Page 5 of She Autumn Be Mine

I must have drifted off at some point, although after years of midnight missions, raids, battles, anything the Navy ordered my SEAL unit to do, I could wake with the slightest sound, on full alert.

That squeak of the alley door opening behind the Copper Cup shop gave Autumn away long before her steps on the stairs, and her key in the lock. Once she landed inside, I heard her ease her boots off, and shuffle over to us in her socks to the foot of the couch.

I kept my eyes shut, regulating my breathing, pretending to sleep, and not sure why. The air in the apartment hit differently than any other night, with all my senses working overtime—like my ears catching the sharp inhale of her breath catching.

I knew she stood there, watching us sleep for so long, I nearly gave myself away and opened one eye to check on her.

Then Click.

The unmistakable sound of the shutter from her camera gave her away. She must have taken a photo of us sleeping in the near dark, the only light coming from the muted TV. I bit back a grin.

“Oh, so precious,” she whispered. Knowing her—because I made it a point to learn everything about the woman—she held a hand to her heart, too.

The weight of the sleeping baby slowly, carefully lifted off of me, as she brought him to her bosom. I stirred and put on my best performance, waking up with a moan and stretch.

“Hey. Home already?” I croaked.

“Goodnight, Jake.” She yawned and carried him off to her bedroom.

My mind worked quickly, not ready to let go. “Hey Autumn, tomorrow’s Sunday. Pick you up for church on the ranch like usual?”

“Mm-hmm. See you then.” She quietly closed the door behind her. That was that. Duty over.

As I did every time, I locked up her apartment good and tight, and, a few minutes later, I drove to the ranch on autopilot, floating along with my head in the clouds.

A photo of me with our boy—her boy, I meant—lived forever in her camera now. And the way her breath had caught at the sight of us? How could I not read too much into that?

There was the trouble with pretending to sleep: I’d had to lie there stone-still while she leaned over me to grab the baby, every note of vanilla and bar smoke and warmth underneath that was only her, close enough that if I’d opened my eyes, we’d have been sharing a breath.

God, I’d wanted to… so tempted to. Instead I lay there and let her think I slept, because a man who’s promised to guard a woman doesn’t get to want her mouth. Doesn’t get to want her eyes catching his across a Sunday potluck, holding one beat too long before she looks away.

I collected those held looks anyway. Stored them up the way a man saves his pay. Maybe someday I could afford what they cost.

With a hand to my chest, the warmth of the baby was still imprinted there. Funny how a thing that small can weigh heavy on a big man like me.

If people around Forest Grove heard about me babysitting, and helping Trig’s sister, they probably thought of it as charity. Even Trig probably saw it that way. But there was more to it.

I could name a few guys from my SEAL unit, who never were lucky enough to make it home to their kids, like Austin, a real jokester from Colorado. Everyone on the team liked him. He and his wife were expecting their first, and he counted down the time to the second when he’d make it home to hold their newborn.

Only he didn’t. Our last mission on deployment went badly. Many of us were lucky to make it out alive.

When I left the Navy, I made a point to visit his widow. I told her stories about her husband, the unclassified ones I could. She cried as I held her baby.

Now every time I looked at Stetson I thought about that, and all the men who couldn’t make it home. So no, watching him wasn’t a duty. That was me getting to be the man who came home. Protection was simply the word I could use to label it out loud.

I could still picture Autumn so vividly, when she arrived on the ranch looking for her brother last fall. The minute Trig saw her, he’d pressed the hair back framing her face. The locks hid the bruises her ex had given her. But nothing could hide the damage to her heart. One look in her eyes as she held the baby and anyone could see it. She needed help, needed a friend.

Once Trig got sent away to prison, I made a vow to look after her. With all my SEAL training, I wasn’t one to abort the mission now. No matter how many times I was tempted to be more to her.

Sunday church at the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch wasn’t a building or anything formal, and not a pastor in sight. More like a giant potluck that seemed to grow bigger each week. It took place on the hilltop above the ranch when weather permitted.

Eldon, resident cook and gardener, set out a feast to feed an army. Everyone working the ranch attended, plus family and friends and neighbors, many bringing food to add to the offering. Ro, Eli, and other kids played tag and hide and seek. By nightfall, we’d usually start a fire in the stone ring, and a few guys would pick guitars and sing. There’d be dancing in the grass under the stars, too, when the mood struck.

To start it off, we always said grace before the meal and praised God for keeping us all safe another week on this Earth.

I ate a heaping plateful, and glanced around the group. Every hand on this ranch came out of a uniform one way or another. Some stopped here to heal, and moved on. Some of us looked around and were already home; like me, Colt, Ash, Knox, and Carter. We stayed.

Across the way, Autumn sat wedged between Willow and Ivy, picking at a plate of food on her knees. She fit in well with the group of women, laughing and chatting, shoulders loose and relaxed. It was a far cry from when Trig brought her the first time, with her keys in her fist, and always alert, worried about who held the baby, like she might need to make a run for it at any minute.