A SEAL's Secret (17 page)

“I’m going to tell him,” Livi insisted. Then she pulled a face. “But couldn’t I do it next week? Maybe after I’ve figured out the rest of my life?”

Weren’t two huge, life-changing situations in a week enough?

“Will it make the next week any easier knowing you haven’t told him?”

Her shoulders dropped like weights, taking Livi’s stomach along with them. But she offered her mother a queasy smile.

“No. But it will make our breakup a lot more interesting.”

13

M
ITCH
SAT
NURSING
a beer in a hole-in-the-wall bar, his cell phone at his elbow, wondering when Livi would respond to his text. He’d told her he’d call. One way or another, they needed to resolve where they stood.

It’d been a whole day since he’d messaged her. He wanted to text again, but he figured it was better to wait until she was ready to talk. That’d give him time to solidify what he wanted.

The problem was, for the first time in his life he didn’t have a clue what that’d be.

He knew what he should want. And he knew what he thought he wanted. But like the two paths Livi had so romantically painted on Valentine’s Day, it was impossible to know which was right, which was real and which was just a pipe dream.

Her suggestion to end things was obviously the best choice. He’d already hurt her—why drag it out further? He should simply let it go, chalk it all up to great sex and a little fun. She was interfering with his career, whether she meant to or not.

And nothing, nobody, should be more important than his career.

Except he was miserable thinking about ending it like that. He hated the idea of his life without her. And he’d willingly offered up everything to his career. Blood, sweat, devotion and, on more than one occasion, his life.

But the Admiral was right. Livi was a distraction.

It’d be crazy to think that’d change. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d ever fade into the background. So what did that mean? To be in a relationship he’d have to quit the Navy? Mitch frowned at the mocking black screen on his cell phone.

What was he if not a SEAL? If not a sailor? Were those two paths absolute? A or B? No mixing of the two?

When someone slid onto the stool next to him, Mitch didn’t have to glance over to know who it was. He didn’t even bother asking how he’d found him in a dingy bar off his usual beaten track. The old man had his ways.

Both men were silent as the bartender brought another beer. He glanced at Mitch, who shook his head.

The old man waited until the bartender had meandered back to the other end of the bar, then in a move he’d been making since Mitch had turned twenty-one, clinked his frosty bottle against his son’s lukewarm one.

“I hear I’ve got a problem on my hands,” Thomas said after a silent minute.

“I hear I’m about to be labeled TARFU,” Mitch mused, his eyes locked on his beer as he tossed out the standard military jargon for
totally and royally fucked up
. “Guess you were called in to diffuse the situation?”

“Assess and advise.”

Mitch grunted.

“Your mother thinks you’ve fallen in love,” Thomas observed conversationally. “She’s afraid your new woman will steal her baby boy away. She’s got this silly notion this woman will take her place in your heart and take over your life before she’s had a chance to give her the Denise Donovan seal of approval. That’s what mothers do, I suppose.”

“She sicced the Admiral on me,” Mitch pointed out, not having a whole lot of sympathy for his mother’s maternal drama. “Is that what mothers do? Stir up enough trouble that Grandfather took personal time, flew across the country and hauled me out of training in order to explain the error of my ways?”

His grandfather’s disapproval still burned in Mitch’s gut. And, he realized, he’d taken that anger out on Livi. How did that make him any better than the Admiral?

“You’ve got every right to fall in love with whomever you want, son. Just like you have the right to make your own career choices.” Thomas shrugged. “That your granddaddy is getting his skivvies in a twist over them is his problem. Not yours.”

Mitch sat with that image for a moment, letting it play through his mind. Then he turned and looked at his father for the first time since the older man had sat down next to him.

“His skivvies in a twist?” Mitch repeated incredulously.

Unabashed, Thomas laughed.

“It’s something I heard your mother say. Actually her term was
panties
, but I can’t say as I want that image in my head.”

“Ditto that.” Mitch gave a half laugh and shook his head. “You might not want to let the Admiral hear you say it either way, though.”

Thomas took a long drink, set his bottle on the bar and offered a direct look at odds with his usually affable expression.

“I’m going to do something I’ve rarely done, son. I’m going to give you a piece of advice.”

Mitch’s brows drew together as he realized how true those words were. His grandfather had always been the one to offer up advice, solicited or otherwise. His mother had an opinion about everything and loved nothing more than to share her vision of her son’s life. But Thomas? He answered questions, he offered his experiences, he disciplined and guided. But giving advice wasn’t in his repertoire.

Curiosity overcoming his irritation about the entire situation, Mitch angled his body toward the old man. This could get interesting.

“The Admiral has played a big part in your life, all of your life. He’s the head of the family and has strong feelings about that.”

For the first time, Mitch wondered if that’d ever bothered Thomas. Before Mitch could ask, Thomas was speaking again.

“My father is a good man. He’s strong, fair and dedicated to serving.” Thomas took a swig of his beer and gave Mitch a long look, as if gauging whether his son could handle the information he was about to impart. “But he’s also an elitist and a snob.”

Mitch snorted, first in surprise, then again in agreement. No arguing with facts.

He waited a few seconds. Then he tilted his head toward Thomas and arched both brows.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay.” Mitch gave a slow nod. “But I’m not sure that’s actually advice.”

“Sure it is. You just have to think about it.” Thomas waited a beat and asked, “Why are you considering the DEVGRU assignment?”

“Why?” Mitch considered the question carefully. “It’s an honor to serve on that level. If I were a part of DEVGRU I’d be at the pinnacle. I’d be a part of the most elite force in the world.”

“All compelling reasons,” Thomas observed. “It’s a move that would definitely cement your reputation, garner you numerous accolades and most definitely quiet the whispers that you got where you are based on nepotism.”

Mitch frowned. Why did those sound like bad things when his father said them?

“Livi called me a snob,” he admitted.

His face carefully blank, Thomas simply drank his beer and shrugged.

“You’re a lot like your grandfather, son.”

Mitch had heard that his entire life. He’d always taken pride in that, had actually pushed himself to be more like the Admiral in order to garner more of just that sort of observation.

But now... Mitch figured if he had a choice, he’d rather be like his father. His reputation might not get as many awed comments, but his life would be a lot happier. He’d be a lot happier.

He glanced at the old man. “If you were offered the DEVGRU, would you take it?”

Considering, Thomas drained his beer before shaking his head. “Can’t say that I would.”

“Why not?”

“Because covert ops isn’t my passion.”

“Does it have to be?”

“For me it does.” Thomas faced his son with a direct look. “Your problem is that you’re too damned good at too many things, son. You always have been.”

Before Mitch could ask what that meant, his father told him.

“When a person is good at one, two things, they tend to naturally find those one or two and focus everything they’ve got in that direction. It’s easy to weed out the stuff that isn’t right for them because they simply aren’t good at it.” He waited for Mitch to nod before continuing. “But some people, they’re good at a lot of things. Or at everything. For people like you, weeding out the options comes down to purpose. When you know your purpose, you discard what doesn’t fit. Until now, your purpose has always been to advance.”

“And now?” Mitch wondered.

“You’re choosing a direction. It’s one you’ll be spending a lot of your life on. So the question is, what are you passionate enough about to make it your purpose?”

Livi. Her face was the first thing that popped into Mitch’s mind. He was definitely passionate about her.

He was passionate about the new training program, about the idea of integrating better methods, of expanding the teams’ training. He was inspired by the idea of finding more tools, stronger techniques.

But he wasn’t passionate about DEVGRU.

“Grandfather’s gonna get his skivvies in a twist again,” Mitch reflected.

“Son, I’m of the opinion that how a man handles his skivvies is his own problem.” Thomas looked around the seedy bar and grimaced. “What d’ya say we go find a decent restaurant? You can buy me dinner and tell me about this divorcée fitness queen who plays with strippers.”

Mitch burst out laughing. Damn, Livi would love that description. Before he could respond, though, his cell phone flashed.

My place, 7:00

Mitch grimaced. “She’s pretty pissed at me.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised. Women have a tendency to get a little tetchy when we screw up.”

“Who said I screwed up?” Mitch frowned at his father.

“She’s pissed at you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You pissed at her?”

“No,” Mitch realized.

“Then you screwed up. If it was mutual, the anger would be mutual. That’s how these things work.”

Couldn’t argue with that. Livi was right—he’d been reacting to the slams to his ego. Not to anything she’d done.

“You’re so good at figuring out how things work. Why don’t you help me figure out how to fix it?”

“You’re gonna have to buy me a steak dinner for that information.”

Mitch threw a twenty on the bar and followed his father to the door.

“I’m meeting Livi at seven. But you tell me how to fix things with her and I’ll buy you an entire cow.”

* * *

L
IVI
PACED
FROM
one end of her living room to the other. She kicked off her sandals, thinking she could move faster barefoot, and resumed pacing. As soon as she hit that side of the room again she slid her feet back into the sandals, needing the little bit of power those couple of inches offered.

She should have met with Mitch the previous night. She’d told her mother she’d talk to him right away. But she’d gotten home and crawled into bed for that nap Pauline had ordered. And the next thing she knew, it was today. Livi had slept around the clock.

The sleep had done her a world of good. She’d obviously needed it. She’d woken refreshed and, for the first time in weeks, filled with energy.

She should have texted Mitch then, instead of waiting until five. But she’d wanted to work through her own feelings first.

Look at me, putting my needs and wants first.

She paced to the other side of the room, stopping at the table to fiddle with the vase of roses and lilies. She ran her fingers over one of the roses. The rich red petals were still silky soft, the scent heady and romantic.

Livi wanted them to last forever.

She’d wanted that night to last, the light, fun, sexily free relationship with Mitch. Where she didn’t have to face choices or make difficult decisions.

She pressed her hand to the flat planes of her stomach, in awe that there was a tiny life growing inside. That she’d be making huge decisions from now on. Everything from what kind of diapers to buy to which schools to live near.

Livi lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and realized this was it. Time to adjust her big-girl panties, quit hiding behind her shyness and take control of her life.

Starting with her baby’s father.

As she turned to pace again, her hip bumped the table. The vase jostled and one petal fell free. Livi watched it flutter sadly down. Frowning, she looked at the flowers again and saw how many were past their peak. Still lovely, but no longer perfect. Ready to fade and fall away.

That’s what she was afraid of with Mitch, she realized.

What they had was so beautiful, filling her senses and her life with pleasure. She loved him beyond words.

But he’d leave.

Whether it was a tour of duty, a mission in a far-off land, or... Livi’s throat tightened, terror grabbing at her chest as she finally admitted what she’d skimmed so carefully over before. Or he could die.

Livi stared at the petal until the emotions of that image stopped clawing at her heart. They didn’t go away—they simply faded into the background. And they’d always be there, she realized, lifting the petal and rubbing the soft velvet against her lips.

So was her shyness, but she’d learned she could handle that. Not make it go away, but live with it, flourish despite it. It’d be the same with the fear for Mitch’s life.

Livi tapped the petal against her cheek and thought of Mitch’s advice. What did she need? What did she want?

Him. It was that simple.

Was she going to let fear stop her? Would she hold back because she was worried about how he’d react when she made her demand that they spend the rest of their lives loving each other?

Nope. She was going for it. She believed in miracles now. Who was to say she couldn’t have more?

As if it’d been waiting for just that question, the doorbell rang. Deep breath, shoulders back, bright smile.

Time to rock and roll.

But when she pulled open the door and saw Mitch’s face, she mostly wanted to cut and run.

He was so gorgeous. Super Hottie, his blue eyes piercing and his perfect smile in place. Suddenly all of the hurt she’d felt at his accusations hit her again. Every doubt, every worry. And she thought she was going to tell this man what she wanted and expect him to simply follow along?

She was an idiot.

“You’re so beautiful,” Mitch said, his greeting as intense as the look in his eyes. He handed her a rose. Its perfect petals still closed tight, the fragrance filled the entry. Livi’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”

Her gaze flew to his.

“I wanted to tell you that before I came in, so we’re not dancing around it,” he said with a shrug. “I behaved like an ass the other day. I’m sorry.”