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“Ancient history,” she replied and walked away from him.
He had the urge to follow, but something held him back. Instead, he spent the next hour watching one of Nick’s SEAL friends after another salute the little woman who seemed to become smaller with each gesture. He couldn’t give her shit about coming with Danny because, although he didn’t understand what, something was going on, and she was fragile because of it. Will answered the question Corey couldn’t bring himself to ask the girl herself.
“She was a reporter with Nick’s team in Syria,” Will said.
“Which time?” Corey asked.
“The last one.”
Two more, Taran thought as she sat at the table alone because Danny had avoided her completely since Corey had basically done the human male version of peeing on her. All she had to do was make it through two more thank-yous, and then she could get out of here. She’d promised Nick she would do this, so she was, but she hated it. Between feeling Corey’s constant stare, being dressed up and looking like Jeremy’s fiancée—a woman she’d tried to leave behind, and having every single wife of DEVGRU SEAL team six give her the wife’s version of a salute was too much. She didn’t know how to feel or react to any of it. Telling herself to be sad, stoic, melancholy, proud—anything was exhausting. And the only feeling that came naturally was the butterflies in her stomach when she met Corey’s gaze, which made her feel incredibly shitty. But she stayed at the reception. Because if it had been someone else who saved Jeremy, she would have wanted a chance to thank them.
A throat cleared behind her, and she turned. There stood another of the six men. Seb Aston, Jeremy’s best friend. Seabass, as the dark-haired grumpy man was known to the rest of the team.
“You don’t need to stand. I’ve already thanked you. You know that,” his deep voice informed her. And that was true. The only one of the men from the horrific day to find her again was Seabass, although he had the unfair advantage of knowing where her parents’ cattle ranch was to check in on her. “You canceled on me twice last month.”
Taran gave him a clipped nod.
“Hard month?” he asked.
March had been weird. Exhausting was probably a better way to explain it. Avoiding having to answer the same questions over and over again.
“March eighth. His last day as a Navy SEAL,” Seabass said. He put his hand to his mouth and blew a hard breath into his fist. “Fucked with me a bit. Remembering all his big plans, his promises to keep in touch with me even though I wasn’t leaving the teams.”
It was the promise Jeremy’d made to her when they got engaged. He’d finish the last tour, and then their life would focus on her career. Whatever she needed to do to become the journalist every outlet wanted telling their stories.
“When you canceled, I thought you were doing well. But now Nick made us promise to just say our thank-you and let you be. He said your demons are too big.”
“They aren’t,” she said and then automatically glanced down at the leg she knew was metal and plastic below the knee. Seabass had lost his leg, but he made it home.
“Jeremy would hate that.”
She shook her head and swallowed hard at the knot that was trying to creep up her throat.
“Don’t.” She didn’t need the reminder of all Jeremy would want for her. She knew. “Nick asked me to give you all a chance to get closure and give the wives a chance to say thank you. I understand both, so I’m here. I’m probably the most well-adjusted of all seven of us. I just don’t want to constantly relive it.”
“Just because you don’t have flashbacks, constant mood swings, or nightmares doesn’t mean you should ignore your PTSD, T-cup.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you? Or is that the excuse you’re using to not have to deal with hard shit?”
His question was exactly why she hated rehashing everything that happened. Why was everyone convinced she hadn’t dealt with the trauma?
Before she responded, a chair moved behind her, and she was swamped with the smell of the familiar cologne. She glanced over her shoulder at Corey. She didn’t have it in her to spar with him at the moment. But he simply set a pink drink in a martini glass in front of her before he turned his attention to the man standing next to her.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Corey said to the man in his full-dress whites.
Seabass grimaced.
She wasn’t sure whether they knew each other. Seabass wasn’t done talking to her, but she relaxed, knowing he wouldn’t continue the conversation with Corey there.
Taran turned to the drink Corey had set in front of her and took a long sip. She waited for him to ask her why sailors were saluting her or what was going on, but he didn’t.
“I figured since you look like a girl today, the pink fruity drink wouldn’t mess with your image too much,” he said instead.
She tried to glare at him, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. She was too relieved for the playful banter. “Thanks.” She finished the pink liquid, leaving only the white orchid in the empty glass.
“Want another?” he asked simply.
