14. Carson
CHAPTER 14
CARSON
“Carson, this house is amazing!” The realtor gushed.
I scanned the sunlit room. The open living room, dining room, and kitchen with its hardwood floors, soaring ceilings, and high-end finishes had been expensive, but I’d bought the house for next to nothing. I hated to think about how much the previous owners lost in the housing crash.
“Thanks,” I replied. Sammy sold me the first house I bought and flipped and has been with me since. She knew her stuff.
She continued through the house, running her hands over the surfaces like I imagined she would caress a lover. I trailed along behind her as she did her touchy-feely thing and answered her questions as we toured the house.
I hated this part of the process. It was a necessary evil if I wanted to get a good return on my investment, but I flipped houses with the mindset that I was making a home for a family. Yes, I wanted to make money on the flip, but the way she talked about the property and finishes made me cringe sometimes. It was the same with the other two flips I’d listed with her. She oohed and ahhed, and the dollar signs got bigger and bigger while I wished she’d hurry the fuck up.
“So, think we can get this one on the market soon?”
“I do. There’s a lot of inventory right now…”
“But?”
“But I think you’ll make a profit. It might sit for a while.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at her. I knew I’d make a profit, but I also knew she would want to overprice the thing. So, I said, “Price it to sell. I’m going to be out of the state for the next little while. If we don’t have an offer by the time I get back, I’ll list it as a rental.”
“Is your ship deploying?” she asked me coyly.
The coquettish look she gave me told me all I needed to know.
“No.”
My short answer appeared to throw her off her game. Her eyes widened, and she spun away from me. I grimaced. I probably hurt her feelings, but the last thing I needed or wanted was a frog hog trying to get in my pants.
Not that it would do her any damn good. My dick only got hard in the presence of one person.
Or when I thought about him.
Or dreamed about him.
Or when I caught a whiff of the cologne he wore.
That one had been embarrassing considering the person wearing it was one of the intelligence officers who worked with us. I avoided the guy at all costs now.
Sammy took a few steps toward the kitchen island where her briefcase sat. She pulled out some documents as she yammered away about comps and the contract. All I wanted was to sign the paperwork and get out of there. I had leave scheduled, but I had to go to base before I left, which meant I needed her to get on with things.
“Sammy, I’ve got another appointment before I leave town.”
She tried to hide the frustrated huff, but I caught it despite her best efforts. She filled in the contract quickly, and I signed it, handing over the keys I made for her.
“Let me know how the open house goes,” I said before walking out the front door and closing it softly behind me.
As much as I hated to do it, I pointed the truck toward the base at Dam Neck. I needed to grab some shit from my cage before heading home. I fucking hoped that I got in and out without getting roped into any fuckery. I was taking a chance, but I had a fucking brain fart when I left base yesterday and forgot some shit that I’d gotten for the family.
Once on base, I pulled into the parking lot and hopped out of my truck, stalking through the halls with my head down.
“Wilcox! What are you doing here?”
All the wind left my sails as I sighed and turned toward the voice. Commander Mercer came out of the op center, stopping to grab his phone from the holder outside the door. I snapped a salute as he walked to me.
“Commander,” I said.
He responded with a silent salute and walked away. I took a deep breath, but all the air in my body vanished when he looked back at me and said, “Well, what are you waiting for?”
“Nothing, sir,” I responded and followed behind him.
I had a feeling this would not end well.
He opened his office door and waved me in, shutting it behind him.
“Have a seat.”
My ass dropped into the chair so fucking fast. My brain spun, trying to figure out if there was something I’d done to land myself in hot water. I swallowed, waiting for him to tell me what it was because I learned a long fucking time ago not to fess up to something you weren’t being accused of.
He opened a filing cabinet behind his desk, pulling out a packet of papers before sitting. He flipped through them, then looked up at me.
The smirk on his face shot relief through me like grabbing a live wire.
“Congrats,” he said, offering me the papers in his hand.
I reached for them, and my eyes fell closed after seeing what they were.
“We’ll see you back here when you’re done, so don’t be getting any ideas that you’re leaving us. We need you.”
I nodded, flipping through the file folder and reading through everything as quickly as possible. It was the worst skim job there was, but I got the most crucial piece of intel.
My report date.
OCS started right after the New Year. Since the team was on a training rotation and only getting spun up sporadically, I’d scheduled leave for the holidays—a couple of days at Thanksgiving and the week from Christmas Eve through New Year’s. I couldn’t remember the last time I got to spend the holidays with my family, and I looked forward to it, but this changed things. I’d have to haul ass from West Virginia to Rhode Island if I didn’t want to cut my trip short, not to mention I wouldn’t have time to return to Vah Beach in between. That meant I needed all my shit with me before heading to my parents.
“You’re awfully quiet, Petty Officer.”
Realizing I’d been ignoring the commander, I looked up at him. He sat sprawled back in his desk chair. His elbows braced on the chair arms, his fingers steepled in front of his chest.
“Sorry, sir. I was heading out of town to spend the holidays with my family, but now…”
“This opportunity is rare, especially since they granted you a waiver.”
“Oh, I know, sir. And I’m beyond grateful. I’m just trying to wrap my head around what I’ll need and the logistics, of course.”
I didn’t elaborate on the details, but with a house on the market and the housing market being what it was, it might not sell for several months, and that put it smack dab in the middle of OCS when I wouldn’t be reachable.
“They’ll issue you most everything you need. If you have running shoes and boots you prefer, take them. Oh, and the pillows and blankets fucking suck, especially that damn blanket. I did OCS in the winter and nearly froze to death. Make sure you take your own.”
I chuckled at him, but the raised brow shut me up quick.
“Sorry, sir.”
“I’m fucking with you, Wilcox. You’re going to do us proud, I’ve no doubt. Now, get yourself squared away and on the road home. This storm that’s heading in is supposed to be a bitch.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I replied as I stood and saluted him before leaving his office.
Two hours later, I’d packed up my shit and hit the interstate, heading west. I had over seven hours of driving in front of me to figure out the rest of the shit I needed to get a handle on before reporting to Newport.
Looking at the skies and the snow blowing in, the commander hadn’t been wrong about the latest weather forecast. I shouldn’t have put off scheduling the meeting with Sammy until today. It started snowing back home while Sammy and I were walking through the house, and the salt trucks were already out in force, according to a post Mama had made on social media. Now, it was blowing flurries all the way to the coast, which meant my trip was going to suck because the people here in Vah Beach had no freaking idea how to drive in winter weather.
Luckily, I’d not told any of the family I would be home for Thanksgiving. I learned that lesson the hard way years ago. The Navy could cancel leave at the last minute if they needed you elsewhere. So, if I needed to stop for the night, I could.
The truck ate up the miles of asphalt in between pit stops for fuel and snacks. The snow continued throughout the drive. It piled up on the shoulders, giving the usually boring drive a more scenic vista. But after about six hours, the mountains of West Virginia had turned treacherous, and I wished I’d stopped for the night when I had the chance. The snow wasn’t falling heavily, and the roads, while wet, were clear when I passed through Bluefield.
That wasn’t the case now. The road stretched in front of me. I hoped and prayed it was the road. The snow was all I could see through the windshield, when I could see at all. It was everywhere and piling up faster than green grass through a goose.
Thank fuck it wasn’t much farther.
But as I continued driving, much farther turned into much, much, much farther. When I pulled into my parents’ house, it was well after midnight. I shut off the engine and scrubbed my hands over my face and head. Exhaustion I’d fought off for hours settled over me, but I shoved it aside. I was tired. Drained from fighting to keep the truck on the road, but this was nothing. BUD/S taught me that.
I got out of the truck and stepped onto the porch. I stopped dead as I stared down the barrel of a gun. All the air on the planet got sucked away. I closed my eyes to wipe the sight away. I took a deep breath and then opened them, keeping my gaze a couple of inches above the snub-nosed 45mm at the tip of my nose.
“Jesus H. Christ, Carson. I damn near killed ya,” Daddy said.
He lowered the gun, swiped a hand over his face, and waved me into the house. My eyelids dropped closed, and I dragged in another deep breath before following him inside. He shut the door behind me.
I turned to look back at him. He was hanging the gun from the sixteen-penny nail that one of the family had hammered there before I was ever a twinkle in Daddy’s eye. He shushed me when I started to say something, walking off into the house past the hallway leading to his and Mama’s bedroom. In the kitchen, he pulled out his chair, the only one I’d ever seen him sit in at this table. I sat as he did.
When he didn’t say anything, I offered, “Sorry about getting here so late. I stopped on base on my way outta town, and my CO decided he needed to chat about my career path.”
“Ain’t never heard tell of someone havin’ such a thing.”
I chuckled. “Anyone with a job has one, Daddy, but I don’t know if anyone other than the Navy who talks like that.”
“Don’t make no sense to me.”
I loved my family, but sometimes I felt so far removed from them. They operated in a world that stood at a standstill or so close to it you didn’t need the forward momentum. There wasn’t anything wrong with that way of life, but there wasn’t anything about the world I lived in that stood still. It might seem like nothing ever changed. In reality, it was because it was the same shit, just a different day.
“Yeah, well, if they don’t talk like that, they can’t throw options in your face.”
“That’s nice that they give you options. I didn’t reckon they would do that.”
“Well, a lot of the time, they’re no good.”
“Then why they wastin’ people’s time like that?”
“Sometimes, I think it’s because they can but today was a good day.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m up for a promotion,” I tell him simply.
I wasn’t ready to shout it from the rooftops yet. The recommendation to send me to OCS still blew my mind. I knew I was a damn good SEAL, but I just never dared dream.
“Will you be a sergeant or something?”
The number of times I’ve explained the ranks to my family…
“I’m a petty officer second class already, Dad. It’s the Navy’s version of a sergeant.”
“Yeah, I think you’ve told me that before.”
Well, at least he remembered that .
“So whatcha going to be now?”
I sighed because I could guess his reaction.
“Hopefully, a lieutenant.”
There was no fucking way I was explaining ensigns to him. He’d never remember it, not if he still struggled with petty officer all these years later. Plus, it wasn’t a guarantee. I felt confident I would make it through. I mean fuck, I’d gone through boot camp and BUD/S and came out the other side of both. I just had to give as much of myself to this as I had all the other days since I joined up.
“An officer? You shittin’ me?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, damn, boy, that’s… that’s fucking amazing, son. I’m proud of ya.”
Tears welled as the words settled over me. I knew of only two other times he’d said them to me. The first was the day I showed him my enlistment contract and told him I wasn’t going into the mines. The second was the day I graduated from boot camp.
His eyes were shiny in the dim light, making me believe his words moved him as much as they had me. Clearing his throat, he stood up, patted my shoulder, and kissed the top of my head. “I’m going back to bed. You should do the same. Your mama will be up at the crack of dawn to cook, and she’ll drag my ass out of bed to help her. And if I gotta do it, so do you.”
I nodded, unable to speak or look at the man for fear I’d lose my shit.