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You fucked up again.
It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since Jesse had left Tara in an elevator, and that one thought still hadn’t stopped running through his head. Because he almost couldn’t have handled the conversation with her any worse.
Thank God they’d both been so busy all day getting their asses kicked by the chop of the Chesapeake Bay. The team’s first job was assisting an offshore wind company with an underwater survey of a planned wind farm about seventeen nautical miles off the coast of Ocean City. The company had apparently done part of the survey last summer, but the project kept getting held up by political wrangling in the state government. Now it seemed the wind farm was back on again, and the company was under the gun to finish the survey this week, assuming the weather cooperated.
But before they could do any of that, they had to get there.
First thing this morning, they’d departed DC on CMDS’s diving support vessel Going Deep, lovingly nicknamed “the GD DSV” by his teammates. But the Chesapeake Bay could be a nasty piece of water if the wind, weather, and tides weren’t right, as was the case today. And the Delaware Bay wasn’t much better.
Jesse heaved a deep breath as th
ey finally passed the ferry terminal at Lewes, Delaware, and came around into the Atlantic Ocean. They’d hit Ocean City in a little over an hour if the calmer seas held.
He’d been wet and cold for the entirety of the day-long trip, but still it felt good to be back out on the water. His sea legs under him again, the smell of salt air in his nose. Of course, he would’ve been able to enjoy it all even more if he hadn’t made a tricky situation worse with Tara.
When he’d awakened yesterday to find himself alone, he’d looked for a note from Tara. Not finding one had been a total gut check, because it cast doubts over everything he’d thought his night with her had been about. It hadn’t occurred to him to check his phone because apparently he was an idiot who’d been too pissed, disappointed, and late for work to think clearly.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it.
The momentary flash of hurt on Tara’s face when he’d called their night together a mistake still had him feeling two feet tall. He’d thought that was what she’d concluded, so he’d said it first because the thought of hearing her call him a mistake was more than he could stomach.
“You could’ve done so much more, been so much more. The navy is a mistake, Jesse. One you’ll have to live with now.”
His dad’s twenty-year-old words rang in his ears as he watched lights twinkle along the shoreline in one picturesque beach town after another. On a sigh, he made his way to the bridge, where he found Boone, Jud, Bobby, and Tara.
Jesse joined in the small talk as the lights of Ocean City finally came into view, and though things with Tara seemed normal and they were both hanging out with the team, none of their exchanges were directly with the other. And that sucked because it revealed there was still some weirdness between them, just one more piece of evidence that he was really fucking bad at this—this including everything from living up to his parents’ expectations to protecting his EOD techs to basic goddamned human interaction. Apparently.
He was grateful when pulling into the marina gave him something else to think about. All hands were on deck as they docked, secured the DSV, and checked in with the harbor master so they could refuel. It would be their last night with a hot, leisurely meal and sleeping in a soft bed on dry land for a few days, and Jesse was looking forward to both as they made their way to Captain Joe’s, which was famous for its Maryland crab cakes.
The restaurant was one of those places that appeared to have been there for decades, with weathered wood paneling, colored-glass light fixtures, and a bar surrounded by old timers. The team pulled some tables together in an otherwise quiet corner and settled in.
As was a CMDS tradition, Boone treated them to a couple of pitchers of beer and raised his glass in a toast. “To going deep and getting it done.”
“Here, here!” everyone called as they raised and clinked their frosty mugs.
Jesse took a long pull of the cold beer, relishing the malt on his tongue.
Jud made the next toast. “And here’s to welcoming Jesse to the island of misfit toys, otherwise known as this team.”
Laughing, everyone raised their glasses again. Including Tara, who gave him a little smile when their mugs touched. He was glad for it, but definitely didn’t know what he’d possibly done to earn it.
“Thanks,” Jesse said, pulling his gaze away from her. “If y’all are misfits, I should fit right in.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jud said, clapping him on the back.
The next hour passed over a fantastic meal and storytelling about the stupid shit various team members had done over the years, including Tara being famous for singing Alvin and the Chipmunks songs after decompressing from dives deep enough to require mixed air—a mixture of oxygen and helium.
Jesse grinned at her. “I can’t wait to hear that.”
Tara shrugged. The wind had pulled more than a few tendrils of curls down from her braid, and they framed her face so perfectly. “It’s pretty epic, honestly.”
“I bet it is,” he said, thinking that everything he’d learned—and experienced—where she was concerned had been pretty epic. Which was going to make working and sleeping in close quarters interesting for the rest of the week. But at least it didn’t seem like she wanted to stab him with her fork, so he was counting that as a win.
Hell, Jesse Anderson had learned to take wins where he could find them.
Before long, they were checking into a no-frills hotel close to the marina. Everyone begged off hanging out given their five AM underway time. After two days of not sleeping great, Jesse wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. Boone randomly passed out key cards, and they made for the elevator as a group.
The doors opened at the second floor, and Boone and George got out with a wave.
