We’re in mixed company right now,” I say as an explanation. “Read it later.”

“Aidan knows a lot about airplanes. I didn’t realize that jumping out of them and working on them went hand in hand,” she explains looking between us.

“Not all of us have that kind of interest,” Aidan replies, a small smirk appearing as he looks at Caroline. “I’ve always loved aircrafts.”

“Why didn’t you become a Navy Pilot then?” she asks, genuinely curious.
We both scoff. This is common ground. “SEALs have more fun,” Aidan says, relaying both of our sentiments, exactly. “It’s the hardest thing you can do in the Navy.”

She shuffles one foot forward and backward. “It’s not like you guys are having that much fun here,” she says, but it’s more of a question. “I had the news on last night and there’s a lot going on over on the West Coast. SEALs are always handling something it seems.”

She looks up at me. “Not that I watch the news very often, but I was curious.”

Aidan says something about how he’s glad he’s in Florida because of the operation tempo. “There’s plenty of stuff going on that’s not on the news, Caroline. We’re all happy to be here for more than one reason.”

Aidan clears his throat. “I’ll see you next Friday,” he says, gaze lingering on her face longer than I’m comfortable with. She responds with her sweet smile. “I’ll have this part taken apart by then. You can take a look when you have down time,” she says, gazing at the huge metal piece like a mad scientist. Aidan says goodbye, lets his eyes slide to me briefly, and exits into the sunshine.

“You forgave him awful quickly,” I growl.

She spins, a screw driver in one hand and the other perched on her hip. “Well, he does know a lot about airplanes. That sped things up a touch. Women never forget, Tyler,” she says, using my given name, sending a shock of lust to my dick.

Swallowing, I let my eyes skirt down her midsection down her tan, bare legs. “Why are you wearing a dress to do work? It’s almost as if you’re showing off for someone.”

Her lips form a thin line. “Just because I’m a woman who can turn a wrench doesn’t mean I’m not a woman. It is too hot for pants. Shorts are restricting. Plus, I was in the office going through accounting stuff for most of the morning.”

“Don’t make excuses on my behalf,” I reply, grinning. “Unless you say you wore it for me. Because you know how much I want to fuck you when you have it on.”

Her blue eyes widen the moment her mouth pops open. “Is that what the text message said?” she says, voice a small whisper.

I move in, and use my thumb to try to smear the black grease spot off her face. “In some form or another. Yes,” I reply. Caroline licks her lips. Sighing, I say, “What time is dinner? I have a dumpster arriving at the B and B in a couple hours,” I say, looking at my watch. Now that I have the mission, I have a lot of planning to do and not a second to waste. “I’ll pick you up after and we can ride up the hill together?”

She grins. “You’re catching on.”

I shrug. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“The kind that kisses his girlfriend even though she’s covered in grease?” she replies. My heart does that melty thing it tends to do anytime she says something so sweet. Leif is right, my fucking testosterone is being demolished a little day by day.

Leaning over, I press my lips against hers. She tastes like fresh air, and the indescribable scent that is…Caroline. She pulls closer, but I don’t let her, breaking the kiss before it truly begins. It gets harder and harder to remember why I wanted to wait to fuck her. Quite literally. “Tonight after dinner, how about we go a little faster? Your place?” I say, tone low. “I need more of you.” Does she know what it costs to ask? That it causes me physical pain to not have her in all ways?

“A little faster?” she asks, breathless, dropping the screwdriver on the cement floor to place both hands on my chest. “What does that mean exactly?”

My breaths come quicker as her question sparks a million ideas of what I want to do to her and with her. “It means you trust me not to fuck you tonight.”

She nods, complete compliance, utter infatuation with the idea of fucking me. It’s so obvious anyone can see it. I wish Aidan was here right now. “Careful with Aidan,” I say.

She smirks. “I only want you.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t try.” He’s a solid player—weaseling in at any sign of interest. I’d pat him on the back on a normal day. Now, I’ll sleep with both eyes open.

“Stake your claim,” she retorts.

I raise my eyebrows. “Okay then.”

She swallows hard, and backs away. “You’re finished jumping for the day?”

I nod. “See you in a bit.”

“I’m going to clean up,” she replies.

“Not too much,” I say, biting my bottom lip as my eyes drop to the hem of her dress. “I like you dirty.”

Turning, I adjust my uncomfortable hard on, and head back to my troop. Tonight. Tonight. Tonight. The beast, the old Tahoe can come out to play, just a little. Enough to give her pleasure and enough to tamp down the lust coursing through my veins.

Just the tip.

****

May cracks another joke about the military. He doesn’t mean to be offensive, it’s just that jokes are the only things these people know about the military. With the closest large base four hours away, little trickles down this far. Caroline, wearing another goddamn sundress, sits next to me at the long table in a fine dining room. Her mom buzzes around the room clearing dishes and refilling glasses that are perfectly full.

“Mama,” Caroline croons. “Sit down. You’re not working right now, remember?” It’s a reminder her mom responds to. She takes her seat opposite me, and settles in to take a bite of pasta that’s probably cold.

“How was the air today, Tyler?” May asks, sipping his Budweiser from a tall, iced glass. “Looked mighty fine from the ground.”

I nod. “It was good flying today. We got in almost a dozen jumps. I think once a week will be perfect. Thank you again for letting us use the airport. The space is perfect.” Caroline’s hand snakes over to squeeze my upper thigh. Either she’s worried about me talking about work or she can’t keep her hands off me. “Our pilot was pleased with the set up and everyone was happy.”

“How could we possibly say no to the generous offer?” he chortles. Caroline looks down. I knew it was a foregone conclusion when we made the monetary offer, but leave it to her to string me along for a glorious month. The month she made me fall for her due to sheer stubbornness.

Leaning back in my seat, I wrap one arm around Caroline’s wooden chair back. “I’m not sure you could have refused,” I reply, glancing from May to Caroline. “We wanted it pretty badly.”

“You sure did, son. And because of it we don’t have to worry about the bills anymore!” he exclaims loudly, one hand slapping the table.

Caroline shakes her head, laying a hand across her forehead. “Daddy. Subtlety has never been your strong suit. He’s a business partner now. Try to be professional.”

In that moment, the switch is thrown. Dad mode. “A business partner is he? That why your hand is on his leg, is it? Why we’re eating dinner together as a family, huh? That why he looks at you like you hung the moon? He’s a business partner then? Nothing more than that?” May dares her to challenge him, a narrowed grimace on his face. When Caroline takes a small bite of food he says, “That’s what I thought.”

“Tell us about yourself Tyler. Other than the glowing praise Caroline has given you, we don’t know who you are,” Mrs. May says, taking this as a prime opportunity to ask the hard questions. Clearing my throat, I set down my fork. “Well, ma’am, I grew up all over the world. My father is a Navy man himself. We never lived in any one place longer than a couple of years. They’ve settled in Chico, California.” I lift and lower one shoulder. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters by blood, but the Teams have given me a slew of brothers.” Mrs. May is smiling when I finish my explanation, and I hope that’s as much as I’ll have to talk about my career path.

“Taking up after your Daddy. I like that,” Mr. May says, glancing to his daughter with a fond look. “You’re liking Bronze Bay then? Going to hang around for a while?”

Caroline snakes her hand away, and clasps her hands in her lap. “It’s hard for some to fathom why someone like me would like to stay in a small town in Florida, but when you’ve lived the life I’ve lived, sir, you begin to appreciate the small, important things in life. You know when you have a good thing. A perfect thing. A beautiful thing. Something you want to keep,” I explain, reaching under the table to take her hand in mine. “Bronze Bay opened my eyes to a whole new way of life. I love it here.”

“Love is a pretty strong word,” Mrs. May declares, her mouth quirking up in one corner. “It is a lovely place, though. We do know that Caroline loves Bronze Bay as much as we do.”

Caroline tucks a strand of blonde, wild hair behind her ear. “Though I’m thinking I’d like to see other places.”

“Oh,” May asks. “You always said no sense flying anywhere when you couldn’t get back the same day. This man got you thinking about branching out a bit?”

She swallows hard. “His stories are pretty amazing,” Caroline says meekly. “Things I’d like to see for myself, that’s all. Not on a screen, but with my own eyes.”

It’s the first she’s mentioned it, not that I’m surprised. She has the flying bug. I’m sure it’s only a small nudge to create a traveling bug, too. “We could start in New York?” I say.

“Really?” she says, eyes lighting.

“That’s not safe. It’s not safe at all in them, there big cities,” Mr. May remarks.

Mrs. May lays a hand on his arm. “She’ll be with Tyler, honey. How much safer could she possibly be?” At least mama bear catches on quickly.

I put one hand on my chest. “I’d never let anything happen to Caroline, Sir. Trust that. I’d protect her with my own life.”

You could hear a pin drop in that living room. The crickets chirping outside make their presence known in our acute silence. Caroline is staring at me, bottom lip pouting out. I’d kiss her if we weren’t sitting at her parents table, and by the way she licks her lips, she knows it. “I haven’t told you about the trip I have to take next week. How about we fly up there a little early and check it out?”

Her eyes slant down in the corner. “Oh, you’re leaving?” Her mom and dad are talking to each other, ostensibly about Caroline going to New York and my credentials of caring for her safety.

I squeeze her hand. “For a few weeks. A quick trip. It will be like I’m not even gone.”

Her eyes widen. “Three weeks is a quick trip?”

A rumble of a laugh shakes my body, I touch her arm lightly. “I won’t have to do this a lot. I’m kind of, ah, filling in for someone. Don’t worry,” I coax. “Hey, what do you say? Do you want to go paint the town red with me? It will be a quick flight. You can even fly us if you want to scare me again.”

She smiles. “How can I say no to that?” I release her when I realize every single word and move are being scrutinized by her parents. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Caroline is still caught up in us, so she isn’t aware.

“I found out today,” I say loudly, including everyone in the conversation. “We have a block of rooms at a very nice, very safe hotel in Manhattan. I assure you despite our presence there, that city is one of the most protected in the country. The problems we’ll be dealing with are on the outskirts.” Lie. Lie. Lie. “You’ve never been there, right?” I ask Caroline.

Shaking her head, she says, “Of course not! Shirley is going to die when I tell her. She’s always wanted to go! Oh my gosh.” A woman who flies airplanes, but hasn’t visited a bustling city mere hours away boggles my mind, but I’m learning. Caroline has quirks and hang-ups like any other woman. Hers are just, not as…normal. Or, at least not what I’m used to.

“She can come if she wants,” I offer, hoping she declines. The prospect of having her all to myself in a different atmosphere fills me with anticipation. “I can show you both around. I’ve been there quite a lot over the years. There’s so much to see,” I explain.

“He goes from business partner to showing our baby around one of the biggest cities in the world,” May says, tone droll.

“Now, now, dear. Remember the time we went to the city? How much fun we had? I think it will be an amazing experience for her.”

Caroline interrupts. “I’m not a baby, daddy. Not even close. I’m a full-grown woman capable of touring a big city all by myself if I wanted to.” She wouldn’t do that, we all know that. May nods his head, because even he knows when not to push a woman. “I’d love to go with you, Tahoe,” Caroline says, sliding her head to meet my gaze, and then bounces back to look at her mom. “As long as mama can live without me at the diner.”

Her mom squints, like Caroline’s words sting her on soul level. “Of course, the diner can live without you. Never feel like the restaurant is holding you back, honey.”

Mr. May clears his throat. “You should know better. Your mama can replace you anytime you want. We both know you’re going to want to spend more time at the airport as I ease my way out. We were expecting you to call it quits before now to be honest. You’ve been so busy working on that apartment, and with hurricane season approachin’ you’re about to get even busier I’d reckon.”

Caroline looks down at her lap and our entwined hands. “If you say so,” she replies softly.

“Whatever you want, darlin’,” Mrs. May says. “You definitely need to go on that trip. Shirley can cover for you when I can’t.”

Mr. May swigs back the rest of his beer. “You’ll take care of her then?” he asks.

I hold up my hand, palm facing outwards. “On my honor, sir.”

He nods. I nod back. Mrs. May laughs, and claps her hands together. “This is such exciting news. I knew you were going to be a good thing for her, I didn’t imagine you’d be the one to open up the world.”

“Her world is already open. I’m excited to show her another piece of it,” I reply, using caution with my words. When I dated Stella, I was constantly reminded that words matter. As infuriating and frustrating it was to get my language just so, I suppose the usefulness carried over. Words are, quite literally, forever.

Caroline sulks, arms folded, bottom lip inside her mouth. “You approve then?” she says. A beat or two passes before I realize she’s asking her parents if they approve of me.

“We know he’s capable of making you happy,” May says, looking at me. “Maybe he doesn’t fly planes, but he jumps out of them so I guess that counts for something.”

“He commits,” Mrs. May announces, interrupting her husband. My palms sweat at her proclamation, but isn’t that exactly what I did from the moment I decided to befriend Caroline? First, I committed to infiltrating her life—getting the airport. Next came the complicated part, deciding she was worth the risk. The ultimate commitment.

“Mom, please. That’s presumptuous,” Caroline whispers.

She tsks in response. “You are a gem. A prize in this world. We spoke about this already. I think you two make a terrific couple and we’re happy for you. Commitment is important, honey. It’s what separates the men from the boys.” Mrs. May glances at me, winking slyly.

I’m sure the gesture is her rendition of a threat and that’s all well and good, but I don’t need her threats. The threat looming inside my chest is enough to propel me into this relationship full steam ahead.

When I was growing up, I was aware I was an all or nothing type of boy. That quality carried over to my teens, and then my carousing in adulthood. Merely joining the Navy like my Dad wasn’t good enough. I needed to work my way into the most elite tier of the military. I was all in. When I was hunting pussy, I was all in. When any goal presented itself, I crushed it. It’s a strong character trait on a good day and a debilitating disease the next. Right now, I’ve committed to making sure Caroline’s heart is cared for properly. Fucking her too soon and I’m doing a disservice to her and to my own intentions. Waiting too long, and I’m asking for trouble from every other swinging dick in this town that wants a piece of her. Middle ground is what I’m searching for and hoping to land on. Tonight. After this dinner.

“She’s right,” I say to Caroline. “You are a gem.” Her cheeks flush and she looks down to her lap again.

Mrs. May, laughs, pleased I’m siding with her. “You are such a flatterer,” Caroline mutters. Then she asks me for details about the NYC trip. I tell her and the rest of the table as much as I know, and can. “Can we go to Central Park?” she asks

I nod. “There’s a deli next to the park that I go to anytime I’m in town. You’ll love it,” I say.

“When you get back hurricane season starts,” Mr. May says, reminding her of her airport duties. That peaks her interest and it isn’t long before she’s lost in conversation about storms and airplanes and weather. Sort of like my grandparents who like to banter about the chance of rain on a Wednesday afternoon. While they talk, I help Mrs. May clear the table, stacking as many dishes as possible before entering the kitchen behind her.

“You’re a natural,” she jokes, taking the top plate that has a glass balancing on it. “If you need a waiting job. I know where you can find one.”

I grin, and I see her face change, and I know whatever she has to say next isn’t something she relishes talking about. “I’m afraid I can’t be employed outside of the Navy, ma’am.”

“That’s a shame,” she says, eyes downcast into the sink filled with soapy water. “What are your plans for the bed and breakfast?” she asks, moving a sponge against a plate.

There it is. The foreigner encroaching upon local land. “That’s an awful big house for just…you,” she adds, looking at me square on.

Telling her I had plans to tear it down and build a single-family home seems like a bad idea, so I go with the truth. “Well I’m just going to fix it up first, Ma’am. It needs a lot of work. I haven’t really thought much past that. The time I spend with it will give me some indication of what I want to do with it.”

“That’s a big purchase to not have firm plans,” she exclaims.

I swallow hard. “It was a shame it was sitting there empty, don’t you agree? Someone had to buy it. Why not me?”

“Are you going to flip it? Fix it up and sell it?” Now her question makes even more sense.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m sticking around here,” I say. I tell her that I put the offer on the property when I first arrived—that I knew I could make it brighter and more beautiful than it has been in the past. “The house is just a house. Bronze Bay is my home now. This is just my second hand slice of paradise.”

Her smile seems genuine. “She’s plum crazy about you, son. I hope that you will stick around. The men around here don’t understand her. I’ve always been a little proud about that. Thinking maybe she would move away one day and find her match elsewhere. Being tied to a small town has both its ups and downs.” She places the plate into the drying rack and starts washing another. “I don’t want to frighten you off or anything. Don’t think that.”

I run my hands through my hair. “It takes a lot to scare me off,” I reply. “Have any photo albums of Caroline as a teenager?” I joke.

She laughs, and Caroline clears her throat from behind me. I spin to meet her harried gaze. “What are you guys talking about? Only good things hopefully,” she says, grabbing me around the waist. “Daddy thinks it’s going to be a bad season this year,” she adds.

“Don’t change the subject. We were talking about scaring me off,” I tell her, setting my big hands over hers.

Caroline’s mother looks on fondly and I try to keep my dick in check. It has no clue we’re in her parent’s house. “I wasn’t awful looking as a teenager,” she cries. “Let me show you something cooler.” She pulls on my arm and I follow her to a window next to a smaller table inside the kitchen.

“The hill,” I say, nodding toward the steep decline.

“The famous hill,” Caroline chimes in, releasing me a touch.

She points down the hill and through a copse of trees. “My hangar,” she says. You can’t see her parents’ house from her hangar, but you can definitely see her house from here. It’s the angle. The distance between the two is more than you’d guess.

“Because the property is close to the airfield with planes taking off and landing they got an amazing deal on the house and all of this land.” It looks like they own half of this tiny city from where I’m standing.

“While this is a nice view and all,” I whisper into her ear. “I’d really like to be looking out of your window right now.” I have one arm wrapped around her waist—a heavy weight showing her how much I want to be on her in every way possible. “Except without clothes on,” I add, so softly I wonder if she’s heard me. Telltale pink cheeks tell me her truth.

“Dessert first?” she squeaks, turning to glance at her parents. Mr. May is drying dishes and Mrs. May is prattling on about the NYC trip while she tops a pie with whipped cream. The fact that they have a dishwasher, but wash dishes together tells me something about them as people.

If you pay attention you can know someone without speaking a word. Part of my training as a SEAL is reading people’s body language and expressions. The phrase actions speak louder than words was never more true than when I discovered how easily people can be deciphered. It’s when my heart gets mixed in that my radar is fucked. Caroline confounds me constantly and profusely, yet I want to unravel her one thread at a time.

Swallowing hard, I reply, “As long as you’re on the menu for second dessert.” My chest squeezes a little, knowing I’m finally going to be having a piece of her I’ve never had before.

“Don’t mind my mom about that commitment stuff. She doesn’t know that we’re going slow,” she says, facing the window once again, trying her best to brush off my come on. “Don’t let her scare you. Even if you say you aren’t, I don’t see how it wouldn’t.” Licking her bottom lip, she chances a quick glance up at my face.

“Caroline,” I say her name like a curse word and a scold at the same time. Both of her parents turn to look.

“Pie?” Mrs. May says, a chipper, hopeful smile on her face.

“Yes, of course, mama. We’ll be right in.”

May grabs a newspaper and vanishes into the dining room after his wife. Taking her by her elbows, I spin her toward me. “Do you honestly think I’m afraid of committing to you?” I ask, eyes narrowed.

She shrugs, both shoulders. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Isn’t that what men typically do these days? Have problems with staying with one girl. With the exception of the few good ones, most of the guys I know are like Whit.”

“Whit is an idiot,” I return. “He’s also an asshole.”

She grins, pulling her bottom lip with her thumb and forefinger. “Sort of,” she replies.

“Are you defending him,” I ask, rumbling with mock outrage.

She smiles wider. “What if I am?”

“Then I’ll have to kill him.”

She drops her lip and looks at me, eyes wide, a horrified grimace transforming her beautiful face. “I’m joking, Caroline. I’m not going to kill him.”

I have to give her credit for making a valiant attempt at masking her terror.

“I knew that,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Glancing at the door to make sure we’re truly alone, I settle my hands on either side of her ribcage and look her straight in her piercing blue eyes. “There’s always a point in life, a moment that stands out as the one. The moment that changes things—forces you to realize that despite what you want, the world is giving you something else. I wanted the airport. Yes,” I admit, pulling her closer. Lowering my voice even further, I say, “Then I danced with you in front of your window. The moonlight. Your voice when you asked what I would do if you took off your dress. The way I walked away. That was a moment when I realized I could thrive within the parameters of restraint. Because I want you. All of you. For as long as you’re willing to offer yourself to me.”

She breathes out deeply, alternating her gaze between my eyes and lips.

“We can define the word commitment if you want, but to me? That’s fucking commitment.” I shake my head. “I don’t want anyone else. There isn’t anyone else for me.”

“Pie is getting cold,” May bellows from the other room. Caroline looks like she’s about to reply, but then thinks better of it.

Taking me by the arm, she holds my hand. “Thank you for saying that,” Caroline says as we take our seat and dig into the pie. Part of me wonders if she thinks I’m saying it to say it, that I don’t truly mean what I’ve said. The fact I want in her pants so badly can’t lend to my advantage. What would I say at this point if it meant I could fuck her in to next week? The answer comes quickly: anything.

Escaping work conversation was easy before, but now they’re asking more specific questions about the attacks and it’s hard to share stories without getting too graphic or striking a nerve. Everyone has a story about what they were doing when the terror attacks rocked our world, and fundamentally changed America. I was already a SEAL and if I’m being honest, we pray for work, action, a place to showcase our skills. That being said, no one wanted something so severe and life altering to happen. Caroline tells the story about how she was in the diner, serving at the counter when the television in the corner started replaying scenes of explosions and destruction in different cities across America and around the world. In her initial confusion, she dropped a steak knife and was cut. She moves the hem of her dress up more than I am comfortable with at the moment and shows the thin, red scar from the cut.

Mr. May was at the airport when he got a call from his wife who was having lunch with a friend two towns over. It helps that the attack connects us all even if it’s in a terrifying way. It happened. We can’t undo it so we move forward. Together. More unified as a country than we’ve ever been.

Caroline cuts off the conversation when Mr. May asks about what type of missions I’ve been on. She looks at me curiously, as if she really wants to know the answer, but in the end isn’t ready to hear it. The only people I talk about this stuff with are my brothers and my father after he’s had a few too many beers. Our relationship was strengthened through our patriotism, and the bond reinforced by our commitment to serve our nation in good times and in bad.

Instead of waxing poetic about war, I tell them a story from my father’s glory days and that appeases them.

“We have to get down the hill,” Caroline blurts during a lull in conversation. Standing, she clears our pie plates and hugs her mother.

May stands, wobbles a little because he’s downed another Budweiser, and goes to shake my hand. “I’m proud to have you dating my daughter,” he says. “The airport and the skydiving aside, I’m glad you’re going to take care of my sweet Caroline.” His jaw ticks.

Swallowing hard, I made my departure with the weight of expectation weighing on my mind. We rode here on our bikes, and now that the sun has set, Caroline leads because she has one of those weird lights beaming on the front of her bicycle.

I’m left pedaling behind her on a well-worn path leading down to the airport. You can see the road off to the side. The absence of cars doesn’t surprise me anymore, but it does remind me how different my life is now. The trip to N.Y.C. to use my God-given skills is probably a well needed dose of reality—it will remind me of who I am at the very least. Caroline calls back to tell me to watch out for a tree root protruding from the ground, but it’s too late and I hit the damn thing at full speed and tumble off the bike.

I only stop rolling, because my body slams against a small tree. By that time, Caroline has stopped and is walking her bike back up to me.

“I told you!” she cries, looking me up and down. “Are you hurt? Your arm is bleeding!” Her voice echoes off the trees. “I knew we should have ridden the road instead,” she muses to herself. “Let me see the cut,” she orders, taking my arm into her hands.

“Only my pride is wounded,” I sigh. “It’s a scratch.”

She shakes her head. “This bike is too small for you. You need to look into a bike for a giant or something. It was only a matter of time before this happened. Anytime I see you on the thing it looks like you’re teetering on the edge of disaster.” It’s cute how she’s fawning all over me, so I let her. “Tahoe, you could have killed yourself!”

“Sunny, you called out the warning about ten seconds too late,” I say, smiling. “You’d be a horrible SEAL.” I lean up to a sitting position and eye my bike. The front wheel is bent. “I might need a new bike though.”

She laughs. “I called out the warning in plenty of time,” she argues. “You were probably looking at my ass or something instead of paying attention to the trail.”

Now it’s my turn to cackle. I make a big production of standing and then fake limping over to my bike. “What hurts?” she asks, practically yelling. “You need x-rays, don’t you? It’s because my parents approved of you, isn’t it? You’re sabotaging everything!” It’s one of the few times I’ve seen Caroline joke around.

My bike leans to one side. “Well, you’re the one that didn’t believe I was committed.” Taking off my shirt, I press it against my bicep to catch the blood before it drips down onto my jeans. Jeans don’t get washed but once a month. I’d hate for a little blood to move that date up. I have standards to uphold.

Caroline’s gaze drops to my bare midsection. Clearing her throat, she says, “Here’s the thing, I know we are supposed to mess around tonight, but I think we should have a discussion about expectations first.” I pull the shirt off my arm and examine the cut. The bleeding has stopped for the moment.

“Oh,” I ask, raising one brow. “What with my injury and all?” I joke. “I can assure you this arm is fully functional. I’ve been through worse.” Tossing my shirt over one shoulder, I start rolling my mangled bike down the path.

She looks away and then down to the ground. “We need to get it cleaned up as soon as we get home.” I like how she says home. Like I belong there as much as she does. I’ve lived in a lot of places, but no place has ever embedded itself deep enough to be considered home; not even the one I built. My friends who have wives and long term girlfriends say it happens when a person becomes home. I didn’t know what they meant until now. Caroline feels like home.

The outside hangar lights hit our bodies like spotlights and it’s a short distance to park our bikes before we head inside. The first thing she does when she closes the apartment door behind us is go into her bathroom to grab her first aid kit. I sit on the sofa because I know what comes next, and I know not to argue about anything she feels the need to do.

She clears her throat and dabs the cut with a piece of gauze. The scent of the medical grade cloth makes my heart pound. My mouth waters and I close my eyes, trying to inhale her scent, any scent, other than the cloth. I’m not in another country. I am not in a hospital bed. I am not getting bullet holes tended. No. I’m sitting in Caroline’s house. Deep breaths. Then one more.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head,” Caroline asks, putting a hand on the top of my pec muscle.

Opening my eyes, I’m met with blatant concern pooling in her clear, see-through soul eyes. This is another of those moments. The urge to lie is there, but if I don’t, it means something. “I didn’t hit my head,” I say, leaning over to peck her lips quickly.

Caroline nods softly, almost as if she doesn’t believe me. “The scent of the gauze,” I mutter, swallowing down the terror. “It reminds me of other times I’ve been hurt.”

She takes it away from my body, and puts it behind her back. “You don’t have to hide it,” I say, smiling widely. “I’m okay. You’re the one holding it. You could be stabbing me with a knife right now and I’d be okay.”

Tentatively, she brings the gauze back up to my arm. “If you’re sure. I’m almost finished cleaning it. Do a lot of things trigger bad memories?” she asks, not meeting my eyes.

“I don’t know until I stumble upon something that reminds me of something else. The scent of a hospital is pretty awful. Fireworks and sewage, too.”

Caroline crinkles her nose, leaning away from me. “We travel in the sewage lines to find targets. One time it took far longer than it should have and evidently my body revolts now,” I explain. She opens a bandage and applies it with the softest touch. “I can’t pump cesspool on a build. That’s a messy job anyways.”

“You’re all fixed,” Caroline declares. “I’m sorry about the gauze. I wouldn’t have used it if I’d known.”

“It’s fine. I meant it. I’m not a woman. I don’t say it’s fine when really I’m a bomb of emotional destruction. I’m really fine. Now you know one of my weaknesses.”

She sighs. “If only that were the case,” she says, wadding up the used medical supplies in her fist. “You are pretty perfect in every single way. So you don’t like the smell of gauze. A lot of people don’t like the scent of hospitals. Tell me something awful, Tyler Holiday. What is your greatest flaw?”

“Deep questions tonight, huh?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll go first. I live inside my head too much. It keeps me from truly living. I mask it by piloting planes and throwing myself into projects full speed ahead. Because really, how can a woman who flies planes, be scared of everything else?” Caroline says, standing from the sofa. I watch her through narrowed eyes. Her chest rises and falls as she confesses her truths, eyes brimming with tears. “A man like you isn’t scared of anything so it’s hard for me to rationalize what you see in me. My fear is that I’m your project. You’ll fix me and then leave me.” Taking a few steps away from me, she lets her gaze flit to every part of my body.

I stand, towering over her. “My greatest flaw? That’s what you want?”

She shakes her head. “It’s what I need,” she amends.

I look out the large window, setting my hands on my hips. “In a job interview you’d have to say something like, I’m too ambitious, or I am a workaholic. In this instance, I think my flaw is simple,” I say, my voice cracking on the last word. Shrugging, I slip my hands into my pockets, my arm stinging from whatever ointment Caroline smeared on me. She’s rapt, waiting for me to confide in her. “I’m mediocrity’s greatest opponent.”

“Explain,” she whispers, folding her arms across her chest.

I cross to her, until I’m close enough to see the freckles sprinkled across her small, perfect nose. “I have to be perfect. Or whatever my mind deems as perfection. I don’t do halfway. My moral compass is set to one standard. Perfection,” I growl, shaking my head. “If I can’t do something flawlessly, I won’t do it.”

Under her thick lashes, her eyes search my face for reason. She won’t find it, though. I know this flaw is something no one will understand unless they are like me. “That’s a little…intimidating,” Caroline croaks.

I brush her hair back so I can study the planes of her face, the high cheekbones, the bow of her top lip, an errant scar that marks the spot on top of her eyebrow. I lose my breath. “No, you’re intimidating,” I growl, bringing my lips to the tip of her nose. She slides her hands up to rest on my stomach and my body jolts from her touch—everything springing alive with ferocious desire.

“I’m not flawless,” she says.

“You’re my definition of flawless.” I let my hands skirt the small part of her waist. “I’m going to take you into the bedroom now,” I say, my heart hammering out a goddamn symphony.

Biting her bottom lip, she grins. “Can you do that perfectly?”

The feral look in her eyes calls to me, tells to me eat her alive. “Fuck yes, I can.” I scoop her up—her light weight in my arms a reminder how delicate and precious this human is to me.

I lay her down on the light pink bed and take in the sight.

“Come kiss me,” she says.

With one hand on either side of her body, I hold all of my weight up for fear of destroying this crystalized moment. Lowering my head, I rub my lips across hers back and forth a few times before taking her mouth in a kiss. I close my eyes and bask in the feelings. When I open them as I pull away from the kiss, she opens her eyes—a hazy, longing urging to give her more.

The words come before I can stop them. “I’m falling for you, Caroline May.”

Her smile is beatific, something that simultaneously takes my breath away and gives me life. “I’m flying for you, Tahoe Holiday.”