Slate wasn’t surprised that Ashlyn was all right with the change in plans. She always seemed to go with the flow in just about every regard. Reason number two thousand why he liked being with her. “No, I’m just going to decompress. Probably go up to the roof and chill for a while.”
“You should eat something,” she said gently. “I know you probably don’t feel like it after all those videos, but I’m sure you’re hungry, and sometimes an empty stomach can make you feel even sicker than you already are.”
“I’m okay, babe.”
“Slate…seriously.”
“I’m good. I’ll grab something later,” he told her, lying through his teeth.
“Okay. Was…Never mind.”
“What?”
“I was just going to ask if the videos were bad in…other ways. You said you were trying to figure out what went wrong.”
“Yeah. They were bad,” Slate said without elaborating. “How about you? Did you have a good day?” he asked, deliberately trying to change the subject. He didn’t want to think about his fellow SEALs lying in the dirt, dying from gunshots they’d received in the ambush the team had walked into.
After a while, all he could see was his own teammates’ faces on those men. Mustang bleeding out from a gut shot. Aleck’s eyes staring unseeing up at the sky as half his head was blown away. Jag’s screams of pain as he tried to put a tourniquet on his own leg to stop the gushing from his femoral artery. And Pid’s desperate calls for help over the radio as he and Midas did their best to hold back the enemy shooters.
“It was fine. I did what you suggested today.”
“And what was that?” As much as Slate had wanted to be alone tonight, he found that Ashlyn was the one person he could handle talking to right now. Surprisingly, her voice soothed some of his weariness.
“Before I brought up taking Christi to the beach with her sister or caretaker, I asked her what she thought. And you know what? Even though Christi can’t talk, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she did not like the beach. There were lots of hand gestures and grunting, but when I suggested maybe just taking her out to the backyard instead, she smiled. Smiled, Slate. And she kept smiling, tilting her head up to the sun as we sat outside. It was a good day.”
“That’s great, babe.”
“It was such a small gesture. And I should’ve thought to ask her first thing. Instead, I got all wrapped up in the logistics of getting her into my car, and then to the beach, and talking to everyone else. Your advice was spot on. I think too many people talk around handicapped people instead of talking to them. So thank you for basically smacking me upside the head and getting me to see what an idiot I’d been.”
“Wanting the best for someone isn’t idiotic,” Slate said. “Your huge heart is one of your greatest traits.”
“Even though it drives you crazy sometimes?” Ashlyn asked.
Slate chuckled. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to laugh today, after everything he’d seen, but clearly Ashlyn had done the impossible. “It’s also the thing that keeps me up nights,” he told her.
“I thought that was my winning…personality,” she teased.
Slate laughed harder at that. “Oh, yeah, that too,” he agreed.
“Okay, well…thanks for calling to let me know you aren’t coming tonight. I’m really sorry you had a tough day and that you want to barf. Go up to your deck—but don’t fall off. It would suck to have to admit to your friends that you broke your leg because you were walking like a drunken sailor and fell ass over head off the roof of your house.”
Slate couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah, that would suck.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Ashlyn asked.
“Yeah, babe, you will.”
“Good. Later.”
“Later.”
Slate clicked off the phone and took a deep breath as he leaned against the kitchen counter. He felt better. Not great, but better. Talking to Ashlyn, he realized, always seemed to put him in a better mood. The images he’d seen today were still in his head, but they were muted now. With a small smile, he grabbed a bottle of water and headed up the stairs to his rooftop deck.
An hour later, Slate was feeling much more relaxed. The fresh air and the sound of the ocean had done their job, clearing his head. His nausea had faded as well, thank God.
A car vaguely caught his attention when it turned down his street—then even more so when it pulled into his driveway. Frowning, as he wasn’t expecting anyone and he didn’t recognize the vehicle, he stood up to get a better look at who it might be.
He saw the logo of an Internet delivery app on the side of the car.
Rolling his eyes, he knew immediately that Ashlyn hadn’t been able to stop herself from trying to take care of him. He headed down the stairs to see what she’d ordered for his dinner.
The young man had already dropped off the bag and was headed back to his car.
“If you wait a second, I can grab a tip,” Slate called out.
“No need. The tip through the app was more than generous. Enjoy!”
Shaking his head, Slate picked up the bag and went back inside. Putting the food on the kitchen counter, he started to unload it, and the smells from the covered containers made his belly rumble.
She’d ordered from Oahu Grill, a Hawaiian restaurant he loved. And she’d gone overboard.
There was squid lu’au, taro leaves slowly simmered and mixed with squid and coconut milk; chicken hekka, shredded chicken and long rice noodles cooked in a semi-sweet shoyu-based sauce with green beans and carrots; and a Ho’io salad, which was fiddlehead fern shoots with dried shrimp, tomatoes, and onions, again in a shoyu-based sauce. There was even Kona coffee ice cream packed with dry ice for dessert.
Everything she’d ordered were things he’d mentioned at one time or another that he loved. Not even directly to her, necessarily. But in conversation with their friends when they were all together.
Ashlyn wasn’t kidding. She paid very close attention…and she went out of her way to show people how much she cared about them.
Slate didn’t bother plating the food, he simply plunked the containers down on his small table and grabbed some utensils.
Before he dug into the delicious-smelling meal, he picked up his phone to send Ashlyn a text.
Slate: There’s no way I can eat all this. But thank you for thinking about me.
Three dots immediately appeared at the bottom of the text string. And Slate waited impatiently for her to finish typing and hit enter.
Ashlyn: Please, I’ve seen you eat, and I’m sure what I ordered is nothing. I hope you’re not feeling nauseous anymore.
Slate: I’m good.
Ashlyn: Yes, you are. :) I figured you needed some comfort food to help you feel better.
Slate: I appreciate it.
Ashlyn: And now you owe me, because you get all that ice cream to yourself. You don’t have to fight me for it. I hope it’s not too melted. When I called, the guy assured me they’d package it up so it would be good for at least two hours, but I was still skeptical.
Slate: It’s perfect. And the next time we’re out, I’ll let you have all the ice cream.