Home > Trusting a Warrior (Loving a Warrior #3)(13)

Trusting a Warrior (Loving a Warrior #3)(13)
Author: Melanie Hansen

   Geo’s date, Vanessa, crouched next to him, red-faced and teary-eyed as she scrubbed with a wet napkin at the pendulous “balls” drawn right between his pecs. “What were you thinking? You’re the best man! Cade and Renae’s wedding is ruined!”

   Geo didn’t reply, his energy consumed with trying not to hurl. How could he explain to her that this is what team guys did, how they showed affection for each other?

   Despite their antics, the wedding went off without a hitch. Geo had to enjoy the festivities dateless, since Vanessa had packed up and left.

   “Sorry, dude,” someone said, and Geo shrugged. It took an extremely strong-willed person to be with a SEAL and the close-knit, unique culture he brought with him. Renae both understood and accepted that. Vanessa didn’t.

   “Best wedding I’ve ever been to. God, I miss you, bud.” Geo squeezed his burning eyes shut.

   When the van finally pulled up at the transient quarters of the base, the SEALs dispersed, leaving the two FNGs—fucking new guys—to clean up the pee-soaked seats and flooring.

   Geo unloaded Bosch’s crate and gear himself, and after getting it all settled in his room, bent to ruffle the dog’s ears. “How ’bout a run?”

   He wrapped a reflective Velcro belt around his waist and clipped one end of Bosch’s three-foot lead to a ring attached to it. Geo tucked his phone into the pocket of his shorts, and they left their quarters at a slow jog to run along the nearby flight line.

   Fighter jets roared down the runway and rocketed up into the night sky, their afterburners glowing. Next to him, Bosch trotted along at a steady pace, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

   “What a long-ass day, buddy,” Geo grunted, the endorphins warring with exhaustion. “I work with a bunch of pricks—”

   Understatement of the fucking year.

   “—and I got a phone call from this beautiful woman that I don’t know how to handle.”

   He paused, as if waiting for Bosch’s reply.

   “Yeah, you’re right, she does come with a lot of baggage. Not really sure if I’m interested in tangling myself up in that, you know?”

   A recent breakup. An unplanned pregnancy. A painful past, one that threatened to poke at Geo’s own wounds.

   He slowed to a walk and laced his fingers behind his head.

   “But am I overthinking this?” he asked Bosch, who ignored him to sniff along the base of a fire hydrant. “It’d just be talking, right? She’s an interesting person, and she knows what life in special operations is like.”

   A friend worth their weight in gold. Most people—like Vanessa and Drew—didn’t understand the demands of Geo’s life, or else they had unrealistic expectations of it. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he knew a big part of his attraction for people was so they could tell their friends they were fucking a Navy SEAL.

   Maybe with Lani he could just be himself, not the video-game version.

   Before he could overthink it any more, he fished his phone from his pocket and dialed.

 

 

Chapter Five


   “Hey, Lani. It’s Geo.”

   Closing her eyes, Lani let the sound of his voice wash over her again for the fifth time that day, and probably the twentieth time that week.

   “It’s 9:00 p.m., a balmy ninety-six degrees on the outskirts of Phoenix tonight, and Bosch and I have been out running in it, which is why I’m out of breath and wheezing like a freight train. Sorry.”

   He was sorry? The slightest bit of Southern drawl and breathlessness, along with Geo’s natural husky quality, all combined to make this voice mail one of the sexiest things she’d ever heard.

   “Anyway,” he went on, “just wanted to call you back, say hi. We’re going off the grid a bit tomorrow, so I won’t be around, but keep your therapy appointment, okay? I’ll be your accountability partner if you want. Next time we talk, I’ll expect to hear all about it.”

   “Lani?”

   A soft voice broke in to her concentration, and she glanced up to see a smiling, middle-aged Black woman wearing a dark-blue pantsuit, a silky patterned scarf elegantly draped around her neck, large gold hoops in her ears. “I’m Maura Grant.”

   “Hello.” Fumbling to put away her phone, she stood and extended her hand to her new therapist, surprised when, instead of shaking it, Maura took it between both her own.

   “So delighted to meet you. Please come in.”

   With a motherly pat to her fingers, Maura released her and led her into the office. Lani glanced around in awe, taking in the butter-yellow walls, polished wood laminate and colorful throw rugs. Instead of the stiff Naugahyde couch she’d been expecting, there was a well-worn leather loveseat across from an elegant wingback chair.

   The polished coffee table in between held a sterling silver tea service on it.

   “This is beautiful,” she mumbled. “Cozy.”

   “Thanks.” Maura chuckled. “It’s definitely my home away from home.” As she moved to her desk to pick up a legal pad, she asked, “Would you mind pouring us some tea while I get situated? Even if you don’t care for any, dear, I’ll still take some.”

   “Uh, sure.” Lani set her purse down next to the loveseat and sank down onto it before reaching for one of the delicate flowered teacups. “What kind of tea is it?”

   “Roiboos with organic hibiscus and lemongrass. One of my favorites.”

   The act of pouring the fragrant tea was soothing, and by the time Maura took her seat and murmured her thanks for the cup and saucer Lani placed in front of her, Lani’s anxiety had almost totally eased.

   Give me a small task to perform so that I feel like a guest making myself at home rather than a bug under a microscope. Oh, you’re good.

   As she sipped, she glanced around the room. In addition to the seating area, there was a large wooden desk and matching bookshelf, the latter holding an eye-pleasing mixture of books and a few framed photos. One in particular caught Lani’s attention, that of a young man dressed in crisp green/brown camouflage, his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows.

   A Marine.

   “That’s my son, Vincent,” Maura said softly, following her gaze. “It’s the last picture I have of him. He completed suicide two weeks later.”

   Lani gripped her mug in suddenly cold fingers, unable to stop staring at Vincent’s bright, seemingly happy smile. “Why?”

   She hadn’t realized she’d whispered the word aloud until Maura said, “I wish I knew. That’s one of the things I’ve had to learn to accept, the fact I’ll never know why.”

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