Chapter 7

CHAPTERSEVEN

Ten days.

That’s how much time had passed since their first date, and Slate had talked to Ashlyn every day since.

He was thrilled with how well things were working out. The sex was out of this world. He’d never been with a woman as passionate, enthusiastic, and sensual as Ashlyn. But it was more than that. He enjoyed hearing about her days. Was interested in hearing how her clients were doing. Looked forward to sharing the funny things his teammates said and did at work.

And he was utterly obsessed with that damn tracker app.

Pid have given him shit earlier that afternoon when he’d checked it for what seemed like the fiftieth time. He just wanted to be sure Ashlyn was progressing through her deliveries without any issues.

They’d had plans to hang out for dinner tonight, but after his workday, Slate was in no mood or condition to do anything but go straight home and sit on his roof deck and decompress. He didn’t want to disappoint Ashlyn, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to see her. He just needed to sit in a quiet space for a while without having to talk to anyone.

He waited until he got home before calling her, so he could concentrate on the call and not try to drive and talk at the same time.

“Hi!” she said happily when she answered. “You on your way?”

Even though she could’ve seen his location on the tracking app, she didn’t seem inclined to use it much. Slate didn’t know whether to be pleased or irritated by that.

“I’m not going to be able to come over tonight,” he told her.

“Oh.” He could hear the disappointment in her tone.

“Frankly, work sucked,” he said. “I wouldn’t be the best company tonight, and I’m actually feeling a bit nauseous anyway.”

“You’re sick?” she asked in concern.

“No. But for four hours this afternoon, we watched bodycam and helmet cam videos for training. My head is swimming. I feel as if I’ve been on a boat in the pitching and rolling ocean for hours.”

“Oh my God. Four hours of watching that stuff? I’ve seen some of those videos on police officer bodycams, and it makes me sick to watch more than like two minutes at a time. I’m so sorry, Slate.”

“It usually doesn’t bother me so much, but since we were trying to figure out what went wrong on the mission of a team we’re analyzing, we had to watch each man’s video over and over. So yeah, it was a bit much.”

“I don’t get seasick or carsick, but I sometimes get really bad headaches,” Ashlyn said. “I’m not sure I’d call them migraines, because I only get them now and then, but they can make me super nauseous too. The only thing that helps is lying in a dark room with no sound. So I get it. Is there anything I can do?”

Slate wasn’t surprised that Ashlyn was all right with the change in plans. She always seemed to go with the flow in just about every regard. Reason number two thousand why he liked being with her. “No, I’m just going to decompress. Probably go up to the roof and chill for a while.”

“You should eat something,” she said gently. “I know you probably don’t feel like it after all those videos, but I’m sure you’re hungry, and sometimes an empty stomach can make you feel even sicker than you already are.”

“I’m okay, babe.”

“Slate…seriously.”

“I’m good. I’ll grab something later,” he told her, lying through his teeth.

“Okay. Was…Never mind.”

“What?”

“I was just going to ask if the videos were bad in…other ways. You said you were trying to figure out what went wrong.”

“Yeah. They were bad,” Slate said without elaborating. “How about you? Did you have a good day?” he asked, deliberately trying to change the subject. He didn’t want to think about his fellow SEALs lying in the dirt, dying from gunshots they’d received in the ambush the team had walked into.

After a while, all he could see was his own teammates’ faces on those men. Mustang bleeding out from a gut shot. Aleck’s eyes staring unseeing up at the sky as half his head was blown away. Jag’s screams of pain as he tried to put a tourniquet on his own leg to stop the gushing from his femoral artery. And Pid’s desperate calls for help over the radio as he and Midas did their best to hold back the enemy shooters.

“It was fine. I did what you suggested today.”

“And what was that?” As much as Slate had wanted to be alone tonight, he found that Ashlyn was the one person he could handle talking to right now. Surprisingly, her voice soothed some of his weariness.

“Before I brought up taking Christi to the beach with her sister or caretaker, I asked her what she thought. And you know what? Even though Christi can’t talk, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she did not like the beach. There were lots of hand gestures and grunting, but when I suggested maybe just taking her out to the backyard instead, she smiled. Smiled, Slate. And she kept smiling, tilting her head up to the sun as we sat outside. It was a good day.”

“That’s great, babe.”

“It was such a small gesture. And I should’ve thought to ask her first thing. Instead, I got all wrapped up in the logistics of getting her into my car, and then to the beach, and talking to everyone else. Your advice was spot on. I think too many people talk around handicapped people instead of talking to them. So thank you for basically smacking me upside the head and getting me to see what an idiot I’d been.”

“Wanting the best for someone isn’t idiotic,” Slate said. “Your huge heart is one of your greatest traits.”

“Even though it drives you crazy sometimes?” Ashlyn asked.

Slate chuckled. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to laugh today, after everything he’d seen, but clearly Ashlyn had done the impossible. “It’s also the thing that keeps me up nights,” he told her.

“I thought that was my winning…personality,” she teased.

Slate laughed harder at that. “Oh, yeah, that too,” he agreed.

“Okay, well…thanks for calling to let me know you aren’t coming tonight. I’m really sorry you had a tough day and that you want to barf. Go up to your deck—but don’t fall off. It would suck to have to admit to your friends that you broke your leg because you were walking like a drunken sailor and fell ass over head off the roof of your house.”

Slate couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah, that would suck.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Ashlyn asked.

“Yeah, babe, you will.”

“Good. Later.”

“Later.”

Slate clicked off the phone and took a deep breath as he leaned against the kitchen counter. He felt better. Not great, but better. Talking to Ashlyn, he realized, always seemed to put him in a better mood. The images he’d seen today were still in his head, but they were muted now. With a small smile, he grabbed a bottle of water and headed up the stairs to his rooftop deck.

An hour later, Slate was feeling much more relaxed. The fresh air and the sound of the ocean had done their job, clearing his head. His nausea had faded as well, thank God.

A car vaguely caught his attention when it turned down his street—then even more so when it pulled into his driveway. Frowning, as he wasn’t expecting anyone and he didn’t recognize the vehicle, he stood up to get a better look at who it might be.

He saw the logo of an Internet delivery app on the side of the car.

Rolling his eyes, he knew immediately that Ashlyn hadn’t been able to stop herself from trying to take care of him. He headed down the stairs to see what she’d ordered for his dinner.

The young man had already dropped off the bag and was headed back to his car.

“If you wait a second, I can grab a tip,” Slate called out.

“No need. The tip through the app was more than generous. Enjoy!”

Shaking his head, Slate picked up the bag and went back inside. Putting the food on the kitchen counter, he started to unload it, and the smells from the covered containers made his belly rumble.

She’d ordered from Oahu Grill, a Hawaiian restaurant he loved. And she’d gone overboard.

There was squid lu’au, taro leaves slowly simmered and mixed with squid and coconut milk; chicken hekka, shredded chicken and long rice noodles cooked in a semi-sweet shoyu-based sauce with green beans and carrots; and a Ho’io salad, which was fiddlehead fern shoots with dried shrimp, tomatoes, and onions, again in a shoyu-based sauce. There was even Kona coffee ice cream packed with dry ice for dessert.

Everything she’d ordered were things he’d mentioned at one time or another that he loved. Not even directly to her, necessarily. But in conversation with their friends when they were all together.

Ashlyn wasn’t kidding. She paid very close attention…and she went out of her way to show people how much she cared about them.

Slate didn’t bother plating the food, he simply plunked the containers down on his small table and grabbed some utensils.

Before he dug into the delicious-smelling meal, he picked up his phone to send Ashlyn a text.

Slate: There’s no way I can eat all this. But thank you for thinking about me.

Three dots immediately appeared at the bottom of the text string. And Slate waited impatiently for her to finish typing and hit enter.

Ashlyn: Please, I’ve seen you eat, and I’m sure what I ordered is nothing. I hope you’re not feeling nauseous anymore.

Slate: I’m good.

Ashlyn: Yes, you are. :) I figured you needed some comfort food to help you feel better.

Slate: I appreciate it.

Ashlyn: And now you owe me, because you get all that ice cream to yourself. You don’t have to fight me for it. I hope it’s not too melted. When I called, the guy assured me they’d package it up so it would be good for at least two hours, but I was still skeptical.

Slate: It’s perfect. And the next time we’re out, I’ll let you have all the ice cream.

Ashlyn: I’ll just screen-shot that comment so when you forget and steal my spoon, I can show it to you.

Slate laughed out loud once more. He was about to reply when his stomach growled again. Shit, he’d only meant to send a quick thank you and now here he was, absorbed in a conversation rather than eating.

Slate: Gonna go so I can eat before everything gets cold. Thank you, babe. Means the world to me that you’d go out of your way to send me dinner.

Ashlyn: You’re welcome. Enjoy your slimy, gross Hawaiian food, Slate.

Once again, he laughed as he shook his head.

Slate: Sleep well.

Ashlyn: You too.

Ashlyn: Oh, and…I don’t think I said it earlier, but thank you for what you do, Slate. I know it’s not always easy, and in fact a lot of times it sucks huge monkey balls, but I appreciate you and your teammates. Talk to you tomorrow.

Slate was used to people thanking him for his service. Often it felt insincere. As if the people were just reciting something they felt they should say, rather than something they truly felt. But Ashlyn’s words seemed genuine. Hilarious in her unique way, but truly sincere. And they were just what he needed to hear tonight. After everything he’d seen earlier, her words were able to soothe the images in his head.

Picking up his fork, Slate tucked into the lu’au first and sighed in contentment when the flavors burst on his tongue. Yeah, Hawaiian food wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but he fucking loved it.

Looking down at the meal, Slate couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to take care of him like Ashlyn had tonight. Most of the time, it was him taking care of others. It felt…really nice.