CHAPTER 59
Cal
Nope.
Not doing it.
I will not spend another night apologizing to Victoria in my mind, wishing things were different, feeling her loss down deep in my bones, and wanting her so bad that I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality.
I haven’t been ready to accept it, but it’s true.
I, Callum James MacLaine, US Navy lieutenant commander, explosive ordnance disposal expert and SEAL team chief, the man who’s made a career out of running toward bombs instead of away from them, is doubting himself when it comes to love.
I love her. I’ve loved her for a long while now. I’ll always love her.
And I have to start seeing that simple fact as a place to start, not the reason for a hard stop. Because, really, has any challenge, of any magnitude, ever caused me to quit? Haven’t I always seen failure as an opportunity? A chance to do it better next time? A prelude to success?
So here’s what I ask myself—am I just going to let the love of my life get away because “It didn’t work out?”
Fuck no.
I sit up in bed, turn on the lamp, and grab my phone.
I’m calling her. It’s the middle of the night, but I don’t care. What’s the worst that could happen? Actually, what’s the worst that will happen? She’ll call me every name in the book, and I’ll deserve them all.
Starting with an introductory, “Don’t you know what time it is, asshole?” Moving right along to stubborn bastard, distrustful dick, closed-off macho man, grumpy prick… it’s a long-ass list of names. She could go on forever if she wanted, and it would be completely understandable.
I go to my phone’s “favorites” list because I’ve never removed her. Why would I? She ended up there for a reason. Because I was falling in love with her. Because I enjoyed having her in my life. Because time in her company was my favorite part of every day.
I tap her name as it comes up on the screen.
Holy shit, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what words will best convey how truly sorry I am, how badly I fucked up, and how much I regret the things I said to her.
She deserves so much better than what I’ve given her.
Time’s up. It’s ringing. I take a big breath and prepare myself for the sound of her sweet, sensual voice.
“We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error—”
What the fuck? I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it, as if the little brick of plastic and silicon is to blame. I hang up and try again, because I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess. I get the same message.
That’s about as subtle as a cinder block.
I throw my phone onto the nightstand and get out of bed. There’s no point in pretending I can sleep. Sarah and Ripley follow me out to the kitchen, then the back deck. As I stretch out on the lounge, they curl up at my feet.
Message received, Victoria. You’re so sure you want me scrubbed from your life that you change your number.
That’s a bold move, just to avoid one man.
It’s a move that requires hours and hours of cleanup, updating anyone and everyone who needs to know of the change.
Accounts. Friends. Automatic payments. Pizza delivery.
Damn. I’m too late. I waited too long. I’m such a fool.
I let my head fall back. I close my eyes.
I’m not the type that cries. The last time I cried was when Mom died, more than twenty years ago.
Even during Hell Week of SEAL BUD/s training, when most of the guys around me were puking while soaking wet, covered in mud, and crying for mercy, I didn’t shed a tear. I was a stone-cold badass.
I miss her so much.
Suddenly, I am reaching for her. Lightning cracks around us. Rain pours so hard that I can barely see through the curtain of water. I call her name. She reaches for me, her fingers almost touching mine. She stretches, screams for me, so desperate. I can’t… quite… reach…
Crack!
“What the fuck?”
I shoot up to a sitting position. Before I can open my eyes and stand, another splash of hot water hits my face. I blink, just in time to see Evander bang his cane against the deck railing. Special K dips a cup into the hot tub and soaks me again.
“You’re about to get your ass kicked, Kevin.”
“Oh, you can try.”
Evander cracks his cane on the railing again.
Was I dreaming? I was dreaming. I fell asleep.
Finn and Declan come up the back steps to join us. I look around at my brothers, wipe the water from my face, and shake my head. “You got exactly three seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“This, brother, is an intervention.”
I stare at Evander in confusion. “A… a what now?”
“You need to stop moping and go to her.” Finn crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me.
“We’re tired of your sad puppy routine,” Declan adds. “It’s pathetic.”
“I’m embarrassed for you, bro,” Special K says. “It’s time to stop with the pouty-McPoutface so I can start idolizing you again.”
Everyone breaks into loud guffaws.
“Yeah. Fuck off.” I decide to go inside. Special K blocks my access to the sliding back door.
“Cal.” Evander is at my shoulder. “Seriously. You’re miserable without her. You’ve got to make it right with Victoria.”
“If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for the rest of us, please,” Finn says. “You’ve never been particularly fun to be around, but man, you’ve been a pain in the ass lately.”
I turn and drop into the lounger again, resting my elbows on my knees and staring at my bare feet. “She doesn’t want me. She even changed her number.”
Evander uses his cane to smack the side of my leg, and that shit stings.
“Man up,” he says. “You’re a SEAL. You’re a badass mofo MacLaine, and it’s time for some mission planning.”
I raise my head, blinking. Something about those words is waking me up.
“We’ve got your six on this,” Declan says.
“Just tell us what you need,” Special K says.
I’m starting to feel more alive than I have in a month. My brain buzzes and my limbs tingle. I think my dipshit brothers are right for once.
I need to go to her. I need to pull myself together and get what I want.
“I need to capture my high-value target,” I say, coming to a stand.
“That’s more like it,” Finn says.
“Fuckin’-A, bro,” Special K says.
“I think we’re looking at an insertion and extraction,” Evander says.
“Sea, land, or air?” Declan asks.
An idea begins taking form in my mind. I remember what Victoria once asked me. She was on my lap, naked, my hands all over her smooth skin. She asked me if I liked surprises, and I told her it depends on who’s doing the surprising.
So all I can do is hope she likes surprises, and that somewhere, deep down, she still likes me.
“All right,” I tell my brothers. “I’m going to need all of you if I’m going to pull this off.”
Evander extends his hand palm down toward the center of our circle. One by one, we pile on. Then together we shout, “Hoo-yah!”