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 NYC or LA. 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 ofNever 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 Iwasn’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 onefor 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 of 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 fearfor her safety. Fuck. I swallow down the terror and function in stealth mode. I’d give anything to have on civvies 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 in 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 fromCall of Duty 3.
