The SEAL's Valentine (Operation: Family) (16 page)

Cayden cocked his head. “How come you can’t keep doing it?”

“Remember how we talked about me being in the navy?”

“Uh-huh...”

Tristan forced a deep breath. “Well, when my son, Jack, moved to California, I was kinda upset. But now that I feel better, I have to get back to work.”

“Okay...” Cayden still looked confused. “But you’re gonna get a job like Mom, right? Where you just go away during the day and then you’re home when I get out of school or practice?”

“Not exactly.”

Cayden yawned, which Brynn took as a sign that he hadn’t anywhere near grasped what Tristan was saying. “Then you’re just gonna be gone sometimes like my dad? But then you’ll be home?”

Handing him the hat, Tristan said, “I want you to have this. It was mine when I used to be a Mud Bug with your dad.”

“Really?” His eyes widened. “That’s cool. But why don’t you give it to Jack?”

“He likes surfing and skateboarding more than baseball. And anyway, this hat means a lot to me, and so...so do you.” Tristan’s voice cracked. “When you wear it, I want you to do me a favor and think about me, okay?”

“Sure. I guess...” Cayden put Tristan’s childhood hat backward on his head. It was a perfect fit. “But whenever you’re here, I think about you all the time.”

“That’s just it.” Noticeably pale, Tristan looked to Brynn, but she looked away. He forged ahead. “I’m going to be living in a place called Virginia Beach, and it’s kind of a long way away.”

“Wait—” Cayden’s eyes filled with tears. “You mean you’re moving? Like me and Mom did when we left St. Louis? So like I’ve never seen any of my friends or teachers or my dad ever again, that’s gonna be the same as you?”

“Bud...” To his credit, Tristan’s eyes had grown equally red.

“W-why are you doing this?” Cayden asked on a coughing sob. “I thought you loved me and Mom and Mackenzie? B-but if you do love us, then you wouldn’t leave.”

“Your dad left, and he loved you.”

“That isn’t the same!” Cayden jumped to his feet. “My doctor says bad guys killed my dad! He’s dead! You’re just leaving because you don’t like us anymore!”

“Ah, Cayden, that’s not how it is at all...”

“I hate you!” Brynn’s boy shouted on his way out the door. “I hate you and you can keep your stupid hat!” Cayden pitched it at him. “I don’t ever want to think of you again!”

“Swell.” Hands tucked in his jean pockets, Tristan said, “Like mother, like son.”

Chapter Sixteen

Cayden ran and ran through the neighborhood until he was kind of lost. But then he saw Miss Georgia pulling weeds out of her backyard and he remembered how nice she’d always been to him, so he went to ask her for help.

“Hello, there.” She smiled when he came close. “You’re a fine mess. All sweaty. Want some of my special pink lemonade?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pointed to the pretty covered swing she sat on a lot when she looked at her flowers. “Sit a spell and I’ll be right back.” Over her shoulder, she asked, “Want cookies, too?”

He nodded.

By the time she got back, carrying a big plate of chocolate chip cookies and a plastic cup with lemonade and lots of ice, he’d stopped crying, but didn’t feel better.

While he ate cookies, Miss Georgia sat next to him, making the swing sway just a little with her bare feet. “Now that you’ve had refreshment, how about telling me what’s got you in a dither?”

He looked at her all squinty. “I’m not really sure what that means.”

“It’s just a fancy way of asking what has you upset.”

“Lots.” After drinking half his lemonade, he let out a big breath. “Guess what Tristan just told me?”

“What?” She leaned in closer.

“He’s leaving Ruin Bayou and never coming back.”

“Really...” She didn’t seem as surprised as he’d been. “I was afraid of that.”

He grabbed a cookie from the plate she held on her lap. “How’d you even know?”

“I’m
very
old, so not much surprises me.” She put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Things do make me sad, though. And this is for sure one of those things. I’d have bet good money Tristan was going to make you a great second dad.”

Cayden tried hard not to, but he started crying again. “M-me, too.”

* * *

“
I’
LL
BE
DAMNED
...” Tristan’s old roomie, fellow SEAL Calder Remington, held open the apartment door. “We were all beginning to wonder if we’d ever see you again.”

Tristan shrugged on his way through the door. “Thanks for letting me in. Not sure what I did with my key.”

“You look like hammered shit.”

“You’re too kind.” Dropping his duffel bag on the living-room floor, Tristan added, “Feel like it, too.”

“Everyone else know you’re back?”

“Just the CO.”

Exhausted from the eighteen-hour drive, Tristan fell into a recliner. The place smelled the same—like beer and stale pizza. The upstairs neighbor’s base still thumped through the ceiling and there were still no knickknacks to speak of or pictures hung on the walls. He used to feel comfortable here. Now it felt lifeless and sterile. He much preferred Brynn’s or even his mom’s. But it was too late to second-guess his decision to leave now.

He hadn’t even given Brynn a proper hug goodbye—let alone the final kiss he’d craved.

“Then you know?”

Tristan had closed his eyes, imagining her gorgeous freckled face, but he opened one eye to look at his old friend. “Know what?”

“We’re shipping out in the morning. Somalia. Should be a
real
good time.”

* * *

H
AVING
SPENT
L
ABOR
D
AY
WITH
Vivian and Sean, Brynn worked hard on Tuesday keeping herself busy getting Cayden ready for school.

Since his last talk with Tristan, her son hadn’t been the same. He clung to her like he hadn’t since immediately following Mack’s death and seeing his smile had become as elusive as spotting a rainbow-striped unicorn in the backyard.

He was watching a favorite Disney movie when the phone rang.

The caller ID number was so odd she almost didn’t answer. “Hello?” she asked out of boredom.

“Brynn?” Her racing heart recognized the voice before her head.

“Tristan?” Why was he calling? They’d already said more than she could bear.

“Please don’t hang up. I’m calling from Germany and I don’t have long before catching my next ride.”

Questions raced through her mind. What was he doing so far away? Was he on a mission? Was it dangerous?

“Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be back in the country, but before I leave, I have to tell you again I’m sorry.”

Tears welled in her eyes and knotted her throat.

“I don’t regret leaving—well, I do, but for selfish reasons. I want better for you than me. I want you to have a real, stay-home kind of husband and for Cayden to have a dad who’s there for every ball game.”

“Oh—” A ragged laugh escaped the lump in her throat. “So you think I can just head out on a street corner to replace you? Maybe put an ad in the paper?”

“Dammit, Brynn, you know what I mean.”

“No, Tristan, I don’t know anything about you. I thought I did, but then you made love to me and left town. Wham bam, thank you, ma’am.”

“It wasn’t like that and you know it.”

She sighed, turning her back to the living room in case seven-year-old ears listened. “Then tell me what it was like, because I’m kind of confused.”

“I called to hopefully give us both closure, but I can see that’s not happening.”

“You want closure?” she snapped. “You got it. Never call me again.”

“Brynn... Come on, don’t be like this. I don’t know when we’ll talk again.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left.” So furious she was shaking, Brynn hung up the phone.

One second later, she regretted it and frantically tried calling back, but she got a recording about the number being only for outgoing calls.

“Mom?” Cayden joined her in the kitchen. “Who was on the phone? You sounded mad.”

“No, sweetie.” She comforted herself by giving him a hug. “Just someone trying to sell something I wasn’t in the mood to buy.”

* * *

T
RISTAN
’
S
SUPPOSEDLY
in-and-out mission to Somalia turned into what was starting to feel like a never-ending siege. A particularly violent drug cartel had attempted a government takeover and his team had been charged with tracking the lovely bunch of thugs. Tristan and his buddies were posing as an oil exploration crew while gathering intelligence. Months had passed during which he hadn’t been able to get word to Jack or Cayden, let alone his mom or Brynn.

Tristan had a couple of great pics of Jack he kept in his chest pocket, along with a print he’d made before leaving the States of the Fourth of July shot he’d taken of the Langtoine clan. As it was early November, meaning they were fortunate enough to be enjoying the Somalian
Dayr,
or fall rainy season, everything he owned was damp. He kept his pics in a Ziploc baggy, insuring his most valuable possessions remained safe and dry.

“Look at that much more, you’re going to burn a hole in it.”

“With my laser eyes?” Tristan shot Garrett a look he hoped conveyed to his longtime friend to mind his own business.

“You don’t have to be testy. It’s not like most of us haven’t been in your place at one time or another. I miss Eve and our kids so bad it hurts, but we just gotta soldier through.”

Tristan turned off his flashlight and sighed. “Yeah, well, what if I told you I’m tired?”

“Aren’t we all? But this is what we signed up for.”

“I know, but maybe it’s not worth it.”

Resting on his side, Garrett bunched the T-shirt he used as a pillow under his head. “You mean being a SEAL?”

“Yeah. You ever think of hanging up your Trident?”

“Hell, no. Eve knows what my being a SEAL means and is okay with it. We both lead full lives and when we come together, it’s still great—like a do-over honeymoon.”

“TMI,” Tristan said with a grunt. “Problem is, my lady—or at least the woman I’d like to be mine—says she’d be okay with me leaving, but Andrea once said the same. Look how swell that turned out. But, hell, I can’t stand being away from her or her kids. Or Jack. My head’s constantly spinning, trying to figure out a way I don’t have to give up everything I’ve ever known to get the one thing I now want.”

* * *

“I
ALMOST
HATE
TO
ASK
,” Donna said over Christmas dinner, “but have you heard from Tristan since his last call?”

Brynn shook her head, hoping Cayden and his big ears hadn’t overheard. Any mention of Tristan upset him to the point Brynn had pretty much banished his name. She wasn’t sure if this was handling Cayden’s grief in the proper way, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure what else to do. Cayden’s therapist said this was all right for short-term coping, but eventually, her son would have to find a healthy way to deal with Tristan being gone.

Though Vivian and Sean had done their best to provide a festive meal—even including Georgia—everyone present missed Tristan to their own degree.

Fortunately, Donna sat at the end of the long table that included Vivian’s parents and Tristan’s sister, Franny, and her husband and three kids. Brynn couldn’t keep from smiling every time she thought of him calling his little sister Fig Newton.

“I don’t mind telling you,” Donna rambled on, “that every time the phone rings my stomach seizes. Although any truly catastrophic news I’d get through a knock on the door. Anyway, I phoned one of Tristan’s friends’ wives—Eve. She told me her husband, Garrett, called a month ago and told her everyone on Tristan’s team was fine.”

As much as Brynn despised the man, she couldn’t help but feel shimmery with relief. If she had one Christmas wish above all, as a steady rain tapped the Stoleys’ windows, a fire glowed in their hearth and Bing Crosby crooned on their stereo, it was that wherever Tristan and his team happened to be, they were all safe, warm and sharing an equally delicious meal.

* * *

“
A
NOTHER
AT
TEN
!”
G
ARRETT
shouted in the black night, firing his weapon blindly behind him. “Move it or lose it, Grinder!”

Tristan ducked to avoid the latest round of gunfire. “Merry freakin’ Christmas, huh?”

“Yeah, ho freakin’ ho.” Arming a grenade, he tossed it deep into the enemy compound they’d raided.

Gunfire rained like New Year’s Eve confetti.

Having had enough and spooked by the two of them being cut off from the rest of their team, Tristan let loose with a mighty growl before leaping to his feet and shooting wildly at anything that even remotely moved. “I’m so damned sick of this!”

Round after round he fired into the camp they’d predetermined to be filled with nothing but the lowest of the low of criminals.

With Garrett alongside him, they managed to take out every last one of the men whose résumés included human trafficking, murder, international drug transport and plain old bank robbery.

By the time they met up with their old pal Deacon, he patted them on their backs. “About time you two showed up for the party.”

“Screw you,” Tristan said.

Garrett laughed. “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because Santa put nothing in his stocking but drug lords.”

“Damn straight.” After clearing bodies from the surprisingly plush beehive-style Zulu hut, they all pitched in their favorite condiment packets to add flavor to otherwise disgusting MRE meals.

After dinner, with no water to spare for low-priority tasks like washing, Tristan slept on top of his sleeping bag, dreaming not of a white Christmas, but of being reunited with the people who meant the most.

* * *

“
T
RISTAN
...” T
WO
DAYS
AFTER
Christmas on a gloomy afternoon, Brynn gripped the phone so tight that the plastic ridges bit her fingers. “Your mom has been worried sick. Why haven’t you called?”
I’ve missed you so bad my heart actually aches.

“No time to explain. I’m back in Germany, but only for a couple hours. Just needed to touch base. Hear your voice.”

Pulse on a runaway course, she closed her eyes, leaning against the kitchen wall for support when her knees threatened to buckle. “Thank you for thinking of me.” She hated sounding so formal, but he hadn’t left her much choice. What were they? Friends? Lovers, but only when it suited him? His leaving had been breathtakingly cruel. Like a precision mission designed to cause little physical damage, but deliver a crushing psychological blow.

“Not sure if I should say this, but honestly, all I do is think of you—and Mackenzie and Cayden. He around?”

“Yes, but...” She glanced to where her son sat at the kitchen table, icing New Year’s Eve cookies for Friday night’s big party. The holidays had been especially hard for him—so much so, she’d started taking him to his therapist twice a week. Though she couldn’t entirely blame Tristan—Lord knew, Mack’s death had played a huge role in messing up their kid—she certainly didn’t feel warm and fuzzy where their supposed friend was involved. Cupping the phone’s mouthpiece, she whispered, “He’s finally getting over you. I’m not sure it’d be wise to open that wound.”

“Please...” His ragged tone cut through her every defense. Made her want to hold him, stroking away whatever pained him. “It’s been a hellish few days and I could really use a reminder of home.”

“Look, Mom!” Cayden held up a yellow-frosted star.

Her stomach knotted.

Cayden had cried for days when Tristan left. He still talked about him all the time. No matter how many times Brynn had gently reminded her son that while Tristan would always be their special friend, he had an important job to do back on his navy base. Sounded good, right? At least until Cayden asked why he wasn’t also important to Tristan.

“Brynn...” Tristan’s jagged sigh pierced her carefully built walls. “You have to know I never meant for any of this to turn out badly. And I sure didn’t want to hurt Cayden.”

Since a knot blocked her throat, she nodded. But then felt silly since he couldn’t even see her. “Tristan, I—”

“Tristan’s on the phone?” Cayden tossed his cookie to the table. Before Brynn could even try stopping him, he’d charged over to grab the handset. “Tristan, hi! I miss you so much! When are you coming home? Even though it’s winter, me and Dom practice catching all the time, and when’re you coming to see me?”