I nodded. I wasn’t on that raid, but that was exactly what I did.
“You kill people,” she said, her words barely a whisper.
“When they put the lives of Americans in danger, yes, I do,” I said.
“That’s scary,” she said. “Everything you just said, it’s scary.”
“Fear is a choice,” I said. “Danger is real, but you decide whether or not you allow fear into your mind.”
“But it’s dangerous,” she said. “Really dangerous. You have scars from…being over there. I’ve seen them.”
“It comes with the territory,” I said.
“But you could be seriously injured or, or…” She glanced up at me, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “Why do you do it?”
“I have a duty to serve and protect my country. I have a set of skills few others have and that puts me in more hostile regions and risky missions, but it’s a challenge I willingly accept.”
Shannon stared into the tumbler, her eyes tracking the ice cube as it clanked against the glass. I couldn’t read her and I didn’t know what to say. Most of the women close to me knew as much about SEAL life as I did. My mother and Lo lived it, my college girlfriend’s brothers were Marines, and that was it. I didn’t have any other women. Sure, there was the perky comm officer at the Sigonella base but that only happened a couple of times, and she knew the drill.
Shannon knocked back the rest of her whiskey and signaled for the bartender. Thankfully, Nose Ring responded this time.
With a fresh drink in hand, Shannon said, “We gave you a nickname.” A broad smile filled her face and her cheeks were pink. The alcohol was hitting her. “Only special people get nicknames. It’s a thing we do. When Riley was little, he had the worst stutter. It was so hard for him to talk, and he gave up. He just didn’t speak.”
Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back before they slid down her face. She reached for her glass and looked away. There were only a few emotions Shannon willingly shared: anger, derision, frustration, contempt, impatience. She kept sadness and pain all to herself, but it was obvious they were there. A dark history lived in her, and I saw it when she didn’t think I was looking.
“My father refused to let the school test him for speech disorders. He said Riley was just lazy or looking for attention, and whipped him with a belt every time he heard a stutter. There were some years when Riley didn’t speak at all,” she said. “But he loved comic books and action figures and all that stuff, so I started reading comics to him. His job was to say some of the words with me, and he was down as long as I called him Batman and he was allowed to use the Batman voice. That was the only thing that worked for him. So we read together every afternoon for years, and in the process, he assigned superhero names to me and my siblings.”
There was no correct response to Shannon’s confession. It was another layer to tuck away and examine later, and I continued stroking her shoulder without comment.
Nose Ring appeared and broke the silence. “Any thoughts about dessert? The chef has a really wonderful grilled peach with brown sugar and walnut crumble. Would you like to try that?”
Shannon turned away from me and discretely wiped her eyes. What would it take for her to look me in the eye while she cried? Would she ever let herself give up that much? Would she ever give that much to me?
“Yeah,” I said. “Two peaches.”
She pulled her sleeves down over her fingers and folded her arms on the bar. “He’s the master when it comes to assigning nicknames, and you should feel pretty damn special that he’s bestowed one on you,” she said, laughing.
“I do,” I said. “I’d like to hear it, and yours.”
“They call me the Black Widow.” She grinned over the rim of her glass, and Riley was dead-on with that one. Natasha Romanov was a nurturing assassin, and one gorgeous, ass-kicking redhead. “You’re Captain America.”
“Captain America?” I repeated.
“Yep, and I knowThe Avengersinside and out—hell, I’d have to after reading them, over and over and over. Steve never gets into Natasha’s bodysuit. It’s a sign.”
“No one does,” I said. Comic book knowledge didn’t live in the forefront of my mind these days. “Right?”
Nose Ring returned and set two miniature cast-iron skillets loaded with grilled peaches in front of us. “They’re hot,” she warned.
“Right?” I repeated.
“Wes got a nickname, too,” Shannon said, ignoring me as she picked at the basil leaves atop her fruit. “Thor. That one works for me. I mean, Wes isreallyhot. You’re adorable and all, with your chiseled good looks and crusty personality, but if Wes broke into my apartment…well, let’s just say I’d be all over that hammer.”
“You are not Wes’s type, peanut,” I murmured.
Her little fist popped my shoulder. “What the hell does that mean?”
“My brother is gay,” I said, shocked that Lo hadn’t mentioned that. “Despite the fact that you demand I suck your dick, I’m well acquainted with that region of your body and know you don’t have the anatomy Wes prefers.”
