Jim sat there, forcing himself not to go after her—to apologize, to grovel and confess that he was lying, but he knew…
She’d be better off without him—non-SEAL-him, adrift and so fucking angry, and yes, toxic. She got that word right.
Although, maybe in a few years… Yeah, right. He shut that shit down. Who was he kidding? Her face and eyes, right before she’d left this room… He’d burned this bridge completely. Full flame-thrower. Also…? There was no way a woman as fantastic as Ashley wouldn’t be married with one-and-a-half kids in a few years, if and when he was finally ready. Assuming, that is, he survived not being a SEAL.
No, she would definitely find someone who deserved her. Who would appreciate her and cherish her and love her, endlessly…
And no way was he crying. He used Ashley’s reset. A swipe of his eyes and nose. A deep breath.
Fine. He was fine.
But, shit, he had to text Chief Taylor with the sign-in info for the account he’d created for the security cam app that they’d set up with those cameras both outside and in Ashley’s condo. Double-shit, because if she was really leaving camp, she’d be walking back, directly into that nightmare. He checked his phone one last time, looking at the glimpse of her life, both outside of her front door and inside her living room, before he signed out of the app for the last time.
And by the time he finally locked Dunk’s office door, and limped his sorry ass all the way back to his trailer, Ashley’s lights were off.
He’d get up early and talk to Dunk, becausehewas the one who had to leave. He’d promised the senior chief that he wouldn’t quit, but it wouldn’t take much explaining to get himself fired. And enough campers had quit that it wouldn’t take much shuffling to rearrange the remaining people into workable teams—including Ashley who absolutely should stay.
Still, he stood there, in the dark, wishing he could time travel—to just a few years ago. He’d find Ashley, pre-Brad—he still didn’t know what Brad had done, although her calling him Brad two-point-oh had stung.
But he’d step out of his time machine and he’d still be a SEAL, with two good knees and many years in the Teams ahead of him.
Although, even as he imagined finding Ash and sweeping her off her feet, he realized he probably would’ve screwed it up because, back then, he wasn’t even close to ready for a woman as amazing as she was.
And in that moment of despair, he almost did it. He almost limped over to Ashley’s trailer and pounded on the door, to apologize, to explain, to beg her not to hate him.
But Jim knew that tonight’s panic about the future was nothing compared to what was coming at him tomorrow. The bullshit of paperwork and the printed acknowledgement that he was finally done. He’d have to tell his teammates, his family. His mother would see his retirement only as a good thing, which would hurt, because she wouldn’t understand the impact of his loss.
His teammates would, but there was no way Jim would talk to any of them about it—make them face the harsh reality of their own steadily approaching use-by dates…?
No.
He was going to have to work through this on his own.
Jim stood there in the humid darkness of the night, feeling more alone than he’d ever felt in his entire life, with a solid sense of dread that, instead of “fixing” a “mistake,” he may have just fucked up his life beyond all hope.
He finally went into his trailer, limping painfully up the steps, going inside, and shutting the door.
***
Ashley had cried.
And then she’d packed.
And then she’d left, turning off the light in her trailer and locking the door behind her before heading back to the mess, where she waited in the darkness for her Lyft to come and pick her up.
***
Jim’s alarm went off just before dawn, as the rising sun made the sky glow.
He didn’t bother to shower, since he’d done that in the middle of the night. He’d gotten out of bed to do it—Ashley’s scent had been haunting him, and keeping him from falling asleep.
Not that showering had helped.
But it was finally morning—and a nice, fresh, cool, clear one, too. As he hobbled his way out of his trailer, he expected to see Ashley’s windows open wide as she packed her suitcase, making good on her promise to leave.
But the trailer was locked up tight—dark and silent.
Damnit, how had he missed her…? Apparently, as early as he’d gotten up, Ashley had gotten up earlier.
