Chapter 7 Leif #2
Malena is going to need me to help her. Be there for her.
My heart races when I think about seeing her again, and it’s asinine even to me.
It was just last night that the whole broken wrist debacle took place.
More, it’s when I knew that no matter what happened, I wasn’t going to be able to turn my back on her in any way, shape, or form.
As I hang up the call with Garden Breeze, I get a text from Malena telling me she called out of work today because she was at the hospital all night long—and is still there.
It’s a long paragraph thanking me for pulling strings to get her into the facility and how she’s going to repay me.
Malena feels guilty, I can tell through her word choice, but mostly she sounds tired—ready to do the inevitable.
I text back. Don’t mention it. It was nothing getting her in.
She needs to be there, she’ll be happy. Celia says it’s the best place around.
Try not to worry. You’ll have to get as many of her medical records to them when you get a chance.
Tell me if you need anything else. I’m sorry about last night.
While I wouldn’t have fucked her—I didn’t have a condom on me—I would have made her toes curl multiple times if we weren’t interrupted.
I have to keep reminding myself there will be plenty of time.
Her reply is swift. Last night was simultaneously the best and worst night of my life. But don’t quote me on that because I’m running on about 30 minutes of sleep. I’m going to get Mom settled in at Garden Breeze, and then I’m going to sleep for a decade.
My mood deflates as my hope to see her tonight is crushed like a tiny bug. Think about her. Not yourself. This is an enormous step she’s making. It will leave her alone in her house. That’s going to be a vast change from what she’s used to.
I keep it easy and happy, my thumbs flying to tap out the message. If you need company, let me know. I’m only a bike ride away. Though, I’ll probably take my moped now that I’m not stalking you. I expect a serial killer joke to follow.
She doesn’t respond as quickly, though. I want to see your house.
I swallow hard. Yes. Come over.
I might have to leave a toothbrush there.
I grin. Not allowed
In reality, Malena could leave a limb at my house if it meant she was there, in my space—my bed.
Can’t come then. Sorry.
You can use mine, I counter.
That’s abhorrent, Leif. I can’t be your friend anymore.
Fine. Bring a toothbrush as long as you take it with you when you go. I didn’t know we were “friends.”
Such a swift kick in the ass. You charmer, you. What would you call me if not a friend?
My heart rate ratchets up to adrenaline junkie mode.
It doesn’t make sense, but I’ll overanalyze it later.
I slink back into my office chair. Sutter says something to me, but I’m too lost in my thoughts to respond to him.
Grinning at my phone, I text, Mine. I’d call you mine.
My dick rises to the occasion, making me uncomfortably aware that while she may be mine, I have yet to stake my claim in a consummate way.
While I’d typically reject such a strongly worded statement, I’m so tired that it actually pleases me to read it. Being yours has a nice ring to it.
Good. I’ll make it official when you come over.
That might be worth the exhaustion. Her text comes, and then another. I have to go. Sorry. A van arrived to take Mom, and I’m going to go home to pack some things.
It’s going to be a good thing, I remind her. Don’t be scared. Call me if you need anything. Or just swing by.
She doesn’t reply, but I remind her where my condo is and offer to swing by tonight if she asks me to.
Sutter, who was reading over my shoulder this entire time I was wrapped up in Malena, cackles like a drunken clown.
“Dude, you are so fucking chained. When did this happen? You’ve kept a good-ass secret, man.
Not like Tahoe. What is in this fucking water?
Turning men into pets left and right,” he whoops out, bent over laughing.
I click the side button to darken my cell phone’s screen. “Fuck off, Sutter.”
“No, fuck you, man. Do you guys have balls left? These chicks aren’t anything special.
I’ve dicked plenty of them and walked away unscathed.
What is it about them that makes them so desirable?
The Southern drawl? The coconut-laced hair shampoo?
The tans? These small-town ladies are the Kryptonite of this whole fucking SEAL Team.
” Sutter shakes his head. “I need to get back to San Diego, where the women are women and the men stay men. I’m surrounded by pussies, and I can’t fuck any of them. ”
“Calm your tits, dude. Maybe if you had a woman to go home to at night, you wouldn’t be such an asshole all the time.”
“What is it about her then? Explain,” Sutter says, sitting in an office chair and scooting toward me until we’re knee to knee. “Make me understand.”
Swallowing hard, I blow out a breath. “You’re serious?
I just came from lunch with my sisters. I don’t think I’m ready for this kind of conversation.
I haven’t even had sex with her, so I don’t want to call it before the ref does, man.
” It’s a slight lie because I already know sex with Malena will be amazing because the chemistry is off the motherfucking charts.
“There’s nothing to understand, really. Why do you care?
You’re a bachelor for life. Don’t worry about what I’m doing. ”
Sutter shakes his head. “No. Not for life. But it’s not going to be some small-town chick to keep me. These women have never seen outside this place.” He’s generalizing, but he knows it. I don’t need to remind him.
Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “How is that a bad thing?”
Sutter appears to actually consider my question instead of slinging an insult, so I go on.
“Listen, they sent me here for a break. It’s why most of us are here. I don’t know about you, but since the war began, I haven’t even paused to consider what might be good for me. What I wanted outside of the Teams, what would fulfill and make me happy. Have you?”
Sutter looks at me with wide eyes, shaking his head. “You’ve turned into a pussy before you tapped it. I didn’t know it was possible. I’m witnessing the death of your manhood right now.”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck you, Sutter. I thought you wanted to be serious for half a second. I want to help Malena and…I like her,” I say, turning away from him to read emails on our server.
“It’s the hero complex,” Sutter says. “Once she’s saved, you’ll get bored and join the fuck team again. That’s what it is. I’ve diagnosed you. Go forth and swoop in with your red cape and awesome biceps. Fuck a few times, then return to me wiser and stronger.”
“You’re wrong,” I say, praying to God he’s not right. He makes sense in the fucked-up way only Sutter can make sense.
“I’m not wrong. I’ll be here waiting.”
For the first time, I don’t want to be on whatever team Sutter is on. I don’t think I was ever the angry, single asshole that he is, but I might have been. I pull up the itinerary for skydiving on Friday and save the few emails that contain details about the whereabouts of my bad guy.