Chapter Twelve
Isla
Trying to distract myself, I glanced at the veins on his hands that crawled up his arms and disappeared under his rolled-up sleeves.
His hair was shaggy on top, longer than it had been, and his scruff was more than a couple days old.
His boots were creased and worn, his black pants had faded to dark gray from too many washings, and the callouses on his hands weren’t from manual labor.
Not ordinary labor, anyway.
But his shirt?
That was crisp and pressed.
It was always pressed on these specific occasions, even if he’d mangled the sleeves as he’d rolled them.
“We didn’t have to do this,” I whispered.
Thumbing the edge of the waiting room magazine he had rolled back on itself so only one page was showing, my brother didn’t respond.
I tried again. “It’s been years.” Like years, years.
The muscles in his forearms flexed as his hands fisted around Architectural Digest.
“What’s wrong? Don’t like mid-century-modern knockoffs or picturesque cliffsides?
” The cliffside was my own add-on. One that referenced the last time I saw him.
Well, heard him. He was hard to spot if he didn’t want to be seen.
Regardless, I now had a hard time seeing all the mannerisms of my brother without thinking of another SEAL and making comparisons.
And that was fucked up. So much so, I didn’t have a barometer for it.
Still not answering, still not showing any signs of emotion on his face, my brother didn’t even shift in the uncomfortable plastic-molded chair that was too small for his long legs.
I knew another SEAL who wouldn’t have shifted either.
Then again, that SEAL wouldn’t be here in the first place because not only was he not a part of my life, he was nothing.
A lamented decision. A dead memory. But also, apparently, something to fixate on as I sat here rattling with nerves so I didn’t let the other truly invasive thoughts sweep me back into the past.
Sighing, I leaned my head against the wall and muttered, “I could’ve done this myself.”
“But you didn’t.”
“He speaks,” I joked without humor.
“Not engaging,” my brother warned in his quiet voice that never sounded anything like an actual warning—not unless you knew him.
Which, as far as I was aware, no one did.
Not really. At least not the things I knew about him, which I’d been trying unsuccessfully to catalog since the early morning hours.
My brother was a lot of things, but an open book wasn’t one of them.
“Not even to tell me how you tracked me to Miami?” The containership I’d taken here had broken security cameras, and I’d been extra careful disembarking in Miami.
Come to think of it, I’d been equally as careful in the South of France.
I glanced at my brother. “Or how you found me in Cap d’Antibes?
” Even the mention of the estate had my stomach somersaulting at the memory of fragrant greenery and the crisp citrus-and-vetiver scent of its owner.
Nerves that had nothing and everything to do with this waiting room assaulted me as my brother ignored yet another question.
Crossing my arms and legs, I bounced my flip-flopped foot.
A large hand landed on my knee, and my brother’s voice got super quiet. “This should’ve been done last year.”
I knew he wasn’t scolding me. He wouldn’t, not for my nerves. His statement came from concern, and I wasn’t a complete asshole. I got it. If the situation were reversed, I would be worried sick until we—I—had answers. That part I understood.
But my brother didn’t understand it from my end. No one could unless they’d been through it. And in a way, he’d been through way, way worse. Actually, in all ways.
I was being selfish.
But I wasn’t.
Yesterday had taken me off guard. I’d felt backed into a corner, and I just didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to know. I wanted to keep living my life, not waiting for bad news.
Or any news.
“Can we just….” I grabbed my brother’s hand.
He squeezed my fingers, but gently, in the way he had since we were kids. The way he had when I was…. Oh, I couldn’t do this.
Bringing his hand to my heart, I held on tight.
I was being seriously selfish.
We never had time like this anymore—together, just being in the same place at the same time.
Eating a dinner I’d cooked for us. Staying in not just a safe place that provided shelter from the elements, but a ridiculously luxurious oceanfront suite.
I knew he’d booked the place for me. And he’d not only tracked me down, picked an incredible hotel where he knew I’d love the view, but he’d chosen to be here.
Hell, he’d made all the arrangements so I didn’t have to.
“I love you,” I whispered.
He tipped his chin at the opening door. “Stay strong.”
“Miss Stanton?”
My brother stood and pulled me up by our still-joined hands.
Ignoring my fake name for the day, I smiled as wide as my blustering grin would allow. “We could make a run for it.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You run. I follow.”
My smile disappeared. “Yeah.” This was exactly what he’d reminded me of last night after he’d dropped the bomb about this appointment.
“I kinda figured that out after I let the battery die on that first cell phone you gave me.” I’d been sixteen, on my own, out in the populated world for the first time.
I’d also been upset my brother was going on another deployment.
Reeling from culture shock, I’d been more concerned with feeding myself than worrying about keeping some electronic device charged, especially when I’d never had a cell phone before.
Two days after I was supposed to do my monthly check-in with my brother, he’d shown up. With silent fury simmering, he’d handed me a newly charged cell phone and kissed the top of my head. Then, in his forever controlled tone, he’d quietly told me to be safe. Seconds later, he was gone again.
Even though that had been a lifetime ago, I could still feel that lost girl and the irrevocably flawed childhood she’d been running from.
The young, pretty nurse who was checking out my brother raised an eyebrow at him instead of me. “Ready?”
Not making eye contact with her, he answered for me. “She is.” Then, with my hand in his, just like when we were kids, my brother led me across the waiting room.