A SEAL's Heart (2 page)

          Fitz dropped the backpack from his grip,  the noise of the airport drowned out as he gripped her just as fiercely.

          “You’re coming back. You’ll always come back,” Zuly whispered. “And when you do, we’re gonna spend a whole weekend camped out at the lake. Hanging off the tire swing and howling at the moon just like the–”

          “–coyotes.” He completed for her. “Damn right we are. Maybe that fucking hammock will hold up this time.”

          A sound between a sob and a laugh left her. “Maybe.”

          “It’s just basic training, Z. It’ll be a while before I go on an actual mission...”

         
“I know. I know.” Zuly said. “But there will be times when I won’t be able to hug you before you leave.”

          His eyes closed as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of citrus and vanilla. “I know.”

          “So this is for all those times.”

          Fitz nodded as his arms tightened around her. “Right.”

          They stood, locked like that until he was finally called to board with the other recruits. He let go of Zuly with reluctance, his heart crying out to keep hold of her. It was just a year. Only a year. He’d be back. He’d take things slow. And when he was in his formal dress he’d get down on one knee, telling her everything that he’d wanted her to know from the moment he’d saved her from a spider in the second grade.

Fifteen years later...

         
Crickets and the occasional howl was all he could ever hear anymore, all he’d heard for the past two months. That and the incessant sound of his phone ringing. He’d stopped that the day he snapped it in half. Seemed his family and friends had gotten the message when his answering machine said one thing--
”Leave. Me. Alone.”
He didn’t want to talk to anyone, look at anyone. Didn’t want to sit around his ma’s table for Sunday dinner or throw around a football with his brothers. He couldn’t do any of those things the normal way--couldn’t pretend he was whole so what the fuck was the point?

         
“I understand your frustration, Mr. Carrigan, but...”
That goddamn
but
was always following something. It had followed Fitzgerald Carrigan from the time he’d become a SEAL until the time he was honorably discharged. It had followed him when he was still attending rehabilitation for a knee that had been shot to shit and it followed every message left on his answering machine. He was sick of hearing it; sick of the pity that crossed every familiar face when he limped around town with his cane. Sick of feeling alone.

          But he had no one to blame for that last little factor aside from himself, did he? Fitz had sequestered himself in his cabin for a reason, only venturing into town upon necessity. He didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want someone patting him on the shoulder and thanking him for his bravery.

          Even now that word made him snort as he sat with his damaged right leg stretched out on his screened-in porch, staring at nothing. Bravery? Yeah, Fitz had been brave all right. So brave that he pushed every person who ever meant anything to him right over the proverbial emotional cliff and waved goodbye as they fell. So brave that he wouldn’t call his own mother for fear of hearing any possible disappointment in her voice. So brave that he wouldn’t answer the door when his father and brothers came knocking. He hadn’t even gone to his niece’s birthday party because he was too afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep up with all the little ones; too afraid he’d hear Riley or Sullivan or Cael say, “
Leave Uncle Fitz alone. He’s not feeling well.”

         
Perspiration from the long-neck beer bottle in his hand slickened his palm as he squeezed the glass. Not feeling well. What a fucking joke. He was feeling a lot of things. Anger, hurt, frustration. Yeah,
well
definitely wasn’t included. Yet it wasn’t just his family he had shoved off, was it? Oh, no. There was one more person. A woman. A woman who he loved so much scalding tears burned the backs of his eyes every time he imagined her face. A face he would probably never see again due to his own stubbornness, his inability to admit he needed somebody. Not just anybody–her.
Zuly.

          She’d never speak to him again. Fitz was sure of that. But he deserved it, now didn’t he? His self-imposed hell was brought on by no one but himself. Exactly how was he supposed to take it if she gave him that all too familiar stare? The one that said, “
I’m so sorry you’re not as complete as you should be.”
Or if she suggested that he go to see a counselor like countless others had done?

          Fitz wouldn’t be able to deal. Wouldn’t be able to live with the thought of never getting to fulfill every fantasy he’d ever had about Zuly. He’d wanted her more than his next breath of air from the first time he laid eyes on her. Then he had been in awe of her slight lisp and beautiful golden eyes; her skin the color of sepia, the feel of satin. Over the years that fascination had blossomed into love. And the same way Fitz’s love had blossomed, so had Zuly.

          His brain and cock hadn’t been able to process the change in her the summer they’d turned sixteen and he’d looked up to notice her mouth was suddenly fuller. How her chest had gotten heavier, her hips and thighs thicker, her behind rounder. How suddenly her skin didn’t just seem to glow under the sun. It looked as though it had been dusted in gold and kissed by the rays. How her voice had dropped to a lower register that stirred his groin every time she spoke. How he couldn’t seem to retain moisture in his mouth when he was near her.

          Fitz had plans for them. Plans that had been shot down. Plans that would never come to be. So no, there was no bravery in him. No strength. No wellness. No laughter. No energy. He was going to die a bitter, lonely old man before his time because he couldn’t bring himself to speak a few simple words to the love of his life.

          Fitz allowed his head to roll back on his shoulders, closed his eyes and of course saw her face. Utter perfection. That molten stare focused on him with an intensity that made his skin perspire under the moon. Jesus. He missed her. This old cabin wasn’t the same without her. How many days had they spent up here as kids, lazily dozing on blankets in the grass or roasting marshmallows over hastily made pit fires?

          How many water balloon fights had taken place all over the land his parents had given him as a present after he’d finally finished his pre-deployment training and had been allotted time home for a visit? How many times had they slept under the stars, only to wake up closer to one another than they’d been the night before?

          How many times would he revisit every one of those memories before he made himself sick off regrets? Fitz didn’t have the answer to any of those questions. He didn’t have the answer to anything anymore. Fifteen years as a SEAL had taken away all his answers. Yes, he’d left as a Patrol Leader but at what cost?

          Two months ago he never thought he’d be sitting up in the mountains of West Virginia, watching life pass him by. He never thought he wouldn’t be able to walk without the assistance of pain meds and a cane that made him feel three times his thirty-five years. He never thought he’d have secluded himself from everything he loved.

          Drawing in a shuddering breath, he took another swig from the bottle in his hand. Fitz couldn’t explain the gaping loneliness burning a hole in his chest. It wasn’t that he
couldn’t
be around others. It was just that it didn’t make a difference. In a room full of people, he still felt alone.

None of them knew what he’d seen, done, had gone through. None of them would ever understand what it was like to watch the light fade from a man’s eyes after you’d just twisted your knife into his gut. None of them would ever grasp how having the death of a child on your conscience ate at you night after night. Made you wonder if you’d just done
one
thing differently...

Fitz blew out a harsh breath. Determined not to let his mind drift there. No, he’d had enough of that. There would be plenty more empty days for him to sit and contemplate all his mistakes.

With a grunt, he took hold of the railing near his shoulder and hoisted himself up, wincing as his weight began to distribute evenly onto both his legs. He started into his cabin, determined to try and get a few hours of sleep tonight before he woke up just to stare at the ceiling of his bedroom. He stopped when another howl rent the air.

His heart thumped once, then twice. Without a second thought, he tossed his head back and let his own howl release, giving into the urge to keep up the tradition he and Zuly had started so long ago. And as he finally made his way inside, he wondered if there were any possibility his Z was somewhere near, her eyes to the stars, doing the very same thing.

***

          “Okay, either you need a mental evaluation or I should seriously be concerned that you’ve gone rabid. Have you been feeding those goddamn raccoons again? I told you. All it takes is one time for you to run out of leftovers and
boom!
Your hands suddenly look like delicious little meat treats for their fangs to sink into.”

          Zuly snorted before turning away from her screen door to face her sister. “One of us needs to see a therapist about an irrational fear of raccoons.”

          Kamilah shuddered. “They’re unnatural little beasts. I refuse to believe God played a part in combining a cat, a possum and a rat...before giving it opposable thumbs. Had to be Satan’s work.”

          Despite the sadness tugging at her, Zuly cracked a smile. Kamilah had the ability to bring that out of her at the oddest moments. Well, Kamilah and someone else. Someone who wouldn’t be mentioned or thought of because he’d become a ridiculous dickhead! She cast a glance over her shoulder to the full moon, the echo of coyote howls still bouncing around just outside. No matter how many times she tried to ignore it, the need to honor a long-standing tradition had nagged her until she finally gave in. Kamilah understood a lot about Zuly, but this wasn’t something she’d get.

          “All right,” Zuly’s sibling drawled. “Tell me why you suddenly look like a Disney woodland creature that’s lost its mom.”

          With a resounding click, Zuly closed the door to her home and leaned against the hardwood, shrugging. “Not feeling too great today.”

Understatement. Zuly hadn’t felt great for a long, long time and the reason for that was somewhere up the mountain, wallowing in misery and drinking himself to death. God, just the thought of him up there in that cabin all alone made her chest ache. How was anyone supposed to help him when he’d suddenly decided to go all
Phantom of the Opera?

Hands clenching at her sides, Zuly stepped away from the door, resisting the urge to run out and get into her truck, just to drive miles up the mountainside and have a door slammed in her face yet again. The fuck was that about, anyway? She’d seen Fitzgerald Carrigan drunk enough to almost piss himself, had watched him clear his stomach of a week’s worth of food and was there to wash his hair after that one awful incident at the carnival. So why was he acting as though she’d recoil in horror at the sight of one injury?

Then again, maybe his injuries weren’t just physical. How many soldiers had come home completely different from the way they left, hearts and heads bruised from seeing the pits of hell over and over again?

If that were the case, if that was what was hurting her frogman, why wouldn’t he just say it? Why wouldn’t he simply open his mouth and tell her he needed her, needed
anyone?

“You’re thinking about him again,” Kamilah noted, following Zuly as she walked from the front door to the living room and into the kitchen, determined to keep her hands busy by making something.

Zuly paused at her spice cabinet. “Don’t.” She didn’t want to talk about Fitz--didn’t want to think about him anymore. Didn’t want to wonder if he were eating properly or staying off his knee. Didn’t want to leave him another container of food just to drive by and find it had been ravaged by the small game near his cabin instead of eaten by him.