The parking places in this garage were tight, as was the case in most city malls in coastal California. Tight and hard to come by. If this were the Natick Mall back in her beloved Massachusetts, the maroon sedan would’ve already found a spot. But the next level was also full, so they just kept slowly going downward.
Which was exactly where she didn’t want to be in earthquake-prone California. In the sub-sub-subbasement of a six-story building. Yay! Still, a missing teenaged daughter trumped her earthquake fears, hands down.
Courage doesn’t mean you’re not afraid—it’s acting in spite of your fear.
Thanks, Hare. “So, how are we doing this, Lieutenant?” Shayla asked briskly. “They park, I block them in? You get out and knock on the window? Hello, is my daughter in there?”
“Peter,” the SEAL said as they went down yet another freaking level. Finally there was no FULL sign, but there were still no nearby spots. “Wow, I don’t know. And, yeah, that’s smart, but…This could get ugly. You know. Loud? Maybe you should just drop me and go.”
Shay’s heart sank as she looked at him, trying to figure out if he really was merely attempting to spare her the drama—or if there was something going on that he didn’t want her to see.
Everyone was hiding something, but some secrets were darker than others. Shay had learned that lesson a little too well.
Still, she kept her voice light. “And later find out that you’re really a serial killer whom I’ve helped stalk his latest victims?” She followed the maroon sedan slowly past the bank of elevators, where there were still no empty spaces. “I don’t think so.”
The SEAL gave her a look that screamed Are you freaking kidding me? It was pretty clear that this was an officer-to-enlisted look—and no doubt one that had served him well in the past. She, however, was not, nor had she ever been, in the U.S. Navy.
So it bounced off her as she gazed back at him. “I’m a writer, and I’ve written a lot of serial killer books.” It was a good excuse. Easier to use than the truth, which was that she’d seen just how shitty some people could be—even to those they professed to love. Yeah, he seemed like a nice guy. But monsters often hid beneath nice. And she’d known him what, now? All of twenty minutes?
“I’m not just going to drop you,” she continued. “I’ve come this far, I might as well drive you and Maddie home. Especially since we’re all going in the same direction.”
“I’m not going to hit her or hurt her or do whatever other kind of violence you might be imagining,” the SEAL said, seeing through her words to the reality of why she wasn’t going to just leave him there.
I like him even more now, Harry declared. He could’ve played along, but he didn’t. That’s impressive. You have my permission to have sex with him.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Shay told the SEAL as the maroon sedan kept searching for a parking spot. “But I’m going through a severely mistrustful phase, and it would be irresponsible of me to not verify that you are, in fact, as great of a guy as you appear to be. I have to admit, I’m still struggling with Why on earth haven’t you called her mother?”
“Maddie’s mom is dead,” the SEAL told her. “She was killed in a car accident, three months ago.”
Peter knew that he’d screwed up, the moment the too-blunt words left his mouth.
“Oh, no,” Shayla-his-neighbor’s soft brown eyes widened with shock as she gazed at him from behind the wheel of her progressive-mom-mobile. “Oh my God, Peter, I’m so sorry!”
At least she’d finally called him Peter instead of Lieutenant, but she’d definitely gotten the wrong idea.
He sat there in the front seat of her functional, fuel-efficient little car and realized that he was going to have to explain. And Jesus, he’d already told her so much—things he would never have discussed with a stranger under any other circumstances. He hadn’t even told his closest teammates more than a small fraction of the shit that was going down these days with Maddie.
Most of them were still agog at the fact that he had a daughter in the first place.
But this woman—Shayla Whitman, his across-the-street neighbor—had taken a risk not just by stopping for him but by chasing the car he was certain he’d seen Maddie climb into. She deserved honest answers, regardless of how hard it was to talk about this.
“No, I’m sorry, I really should’ve said that earlier,” Pete started, “but—”
“Oh my God,” Shayla cut him off. “No, Lieutenant, please, I’m the one…I didn’t even consider…I didn’t mean to be so freaking insensitive.” She was really upset, and he was back to Lieutenant. Damn it.
“It’s okay, really, you didn’t know. I should’ve said something when you first asked if I’d called her but…” He tried to explain. “It just…it defines us, you know. Maddie and me. It’s exhausting, and I was trying not to let that into the car—if that makes any sense at all.”
She reached for his hand, nodding as if she actually understood what he meant. It was weird, because as a general rule, people didn’t dare touch him. Well, women sometimes did, but only when he was hanging out in a bar, clearly welcoming an intimate connection.
But Shayla didn’t squeeze his hand for very long—there was definitely no sexual subtext in her comfort-from-mommy contact. She even patted him a little as she let him go, saying, “I’m so, so sorry for your loss.” Her sincerity was off the charts and he found himself not just needing to explain, but actually wanting to.
What was up with that?
It was probably because he found her mindblowingly refreshing. When was the last time he’d met a woman who was so honest and real—and not already engaged or married to one of his teammates?
Shayla didn’t just drive a mom-mobile, she actually was a mom, with her curly black hair worn naturally and super-short in—what was it called?—a pixie cut, and a sweet face that was almost completely devoid of makeup. Probably because she was too busy with her crazy mom-life to take the time to put it on.
Not that she wasn’t pretty enough without it. She was—in a very G-rated, Disney-movie way. She was wearing jeans and a yellow T-shirt that were meant neither to feature nor conceal her curves. But she hadn’t simply dressed for comfort. With her gorgeously rich brown skin, bold colors looked good on her and she obviously knew it—no one wore something in that bright of a hue by accident.
She had lively dark brown eyes and a quick, warm smile in an expressive heart-shaped face. It was the kind of face that gave away everything she was feeling, even when she tried to hide it.
In fact, earlier, she’d shot him one powerful look of vaguely comical disapproval that had amused the crap out of him, mostly due to the fact that in his job not just as a SEAL officer but as a BUD/S instructor, he rarely received that kind of judgment and attitude from anyone.
But he dished it out, all the time.
So yes, even though they’d just met, he already liked her—and that was saying something, since it usually took him years of acquaintanceship before he even considered calling someone a friend.
But right now she was imagining he was recently widowed, and that was far from the case.