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“Thanks.” Isaiah pulled away from the Katz house before he could let himself get too choked up and emotional to drive. “Now let’s get you home.”
“I’ve never seen you like this,” his father observed as Isaiah headed back for the bridge. “So take-charge. Decisive. Going after what you want. I’ve got to say I’m a little impressed.”
Ha. If Isaiah really went after what he wanted, he’d have Mark...
Wait. Was that it? Had he made it too easy for Mark to walk away? Did he need to fight for Mark the way he was fighting for the kids? The way he’d stood up to his father at long last? Did he have it in him to stand up to Mark like that? Put it all on the line, no holding back. He simply wasn’t sure. But for the first time, he felt a glimmer. A spark. A sprout that maybe, just maybe he’d figure it out, find the right words to fight for the future he wanted. No, deserved. He deserved Mark, but only if Mark could give him what he needed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Wizard!” Fuck but Mark hated the sound of his nickname lately. He wasn’t Wizard, never had been, had no magical powers. If he did, he’d have fixed the mess that was his life already.
But the voice calling him across the parking lot was Bacon. And he was a friend, so Mark slowed up.
“Dude. Do you even check your phone anymore?”
Only every chance I get. But that was looking for possible news from Isaiah, living for the cryptic updates, like the one he’d gotten a few hours ago that he and the kids were in La Jolla, would be there past dinner. Which sucked because Mark was off at a decent hour for once and had been looking forward to seeing the kids.
“Sorry. Did I miss a call from you?”
“Texted you yesterday. Your team’s back. We’re having drinks tonight. Tovey will be there—you really should come say hi.”
Yeah. Mark had seen the message from Bacon, but he’d had no desire to go for drinks. And he had decidedly mixed feelings about his team’s return. He was happy, of course, that they were back in one piece, no further injuries. But he was also a little wistful, missing being a part of the team, and then there was also some guilt for liking the instructor gig, enjoying the flexibility it gave him to see the kids. Too many damn feelings.
“You’re coming,” Bacon said decisively. “Just text Isaiah. Tell him you need an extra hour—”
“He and the kids aren’t at home,” Mark admitted.
“See. There you go. We’ll get some food into you, you’ll rejoin the human race. It’ll all be good.”
“I’ve had a long day. Bushed.” That was true. They’d been practicing surface passage again, and Mark’s anxiety had been on red alert, not wanting another mishap.
“I’ve barely seen you the last two months. And I hear from others that they haven’t seen you either. It’s not good for you to stay all holed up.” Bacon steered Mark away from the direction of his car toward the souped-up truck he drove. “I’ll run you back to your car or to your house after. But you’re coming.”
“Okay, okay.” Mark gave in because it was less energy than a public argument with his friend. He climbed into the truck. “But an hour. I’m holding you to that.”
“No problem. There’s only so much of the happy couples I can take right now. Hell, you and I might be the only single guys there. Curly and his girlfriend will be there and all her friends are coupled up with guys on the teams now, and Horvat and Tovey will be there all cute and shit.” Bacon did a mock shudder. “You’re my excuse for leaving early.”
The bar the SEAL teams favored was pretty close to base, so it didn’t take long to get there. And Mark was glad they’d ridden together as the parking lot was packed. Great. More people. Bacon and his best friend, Curly, had the biggest social circle Mark knew of, and sure enough, Bacon had to stop to greet multiple people on the way to the group of tables Curly and the rest of the gang had already secured.
“What are you drinking?” Bacon asked after they made their greetings. “It’s on me.”
“Guinness.” Mark was in the mood for something dark and broody.
“Man, it is good to see your face.” Tovey came over to where Mark had positioned himself on the outer edge of the tables. Horvat was right behind him.
“Good to see you too. You give ’em hell out there?”
“Always.” Tovey grinned at him. “Needed stitches a few weeks back. Senior chief put them in. He’s nowhere near as neat as you.”
“Seconded.” Horvat’s laugh had an intimate quality to it, like he’d personally inspected the scar. “But I hear you’re needed at BUD/S. Heard about the candidate you saved. Good work.”
