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“What?” I frowned, checking the fridge and scribbling down things we needed. From his concerned expression, I knew he was thinking about Elijah Harris. I scowled. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Nothing’s happened since the break-in. And we reported everything to the police, so they’re looking into him. Besides, I refuse to let that man affect my life any more than he already has. I need to keep a routine here. Otherwise I’m going to go nuts.”
When he still didn’t respond—just stood there with his arms crossed, watching me—I threw up my hands in exasperation. “So, what? I let him make me afraid all the time? Because that’s what’s happening here. I can’t—” I turned away to face the sink, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes. It was frustrating as hell. I was so tired of looking over my shoulder all the time, expecting to see the boogeyman there.
Gabe came up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders, kneading gently, his lips resting against my scalp, his breath stirring my hair. He didn’t say anything, just let me know he had my back. Okay. Yes, he was right. Once I’d calmed down a bit, forced that hunted, haunted feeling down deeper again, I could admit it. I hung my head and took a deep breath. “Fine. I just refuse to let him think he’s won.” From behind us, Savannah squeaked again, banging her tiny fists on the tray of her carrier seat, and I smiled. “Besides, it’s better not to drag the baby through a grocery store when it’s clear she won’t be happy about it. Let’s stay home. We’ll go another time.”
Except we were down to the last can of formula, and it wouldn’t last more than a day. And the selection of jarred baby food was growing thin as well.
“What about delivery?” Gabe asked. “I know it’s not perfect, but…”
“They haven’t started that here yet.” I sighed. “There’s been talk over the past year, but things move slow in small towns.”
“I’ll go,” he said. “I won’t have my daughter running out of things she needs.”
I turned around to face him, frowning. “Wait a minute. Are you just saying that because you don’t want to stay here with a fussy baby?”
“Maybe,” he conceded, having the decency to look sheepish. I crossed my arms and narrowed my gaze, and he grinned. “Okay. Fine. Guilty. Now finish making your list so I know what to get.”
I wanted to argue on principle, but in the end I couldn’t. I hated grocery shopping. That’s why I waited until basically everything ran out before going. Fussy or not, Savannah beat a trip to the Piggly Wiggly any day. “Fine.” I slipped the keys off the hook on the wall and tossed them to him. “You can go. But you better get everything I tell you to. And make sure you check the produce. Don’t just grab the first one you see.”
Half an hour later, I was sitting at the table with Savannah, and Gabe was tugging on his jacket. He bent and gave me a kiss, then kissed the top of his daughter’s head before heading out the door. “Keep the house locked up while I’m gone.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, giving him a faux-military salute, then called behind him, almost as an afterthought, “You be careful too.”
FIFTEEN
Careful was my middle name. Or at least it felt like it most days.
I backed out of Charlotte’s driveway and headed into town. It was an overcast day, the brisk fall air a hint of what was to come. The two-lane highway into Harpers Ferry had been repaved recently, by the looks of it, making the yellow and red leaves stand out even more against the black asphalt.
The radio in the SUV was tuned to a country station, and while the singer crooned on about the man who’d done her wrong, I let my mind drift to the news I’d just learned.
I was a dad. Savannah was my daughter.
Holy shit.
I still couldn’t stop grinning about it, even if it did complicate things even more. I needed to call my CO when I got back from the store and tell him. Smith would be happy for me, I thought. He had kids of his own, so…
For a moment, a weird ache filled my chest. In other circumstances, in other lifetimes, now would be the time people would call their parents, their families, to share the happy news. But my family was gone.
I’d figured I’d put that to rest, finally come to terms with the loss, when I’d gone to the graveyard, yet it kept cropping up at the weirdest, most inopportune times. Like when I heard a certain song. Or when I passed a sign along the road for a place I’d once gone to with my mom and dad and Isaac. Or now. When one of the most momentous occasions of life had happened, and the most important people weren’t there to share it with me.
That feeling had only happened a few times before. My high school graduation. The day I’d passed SEAL training.
Which brought me back to my present dilemma. Now that I knew for certain Savannah was mine, there were decisions to be made. Things I needed to figure out. I’d been with my SEAL team for ten years now, and it was pretty much my life.
I’d eaten, drunk, and breathed that life for so long, I really didn’t know anything else. Everything was regimented. Everything had a timeline, a purpose, rules and regulations associated with it. I liked that. Liked knowing exactly what I’d be doing that day when I woke—even if what I’d be doing was a completely unpredictable extraction or other mission. Even then, it still had the framework I’d been trained in, and I had the rest of my team around me. Not having to worry about making major decisions, because that all came down to me through the chain of command. They told me where to go, what to do, who to be.
Now, though, that was gone, at least while I was home. And it felt weird. Disconcerting.
And more than a little scary, truth be told.
Being a civilian meant making all those choices yourself. Meant forging ahead, not knowing what the future held or how you’d get there. All those rules and regulations, gone. Charlotte seemed to do fine with it. Most people did. But I’d spent my whole adult life with the other scenario, so how was I going to proceed going forward? Could someone like me adjust to civilian life?
I rounded a curve in the road and glanced in the rearview mirror. Uh-oh. My stomach sank a little as my instincts went on high alert. It being early afternoon on a Wednesday, there wasn’t much traffic, so the fact that the same truck had been following me since I left Charlotte’s house did not go unnoticed. Black. Nondescript, with tinted windows that prevented me from easily seeing the driver. Because of course.
Fuck.
Frowning, I straightened in my seat and sped up a little, just to see what would happen. Sure enough, the truck behind me sped up too, not right on my ass, but close enough to see where I was going and act accordingly. Shit. I’d picked up a tail.
