24. Carson
CHAPTER 24
CARSON
The plane landed in Virginia without fanfare, and I raced to my truck.
“Carson! You got everything ready to go?”
I didn’t which is why I needed to haul ass. “No!”
I jumped in the truck and squealed the tires, backing out. If the commander noticed, he didn’t say anything. Under normal circumstances, he’d have chewed my ass. Everyone knew how pressed for time I was, so my guess is, I’d hear about it the next time he saw me. The commander had a long memory, and three months wasn’t shit when you did something he wasn’t okay with.
Back at my house, I hopped out of my truck and headed to the door, stopping at the sound of a car door opening, then another, and the two closed quickly after. I turned and saw Brock and Adam walking toward me.
“What the fuck are y’all doing here?” I ask, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
“Foster called. Said you might need some help and told us to get our asses over here.”
As they walked past me into the house, I could tell they were both doing much better. I’d seen Adam a couple of times since we rescued him, and he came home from Germany, but not much, and definitely not as many times as I’d seen Brock. Brock was an extrovert. He loved to be out and about. Adam was the opposite. He was introverted and stoic. While Brock mostly wore his heart on his sleeve, Adam was a statue. Rarely did you see any evidence as to what happened within the man. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling at all. Ever. He could hide pain to the point you thought he was perfectly fine. We all had the ability to some extent but Adam was superhuman. Sometimes, you couldn’t even tell if he was awake or aware of what was going on. Then, he’d shock the hell out of you because he’d respond or move when you least expected it.
I followed them inside and said, “I just have to grab my shit and hit the road.”
“What about the house and yard?” Adam asked, looking out at the garden.
“Fuck. I usually call a landscape crew, but with us getting sent out on the second op…”
It was winter, but things still needed some tending so that when spring came around, the yard would be ready.
“I’m still on leave. I can take care of it for you,” Adam offered.
He’s still on leave? What about Brock?
Before I could ask the question that raced through my head, Adam wandered out into the backyard, shutting the patio doors behind him. I looked at Brock, but his gaze was trained on Adam.
Brock gripped the back of his neck, and his chin fell to his chest.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve been cleared combat ready. I’m rejoining the team.”
“And Adam’s not?”
“Not yet. He’s still dealing with some lingering injuries and issues.”
“Mental.”
Brock spun on me, and I held my hands up in defense. “It’s to be expected. He was left for dead and endured torture you and I couldn’t imagine. That’s got to weigh on a man.”
“Sorry, and yes. You’re right. He’s dealing with some PTSD issues. It’s going to be a while before he’s deployable. If it ever happens. He’s taking it hard. That’s all.”
“Rightly so. I don’t know a frogman out there who isn’t constantly biting the bullet for the next op.”
“Yeah. Well, that’s not in the cards for him now, so if you don’t mind letting him look after the house and yard, it’ll give him something to do.”
“Of course. It’s a weight off my shoulders. The number to the landscaper is on the fridge, just in case he needs to ask any questions since I won’t be around to answer the phone for the next couple of months.”
“Ugh. That’s a reminder of BUD/S that I didn’t need.”
“As if that was the worst thing we had to deal with in BUD/S. I swore they tried to drown my ass a couple of times.”
We both chuckled for a second, watching Adam wander around outside. I walked over to the junk drawer, shoving things out of the way while I searched for the spare key. I handed it to Brock, then said, “My alarm code is 4060.”
Brock chuckled. “Good number for a frogman. Thanks again.”
“It’s no problem. Y’all stay as long as you want. I’ve gotta get my shit together.”
I wandered off to my bedroom, pulled my seabag out of the closet, and filled it with everything I thought I might need, along with a bunch of shit Foster, the commander, Lt. Rakes, and several other naval officers recommended. When I had my bag packed, I walked out to the living area. Brock was still staring out the windows overlooking the backyard, and he wasn’t alone.
Standing in the room with Brock were Finlay, Eric, James, Alex, and another man I didn’t know until he turned toward the sound of me clearing my throat. The long, gnarly scar marring the man’s face clued me in.
Moses Kinney.
I’d never met the man before, but I knew of him, of course. The Spec Ops community was relatively small, and everyone knew everyone else.
“Hey guys,” I said.
Moses stepped toward me with his hand out. “Sorry for barging in. This lot,” he said, jerking his thumb at the others, “did a snatch and grab.”
I laughed. “That sounds like them.”
“Hey, we wanted to come send you off, too!” Finlay yelled.
“Speaking of a send-off, I’ve gotta get.”
Bro hugs were exchanged, and Finlay grabbed my seabag, carrying it out to the truck, calling over his shoulder as he went. “You remember this when you get back here and outrank me.”
I chuckled, shaking my head as I headed to the backyard. Adam turned at the sound of the door opening and closing.
“Sorry…”
“Not sure you have anything to apologize for, but if it makes you feel better…”
“I’m a bit of a mess.”
“Rightly so and completely justified,” I reminded him. I couldn’t imagine the shit he went through.
“Yeah, doesn’t make me feel any less screwed up.”
“That probably comes with time.”
“And a shit ton of therapy, from what the head shrinker says.”
“Well, they would be the ones recommending that shit,” I joked, but then said seriously, “Not a bad piece of advice though.”
“Yeah, I know. I was doing some better until they cleared Brock hot.”
“What are you worried about?”
“The same thing any spouse stuck stateside worries about. And before you point out we’re not married…”
“I wouldn’t do that. The way I see it, a blessing by a judge or minister just puts the official stamp on what makes a marriage a marriage. And it’s got shit to do with a piece of paper.”
His lips turned up into a small smile, and I said, “I’ve gotta favor to ask.”
“Name it.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could look after the house and yard. I usually call a service, but with the op being stretched out from one to two, I didn’t have the chance.”
He looked around the yard, nodding as he took in all the planting beds. “I don’t know much about plants, but they grow in the wild, so I shouldn’t be able to fuck it up too much.”
I held out my hand. “I left the number to the service I use on the fridge, and I gave Brock a spare key.”
The skin of his palm slid over mine as he grasped my hand, pulling me toward his chest and slapping my back. “I’ll take care of it. Now get your ass to Newport and make us all proud.”
“No pressure,” I joked. Somewhat. I was nervous as fucking hell, but I’d been anxious when I went off to boot camp and BUD/S. This was no different. It was all about working the problem in front of me and never quitting. If I did those two things, I would be fine, barring an injury.
“Enough with the fecking touchy-feely shite. Y’all are frogmen.”
I chuckled, pulling away from Adam and waving at my teammates before walking backward toward my truck.
“Keep your heads on a swivel, boys. And don’t fuck up my house!”
The uproar of a team of SEALS yelling all the plans they had to destroy my house was the last thing I heard as I closed the truck door when I settled behind the wheel. I backed out onto the street, and without a backward glance, I shifted into gear and pointed my pickup north.