Hot SEALs: Discarded Heart (Kindle Worlds; Danger Incorporated Book 2.5) (2 page)

Often? That was a parental understatement. He usually flew his parents out to Chicago instead.

“I think I’ll have the fried chicken.” Cal didn’t bother to reply to the subtle dig about his absence from Applewood. He didn’t want to argue with his father today. Or tomorrow for that matter. “And some of that apple pie for dessert.”

Still keeping his gaze averted from Michaela, Cal and his father gave their order to the waitress. When she left something inside of Cal made him want to reassure Abe that he wasn’t here to cause trouble. He was here for his mother. And for a place to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life. It was just his luck those two things happened to coincide.

“Listen, Dad, I know you’re worried that I’m going to upset Michaela but I don’t want to do that. I’m here to visit and help. I want to make things better for you guys.”

Abe’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “You don’t get it at all do you, son? I’m not worried about what you’re going to do. I’m worried about you.
You.
I can see that my boy isn’t doing too well. When you’re ready to talk about it your mother and I will be here. Until then I’ll keep my peace.”

With that he began to talk about the town’s preparations for the Autumn Festival but Cal barely heard a word of what he said. He was still dealing with the shock that his father knew his life was fucked up. If he was this transparent while undercover he would have been dead long ago.

But he couldn’t deny that it felt good to have someone worry about him. When he was a kid his mother would make brownies when he had problems. Cal doubted that there was a brownie in the world that could solve all the issues that were running around his brain.

He’d have to solve them all on his own.

“THIS LOOKS PRETTY spooky, Mom. Where is it going to go?”

Mika’s eight-year old son Alex was holding up a glow-in-the-dark skeleton. Both the boy and the bony figure were wearing big grins that made her reach out and ruffle Alex’s dark hair.

When he smiled he looked so much like Sarah.

“Here.” She pointed to the parlor room on the blueprint she had rolled out on the long table. “It will hang from the chandelier and dance.”

Alex’s eyes lit up as he studied the sketch. “This is going to be so cool. Can I really help this year?”

Her son had a bad case of
I wish I were older
. Last year she’d allowed him to hang around a few times during construction but mostly she’d kept him away, not wanting to deal with nightmares she was sure would follow. But clearly he’d inherited her love of all things macabre. Yesterday she’d found him playing with a hairy black plastic spider, not scared in the least.

“Yes, you can really help but be sure to stay out of the workers’ way when they have tools. I don’t want you or anyone else for that matter to get hurt.”

Alex could help paint sets but she drew the line at chainsaws.

“I will,” he promised. “Can we have pizza when we get home?”

Placing her hand on her hip, she leaned down to look her son in the eye. As fast as he was growing she wouldn’t need to do that much longer. “How many questions are you going to ask me?”

Alex giggled, not fooled in the least by her mock stern tone. It was a running joke between them that he was constantly asking questions. They’d become much more complicated as he grew older and lately he’d stumped her a few times and she’d ended up Googling the answers. Luckily the latest query was easy.

“I don’t know. Maybe a lot more.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to say yes, we can have pizza. And before you ask…yes to the extra cheese. Are we good?”

Her heart tightened in her chest as Alex gave her a high-five and then did a fist pump. She could only hope it would always be this easy to make her beautiful son happy. His tears tore her apart and made her wish she could shield him from the slings and arrows of the world, both real and imagined.

“You can help Doris paint the walls of the hallway,” Mika said, handing her son a paintbrush. “The walls only. Not Doris. Not the floor. Not anything else. Got it?”

Alex scampered off with a promise to behave over his shoulder but she knew he’d be covered head to toe with black paint next time she saw him. He couldn’t eat a slice of pizza without a portion of it ending up on his shirt, so she didn’t have much hope that the paint would stay on the brush and the wall.

“He looks like you a little bit.”

The deep voice cut through the silence and made her heart skip a beat.

Caleb.

She’d known he was going to help out but somehow she’d managed to not think about the fact that she would have to see him day in and day out. She called on every ounce of control to keep her features serene, as if seeing him didn’t still hurt.

“Hello, Cal. Are you here to help? I have a list of things for you and your father.”

She sounded calm, which frankly stunned the hell out of her because she sure didn’t feel that way. Seeing him standing there not two feet in front of her was almost more than she could handle.

It was different today than on Sunday when she’d seen him in the diner. Now he was close enough that she could feel the heat from his skin and smell the clean scent of his soap. Cal didn’t wear aftershave because it made him break out. Funny the things she could remember.

Cal placed his tool chest on the table and peered at the plans lying next to it. “Is this what you’re building this year? It looks ambitious.”

She had to bite back a retort that he would know all about ambition. Instead she nodded and reached for a soda in the cooler at her feet so she wouldn’t have to look into his eyes. Ice blue and fringed with long, dark lashes, she’d been fascinated with them when they’d dated. She remembered how soft they could look when he was happy and how they turned almost gray when he wasn’t.

Those eyes were studying the drawings, not giving her a second glance. She hated that it bothered her that he was so unaffected by this meeting, but then that was Cal. Grace under pressure or something like it. He didn’t sweat the small stuff and she was absolutely positive that’s where she fell in his life these days. Small and insignificant. After all, he’d left Applewood without a backward glance at the woman he’d supposedly loved.

Wait. That wasn’t fair. She’d done her share of leaving as well.

“You know how it is. Every year we need to make it bigger and better. Something special to bring in people from Virginia Beach and beyond.”

The nearest large city was Virginia Beach about forty-five minutes away. Applewood couldn’t have made this haunted house for charity work if it didn’t draw in customers from all over. In the last five years the Autumn Festival had grown by leaps and bounds.

“This should do it. What’s the theme this year?”

Maybe she could do this after all. If they kept the conversation light and never actually looked each other in the eye.

“Victorian. Doris wanted to do clowns but…”

Mika shuddered at the thought.

Cal chuckled softly and this time did look up, their gazes colliding and sending her pulse racing. “I can imagine you were against it.”

“There’s nothing scarier than a clown,” Mika declared, her mouth curled into a grimace. “I’d have to be in therapy for the next five years if we did that.”

“Clowns don’t bother me but I’m not fond of psychopathic masked killers.”

The strangeness of this moment wasn’t lost on Mika. All that had happened between them and they were talking about what was scarier—a clown or a serial killer.

“Both are what nightmares are made of.” She needed to bring this conversation to a halt. He’d stepped so close that there was only a few inches between his body and hers. “If you’re ready to get to work I have a long list of jobs. Is your father coming later?”

Cal straightened and sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s staying with Mom. She said she wasn’t feeling well. They told me to come on over here once school was out for the day.”

Did he remember that she taught history at the high school? They’d started dating after he’d asked her to tutor him on the Renaissance. He’d later admitted that he didn’t need the help; he just wanted to spend time with her. She’d found his confession incredibly sweet and endearing and it had made her fall in love with him even more deeply that day.

She picked up the list of woodworking projects from the table and held it out, careful not to let their fingers brush when he reached for it. “You can start anywhere on this. There are sketches in that folder but if you have a better idea for one of the props we’re certainly open to it.”

She was proud that her hand hadn’t trembled but she still tucked it behind her, not wanting to take any chances. The sooner this exchange ended the better.

Cal scanned the list and nodded agreeably. “Doesn’t look like anything too difficult, although I’m pretty rusty with the tools. I haven’t made anything in a long time. If I have any trouble I can ask Dad for advice.”

Cal and his father had always been close. They’d worked together every Sunday afternoon in Abe’s woodshop building furniture and just hanging out.

Reaching for the folder of sketches, Cal stepped away and Mika could finally take a deep breath. With shaking fingers she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the emotion of this meeting finally unraveling her cool facade.

He tucked the list and a sketch under his arm and reached for his tool chest. “I’ll start in the dungeon. Looks like there’s plenty to do there. I’ll let you know if I have any questions.”

No, don’t talk to me. Don’t come near me anymore.

She watched his retreating figure, imposing even in this large warehouse space. Some urge she couldn’t control and didn’t expect made her call out to him.

“Alex doesn’t look like me. He looks like Sarah.”

Cal stopped but didn’t turn around. He held himself stiffly, his spine ramrod straight and for a moment she thought she’d angered him somehow. Maybe that’s what she’d meant to do. Get a reaction from him by talking about the past and her decision to stay and help her sister. Any reaction would do.

“No, honey. He looks like you too. His smile is yours. I could have picked him out of a crowd he looks so much like you.”

Cal’s voice was soft without a trace of impatience or fury. Her throat had tightened painfully and she had to swallow hard to be able to speak.

“He has Sarah’s hair color and nose and his father’s eyes.”

Alex’s father had died in a roadside bombing in Iraq without even knowing Sarah was pregnant.

“I suppose so. But he’s yours, Michaela.”

She nodded her head but he didn’t see. He was already striding out of the room, leaving her standing there like the prize idiot she was. Cal was back in her life at least in this small way. She’d see him and talk to him. They might even laugh about something if it was truly funny.

He woke up parts of her that she’d shut down years ago. Memories of being young and in love, so idealistic.

So naive.

It was going to be a very long three months.

*     *     *

CAL SWUNG THE hammer down on the nail harder than necessary but the physical outlet was just what his emotional state needed. He’d finally talked to Michaela and it hadn’t gone all that badly.

It hadn’t gone all that well either.

Seeing her son Alex had shaken Cal to the core and made it hard to think clearly. No matter what she said Alex looked like her. When Cal had seen the young boy he’d known it was her son immediately.

They’d talked about children so many times. Hand in hand as they’d swung on the back porch swing at her parents’ house, they’d made plans about their life together. Now that he looked back those plans had never jived. He’d talk about traveling and all the places they would see and she would talk about their life in Applewood in between trips.

Then Sarah had gotten sick and nothing was ever the same. He didn’t blame Mika’s sister; hell, she’d been a young woman facing a grim prognosis and Cal had supported Mika’s decision to care for her sister.

So they’d humored each other, the months stretching into years, neither one of them planning to give in on their vision of the future. It would have been comical if it hadn’t been so damn painful and sad. They’d been doomed from the very start. Never had a chance.

“What are you building?”

Cal paused, his arm in the air ready to take another swing before setting the hammer down onto the sawhorse, his hand shaking slightly. When he’d vowed to keep his distance from Michaela he hadn’t taken into consideration that he might want to do the same with Alex.

Turning around, Cal grabbed a towel and mopped at his sweaty brow. It was still warm this time of year and the warehouse wasn’t air conditioned.

“A picture frame for one of those spooky paintings Doris makes.”

The boy took a few steps forward and studied Cal’s handiwork. “That’s pretty cool. Where’d you learn to make stuff?”

Cal ran the towel on his damp neck before answering. “My dad. I think you know him. Abe Faulkner.”

Alex nodded and then reached out his hand to run his fingers along the wood frame. “My mom can play guitar. She taught me a little.”

“She’s really good. She can play the piano too.”

Alex looked up, his eyes wide. “Do you know my mom?”

Swallowing hard, Cal nodded. “I do. She and I were best friends all through our school years and beyond. Do you have a best friend?”

“Kenny,” Alex replied. “Kenny Williams. He’s better than me at baseball but I’m better at math.”

“That’s okay. You can help him and he can help you. Your mom helped me with my history homework and I showed her how to fish.”

Alex looked down at the picture frame again. “Will you teach me how to do this? I promise I won’t get in the way. My mom thinks I’m going to get hurt.”

Michaela had always been the type to worry herself into a frazzle. But doing this was a bad idea for several completely different reasons.

“I’m not sure–”

“Please,” Alex broke in, his tone pleading. “I won’t be any trouble, I promise. Cross my heart.”

Cal sighed in defeat and scratched at his chin, stubbly at the end of the day. The little boy’s features were too much like hers and he felt that old familiar weakness he well remembered.

“Maybe,” he conceded, and then had another idea that might make things less awkward. “Maybe I could teach you and your friend Kenny. That way you could help each other. You can be my apprentices.”

If he worked with both kids it wouldn’t be like he was doing something for Alex because he was Michaela’s son.

It wouldn’t be so…
personal.

Alex ran toward the entrance to the hallway, his cheeks pink with excitement. “I’m going to go talk to Kenny. This is so cool. Thank you, Mr. Faulkner.”