Seal, page 2
I had him and Emmy. And I used to have the Vice Admiral. In my mind, they were my family. I didn’t talk about the shit I’d been born into, and I sure as fuck didn’t dwell on the past. The eleven years I’d had with the Vice Admiral was worth more than a hundred lifetimes compared to what I’d come from. The only thing my drug-addicted, biological mother taught me was that blood relations meant nothing. I’d learned early on that fending for myself meant that you either pushed through and kept living, or you went down as a nameless, faceless coward that no one would remember, let alone give a shit about after you drew your last breath.
I wasn’t going to be that coward, and Billy couldn’t even if he tried. William “Billy” Nilsen was the bravest fucking SEAL on our team. Sometimes reckless, most times headstrong, but always fucking fearless, he was a goddamn warrior. I knew without reservation he would survive.
“We’ll get through this,” I promised.
Billy shook his head like he couldn’t believe this was happening despite what we saw every damn day downrange. “Maybe I don’t want to get through this. It seems like we lose brothers every fucking deployment and now my dad’s dead, and I’m wondering what the hell we’re doing.”
I pulled into a parking spot and looked at him. “We’re getting to Emmy. That’s what we’re doing. Three foot world, brother.”
“We’re not on a motherfucking op, Adam.” He spit out my real name with an impotent rage I knew all too well. “This is life. This is death. It’s not the fucking Navy.”
“Vice Admiral Erickson Nilsen was the Navy.” He lived and breathed for his service to his country. “This is no different. Focus up. Stay mission objective.”
His fight left him and he leaned back. “Yeah, and what fucking mission is that? Bury another body?”
Pissed that Emmy was alone, mad at the injustice in this world that took the good men too early, I didn’t placate my best friend. “The mission is to get to your seventeen-year-old sister as fast as fucking possible so she’s not going through this alone.”
Inhaling deep and closing his eyes, Billy exhaled but then he slammed his fist into the passenger side of my truck three times in rapid succession. “FUUUCK.” Emotion choked his roar of grief and he covered his face with his hands.
I grabbed his shoulder.
“I’m good.” He jerked out of my hold. “I’m fucking good. I got it. You’re right. Let’s get to my sister.” Grabbing his bag, he threw his door open.
Reaching for my own bag, I followed him across the apron to the only plane with lights on in the middle of the night at the private airport.
Looking up from his prechecks, Zulu circled the small Cessna and came at us. With a shake of his head, he grabbed Billy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, brother. So fucking sorry.”
“Thanks.” Billy shook him off, then inhaled deep and ground out his next words. “Appreciate the ride.”
“Like I told Alpha, you don’t have to thank me, Bravo. This is what we do.” Zulu tipped his chin toward the plane. “Come on, we’re ready to go.” Zulu took Billy’s bag and stowed it in the back of the Cessna.
I handed my bag over to Zulu, then glanced at Billy. “Did you let Emmy know we’re wheels up?”
Billy just stood there staring at the plane for a moment. Then he looked at me. “Have you ever heard her like that?” Inhaling, he shook his head. “I don’t know if I can hear that again right now.”
I knew exactly what he meant. Her crying had fucking crushed me. “I’ll let her know we’re on our way.”
“Before we left your apartment I tried calling her back, but she didn’t answer.”
I tamped down the urge to fucking throttle him, and ask why the hell he hadn’t tried her again. We were SEALs. We didn’t fucking break, and we didn’t back down when shit went FUBAR. We worked the goddamn problem. Emmy needed that from us. She deserved our best, especially right now.
Checking my tone, I asked what I needed to know. “Did you make sure someone was with her?”
“Yeah.” Billy scrubbed a hand over his face. “The neighbor, Mrs. Jansen, was there with her at the hospital. She said she’d take her home and stay with her until we got there.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I pulled my cell out. “Get on the plane.”
Billy nodded and stepped aboard, taking one of the rear passenger seats.
I sent a quick text.
Me: Emmy, I’m calling right now. Answer for me, please.
I dialed.
The phone rang three times before her voice, small and devastated, breathed one word. “Adam.”
I wanted to reach through the phone and grab her and take her into my arms. The urge to call her a term of endearment overwhelming, I refrained. “I’m right here, Emmy. Billy, me and Zane are on our way down. Zane’s flying us. Flight time is about two hours. Do you have someone with you right now?”
“The doctor at the hospital made me take something,” she whispered in the same hoarse, grief-stricken voice.
My jaw ticked. “What did they gave you?”
“I don’t know.” She sniffled. “Xanax, I think.” Her voice got even quieter. “But it’s not working. I can’t stop the tears.”
“You’re not supposed to right now, sweetheart.” Fuck holding back what I should or shouldn’t call her. “I’m coming for you, honey. Billy too. We’re just a couple hours out. I need you to hang on until then, okay? Can you do that for me?”
She sniffled. “You never call me sweetheart.”
“Not out loud,” I selfishly admitted. “Maybe it’s time I start.”
“Adam,” she whispered, stifling a small cry.
“We’re almost there, sweetheart. Hang on for me.”
She let the small cry escape. “I’ll try.”
I was so fucking thankful she wasn’t hysterically crying but I didn’t like the utter defeat I heard in her voice either, not that I could blame her. “Who’s with you, baby?”
“Mrs. Jansen,” she whispered.
I exhaled, marginally relieved. “Good. Is she close to you right now?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’m going to have you put her on the phone, but first tell me you understand that we’ll be there in two hours.”
“Two hours,” she repeated in a voice so small, it broke me.
“On our way, sweetheart. Hang on. Put Mrs. Jansen on now for me, okay?”
“Okay, but Adam?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Hurry,” she whispered before I heard the shuffling of the phone.
A second later, the elderly neighbor came on the line. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Jansen, this is Adam Trefor. I wanted to let you know that Billy and I are on our way. We’re flying down, so we’ll be there in approximately two hours. I would appreciate it if you stayed with Emmy until we got there.”
“Of course, dear. I’m not leaving her.”
“Thank you. See you soon.” I ended the call as Zulu fired up the Cessna’s engines.
Adam
Just before oh-five-hundred, I pulled the rental into the driveway of a home I knew better than my own growing up. The Vice Admiral’s car was parked next to the beater Emmy had bought herself last year, and everything looked normal.
But not a damn thing felt normal.
Zulu spoke from the backseat. “We got your six, Bravo. Whatever you need from us, we’re here.”
“I just need to get to my sister,” Billy muttered, pushing his door open.
I followed Billy, and Zulu followed me. Without knocking, Billy opened the front door and we all stepped into the darkened entryway.
A cry, followed by Emmy’s voice, broke the deafening silence. “Billy.”
Dumping his bag, Billy rushed into the living room and caught his sister in his arms.
The moment he did, Emmy burst into hysterical sobbing and her legs gave out.
A lamp turned on as Billy held his sister in his embrace and Mrs. Jansen rose from the couch with effort.
“Fuck, Alpha,” Zulu muttered behind me. “That girl’s tears are gonna be the death of me.”
Throwing him a warning look over my shoulder, I made my way to Mrs. Jansen and held my hand out. “Thank you for taking care of Emmy until we got here.”
“Navy SEAL or not, I have known you since you were a teenager, Adam Trefor. You give me a hug.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I didn’t do hugs. I didn’t do affection, period, but this woman had my gratitude and she deserved respect. Leaning down, I was intent on keeping it as brief as possible when the older woman pulled me into her arms and held on tight as she whispered in my ear.
“I’m sorry for your loss, dear. I know what he meant to you, and you to him.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Uncomfortable, I pulled away. “Can I take you home so you can get some sleep?”
I no sooner asked and Emmy said my name on a gut-wrenching wail. “Adam.”
Mrs. Jansen’s hand patted my arm. “Take care of our girl. I’ll see myself home.”
She didn’t have to tell me, I was already front and center, taking Emmy into my arms as Billy reluctantly released her.
Her soft curves and strawberry-smelling hair landed against me as her arms went around my neck and suddenly I was inhaling for the first time in as long as I could remember.
Stroking her back, feeling her grief as her small body shook with sobs, I held her like I’d never held anyone else—tight and to my heart. “Shh, Emmy. We’re here. It’s going to be okay.”
She cried harder.
I looked over the top of her head at Billy.
His eyes on her, he stood there like he didn’t know what the fuck to do.
I got it.
Neither of us handled it well when she was hurt or sad, but this was unprecedented, and of all the shit that was flying through my head, there was one key fact that stood out above all else. A fact I was sure was going through Billy’s head.
Emmy was seventeen and now parentless.
But God help me, the Emmy in my arms didn’t feel seventeen.
Her breasts pressed to my chest, her hips flaring from a small waist, her hair soft and everywhere, she was a teenager in a woman’s body. A teenager who’d just lost her last living parent.
Stroking her back once more, I pulled away just enough to look down at her. “Have you eaten?”
Tears sliding down her face and soaking my T-shirt, she shook her head.
Reluctantly, I grabbed her waist and started to hand her over to Billy. “Sit with Billy, I’m going to make you something to eat, then we’re all going to try to get a few hours of sleep.”
“Alpha,” Zulu called from the foyer. “I’m taking Mrs. Jansen home. Be back in ten.”
“Copy.” Lifting Emmy’s now limp arm from around my neck like she’d given up on holding on to anyone, I placed it around her brother’s shoulders. But then I slipped in front of my best friend. “Billy’s got you, sweetheart.”
Looking more grief-stricken than before we’d walked into the house, Billy seemed to miss what I’d called his little sister as he took her from me and sat them both down on the couch.
Immediately curling into his side, Emmy let loose with a fresh wave of tears.
Forcing myself not to look back at her, I walked into the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, I was plating grilled cheese sandwiches when Zulu walked into the kitchen.
“I called the hospital, said I was Bravo, got the run around at first, but finally was put through to someone in administration. The Vice Admiral’s in the morgue. The ME is going to perform the autopsy later this morning, then his body should be released for whatever funeral home they want to use. Do you know if there were any prearrangements made? Is he going to Arlington?”
Unfortunately, all of us on the Teams were well versed in the drill of what happens after someone dies and even more familiar with making arrangements. “Negative on Arlington. They have a family plot here in Miami. I know he wanted to be buried with his wife. We can ask Billy which funeral home. Knowing the Vice Admiral, there’s something already lined up.” I handed Zulu a plate.
“Copy that.” Taking the food, Zane looked down. “Grilled cheese? Seriously? What am I, five?”
“It’s Emmy’s favorite.” Picking up the rest of the plates, I walked into the living room as the sun started to rise.
Adam
Standing in the upstairs hall, I watched my best friend back quietly out of his sister’s bedroom. “She asleep?”
Billy silently closed her door. “Yeah. For now.”
Leaning against the wall in the upstairs hallway, I eyed my best friend. “How are you holding up?” It’d been a long couple of days. The wake had been tonight and tomorrow was the funeral.
Billy shook his head. “Who the fuck has an aneurysm at fifty-seven?”
According to the ME, apparently his father, but I didn’t say shit because there were no words that undid death. We both knew the drill. None of us walked out of this alive. Losing too many brothers downrange only brought that fact home, but losing family was different.
Billy slumped against the wall. “What am I going to do about her? Emmy’s not even eighteen. I can’t leave her, but I can’t not go back.”
This was the third time we’d had this conversation and I repeated the same thing I’d been saying all along even though it felt so fucking wrong, it was eating a damn hole in my stomach. “Between the housekeeper and Mrs. Jansen, she won’t be alone. We’ll come home between deployments. Next year she’ll be in college. She already told you she doesn’t want to move up to Virginia Beach.” We’d both asked, repeatedly. Emmy had been adamant about staying in the house and finishing her senior year. She’d said it was what their father would’ve wanted, and I didn’t disagree. “You know she’s a hundred times more mature than we were at her age.” With all the deployments the Vice Admiral had been on, Billy and Emmy had practically raised themselves anyway. “She’ll stay focused up.”
Billy scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not worried about her fucking off at school.” He met my gaze. “I’m worried about her being alone.”
I didn’t have an answer because I was having the same damn thought.
But more than all the years I’d helped her with a skinned knee, or put her to bed, or made her grilled cheese, I was now thinking about the girl who’d grown into a woman’s body since the last time I’d seen her and I was worried about a hell of a lot more than her being alone.
If the stream of prick teenager dudes coming by to give their condolences was any indication, I wasn’t the only one noticing how she’d grown into a beautiful young woman.
“Fuck.” Billy pushed off the wall. “Tomorrow’s gonna suck.”
“Me and Zulu got your back. Whatever you need, let us know.”
Dark circles under green eyes that matched his sister’s, my best friend looked at me and for the first time in twelve years, I saw something on him I never saw.
The same shit we saw downrange.
Defeat.
In stark contrast to the sixteen-year-old with a quick smile, easy laugh and fucking eternally optimistic attitude, the man who stared back at me now wasn’t that kid. Even after all the shit we’d seen as SEALs, all we’d done and been through, Billy had never lost his sense of humor, even during our worst fucking missions. Retaining his positive outlook on life, I’d never understood how he could crack jokes when shit went FUBAR, but he had.
Except I wasn’t looking at that man now.
Like looking in the mirror, the weight of his gaze said it all.
“I’m sorry.” The sentiment useless, I said it anyway.
“I know, man. I know.” He slapped my shoulder as he walked past me to his room. “Thanks for being here for me and Emmy.”
A flash of realization hit me square in the chest. He couldn’t have kept me from Emmy this week. No fucking way. Keeping the thought to myself, feeling like I needed to get my head on straight, I tipped my chin. “See you in the morning.”
“Yeah.” Billy shook his head. “Tomorrow.” He walked into his room and shut the door.
Like a fucking creeper, I stood there outside Emmy’s room and listened for a long moment.
Not hearing her tears, I gave it another minute then turned toward the stairs. Before I made it one step, her voice, muffled and small, came through her bedroom door.
“Adam?”
My heart jumped to attention and my pulse fucking followed. No hesitation, I opened her door and scanned the room out of habit. Curled in her bed, the lights off, I could smell the sweet scent of sleep on her, but more, I could taste the weight of her grief. Grief I wanted to shoulder so bad, I thought about taking her into my arms and holding her all night.
Then I thought about the consequences of crawling into her bed and I put a red fucking light on that shit, locking my thoughts down tight. “What’s wrong?”
Her inhale cut across her room and landed on the part of my chest only she could touch. “You have to do something for me.”
Anything. “What?”
“Make sure he goes back.”
For a full beat, I stood there.
I stood there and absorbed her words and I processed them. Looking for tells, listening for intonation, scanning the familiar furniture and layout in the ambient light from the moon—I paid attention to every single detail.
Because a seventeen-year-old who’d been through what she had didn’t make that kind of request.
But Emmy wasn’t a teenager.
Not anymore.
“Adam?”
“I heard you.”
“Make sure,” she repeated, her voice stronger as she curled into an even smaller ball.
I didn’t need to make sure.
The Navy owned us, but more, honor owned Billy. The same honor that owned his sister.
Nothing to say, I grabbed the door handle. “Goodnight, Emmy.”
“Goodnight, Adam.”
Closing the door behind me, I almost wondered who’d really been through BUD/S.
Maila Marie Nilsen was stronger than any SEAL I knew.
