Until you cant, p.2
Until You Can't, page 2
She’d lifted her green eyes, and I’d realized I was too close. Close enough to know she didn’t have perfume on, just a lavender-scented body wash. Shocked at what I had done, I’d immediately released her.
Sniffed my brother’s girlfriend. No concussion to blame then. Hell, not that I knew of, at least.
“Why are you thinking about her?” Because I’ll be seeing her tonight. “And now I’m having a conversation with myself.” Yeah, the doctors didn’t need to know about that.
I quickly shampooed my hair next, but when I turned off the shower, I heard someone call out, “Hey, it’s me.”
In hindsight, I should have opened my mouth and said, Don’t come in. It’s Ryan. But instead, I went for the towel hanging outside the shower as the door opened.
Natalia stood in the doorway. Eyes wide. Lips parted.
I half-expected her to comically slap a hand over her eyes, but nope, she slowly walked her gaze up the length of my body. Taking her time, too.
I cocked a brow. “Enjoying the show?” Not waiting for her eyes to meet mine, I secured the white fluffy towel around my waist before swiping both hands through my wet locks.
Natalia remained quiet, her eyes steady on my chest, and I assumed she’d spied some of the scars there. Including a fresh one from the op two weeks ago.
I leaned my weight against the wall at my side, amused by her shocked state.
But now it was my turn to catalog what she was wearing. And that turned out to be a horrible idea. Her Converse and skinny jeans weren’t a problem. It was the white T-shirt without a bra beneath that was the issue. Clearly, God was testing me.
Not only could I make out her full, round tits, but her nipples strained against the fabric.
“Tell me you didn’t come here in that,” I rasped, uncrossing my arms.
“Wait, what?”
I felt her eyes snap to my face, so I did some sort of Jedi mind trick to convince myself to look up.
“What are you doing here?” she asked instead of answering me. “And why are you naked?”
I frowned and jerked a thumb over my shoulder, taking one step closer to her. “Spent my whole life doing the shower thing wrong, eh?” I asked, realizing the Canadian in me had taken over.
Mom may have been second-generation Irish, but she was born and raised in Toronto, and I’d spent a good chunk of my childhood living there as well. That was also where Anthony’s love for ice hockey developed.
“Right. I shower naked, too,” she murmured.
Thank you for that. My cock didn’t seem to understand she was my brother’s soon-to-be fiancée. My body only knew it’d been deprived of sex for far too long.
“Anthony’s not coming, is he?”
“Finally dawned on ya, huh?” I pointed to the room behind her. “Maybe I should get dressed. My brother and I might be nothing alike, but I’m sure he’d feel the same as me in not wanting my girl braless in front of a naked guy.”
“I doubt Anthony would give a shit, to be honest,” she responded once we were in the bedroom.
Annnd there’s the girl I remember. The blush was absent from her cheeks now.
“He’s not the possessive type. I mean, maybe he’d care if it was anyone but you. But you’re . . . you.” She circled her finger in the air like it was a wand.
“I’m me. You’re right about that,” I acknowledged, the gruffness in my voice evident as I worked to restrain my dick from standing at attention. “And since you’re my brother’s girlfriend, I’d like to say on his behalf, you shouldn’t walk around without a bra in a white tee.”
Her attention skated down to her chest as if only now remembering I’d pointed that out. “Oh shit, I had a hoodie on over this,” she began while finally giving me her back, “and when I heard the shower running, I tossed it with plans to join you . . . I mean, um, Anthony.”
My brother’s girl, I shoveled the reminder down my throat. What in the hell was wrong with me? Concussion. Right. Legitimate excuse? I hoped so.
“I can’t tell Anthony about this. He’ll want to know who is bigger. I know him. That’ll be the first thing out of his mouth,” she rambled while putting on her Carolina hoodie. She freed her long, dark hair from the inside of the sweatshirt, then folded her arms over her chest while facing me again.
“You won’t be able to lie, huh?” I winked.
“Real funny.”
“That wasn’t a joke.” I quickly erased the smirk that snuck up on me with the back of my hand. “Anthony’s first instinct should be to throat punch me, brother or not. I’d lose my shit if you were my woman and . . .” Where am I going with this? Nowhere good.
I went for my bag, unzipped it, and searched for something to put on. “What’s the costume his fans picked out?”
“Spiderman.”
She had to be kidding, but when I looked up, she was in the doorway of his closet with the costume dangling from her hand. “Let me guess, you’re going as Mary Jane, Spiderman’s girlfriend?”
Natalia’s lips, which in my opinion, were better than my teenage crush, Angelina Jolie’s, twitched into a gorgeous smile. “The fact you know that’s his girlfriend’s name is kind of cute.”
“I’ve never been described as cute.” I straightened, only my boxers in my hand. “But I was a nerd in high school. Not that you’d remember. You’re a lot younger than me.”
“Only by seven years.” Her breathy tone had the hairs on my arms standing. “And I remember,” she quickly added before heading back into the closet. “But if he’s standing me up tonight,” she called out when I lost sight of her, “I think it’s only fair you get to wear whatever you want. Screw it, right?”
She returned having swapped the Spiderman costume for a suit, and her attention landed on the briefs I held.
“Talia, I . . .” No idea where I was going with that.
“Talia?” Her eyes flew back to my face. “You haven’t called me that in ages.”
Where had that come from? Shit. I tossed my free hand through my wet hair.
“I should probably let you get some clothes on.” Her pinched brows had me curious, but I kept my mouth shut.
Seeing her flustered and off-balance was somehow disarming. And I didn’t like how she was affecting me right now.
“You’re being nice to me tonight. You okay? Hit your head?” she teased, and damn, she had no idea.
“Would you prefer if I’m a dick?”
The small little swallow I clocked from her and the way her gaze dipped to my crotch when I said the word “dick” had me taking an uneasy step back.
And why did part of me want to rat out my brother right now? Tell Natalia he was in a casino gambling his fortune away. Choosing his addiction over her. Did she even know about his gambling problems?
“No, I prefer this you.” Another little swallow followed her words as her eyes returned to my face.
“So . . .” Great, now I was gulping. “What’s the suit supposed to represent? Businessman doesn’t seem like a costume.” Well, it would be for me. Far cry from my normal attire.
She lifted one shoulder. “I was thinking Italian mafioso. Wear this suit but with a black dress shirt beneath the open jacket. Pop a few top buttons. Call it a day?”
I tossed the boxer briefs onto the bed, feeling weird holding them while in a towel, but there was also nothing normal about this entire situation. “You didn’t answer me, though. Are you going as Mary Jane or someone else?”
Natalia chewed on her lip, and whatever shred of comfort I still had in me dissolved. “Aphrodite, actually. Goddess of love.”
I gripped the back of my neck, painfully worried about her wearing a costume like that around me. But before I could conjure up an inappropriate image of her in some toga, a sharp stabbing sensation behind my eyes commanded my attention. Every part of my skull was on fire, and I blinked a few times, trying to focus.
“Hey, you okay?” Natalia let go of the suit and started my way.
“Yeah, I’m . . .” I dropped to my knees as she reached for my arms, and I accidentally pulled her down with me.
“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
I forced my gaze to meet her eyes the best I could. “If I pass out, just let me sleep it off, okay? Don’t tell my mother,” I mumbled as a curtain of darkness slowly descended over my eyes. “Please, Tal—” I couldn’t fight whatever was happening to me any longer, so I rushed out, “Just promise you won’t take me to the hospital.”
“You’re awake. Thank God.”
But am I awake? I sure as hell hoped I was dreaming, and that wasn’t my mother’s voice I’d heard when my lids had parted for all of a second.
“Can you shut off the lights? Hard on his eyes.” Yup, that was Mom, all right. Which meant Natalia didn’t listen to me. Not a surprise.
“Honey, how are you feeling?”
A man would always be “honey” or “sweetheart” to my mother. It didn’t matter that I was thirty-six and hunted terrorists for a living. I’d be her kid until I died. And based on the fact I heard her talking, my time wasn’t up yet.
I didn’t want to face reality, so I battled the persistent urge to reopen my eyes to find out my current situation.
But the memory of wearing only a towel before collapsing, practically in Natalia’s arms, shocked my eyes open. My attention landed squarely on Natalia. At least they had already dimmed the lights. You’re here. I let go of a shaky breath and ripped the small tube from my nose that provided oxygen I didn’t need.
“I’m sorry,” Natalia mouthed, and I shook my head, knowing she’d only been scared. But still, if word about this trip to the hospital got out to my commanding officer, it’d further delay my operational status.
I zeroed in on the IV in my arm and my mother’s hand next to it, then dragged my attention to her face, where a pair of worried green eyes found mine. “How long was I asleep? How’d I get here?” And was I still in a towel when 911 came?
“It’s three in the morning. You passed out at Anthony’s place, and thank God Natalia happened to show up. She found you on the bedroom floor in only your boxers and a tee.”
My gaze flicked toward Natalia. So, you attempted to save some of my dignity, huh? I discreetly nodded my thanks, but the fact she’d had to dress me . . .
“Anthony can’t get a flight until the morning, but he wishes he was here,” Mom added, smoothing her hand over my arm, careful not to touch the IV.
“It was a bad migraine,” I insisted, not a total lie. “I don’t need to be here. Nothing to worry about.”
“Natalia called Anthony after 911, and he told her about the concussion. Then she told me, and when I got here, I informed the doctor.” Where was Mom going with this? “Given your line of work, and since you recently had a concussion, the doctor was worried about a possible brain bleed. They had to rule it out before waking you, so you also have anesthesia in your system. You’re not going anywhere yet.”
“Did they find a bleed?” I asked, hating the trepidation in my tone.
“No.” Okay, so why didn’t Mom sound relieved? “But since you signed those papers a while back that allows doctors to discuss your health with me, well, they told me what they did find on the scans.”
Great, I knew what was coming. The doctor just worried the hell out of her, and for no good reason. She had enough on her plate. She didn’t need to deal with more because of me.
“You’ve taken too many hits to the head. He said something about small tears, I think,” she nervously explained, swiping a shaky hand through her silver hair. “I don’t remember the technical term, but he’s concerned. I’m concerned.”
“And you should be,” the doctor said, entering the room. He swapped places with my mother by the bed. “I strongly recommend you quit operating before there’s so much damage you don’t wake up next time. Or maybe you wake up and don’t remember who you are.”
Shit, maybe I am dreaming? Why’d this guy look like the doc from that show my mom loved? Grey’s Anatomy? What was his name? Doctor McDreamy or something? To hell if he was making decisions about my life.
“Thankfully, it’s not up to you,” I blurted as he flashed a light in my eyes and then held my wrist, checking my pulse.
He ignored me and continued with his lecture, “I’m sure you’re well aware of the dangers of your job. And you must know the research shows that explosions and . . .”
He kept talking.
I stopped listening.
Of course I knew the risks. And it didn’t change the fact I still wanted to operate.
Then he dropped the bomb that grabbed my full attention again, “I’m afraid if you don’t report what happened to the Navy, I’ll have to.”
I tried to sit, but Mom sidestepped the doctor and placed a hand on my chest, urging me back down.
I wasn’t sure if the doctor was bluffing or not. Wasn’t there some sort of oath a doctor took? Privacy shit? But then again, I was the property of the United States government. Many civilian rules didn’t apply to me.
“I’m surprised the Navy let you run around only two weeks after you suffered such a major concussion,” the doctor continued. “I’m betting last night wasn’t the first time you lost consciousness. You haven’t given your body and brain time to heal. You’re running yourself into the ground, and your head can’t take one more blow. If you care about your teammates and their safety, you’ll make the right choice and walk away.” He looked at my mom, then tipped his head toward the door.
I had planned to protest their private conversation, certain they’d be discussing my health and my future without me, but when my gaze shot over to Natalia, I became distracted by her worrying her lip between her teeth.
“I’m so sorry,” Natalia said once we were alone. “I don’t want to be the reason you can’t operate.”
My shoulders fell at the concern in her soft voice. “You’re not the reason.” I wanted to be mad at her for calling 911, for not listening to me, but how could I be?
But I refused to believe the doctor. My head wasn’t that bad. It couldn’t be. I’d recover. I always did. I’d find a way.
For some stupid reason, I reached for Natalia. I blamed whatever drugs they were pumping through me.
Her eyes lowered to my palm resting on her forearm. She still had on her hoodie from last night. She’d been there all night with Mom, hadn’t she?
I cleared my throat and pulled my hand back. “So, uh, does Anthony know I’m bigger than him . . . or did he get the same story as Mom? That you found me passed out on the floor wearing a tee and boxers?”
She was quiet for a moment as she slowly worked her gaze from her arm to my eyes. “I went with the safe answer.”
I arched a brow. “Which was?”
Natalia wet her lips and whispered, “The lie.”
CHAPTER ONE
RYAN
PRESENT DAY - THREE YEARS LATER
“Swear jar money. Pay up.” Samantha opened her palm, not missing a beat after I dropped an F-bomb in her kitchen.
“Matthew’s not even back from daycare yet.” I reached into my pocket for loose change but came up with a twenty instead.
“I’m trying to teach the men in my life to lose their sailor mouths so my son doesn’t copy them.” Samantha made a come-hither motion with her hand.
I laughed. “Fair enough. Here.” I said goodbye to the bill a girl had stuffed into my pocket as a tip an hour ago. Her name and number were scribbled on it in black ink. “Consider this an advance. I don’t have high hopes I’ll change.”
Samantha eyed the twenty, noticing the name and number on it. “Aw, keep it. You probably need to get laid.”
“Funny.” Or at least it would have been if she wasn’t right. “I’m not interested.” I waved away the money.
“Lucky for her, she gave this to you and not my husband.” She stuffed the bill in the nearly full jar, then placed it back inside her cabinet over the stove.
“Owen would never accept a tip with a woman’s number on it, so you won’t have to throw down with some flirty girl in the future. No worries.”
“True.” Samantha slid onto one of the barstools at her kitchen island.
I’d served with Samantha’s husband, Owen York, before I became a Tier One operator for DEVGRU. We’d kept in touch over the years, even when he left the Teams in 2013 to work private security and run his family’s tavern in Charleston. The man must have thought I was an idiot to believe a Teamguy like him would up and quit so early in his career.
Nah, there was more to his story, but I respected his privacy. If he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—tell me the truth, then I wasn’t one to press.
Whenever they were both in town, Samantha and Owen rotated picking up their three-year-old son. Since it was Owen’s turn to handle pickup, I’d driven Samantha home from the tavern. Plus, it was my night to make dinner.
One of the few things I could cook was spaghetti and meatballs, which I was now preparing. Growing up with an Italian father meant you never actually plopped the meatball on top of the pasta. Pasta first. Meat after that. That’s how it was usually done in Italy unless a restaurant catered to tourists. Well, so Dad told me.
We never had a chance as kids to visit as a family. My only time in the country was a quick trip to the Naval Air Station Sigonella in Sicily as a sailor before making the Teams.
“I’ve told you this before, but you’ve been a lifesaver at the bar.” Samantha’s words redirected my attention from the stove her way. “Not to mention watching Matthew for us when we have to travel at the same time. We seriously owe you.”
“You’re kidding, right? I love hanging with the little dude.” I was getting old, and taking care of Matthew was the closest I’d probably ever come to being a father. “I owe you two. You’ve let me stay in your guesthouse for months. Gave me a job while I figured my life out. We’re nowhere near even.” I crossed my arms and studied her.
