Читать книгу Navy Rules - Geri Krotow - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

“HE NEVER ASKED how old Maeve is?”

Robyn’s auburn curls sprang into her eyes and she brushed them away with an exasperated movement. Winnie sat with her sister on the sectional couch that occupied most of the family room in Robyn and Doug’s traditional home in Anacortes.

“No.” Winnie dug into her white container of Thai noodles and avoided eye contact with Robyn. Sam was curled up at her feet and she rubbed his belly with her toes.

Robyn was the only other person on earth who knew who Maeve’s father was because Winnie trusted her, and Robyn hadn’t let her down, which was a spectacular accomplishment considering the inquisitive nature of their family.

But Max’s return to Winnie’s life had put a knot in her stomach. Robyn had remained hands-off and kept her opinions to herself when Winnie had the baby and while Max wasn’t in the picture. Now Robyn’s impatience was reflected in her questions.

“I still don’t get why you went over there knowing it was him if you weren’t going to tell him about Maeve.” Robyn fixed her with a stern look. “Which, by the way, you should’ve done two years ago.”

Winnie stopped stroking Sam with her foot and swallowed a forkful of noodles whole.

“I know your opinion, Robyn. I don’t need to hear it again. Don’t you think I do a good enough job of beating myself up?”

When Robyn’s mouth opened, Winnie held up her hand.

“I did go over there to tell him. And I really meant to. But then he started talking about things that upset him. He almost lost his temper and I sent him for a walk with Sam.”

Sam’s ears pricked up at the mention of his name.

She put down the container of noodles and leaned against the back of the red suede couch, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“I thought it would be easier to tell Max in his house, without Maeve there. I also want to be able to help him with Sam. I owe him.”

“If you owe him anything, it’s the truth. You’re holding back the most valuable, important information of his life.” Robyn’s criticism chafed at Winnie’s patience.

“He doesn’t know that yet, Robyn. He was the best CACO at the worst of times. I’ll always be grateful to him for what he did for Krista and me.” In the aftermath of Tom’s death, Max had taken on the duty of Command Assistant Casualty Officer. His duty had been to see her through every aspect of her new, unwanted status as a military widow. From the funeral arrangements to walking her across the chapel parking lot after the service to making sure she and Krista received all the survivor benefits due to them—Max did it all.

He’d also been Tom’s best friend and had grieved for Tom more than anyone besides Winnie, Krista and his family.

“He got me through so much, Robyn. When I was acting crazy, trying to keep my mind off the pain. And when I found out he’s the one who needs the canine therapy, I felt I had to return the favor.” She paused. “No, that’s not completely true, either. Ever since I found out he was back in Whidbey, I knew I had to tell him.”

Winnie sent her sister a weak smile. Robyn’s expression remained stern.

“I’ve completely blown this,” she went on. “I would have, should have, told him I was pregnant, but he was on his way to war and I thought it’d be awful to contact him when I hadn’t replied to his calls after the Air Show. His deployment was extended, and six months turned into nine. Then he got injured and was on the East Coast for rehab. I couldn’t tell him when he was going through so much, could I?”

“Of course you could have.” Robyn could be so unyielding.

“I planned to go out there a few months ago, remember?” She’d decided to fly to D.C., find Max in the rehab center where he was spending his initial recovery period and tell him.

“Yes, I remember. But then you found out he was on his way back to Whidbey—it was in the paper. I’ve been here the whole time, Winnie. I haven’t missed any of this.” Robyn rolled her eyes. “You’re taking the risk that he’ll figure out about Maeve before you tell him. Then he’ll absolutely never trust you again.”

Winnie ignored the white-hot fear that pierced her gut, telling herself that Robyn had been the college drama major, after all.

“Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m risking nothing. Okay, so Max might put two and two together. But will he want a future with us at all? With his daughter? Doubtful. As good a man as Max is, he’s been a loner all these years. He’s not going to change now.”

“Are you really believing what you’re saying, sis? We’re talking about Max, the guy who would’ve given his left arm to keep you and Krista safe after the accident. Finding out you’re a parent changes everyone, and Max especially would want to be part of his daughter’s life. Plus, it’ll take about a minute for Tom’s family to come charging back in, looking for custody if they think that what you’re doing isn’t in Krista’s best interests.”

“They were acting out of grief. They’re over it.” Winnie’s in-laws had initially suggested that Winnie and Krista move to Oklahoma after Tom’s death, so they could be near their granddaughter. Never the most congenial of couples, they’d gone so far as to hint that there were legal steps they could take.

The Navy, namely Max, had come to her rescue again by ensuring that Winnie had complete legal custody of Krista. He’d made it clear to Tom’s parents that Tom’s wishes and Winnie’s legal right was that she be the one to raise Krista.

Tom’s parents had finally acquiesced, but not before implying that they’d pounce the moment they thought Winnie was doing anything harmful to Krista or to the memory of her father.

Winnie was grateful they’d calmed down once they realized that if they wanted to see Krista it would be at Winnie’s discretion. They’d since had cordial visits together two or three times a year, either in Oklahoma or on Whidbey.

Robyn had never trusted them.

“They may have backed out, but they’re lying in wait, honey, have no doubt. The minute they find out you’re involved with someone else but not married, they’ll ring their lawyer. You’re lucky they never pressed the issue when Maeve was born.”

True. Winnie knew the only reason Tom’s parents hadn’t made a fuss and hadn’t tried to reopen their custody case was that they wanted to believe Maeve was their biological granddaughter, too. They’d picked up on Winnie’s parents’ theory that Tom had frozen sperm in case he died—always a risk with a military career.

Winnie had let them believe whatever they wanted. As long as it kept them off her back and out of court… .

“Win, you need to tell Max. Maybe you should even consider stopping by his place again on the way home.”

Winnie sighed and picked up her container of lemongrass chicken. “Don’t worry about it, Robyn.”

“Hey, you can’t blame me for caring. Maeve’s my niece. I’d die without her and Krista.”

“As they would without you.” Winnie and Robyn had grown so much closer through the aftermath of Tom’s death, and Krista had bonded with Robyn as the safe, loving auntie. Maeve loved Robyn and her husband, Doug, but was more interested in the antics of cousin Brendan.

“So, are you going to do it?” Robyn’s persistence was almost worse than sitting in Max’s kitchen this morning, wanting to tell him, yet keeping her secret hidden.

“Do what?” She deliberately ignored her sister’s urging.

“Come off it, Winnie! Are you going to stop at Max’s on the way back?”

She put down her container. “No, not today. He’s going to have Sam this weekend. That’s soon enough, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. But you’re going to do it your way no matter what I tell you.” Robyn cocked her head, and Winnie heard her nephew’s crying over the baby monitor.

“He’s awake!” they both chimed in unison, then laughed.

“I’ll say hi to the little guy and then I’ll be going. Thanks for the lunchtime talk—I think.” Winnie figured if she ignored Robyn’s pointed looks, she’d be able to drive home without any temptation to stop at Max’s home.

* * *

MAX GRUNTED AS HE BENCH-pressed half his weight. It still bugged him that he couldn’t do as much as before, but he’d come far in the past few months. After the shock of losing his physical strength and fitness, he’d accepted what he had to do, even embraced it.

Work out harder than he ever had in his life.

He put the bar back in its notches and sat up, his breathing labored and his heart pounding. Both were a comfort to him when he worked out, a familiar reaction.

Unlike the cold sweats that woke him and left him unable to catch his breath.

Yeah, he preferred a tough workout in the gym to his night terrors any day.

He used the gym’s towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead before he lay back for another set. He raised and lowered the bar and, beyond that, focused on a small spot in the white tile ceiling.

A huge shadow obstructed his concentration.

“Boss!” The unmistakable voice of Chief Warrant Officer Miles Mikowski echoed through the weight room, and Max sat up. He offered Miles his hand.

“Warrant!”

Max was a Navy Commander, an officer, and Miles was former enlisted. The two of them were bound by a fellowship no one wanted to be part of—that of injured warriors. Max liked Miles because, like him, Miles was a survivor and still believed that he’d held the best job in the whole world as a U.S. Navy sailor.

“What are you doing, boss?” Miles looked at Max with one brow arched, his gaze raptor-sharp as usual. Max knew his friend didn’t miss a thing, from his sweat-stained gray T-shirt to the amount of the weights on the bar.

“Weren’t you in here yesterday, too, boss?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to burn some more today.”

Miles always called him “boss,” even though he’d never worked for Max. It was a sign of respect that humbled Max. Miles had lost more than he had in the war.

“You should be doing cardio, boss. Too much lifting’s not good, you know that.” Miles might call him “boss” but Max heard the tone of an older brother in his voice. They were close to the same age—Max guessed that Miles was around thirty-eight, four years younger than he was. Miles had come into the Navy later in life, after college. But he hadn’t originally sought a commission—since he’d wanted to become an expert in all aspects of Explosive Ordinance.

Miles and Max had gone through much of their reentry therapy together and they both knew that pushing too hard wasn’t part of the combat recovery process.

Max was well aware that breaking down his muscles more than he needed to wasn’t recommended by any medical professional. He knew the risks of wearing down his immune system. But he wasn’t overdoing the weights, no matter what Miles thought. And even if he was, that was better than ending up with a panic attack over Winnie’s reappearance in his life.

She’s got another kid, for God’s sake.

“I’ve got some extra steam to blow off. What are you doing here?” Max looked pointedly at Miles’s weight belt. “You sure you put the right leg on?”

Miles gave him a wide grin and tapped his prosthesis. He’d lost his left leg on the same day Max had intercepted the suicide bomber. Also in Afghanistan, but Miles had been in a remote area conducting land-mine removal ops. The military medics were the best in the world but even they couldn’t save a leg an IED had blown to bits.

“I’m trying this one out for the lab techs. The walking one is great, and the running leg lets me go for a good couple miles before I need to give it a rest. But I needed something sturdier for the weight room.”

“You’ve got a bigger selection of legs than I do sunglasses, Miles.” They smiled at each other. Miles had been Explosives Ordinance and Max an EA-6B pilot, but that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that they were both still here.

If you tell yourself this every morning and click your heels together three times, maybe one day you’ll believe it.

“What’s got you worked up, boss?”

“Not going to drop it, are you, Warrant?”

“I wouldn’t be a very good sailor if I let my shipmate get away with doing the absolute worst thing for himself.”

“There are worse things than overworking muscles.”

“I’m not worried about your muscles, boss. It’s your head I’m thinking about. What aren’t you dealing with? More nightmares?”

Max sat up and looked across the weight room at the reflection of himself in the wall mirror. The image was familiar, but still fresh to him. It was the “new” Max, the one with more gray than brown in his hair and less body mass, as evidenced by the scrawny legs that straddled the bench. He’d never be as fit as he once was. Not just because of the war but because he was getting older. He wasn’t twenty-five anymore.

Still, did forty-two have to feel so old?

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I did have a conversation with someone who knew me before.” His voice cracked on before and he cleared his throat. “It’s the first time I’ve seen her since I was, well, since before I went to war.”

“How’d she act toward you?”

“Fine. No different, really.”

“Can I ask, boss, is this a former girlfriend? A wife?”

Max forced a smile. “You know I’ve never been married. And Winnie, well, she’s my best friend’s widow. We lost Tom five years ago—EA-6B Prowler crash. I was the CACO.”

Miles shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Sorry, boss. That sucks.”

“It’s part of our business, isn’t it?” Max rubbed his chin. “It did look like there might be something between us a while back. But it was just a lark.” Images of that Air Show weekend had been flashing across his mind ever since Winnie drove off with that dog.

“How long ago was that?”

“Ahh, let’s see. That was the summer before I took the squadron on deployment, so…” His mind leaped onto an unexpected tangent with lightning speed.

No way.

“Boss, you okay?”

Not possible.

“Yeah, I’m…just figuring something out.”

One of the condoms broke. Did you forget that?

Miles’s strong hand wrapped around Max’s upper arm. “Buddy, you sure as hell don’t look okay.”

How old is her daughter? What’s the timeline?

“I think I’ve done it again, Miles. I’ve been shoving so much down—”

“And now your gut’s spewing emotions everywhere, isn’t it?”

Max couldn’t help laughing. It eased the tightness in his chest, a tightness that had nothing to do with bench presses and everything to do with what Winnie had revealed to him.

And what she hadn’t revealed.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He wrapped his towel around his neck. “I’m good, Miles. Thanks for sitting with me. Now I’ve got to go burn this off in a healthier way. You’re right about that.”

“Anytime, boss, anytime.”

Max walked out of the weight room with a feeling he hadn’t had since before the suicide bomber leveled the spirit he’d taken for granted. He didn’t have to report to anyone else, didn’t have to ask what he needed to do. He knew his next move.

He was going to Winnie’s. He’d get her address and if it was unlisted, he’d drive through Coupeville house by house if he had to.

Winnie had some explaining to do.