“Malena,” Doc says, breaking the professional atmosphere. “It is going to be okay. No one is ever truly ready for parenthood. You just do it. You have changed and adapted to far harder things.” He nods. “You’ll be a fantastic mother.”
Shaking my head, a tremor of a chill shoots up my spine. “That’s the difference between everyone else and me. I can’t do it. Not well,” I say.
Doc nods sweetly at his wife, and she leaves the room, taking my dirty secret with her.
“You can do it well. It’s a shock. A blessing. I’ll be here for you,” he says. “Bronze Bay will be here for you. You aren’t alone.”
Doc assumes my hesitance is because of the father of my baby, or the lack thereof. Well, obviously, Leif doesn’t want anything to do with the predicament I’m in, but surely he’ll be there for me in whatever form that means for him. He is a kind man at the core. A generous, beautiful man. The only reason my mother is in a top-notch facility. A monthly support check? A pop-in once a year for a birthday party? Doc Taylor goes on trying to assure me and comfort me. He tells me a story about when his son was a baby, and I know I’m supposed to smile or laugh, but I can’t. Now I’m thinking about Leif. And that’s a heartache that brings me to my knees.
My baby isn’t being born into a loving family. It would arrive right smack dab in the middle of a nightmare.
I thank the doctor, and he leaves so I can dress and collect my purse from a chair across the room. I fix my hair in the mirror above the small sink and slick a coat of lip gloss along my bottom lip and rub my top lip against it. I school the tears threatening to break free and exit the room, accept the appointment card thrust into my hand, and step into the salty breeze of a BronzeBay afternoon. I start up my car, check my emails on my phone, and head to my mother. If nothing else, her presence will bring me comfort.
I tilt my chin up and drive toward the ocean, my mind on the percentages of false infertility diagnoses. And the decision I just made about my future. Aboutourfuture.
ONE
Leif
Sweat drips off my chin.I pump the bar up and down once more—my arms shaking from exertion. Sutter throws down a weight next to me and grunts. I do one more bench press, lock the bar in place, and then hop to my feet. With my hands on my hips, I suck in several large gulps of air while my friend does the same.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Sutter asks.
I raise and lower my shoulders. The fact of the matter is, it’s been slow around our base here at Bronze Bay these days. After the terrorist attacks that spanned our whole world, we opened up smaller SEAL bases outside of the ones in San Diego, Virginia Beach, and Hawaii. Now we are spread out across the United States. We have quicker reaction times when SEALs are needed. When we’re not needed, we’re hitting the gym and practicing the skill sets that make us the most lethal force on planet earth. “Want to go shoot at the range?” I ask. “Tahoe went over to the airport again. Hopefully we’ll be skydiving soon.”
Sutter nods, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel. “Fuck yeah, man. I want to get up in the air as soon as possible. I’mgoing to grab lunch at the diner and then meet you at the range after? What do you want to shoot today?” Sutter is a sniper, so he’s going to blow me out of the water no matter what we’re shooting. He knows that, and he is only asking to rub it in later that it was my choice and he still shot better.
“Pick your poison,” I say. Smiling, he leaves the weight room and hits the showers, knowing I’m no competition.
My cell phone rings on the bench in front of the mirror, and I roll my eyes. It’s a ringer assigned to one of my sisters. The more annoying one. The decision to let voicemail grab it is easy. My sisters made my choice to leave Virginia Beach and move to Bronze Bay uncomplicated. Overbearing, loud, calculating in the name of sibling love, and utterly infuriating are the qualities attached to my sisters, Eva and Celia. My mom used to be able to control them when we were kids, but now all bets are off. They show up at my apartment and overstay their welcome. It doesn’t help matters that I am the baby brother. A grown-ass adult male doesn’t want his sisters meddling, but they don’t believe me when I tell them. Like, it’s so farfetched, I have to be joking.
When Eva married a nice, quiet man, I assumed the eldest sibling would be a monkey off my back. I had a vision of her riding into the sunset on horseback, never looking back. In reality, her stallion is a white sedan that sits in front of my house multiple times during the week. That nice quiet man is also a busy man who leaves Eva to her own devices much of the time. He’s also the reason they moved twenty minutes away to take a job so my sister could live next to family. His absence only made less intense by my immediate presence. My meals are cooked and prepped for me every Friday night, and it’s a nice gesture, but I’d much rather starve than have to endure the conversations that accompany the cooking.
Eva asks if I’ve had any dates. Celia, who now lives a little further away than Eva, visits a touch less but wants details—names and descriptions of the women I’ve seen around town when she is here. When they’re together, they stalk around the quiet town of Bronze Bay to scope out prospects for me. At least twice, they’ve returned with the names and phone numbers of women they’ve met and deem appropriate for me to take on a date.
For most of my life I’ve been wrapped up in war and everything that means. Deployments, training, work-up cycles when I’m away more than I’m home, missions to gain intel, missions to kill bad guys. If it’s in the same vein as war or has anything to do with it, chances are, I’ve been up to my eyeballs in it.
Being a SEAL is something that fell into my lap. Unlike a lot of my brothers, it wasn’t something I’d always dreamed of. It was a choice I made because of the climate of our world.Make a difference, my mother said when I was contemplating my future after high school. The military was appealing because I could get away from the tight love noose my family created. The Navy was even more appealing because they couldn’t follow me into the ocean, right? Becoming a SEAL was something I knew would definitely give me an edge. I could make a difference and score chicks whenever I had the chance. With lots of work and a little luck, I made it through training.
My cell notifies me of a voicemail, and I grunt out of frustration. No one leaves voicemails these days. No one. Not unless it’s a spambot politician call or my sisters demanding my attention. Scooping up my towel and phone, I hit the shower. A few of my brothers are exiting as I enter, and I nod at them and give them the plans for the day. It’s nice to have such a lax agenda after years of a punishing, demanding schedule that left most of us browbeaten. Some of the SEALs that staff this base are here because they need a rest from the breakneck deployment pace, others are here because it’s more conducive toa family life, and they need a change to help facilitate that. Some men have been sent here even though they don’t think they need a break. Those are the ones I have to watch out for. They don’t want to be here, and they’ll burn it all to the ground because of it. Sutter went on a sex spree so savage I was hearing about it for a month after. Small towns don’t offer secrecy in any amount.
Everyone talks. It’s exactly as horrible as you’d expect. The old women click their tongues when we walk by, upset we took over their land and part of their beach. The local diner is a hotbed of hearsay. Within a few weeks of moving here, I knew more about the residents of Bronze Bay, Florida, than I ever knew about my best friends back home, including the fact that Irene McAllister’s curtains matched her carpet. The slow pace of life mixed with the location—far away from any large cities—forces gossip like the gospel. That’s not something I signed up for when I became a SEAL.
Typically, we are a close-knit community with many secrets. This is a whole new experience in every way. One I love and loathe in equal measure. Do I miss the thrill? The heart-in-my-throat feeling when I’m rounding a corner about to fight fire with fire? Yes. Idle hands, idle minds, and all that. This beach town doesn’t provide much thrill, and the monotony of the daily grind wears on me, but I know I’m serving a purpose, and one day my reason for residing in Bronze Bay will come to light. If anything, I am a motherfucking team player.
I let the voicemail from Eva play on speaker while I shower—the shrill ring of her voice alerting me and anyone in listening distance that she’s upset I didn’t pick up her call. She tells me she’s coming over after work today and wants to talk about the details of our mother’s birthday. “Great,” I mutter, soaping my body.
“You should have answered it,” Aidan replies, his body hidden by a wall. “You could have thwarted her attempts to ruleyour life.” Aidan is the king of comedy. He makes jokes or inserts humor any chance he gets. He also inserts his dick into anything in female form, anytime, any chance he gets. It gets him into trouble. He’s a good operator. A damn good one. When it’s time to work, he’s the one I want covering my back. I wouldn’t trust him with a girl for all the money in the world.
“I know,” I growl. “They’re ruining my life. We can plan something for Mom’s birthday over the phone. I don’t get her need to be in my business constantly.” It’s not just my opinion, everyone around me agrees my sisters are over the top.
“It’s not normal,” Aidan chirps, rounding the corner dragging a white towel over his head.
We talk a little bit about how his family stays out of his way. He doesn’t have annoying sisters or the troubles of breaking free of his family’s clutches. If I were to tell them both to fuck off, I think that would drive them to hound me even more than they already do. At the end of the day, they’re all I have. I’ve had several romantic relationships. None of them ever lasted more than a few months. My schedule, combined with their need for attention, wasn’t something that ever worked out. I’ve been called cocky, self-centered, altruistic, and cynical. I’ve been called heartless, cold, smug, and inconsiderate. I can’t confirm or deny if there’s truth to any of it. I’ve never been attached long enough to self-evaluate. Moving on is what I’m good at.
When Aidan brings up the fact my sisters are meddling with my sex life, I have to defend myself. “Listen. They thought me being reassigned to Bronze Bay meant I was going to settle down in all ways. They’re disappointed I haven’t yet. I can’t be sure if they really would be happy with any woman I chose. You have to admit the fact that everyone talks, and it seems everyone is friends here, which halts a lot of our sex lives. I’m not like you, I’m not opposed to finding a girlfriend per se, because that would be sort of mandated if I don’t want to get Bronze Bayblacklisted, but it would come with so many strings, I’d trip up even the best of candidates.”
Aidan laughs. “Candidate? This isn’t BUD/s, man.” It would be easier if it were.
