A SEAL at Heart (5 page)

When he opened them again… he was alone.

Seagulls dove down in front of him, landing on the sand.
Screech! Screech!

I’m fucking going insane.
He put his feet back in motion. Pushing through the pain and the dizziness, he forced himself to run back to the Amphib Base. He set a brutal pace for himself, and sweat poured off his body in rivulets.

By the time he reached the base, his heart was thudding a harsh cadence and the back of his head was slamming with pain. Slowing his pace to a light jog, he calmed his heart rate and tried to convince the headache to go away, but the pain refused to leave.

He sat down on the beach, sifting grains of sand through his fingers, measuring and dumping the same handfuls until his breathing and heart rate were slower.

In front of him, the waves pounded the shore, showing their frothy whitecapped tops. The beaches were mostly deserted, except for a few individuals taking advantage of the waves and, of course, more Team types like him running or working out on the obstacle course. He knew this part of Coronado like the back of his hand—had gone through BUD/S here and could do sugar-cookie drills for days even now, not that he’d want to.

He flexed his hands, wishing he had a gun in them. This place should have reassured him. But it didn’t. He had never felt so foreign, like an alien in his own body, and he didn’t know what it would take to reconnect with himself and his world again.

***

Point Loma, California

A blast of icy cold air-conditioning slapped his face as he walked into Laurie Smith’s small brick-covered office space with a sign proclaiming it was indeed Physical Therapy Central. The motto underneath said, “Healing begins with you.”

He took one last look at his Jeep. Freedom was only a few steps away. He didn’t have to do this, but there was other stuff at stake. The need to make it up to Laurie—for his impression of being a horse’s ass—sat squarely on his shoulders.

Never once in his life had he backed away from a challenge, and he wouldn’t start now. Though if someone had asked him if he’d rather have his gonads squeezed in a vise or apologize, he’d have to admit he’d take the former. Letting out his breath in a low, steady exhale, he closed the office door behind him and cleared his throat to displace the knot of discomfort growing there. “Hi. I’m Jack Roaker.”

He could smell some mix of vanilla, lavender, and maybe eucalyptus. He guessed it was supposed to be calming, but smelly stuff was not his thing. Give him the outdoors and fresh air any day.

“A-a-achoo!” He couldn’t hold the sneeze back.

“Bless you!” said the tiny older woman as she turned her attention to reorganizing the various items on her desk. She couldn’t have been more than four feet four inches tall and she looked like a pixie or fairy or some kind of mythical creation. Finally, she found her appointment book. The secretary gave him a quick smile and then nodded at the bouquet of flowers he clutched in his hands. “She’ll like those. Roses are her favorite. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Frannie pushed a button on the wall and motioned for him to have a seat. He took in the setting and the ambience. Sunlight streamed in through several small windows bordering the ceiling and the waiting room was überneat and orderly. Large plants held the corners, and the decor had an earthy feel.

Hey, he’d watched
This
Old
House
. His home might be as bland as a corn chip, but he knew what he liked. This place had clean lines and was personal as well as professional, with homey touches, too.

Along the wall, opposite the door, there were several benches and tables with books and magazines; next to the secretary’s desk was a knotty oak bookcase overflowing with larger, more interesting-looking tomes. There was no other exit except the one behind and the door ahead.

He took several steps closer to the bookcase to get a better look at the books. Among the titles were
The
Way
to
Vibrant
Health
,
At
a
Journal
Workshop
,
Forgiveness
,
Hands
of
Light
,
I
Heal, You Heal
, and many more. The books definitely looked holistic to him.

On one of the shelves were bundles of sage wrapped in different-color yarn. He knew the stuff was supposedly to clear the air. To him, it smelled like pot, so he wasn’t a big fan of the herb.

Another shelf held colored stones with tiny booklets sharing the
Art
of
Healing
with
Stones
. There were all sorts of shapes: hearts, circles, triangles, animals, and ones with holes in them, too. She must have been into all that woo-woo stuff.

He collected practically nothing. By his bed was a stack of gun books. Yep, he and Laurie were very different individuals indeed.

The door opened and a teenage girl came out. Her eyes darted all over the room until they settled on him. After a long moment of consideration, she must have decided that he passed inspection, because she paused in front of him for a few seconds and said, “Hi.”

Laurie’s voice drifted to him. “Come in, Jack.”

Jack nodded to the kid and then stepped through the doorway. Teenagers were so often saturnine. He knew practically nothing about how to interact with them. Heaven help him, if he ever decided to procreate. He didn’t know what he would do.

Dim lighting made him squint as he entered the room. His eyes grew accustomed quickly so he could see that this space was a much larger room than he had anticipated. The place was loaded with machines. The fire exit was to the left and the other closed door he figured must be a bathroom. His world was dependent on knowing how to escape. Though right now, he needed to deal with Laurie.

She was doing something in a dark corner. Ah, she was changing a lightbulb.

Flipping a switch, she flooded an area with light and then turned it off. Moving over to a therapy table, she pulled the sheets off and sprayed it down, handling it all quickly and efficiently. He watched her deposit the rag and used linens in a laundry bin and put the cleaner into a cabinet.

As she washed her hands, he noticed the pungent odor of the cleaner in the air. It was only there for a few moments before it started to dissipate.

Her hips swayed gently as she stood at the sink. He remembered the way her backside filled his hands, and the feel of the muscles as he lightly squeezed. As if he had summoned her gaze, she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Do you want me to stay, Laurie?” asked Frannie from the other room, her high voice cutting through the distance like an air horn.

“No, I’m good. See you tomorrow, Frannie. Please lock the front door as you leave.” Laurie turned back to the sink. The water cut off abruptly, making him more aware of the silence. “Jack, please close the door to the therapy room.”

Why? We’re alone now, aren’t we?
He decided against arguing, and reaching behind him, he grasped the handle and pulled it closed with a barely audible click. He swallowed, suddenly a little nervous about speaking with Laurie. Without the aid of beer or hormones, his vulnerability came to the forefront. Fuck, he hated this! But he was true to his word, and he was going to do it.

He cleared his throat. “I’d like to apologize.” There, he’d said it!

“Why?” Her tone had some serious attitude, not that he blamed her. “You obviously think I’m some kind of Loose Lola, like I hop into the arms of every guy who smiles at me.”

“No! I… I don’t. Shit, I don’t know what to think. But I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and allowed you to explain, without taking off so abruptly.” His words were spoken in a cadence. “Um, because I thought you… well, I’ve had a few health challenges lately, and I inappropriately believed you had been part of a setup. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

She whipped around to face him, stalking him like the goddess of vengeance. The light haloed her as she stood in front him, obviously not afraid to go toe-to-toe with him. He didn’t like it, but he could respect it.

Her words were short bursts of emotion. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. Though my first instinct is to say, ‘What the hell made you think that?’ I’m not a floozy!”

“I know. I mean, I know that now. Crap! I’m just putting my foot in deeper, aren’t I? How do you know Gich?” he asked, letting go of the nerves and finding comfort deeper in the shadows of the semidark room. Some things were easier to talk about if no one could see his face—particularly the vulnerability he knew was there.

“Yeah, you are. He was my dad’s swim buddy. They were in UDT 11 together and then later in SEAL Team ONE. Not that it is any of your business, Jack.” Her words were acerbic.

“You’re a SEAL pup!” The words tumbled out of his mouth. Dammit, what had he done!

He knew he deserved it. Learning that she was the daughter of a Team guy made his disrespect seem even worse. How was he going to make it up to her? Maybe he should just cut his losses and get out of there.

“Born and raised in the Teams. I cut my teeth playing on the Gator and SEAL beaches, back when you were still trying to figure out how to make a knot at your first Cub Scout meeting.” She bent over to pick up two small bolster cushions off the floor, and his hormones rang in their opinion loud and clear. This lady had serious sex appeal. He needed to give this apology stuff another try and make it stick. He needed her, had to be kind to her, for the sake of the Teams and, well, himself.

“I didn’t know. Gich was my BUD/S instructor and is a good friend.” Shaking his head, he said, “He’s my mentor, and he’d totally kick my ass if he knew we’d fooled around. How about you take pity on a Team guy and give me another chance? I’m very good, focused at what I put my mind to.”

Color ran up her cheeks. Maybe she was thinking about their experience at Dick’s Last Resort. He certainly was.

“Yes, he would slam you for it.” She smiled, and then laughed. “It’d be a humorous scuffle to be sure. But…” Her eyes ran up and down his frame. “Maybe I won’t tell. It depends on the next hour of interaction.”

“I’m on probation, then.” It didn’t set well with him, but he understood her wish for it.

“I can totally envision you and Gich giving each other crap.” Her laughter grew until she was holding her sides, probably imagining Gich and him chasing each other around like a couple of stooges. The apology, or that image, must have done the trick, because all of the tension drained from the room. Then again, humor always did clear the air.

When she was calmer, she studied him as if she was gauging him. “So you thought Gich sent me to you. Interesting thought. Has he ever done that before?”

“No. I just… I’ve had some stuff to deal with recently.” He stepped forward and presented the flowers. “I
am
sorry. Please accept them.” Using the word
please
was difficult for him, because it made him feel as if he were begging. But he had been wrong.

“Me, too. Thanks. Roses are my favorite. It’s a stunning bouquet.” She took the paper off, snipping the ends of the stalks and arranging them swiftly yet artistically in a white porcelain vase. He was glad he’d spent the $200, though the chocolates were in the car. He had a sweet tooth, too. “I’m not forgiving you, just contemplating your worthiness for it. And, uh, I’d like to be honest with you. When we met, I didn’t put two and two together about who you were. But this morning I remembered. I’ve heard of some of your issues, via the grapevine, and I’m sorry that your military life has become so difficult. That’s hard.” She moved the flowers closer to her worktable, then opened her desk drawer to retrieve a pen. Giving her attention to the book in front of her, she scanned the pages and then turned to look at him. “I might be able to help you, if you would really like to have an appointment today.”

“Was that a gun I saw in your drawer?” he asked, intrigued by what he saw. “It’s not really pink, is it? It’s so tiny.”

“Yes, it came from Gich. It’s a stainless steel pink polymer frame TCP Taurus .38. Of course, I keep the bullets hidden, but within reach. I can have a gun loaded, cocked, and pointed at you in less than five seconds.” She winked at him. This was a saucy lady, for sure! A woman with a significant amount of style was a pleasure to spend time with. “I’m protective of what’s mine but not dumb enough to keep a loaded gun in a drawer where patients could access it.”

“I agree, you have to be smart. I admire a person who can handle herself well.” He gave her another half smile. “Okay, I might be interested in trying acupuncture or acupressure or something like that.”

“Sure, I use some alternative methods—acupuncture or acupressure can both be transformative, and energy work and massage can cut healing time by half. So I’ll use whatever techniques I have in my arsenal, holistic or standard. What level of healing are you open to?” Laurie’s eyes traveled the length of him.

“Fully healed. Do whatever you have to.” He rubbed his neck.

“Most head injuries have associated issues with neck and shoulders.” She smiled at him. “My job is to identify problem areas.” She pulled out a form. “You’ll need to sign this so I can get access to your medical records and correspond with your doctor. The second piece of paper has a series of exercises I want you to begin that will loosen you up. Don’t add weight to them until I clear you.”

He frowned as he filled out the form and signed it. The other one he glanced over and then stuffed in his pocket.

“Don’t worry, I only send updates on physical info, not mental.”

“Huh?”

“I tape my sessions, just in case anything useful comes up that a patient might want to hear from their own lips. I keep them for two weeks and then I recycle them. No one else gets access but me. Got it?”

He wasn’t thrilled with being taped, but there was a certain quality about Laurie that intrigued him. He couldn’t identify it precisely, but they had already faced a hurdle and she had handled it well. Laurie didn’t roll over and concede to his wishes. They’d gone toe-to-toe, and in the end, though she was tough, she was easygoing, too. These values were a must-have in his world. “Sure.”