Chapter 5
The scent of salt from the ocean clung to the breeze as Brock got out of the Uber and thanked the driver. Normally, he loved coming back to his home in Coronado Island after wrapping up assignments. His favorite experience was crossing the Coronado Bridge and leaving the sprawl of San Diego behind as he entered Coronado with its charming architecture and palm-lined streets. What he appreciated most about the island was its slower, more restful pace.
Today, however, he felt no peace. Only turmoil. Weariness pressed down on him like a weighted vest as he closed the door behind him and glanced around at the familiar surroundings of his cottage-style home.
The ache in his body was nothing compared to the emotional gut punch he kept replaying—the devastated look on Jules’s face when she found out he was going back to Adrian.
He hadn’t meant for her to find out like that.
He’d wanted time to explain … time to soften the blow.
But now?
Well, now she’d never forgive him.
Who was he kidding? Jules wouldn’t have taken the news well, no matter how he phrased it. He crossed over the tile in the foyer and headed for his bedroom. The place was quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge and the rhythmic creak of the ceiling fan in the living room.
When he got to his bedroom, he set his duffel bag down on the bed and raked a hand through his hair. Maybe he’d feel better after a long, hot shower and some rest. At least then he’d be able to think somewhat clearly. Tomorrow, he’d go and spend the day with Trev—maybe take him to the beach. Ever since the divorce was finalized a year before, Adrian had been begging him to come back to her. She’d be ecstatic when she learned that he was willing to give their relationship another try. Everything in him recoiled. Could he do it? Could he really go back to living in turmoil?
An image of Jules flashed through his mind. He saw again the shock and hurt in her expressive eyes, which were normally golden brown. However, they’d turned an impenetrable black-brown when she realized that he was going back to Adrian. He recognized her reaction. He’d reacted the same way time and time again when dealing with Adrian and all of her drama. It was the only way he could protect himself emotionally. It killed him to know that he’d hurt Jules as Adrian had hurt him.
Why did life have to be so tough?
After he broke things off with Adrian, Brock told himself that he was done with relationships. However, from the moment he met Jules, things had been amazing. He'd seen a way forward with Jules into a future that wasn’t murky.
Brock wasn’t good at relationships—he could thank his old man for that.
However, Jules made him feel as if he could actually build a life with her.
Hearing a subtle movement, he turned to find his older brother Luke leaning against the doorway.
“Hey, man.” Luke’s perceptive eyes narrowed as he took in Brock’s appearance. “You look like crap.”
“Appreciate the warm welcome,” Brock muttered in a gravelly tone.
“Just tellin’ it like it is.” Luke flashed an unapologetic grin.
Big Brother prided himself on being candid.
Luke stood barefoot in the hallway. He was a couple of inches taller than Brock and had a slightly leaner build. He was the spitting image of their mom, and Brock looked more like their dad. Luke wore swim trunks and a surf shirt. His dark curls were damp and tangled. “Just went for a swim. Gonna hit the waves out at The Strand. The swell’s looking decent today. Wanna come?”
Brock gave a tired shake of his head. “Nah. Just wanna crash.”
Luke shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Brock expected him to leave, but he didn’t. He just stood there, arms folded over his chest, studying him with that irritating, older brother intuition. Brock raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”
“How’d it go with Jules?”
Brock brushed past him and stalked to the kitchen. He yanked open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Perrier. He twisted the top open, dropped it on the counter, and chugged half of the fizzy water down, appreciating the burn in the back of his throat.
No surprise, Luke had followed him in here. He studied Brock, waiting for him to answer.
“I’m fine,” he growled, wishing Luke would just let it go. But no, he had to keep pressing. It was what Luke did. His diehard determination had served him well as a Navy SEAL, and then later, when he worked for Sutton Smith, he quickly rose up the ranks to become one of Sutton’s most trusted men—before Luke’s demons got the best of him and he wrecked everything.
On a personal level, Luke’s refusal to let things go was more than a little irritating.
Luke leaned back against the counter. “Yeah, you’re about as fine as a frog in a frying pan. What happened?”
Brock downed the rest of the water and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. He picked up the discarded cap and threw it away also.
“Please tell me that you didn’t make the biggest mistake of your life.”
His stomach was tied into a hard knot. “I did the only thing I could.”
“She knows?”
“She knows,” Brock said dully.
“You’re making a huge mistake, bro.” Luke scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s bad enough that you’re going through with this absurd plan, but I can’t believe that you broke the news to Jules at her sister’s wedding. That’s poor form, even for you.”
“It’s not like you’re the king of diplomacy,” Brock slung back.
Amusement flitted over Luke’s face. “No one ever accused me of being diplomatic. And even I’m not harsh enough to break up with my girl at her sister’s wedding.”
“You don’t have a girl,” Brock reminded him.
“Well, if I did, I sure as heck wouldn’t treat her the way you treated Jules.”
“I didn’t want to break the news at the wedding. Wasn’t planning on it,” Brock countered as he tightened his jaw. “Charli and Fitz let it slip right after the ceremony.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah,” Brock muttered. “It was a train wreck.” He went over and sat down at the kitchen table.
Luke joined him. He eyed Brock. “So you’re really doing it? Going back to Adrian?”
“I told you I was.”
Luke’s lips parted like he wanted to argue, but then he clamped his mouth shut.
“You got something to say, then do it,” Brock demanded.
He shook his head back and forth. “Man ... for someone who can strategize a four-man exfil under enemy fire, you’re completely clueless when it comes to relationships.”
Brock snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“I know. Pot, kettle, whatever. But hear me out. You and Adrian couldn’t make it work when you were married. You think it’ll be any better now?”
Brock’s hands curled into fists. “Don’t do this, Luke.”
“I’m just saying,” Luke pressed. “Shortly after you got back from your honeymoon, I remember you coming to my house and sitting on the couch bawling your eyes out, saying that marrying Adrian was the worst decision you ever made.”
Brock’s jaw clenched so tightly that it hurt. “Thanks for the reminder.” The truth was that he’d fallen for Adrian hard and fast. Her terrific looks and charm had pulled him in like a riptide. But then things unraveled fast. Adrian’s erratic mood swings always had him walking on thin ice. She would become intolerable, making unreasonable demands that no person could live up to. When Brock tried to reason with her, she’d threaten suicide, telling him in great detail all of the various ways she’d devised to do the deed. She set up so many emotional landmines that he hardly knew where to step.
When they were dating, Adrian told him that she struggled with anxiety. He didn’t think much of it. In his line of work, anxiety went with the territory. Later, he learned that Adrian had a personality disorder. For her, people were mere objects to be manipulated and controlled.
Brock had contemplated getting out so many times. Ironically, him serving as a Navy SEAL was what had prolonged the relationship. He was required to spend large amounts of time away on missions. It was easier to navigate Adrian’s illness when he was able to have some space from her.
When Trevor came along, Brock felt shackled. Not by his son—never by Trev. But by the commitment he’d made. He wasn’t going to be like his old man, who’d left when Luke was ten and Brock was eight. “I made a vow. You don’t just walk away from that.”
“You sure this isn’t fear talking?”
Brock’s head snapped up. “You think I’m doing this out of fear?”
“I think,” Luke said evenly, “that you’ve never been able to let yourself be happy. You think that sacrificing your happiness is the only option.” He leaned forward and jabbed his index finger into the table as he spoke. “That’s just not true.” His voice grew husky with urgency. “You deserve to be happy, bro.”
Brock’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t about me . It’s about Trevor.”
“Exactly,” Luke exclaimed. “Do you really think that going back into a toxic relationship is going to help Trevor?”
“I’m his father,” he thundered.
Luke wasn’t the least bit quelled by the outburst. “You can still be his father without going back to Adrian.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” Luke gave him a piercing look. “You know what I think?”
“No, but I get the feeling you’re gonna tell me,” he said dryly.
“This isn’t about Trev. Not really.”
Brock’s rebuttal came rushing out. “Of course, it’s about Trev. I dare you to suggest otherwise.”
Luke talked over him. “It’s about you. You’re afraid. Plain and simple. And you’re using Trev as an excuse.”
Brock wanted to punch something. His older brother could be such a jerk—thinking he knew everything. “Of course, this is about Trev,” Brock snapped. “Do you know how it felt when I got that call?” His voice rose. “ Do you? ”
Luke held up his hands. “Hey, man. Take it down a notch.”
Brock grunted. “Well, let me tell you—it didn’t feel good to get that call from Adrian telling me that Trev was beating up kids at school.” He pointed to his chest. “I was the one who was bullied. I know how that feels. And to think my own kid could turn into something like that ...” His voice cracked. “It makes me sick. When I taught Trev those self-defense moves, I had no idea he’d turn around and use them on other kids.”
“Brock, the kid is seven years old. He’s going through—I don’t know—some kind of mean streak or whatever. He’ll get over it. He’s got you to help him through it.”
“Yeah, he’ll have me if I can live in the same house as him,” Brock fired back. “You and I both know it’s nearly impossible to have any kind of influence from a distance. Adrian’s always setting parameters on when I can see Trev and then changing her mind at the last minute.”
Luke held his gaze. “Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun here?”
Brock didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
“Look, I get it. You’re worried about Trev becoming a bully. It gives me cause for concern, too. But think about it—he’s seven. Kids go through weird phases.” He paused. “This thing with Jules is more than that.” Luke’s voice dropped lower. “For the first time in your life, you found a woman who makes you a better man—and it scares you. Scares the crap out of you.”
He pushed out a dry, humorless laugh. “Trust me. I know what it’s like to run from something.”
They shared a long look, both knowing what the other was thinking. Luke had run from his problems. Straight into a bottle, just like their dad. And it had nearly destroyed him.
Brock was proud of his big brother for trying to put his life back together. When Luke came to live with him a few months ago, he was a mess—drinking like a fish, directionless. But then he found his rhythm. Getting on a strict routine had saved Luke. Sure, he’d gone a little overboard with the healthy food, shakes, supplements, and constant exercising, but if that was what kept him on the straight and narrow, who was Brock to complain?
Luke broke into his thoughts. “Like I said, I think you’re jumping the gun. Do you think Trev is in any danger with Adrian?”
Brock’s response was instant. “No, she’d never hurt him. He’s the only thing she cares about ... well, other than herself.” Brock was relieved that Adrian could actually love another person. Up until Trevor came along, he’d wondered.
Luke nodded, vindicated. “Okay, Adrian has her problems, but she tries to be a good mom. Trev’s not in any danger. You can’t put this all on him. You’ve got to live your own life. You can still be the dad you need to be and work things out with Jules.”
Brock rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not so sure about that.” He was tired of talking this thing to death.
“Well, I am,” Luke said. “You need to listen to me. I know what I’m talking about here.”
Brock stared out the sliding glass doors toward the strip of beach just beyond the patio. He wanted to believe Luke was right. Wanted to believe that he could be with Jules and still do right by his son. But every time he looked at Trevor, he remembered what it felt like to be abandoned.
Another thought edged into his mind. Was this about fear?
His phone buzzed. He fished it out of the front pocket of his jeans and glanced at the screen. Tippin. He answered with a terse, “Hello.”
“Hey, man.”
“Why’re you calling? Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon? In Ireland?”
“Yeah … just got here a few hours ago.”
“What’s going on?”
Brock waited for Tippin to speak. “Tippin?” Brock’s voice sharpened. “What’s going on?”
“It’s about Jules.”
The air deflated from Brock’s lungs like he’d been sucker punched. “What about her?”
“She was in a car accident.”
Brock’s heart stopped, and then it kicked into overdrive. “Is she— Is she okay?”
“She’s in the hospital in stable condition.”
He let out a shaky breath as relief trickled through him. “What happened?”
“Hit and run. They don’t have a suspect yet.”
His mind reeled a few seconds before snapping into place like a gun cocking. Just like that, a cold, precise clarity settled over him as he scooted his chair back and stood. He might be at a loss when it came to relationships, but he understood this.
He squared his jaw. “What can I do to help?”