“But I—” A.J. dropped his words at the sound of a woman’s voice.
“I better go, brother. Someone is here for you.” Marcus tossed a hand in the air, waving goodbye. “And, A.J., be careful. I don’t want to see you on the other side anytime soon.”
“A.J.?” Someone was patting his cheeks. Saying his name.
A.J. jerked his eyes open in surprise.
So, he was on the porch. Marcus wasn’t in the chair anymore. But what did it mean that it was still rocking?
“Hey, what are you doing outside?” Ana asked.
A.J. blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the floodlight she’d turned on.
“You were talking in your sleep.” She was on her knees next to where he sat.
His eyes darted back to the rocking chair that was no longer moving.
Was it ever moving, or am I really losing it?
“I haven’t sleepwalked since I was seven,” he confessed. “I don’t remember coming out here.”
“I came downstairs to get water, then realized the back door was open. I looked outside and saw you out here.”
“Shit, I’m sorry if I startled you.” He was too tired, too confused, too embarrassed. “What was I saying out here?”
“Something about a fortune cookie.” She stood and offered her hand for an assist. “No American flag boxers this time?”
He followed her gaze down his nearly naked body to his black boxer briefs. “Nah, I save those for special occasions,” he managed a joke somehow, still trying to shake off the weird dream where he’d had a conversation with his dead best friend. “Like a first kiss.” And he hoped it was the first of many.
A.J. stole another look back at the chair, the memory of Marcus still so fresh in his mind he was struggling to believe what was real right now. When he faced Ana again, he set a hand to her shoulder. To make sure she was really there.
“You okay?” she asked, a worried look in her eyes.
“Of course.” Although after his weird sleepwalking dream, the answer was more of a coin toss. “You should get back to bed. Sun isn’t up quite yet.” He retracted his hand and walked across the porch. Taking a deep breath, he leaned his forearms on the railing and raked a hand through his hair.
He twitched when she placed her hand to his back, but she didn’t back away. “What’s going on? You can tell me.” Her tone softened. “I did bare my soul on this very porch a few hours ago. You could do the same if you’d like.”
His eyes went to the tattoo on the inside of his forearm, and he straightened, tracing the letters of the inscription inked on his skin with his forefinger. “A lot of the guys got tattoos after Marcus died,” he said softly. “Liam got the lion. Everyone always said Marcus had the heart of one.”
“Marcus was the guy Asher replaced, right?” Adriana must have filled Ana in.
The day A.J. was recruited in 2013 by Jessica and Luke Scott to leave his SEAL platoon and work off-the-books missions popped to mind at her question. Not my fault you died, huh? But wasn’t it? “Yeah, but Marcus joined Scott and Scott because of me. I didn’t want to join without him, so Luke and Jessica made the offer to him as well. Marcus was one of the best trackers anyway. We needed him.” His stomach wrenched at the memory. “We were best friends. Went to college together. I was the best man at his wedding. So, you see, how could I start a new adventure without him?”
Her hands smoothed up and down his back in reassuring, comforting strokes.
“It’ll be six years in November since he’s been gone. We were on an op, and we needed recon near an alleged terrorist cell. To prevent drawing attention, and with no drones at our disposal, only one man was deployed. Marcus volunteered. Somehow, he was spotted, and he didn’t make it back. Captured and killed.” He was somewhat vague since the operation was top secret and not with Scott & Scott, but he owed her honesty after she’d opened up to him. “Marcus was one of the best of us. Said we had to earn the privilege of being a SEAL every day, not just on the day we got our trident.” He pointed to his tattoo. “This ink is a reminder to do that in his honor. Be the best man I can be every day, especially on the hardest days.”
She brushed a hand over his tattoo, eyes remaining frozen on his arm as if working through the weight of his words.
“And this black band was Marcus’s. We rotate wearing it in his memory,” he explained while Ana smoothed her thumb over the black band, which resembled rubber, though it was made from leather. “Weird thing is, ever since I bumped my head Saturday, I keep seeing Marcus. Feeling him everywhere.” A.J. blinked and squinted as his eyes burned with the threat of shedding his emotions. He’d witnessed her tears. Brushed them from her cheeks. But he rarely allowed his own tears to fall in the presence of others. And when possible, he used humor to fight off any painful memories that might provoke tears. “He was out here in that rocking chair talking to me. I swear it was real.”
She clutched A.J.’s forearms and turned her head to study the rocking chair for a moment. “For years, I saw and talked to my parents. I may have been furious with them, but they remained with me for the longest time.” She slid both hands up his arms to brace his biceps, eyes set on his green ones. “Everyone heals differently. You’re not crazy.”
“Marcus died six years ago. I feel like I might be a bit crazy.” He swallowed the knot in his throat.
She tightened her grip on his arms and held on to his eyes. “Maybe that knock on the head isn’t making you see things,” she began, “it’s just helping you finally process. Go through the stages of grief.”
“I grieved when he died.” He thought he did, at least. But hell . . .
“But for how long? Did you truly move on? Forgive yourself for your friend dying instead of you?”
And shit, the woman had multiple psychology degrees, so yeah, she knew a thing or two about this, but she treated him less like a patient and more like someone who understood loss.
She gingerly touched his cheek with the back of her hand before her thumb caught his bottom lip, tugging it down ever so slightly. “You took me in your arms and let me grieve my parents’ death. I’ve never let myself do that. I was always too angry at them, too angry at myself for being so sad that I never truly just cried for my loss. Fifteen years later, it took a cowboy SEAL with a heart of gold to get me to open up.”
He half smiled, still working to fully accept her words and what she was trying to convey.
Had he spent the last six years being angry? Had he been mad at himself and the world for the death of his best friend?
Justice was served to the terrorists who murdered Marcus, and while it had appeased the SEAL in him, it had barely put a dent in the pain he felt at the loss of his best friend.
I think she’s the one for you. The words of Marcus’s ghost strummed through his mind, plucking at his heartstrings. It’s time to move on. Be happy.
Marcus was gone, and he’d left behind a wife. A widow now. How was that fair? But was Marcus right? Had A.J. been avoiding love and happiness out of guilt? Was it time to move on?
He gently swept Ana’s hand from his face to seize hold of her cheeks. She was real, right?