Across from the main building, the rest of the JTT’s home away from home resembled a nineteen-seventies strip motel, complete with those retro yellow, green, and red plastic chairs that left welts in your ass if you sat in one for too long.
“So, what’s up with Holly?” Cody asked, leading the way across the dried patch of grass stretching between the two buildings. “She having second thoughts about breaking off your engagement?”
“No.” Chase and his JTT teammates had spent the last two years living and working together in a compound the size of a shoebox. At this point, there wasn’t much they didn’t know about each other. “I haven’t returned the paperwork for the sale of the house, and since the real estate market is hot right now, Holly wants to list it ASAP.”
“Jesus Christ, Mac. You haven’t separated your assets?”
“Not yet.”
“No wonder she’s calling. You holding out for a change of heart?”
“No.” He’d known in advance the breakup with Holly was coming. A woman with a heart of gold, she wanted marriage, a house, a dog, three kids. Chase wanted action, adventure, and the JTT.
Tired of waiting for him to come back to Seattle, she’d pulled the trigger over the phone months ago and ended their engagement. He couldn’t blame her. She deserved a man who wanted the same things she did.
Holly had taken care of the details of their split and had sent him the paperwork on the house and bank accounts. Unfortunately, Chase had been having some difficulty with letting go. Not because he still loved her. He didn’t. And hadn’t for a very long time. The problem came from being a marine.
Former or not, he didn’t quit, he didn’t give up, and he never surrendered. The end of his engagement had felt like a failure, and he’d put off settling his affairs to avoid admitting the defeat.
Not to mention, he hated disappointing his mother. She loved Holly like a daughter, had since he brought her home in the tenth grade. Paulina Mackenzie had been looking forward to a wedding and grandkids for so long now; Chase had felt the pressure as an only child to make it happen.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t marry a woman he didn’t love. And still, he’d rather dodge bullets anywhere in the world than disappoint either of his parents.
In a few long strides, they reached the building they referred to as the crib. The nickname wasn’t because the strip of rooms was an awesome place to hang out, but because the beds were so small, not one of them, with the possible exception of Hoyt, fit in the damn things.
“So, what’s the problem?” Cody asked, coming to a full stop in front of his door.
“No problem. Just been a little busy chasing bad guys around in circles.”
“Bullshit. Takes thirty seconds to slap down a couple of signatures. You want my advice?”
“Fuck no.”
“Well, you’re getting it anyway, asshole. Stop beating yourself up for choosing what you love over a woman you didn’t. There’s no shame in that. And it’s not a fucking failure. You and Holly were on different roads, headed in opposite directions. Better to call it quits before wasting money on a wedding, or worse, before any little Macs complicated shit. You deserve to be happy. Holly does too. And anyone who thinks differently isn’t putting themselves in your shoes. Sign the papers, lighten your load, and go get laid. You’ll feel better for it.”
“Wow,” Chase deadpanned, even though Cody’s advice had turned out to be spot on this time around. Good or bad, the big-ass Southern redneck always spoke his mind, and you never knew what was coming or how much it would hurt. “You planning on charging me for this shit?”
“Nailed it, didn’t I?”
“Nah, I already planned to stop in Seattle on my way back.”
“See? What’d I tell you? I’m a fucking genius.” Cody grinned and hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “You up for a peanut butter run?”
Exhausted beyond measureand outside her comfort zone, Gray downed the first of two doubles in three swallows. Grey Goose with a splash of Red Bull made her heart trip and her head spin.
“Must be a bachelor party or something.” Tara leaned closer, her voice raised above the crowd packed into MacDaddy’s. “You want to go?”
“Hell no.” For whatever reason, their favorite hole-in-the-wall neighborhood pub was bursting at the seams with America’s fighting finest, and Gray did not do that breed of man.
Not now. Not ever.
Military men were persona non grata in her world. This way, when they died like her brother or left by choice like her father, she didn’t suffer their loss. She’d done enough of that already. And she sure as hell wasn’t setting herself up to do it again.
Nope. Not in a million fucking years.
“You sure?”
“Hundred percent,” Gray replied, fighting the urge to flee from the buzz cut brigade.
