Saved by the SEAL (16 page)

I
t's not until later that week that I think about the roses and the person who sent them.

I usually leave my apartment in Lone Sands in order to drive into Wilmington around eight. Today, however, is a day off of school for my sisters. My mom still has to go into work, so I used the convenience of working for my dad to ask off. Of course he conceded, telling me to kiss my sisters and my mother for him.

Mea is never up this early, since she doesn't teach her first yoga class until eleven. The apartment is quiet as I toast my bagel, add some goat cheese, and pour my coffee. When there's a soft rap at the front door, I look up in surprise.

“Who the heck…” My bare feet pad across the living room to the front door. Pulling it open, I look out onto the landing. But it's empty.

I poke my head out, looking left and right, before I step out onto our mat. I almost trip over the pristine white box sitting on the ground.

I frown as I bend to pick up the box.

Where did this come from?

Taking one last glance around the landing, noting that the other three apartments on my floor are quiet, I back into my apartment and close the door behind me. I turn the box over and over in my hands, studying it. It's plain and white, and could be a bakery box. It seems like it could hold a small cake. And the contents match the weight of a bakery treat.

Taking the mystery box over to the counter at the breakfast bar, I put it down and lift the lid. There's a note sitting on top of the box's contents. I can't see what else the package contains, because it's wrapped up in brown packing paper.

Picking up the typed note, my lips move as I read it to myself.

GO SURFING WITH ME?

Immediately thinking of Grisham, I smile and tug the thing inside the box out into my hands. Taking off the brown wrapping, I see a beautiful pale-pink surfboard made of a heavy blown glass.

Turning it around in my hands, I see a giant crack in the center of the board. When I turn it back over, the two pieces fall apart in my hands.

“Aww,” I murmur mournfully. “It's broken.” A punch of sadness hits me.

I wrap both pieces back in the paper and place them in the box. The white cube slides on the bar, knocking the note onto the floor. When I pick it up, I read the words I hadn't previously seen on the back side.

STOP SURFING WITH HIM.

My blood chills. The fingers holding the note stiffen, and the white paper flutters back to the floor. Staring at it, I take a step back and then another. I know the note can't hurt me, but whoever sent this to me is a different story. I hold my hands out in front of me and see that they're shaking.

And then I get pissed
.

Why am I letting a stupid box with a broken gift scare me?

The person who sends these gifts is too much of a coward to hurt me, clearly. I could go and make a complaint at the police station, but there's no point. The words in the note aren't written as a threat.

For as long as I can remember, I've been scared of the things I can't see. I was scared of the bad people in faraway places who could hurt my father while he was working, and cause him not to come home to us. I was scared of the disagreements and distance that tore my parents' marriage apart. I was scared when my sister was diagnosed with CF, that the next germ she got could kill her and there would be nothing I could do to stop it. Fear is a living, breathing dragon that breathes fire into your soul and paralyzes you until you curl into a ball and stop fighting.

But now I'm in control of my own situations, and I can make the decisions. It's time to stop being afraid and learn to empower myself. I don't have to be scared of some secret admirer I can't even see.

I toss the note in the box. And then I throw the entire thing into the trash can. Feeling a little bit better, I head to my bedroom to finish getting dressed. I'll eat my bagel and drink my coffee in the car on the way to my mom's house.

And I decide not to talk about this gift with anyone. Talking about it, worrying about it, gives the sender power.

I refuse to empower any more unseen threats in my life.

“This is so good!” Gemma's voice is saturated in ecstasy as she swallows another bite of cheesecake. “Whose idea was this again?”

I finished chewing my bite of chocolate soufflé and grin. “Mine.”

Gabi, always more reserved than her outgoing younger sister, smiles at me around her fork. “It was a great idea, Greta. Thanks for bringing us out for dessert tonight.”

I squeeze her hand gently before pulling out my phone and checking the time. “I love spending time with you two. You know that. It's easy to think of fun things to do when your sisters are the coolest people on the planet.”

Gemma snorts. Both of my sisters are younger, spitting images of my mother and me. My mom's side of the family must have really strong genes, because none of us received the light hair and brown eyes of my father. Nor did we receive his olive complexion. Gemma is currently sporting indigo streaks throughout her long, curly dark locks. Gabi wears her hair shorter, and it's thick and straight, like mine.

“Mom should be home soon. You two want to blow this joint?”

The girls nod, cleaning their dessert dishes with last bites before we all stand. Walking toward my car in the parking lot, I put my arm around Gabi and squeeze her close into my side.

“You're doing okay, right?”

She nods. “I'm okay, Greta. You worry too much. I've been dealing with CF since I was a little kid. I've got this.”

Looking down at her, my heart grows a size, and tears sting my eyes. I don't let them fall. She does have this. She shouldn't have to, but she does. She's a tough cookie at sixteen years old, way older than her physical age shows.

I watch Gemma climb in the car, but squeal when Gabi pokes me in the rib.

“Hey. What was that for?”

“Something's different about you.” She opens her car door and climbs into the backseat. I sit in the driver's seat and glance at her in the rearview mirror.

“What are you talking about?”

Gabi buckles her seat belt and then folds her arms across her chest. “I mean you're different. Happier. Is it the new job with Dad? Or is it a guy?” Her voice rises on the last word, a teasing lilt full of humor.

I narrow my eyes at her. “How did you…?”

“Oh, please. You're usually wound tighter than a two-dollar watch. But now you're all loosey-goosey and relaxed. What's up with you?” Gemma weighs in, agreeing with Gabi. Her arms flail around as she demonstrates exactly how I've been feeling lately. She resembles a limp spaghetti noodle.

Smiling, I glance at her where she sits in the passenger seat. “Well…there might be a guy.”

Both girls squeal and clap their hands. “Tell us the sitch.”

I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing as I ease my car out of the dessert bar parking lot and head toward my mom's home. “The
sitch
is that I became reacquainted with a guy I met awhile back. And he's…complicated. But he's a really good guy. And I like him.”

“How much do you like him?” asks Gabi in a hushed tone.

I think about Grisham. About his handsome face, his scarred and beautiful body, his loving and capable hands. Every single part of him flashes through my head, and every single picture is good.

“I like him a lot.”

The girls are still giggling and teasing me when we pull back into Mom's driveway.

My dad has taken care of my mom and sisters' needs, even after the divorce. Secretly, I think he knows that the marriage didn't work out because of his messed-up priorities, and he's trying to compensate for it now. I've heard my mom tell him numerous times that she doesn't need anything extravagant. But he makes sure she has everything she could ever want.

I wish he'd just admit what I know to be true: he still loves her and misses the family he left behind.

The house is located in a gated beach community where all of the houses are large and modern. It's not a mansion, but it's a really nice home, and my mom and sisters are more than comfortable here.

“Hello?” I call as we walk in the front door. “Mom?”

She comes around the corner still wearing her blue hospital scrubs. “Hey, girls! Where have you guys been?”

Gemma breezes past my mom on her way to the stairs. She doesn't usually stay and talk to us long, because all of her technological devices are waiting for her in her room. “Dessert. I'm going upstairs.”

“Of course you are.” My mother sighs as she scoots over to accommodate Gemma's passing.

Gabi walks right up to her and puts her arms around her waist in a hug. “Hey, Mom. How was work today?”

My mother's weary eyes soften as she gazes down at Gabi. “It was fine, sweetheart. You doing okay?”

Gabi nods. “Answered the same question from Greta. I only need one mom, guys. You have to stop tag-teaming me.”

Mom glances at me and smiles. “We'll try.”

I nod. “Sure.”

Gabi gives us a dubious glance. “I'm going to go make sure Gemma doesn't send out sexts pretending she's me.”

My mouth drops open and my mom sighs. “You two need to get ready for bed in a few minutes.”

Gabi turns back over her shoulder as she places a foot on the stairs. “By the way, Greta has a boyfriend.” Then she runs, giggling, up the stairs before I can snatch her up.

My mother's brows lift nearly to her hairline. Her long, dark hair is swept back into a braid, but a few pieces hang around her face. My mother is absolutely beautiful, and I hope to look as good as she does when I reach my late forties.

“Boyfriend?”

We walk down the hallway together toward the family room in the back of the house. My mother settles onto the sectional couch while I perch on the end beside her. She crosses her arms and points to me.

“Tell me about him.”

I sigh. Every time I talk about Grisham, I have to try hard to get a grip on the cheesy grin that plasters across my face. But with my mom, I'm not sure I'll be able to hide it. “Well, I'm not sure how serious it is yet. That's why I haven't said anything.”

She scrutinizes my face, and I know she's reading every feeling I harbor for Grisham on my face. Her lips twitch.

“You like him,” she surmises. “Where did you meet?”

“We actually met almost two years ago. He's a longtime friend of Berkeley's.” I leave out the part about Grisham wanting to be much more than that to Berkeley back then. As sure as I am that he's over it, I don't want someone else shoving any questions in my mind about his loyalty.

“And then,” I continue, “I ran into him again a couple of months ago, when he gave me….”

I trail off, feeling guilty. I haven't told my mom about what happened on the beach because I didn't want her to worry. She has one child she constantly worries about. Why give her another thing to keep her up at night?

“When he gave you what?” Curiosity leaks from her tone.

“Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.” My voice is almost nonexistent, but I can tell from the expression on her face that she heard my quiet mumble.

My mother's eyes widen to a dangerous size. “
What
?”

Quickly I explain what happened on the beach, and how it felt to awaken with Grisham's green eyes staring into mine.

“It was…I don't know, Mom. Something about him that day gave me hope. Like everything was going to be okay. It's stupid, I know.”

My mother is nodding, fiddling with her empty ring finger the way she does sometimes when she thinks about my father.

“It's understandable. He saved your life. I'm sure that created a strong bond. For you and for him.”

I smile gratefully, happy that she understands. “It did. At least for me. And now, we see each other at work, too.”

Her eyes cloud with confusion. “At work? At Night Eagle?”

I nod. “Yeah. He's…a navy SEAL.”

My mother's jaw slackens. I'm not sure how she's going to feel about this piece of news. Marrying a guy in the military might have seemed glamorous to her when she first met my dad, but she quickly learned how difficult it is to be a military wife. And she's never said it, but I'm not sure if she wants the same thing for me.

“He's retiring at the end of the year,” I quickly continue. “He…he was injured overseas a few months ago. He…he lost his foot, Mom.”

Her eyes soften, immediately growing wet with unshed tears. “Oh, Greta. I'm sorry to hear that.”

I nod. “I know. It just about broke my heart when I found out from Berkeley, and I hadn't even started dating him yet. But now that I am, I see that it hasn't slowed him down one bit. Heck, he dove into the ocean to pull me out, didn't he? But he can't keep doing his job in the navy. So Dad hired him at Night Eagle. He's a great addition to the team.”

My mother sighs. “I'm sure he is. How do you feel about that, though, Greta? We've never really discussed it, but I think you might have some trust issues with men. Right? Because of how devoted your dad always was with his job? What if Grisham's just as devoted?”

I sink back against the couch cushions. I don't want to allow my brain to go there. I close my eyes. What I have with Grisham is something I don't want to doubt. The way we are when we're together, the electrifying chemistry and utter safeness I feel when I'm in his arms are things I've never felt with anyone else. And if Grisham ever did choose work over me, it would break me. Completely. I can't go through the same thing with him that I went through repeatedly with my father. The same thing I watched my mom suffer from every time my dad left us alone.

I can't.

My mother reads my expression once again. “You've thought about it. Haven't you?”