A SEALed Fate Read online

  A SEALed Fate

  Nikki Winter

  Copyright © 2014 by Nikki Winter

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by: Nikki Winter Publishing

  Cover Art: Bree Archer

  http://breearcher.com/

  Table of Contents

  A SEAL’s Heart

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Epilogue

  Signed, SEALed, Delivered

  One

  Two

  Three

  More about the Author

  Nikki’s Other Works

  Thanks for reading!

  A SEAL’s Heart

  Prologue

  “Ma, you have to stop crying. I’m just going to basic training.” It didn’t matter how many times Fitzgerald Carrigan pointed that out, his mother only seemed to cry harder.

  “My leanbh...” Miriam squeezed him about the waist, her face buried just under his chest as he hugged her back. Fitz turned pleading eyes to his father as his brothers stood on the sidelines, laughing.

  “Dad...”

  Dolan swallowed an obvious smile and stepped up to take his wife by the shoulders, officially dislodging her from their youngest son. “Sweetheart, he’s going to be fine.”

  “We don’t know that! We won’t even be able to talk to him!” Miriam cried.

  “Just during boot camp, Ma. I’ll be back before you know it.” When his parents had found out he’d enlisted in the Navy with the aspiration to become a SEAL, there had been a mixture of trepidation and pride in his family. Seemed one was weighing more heavily today.

  Her lips trembled, green eyes wide and watery as she stared at him. “That’s way over a year from now!”

  “I’ll be able to write you. And I will. I promise.” Fitz shifted from one foot to the other. Growing up as the youngest boy had been a blessing and a curse. The curse was visiting at the moment.

  She worried her bottom lip. “Swear it.”

  He nodded. “I swear.”

  Dolan grinned. “It’ll shoot by, love. You won’t even notice he’s gone.”

  Miriam took in a trembling breath. “I will. Because there’ll be more food left over every night.”

  Fitz’s lips twitched. “If anything I’ll be back just for the cooking.”

  She scooted away so his oldest brother Cael could pull her into a hug. He and Fitz nodded at each other. He’d said his goodbyes to Cael, Riley and Sullivan already. They’d got him good and blasted off his ass just a day and a half ago. He appreciated it more than they’d ever know.

  His dad patted him on the cheek. “You’ll be fine. I know it.” Dolan cast his stare over Fitz’s shoulder. “There’s someone else here to send you off,” he said softly.

  Shoulders tensing, Fitz cast a glance behind him and felt the breath leave his lungs. He hadn’t known if she’d make it in time since she was living on campus downstate now. But there she stood. As beautiful as ever. His best friend. His confidant. His everything. His Zuly. She didn’t know it as of yet, but she was going to be his wife. He’d come back in his formal dress and get down on one knee, telling her everything he’d wanted her to know from the moment he’d saved her from a spider in the second grade.

  Fitz would tell her his fascination with the knock-kneed girl he’d used to know had cultivated into something far deeper than love. He’d tell her how he could remember her slight lisp and how wild her hair had been. How he loved the way she’d said his name with a funky look on her face when he’d first introduced himself, bird chest puffed out. He’d explain that he searched her face out in group photos just to glimpse her smile and how when she laughed he could see heaven’s gates. He’d let her in on the secret that he’d tried to count how many lashes she had shielding her startling golden eyes the last time she’d fallen asleep at his place while watching a marathon of Xena.

  He’d tell her all of this. And then he’d make her his own forever. Because she could never and would never belong to anyone but himself. He loved her with a part of him that only the good Lord above could touch. The thought of not hearing her voice, seeing her face for so long hurt him physically but this was what he had to do—what he was meant to do.

  Fitz could recall how she’d time his swims out at the lake. How she’d goad him into pushing himself harder. How she convinced him he was meant to be a hero. He could recall her look of fear then confidence the day he announced his enlistment. Now here they were. He wondered if she regretted supporting him, wondered if she had any idea how much he adored the very ground the soles of her feet touched. God, he was in love. But there was nothing he could give her now. There would be plenty he could give her later. He’d prove to her, to his family, to her family, to everyone, that he was not only going to serve and protect his country but that he was going to serve and protect Zuly Hines too.

  “You gonna come say good-bye to me, Z? Or are you gonna just stand there?” Fitz finally asked, breaking the spell of their staring match.

  The look she gave him made his lungs seize.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  His brows rose. “No, what?”

  “I’m not saying good-bye to you.” Walking ever so slowly, she stopped in front of him. “Good-bye means I won’t see you again. Good-bye means this is the last time I get to say something about how huge your ears look with your hair being so short.” Fitz cracked a smile. “Good-bye means that there’ll be no more Xena marathons.” Her mouth twisted and to his horror moisture filled her eyes.

  “Z–”

  She shook her head again. “Nope.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “I’m not saying good-bye.” Then she was hugging him, arms locked tight around his body in an embrace that said everything she hadn’t.

  Fitz dropped the backpack from his grip, the noise of the airport drowned out as he gripped her just as fiercely.

  “You’re coming back. You’ll always come back,” Zuly whispered. “And when you do, we’re gonna spend a whole weekend camped out at the lake. Hanging off the tire swing and howling at the moon just like the–”

  “–coyotes,” he completed for her. “Damn right we are. Maybe that fucking hammock will hold up this time.”

  A sound between a sob and a laugh left her. “Maybe.”

  “It’s just basic training, Z. It’ll be a while before I go on an actual mission...”

  “I know. I know,” Zuly said. “But there will be times when I won’t be able to hug you before you leave.”

  His eyes closed as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of citrus and vanilla. “I know.”

  “So this is for all those times.”

  Fitz nodded as his arms tightened around her. “Right.”

  They stood, locked like that until he was finally called to board with the other recruits. He l
et go of Zuly with reluctance, his heart crying out to keep hold of her. It was just a year. Only a year. He’d be back. He’d take things slow. And when he was in his formal dress he’d get down on one knee, telling her everything that he’d wanted her to know from the moment he’d saved her from a spider in the second grade.

  One

  Fifteen years later...

  Crickets and the occasional howl was all he could ever hear anymore, all he’d heard for the past two months. That and the incessant sound of his phone ringing. He’d stopped that the day he snapped it in half. Seemed his family and friends had gotten the message when his answering machine said one thing—“Leave. Me. Alone.” He didn’t want to talk to anyone, look at anyone. Didn’t want to sit around his ma’s table for Sunday dinner or throw around a football with his brothers. He couldn’t do any of those things the normal way—couldn’t pretend he was whole so what the fuck was the point?

  “I understand your frustration, Mr. Carrigan, but...” That goddamn but was always following something. It had followed Fitzgerald Carrigan from the time he’d become a SEAL until the time he was honorably discharged. It had followed him when he was still attending rehabilitation for a knee that had been shot to shit and it followed every message left on his answering machine. He was sick of hearing it; sick of the pity that crossed every familiar face when he limped around town with his cane. Sick of feeling alone.

  But he had no one to blame for that last little factor aside from himself, did he? Fitz had sequestered himself in his cabin for a reason, only venturing into town upon necessity. He didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want someone patting him on the shoulder and thanking him for his bravery.

  Even now that word made him snort as he sat with his damaged right leg stretched out on his screened-in porch, staring at nothing. Bravery? Yeah, Fitz had been brave all right. So brave that he pushed every person who ever meant anything to him right over the proverbial emotional cliff and waved goodbye as they fell. So brave that he wouldn’t call his own mother for fear of hearing any possible disappointment in her voice. So brave that he wouldn’t answer the door when his father and brothers came knocking. He hadn’t even gone to his niece’s birthday party because he was too afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep up with all the little ones; too afraid he’d hear Riley or Sullivan or Cael say, “Leave Uncle Fitz alone. He’s not feeling well.”

  Perspiration from the long-neck beer bottle in his hand slickened his palm as he squeezed the glass. Not feeling well. What a fucking joke. He was feeling a lot of things. Anger, hurt, frustration. Yeah, well definitely wasn’t included. Yet it wasn’t just his family he had shoved off, was it? Oh, no. There was one more person. A woman. A woman who he loved so much scalding tears burned the backs of his eyes every time he imagined her face. A face he would probably never see again due to his own stubbornness, his inability to admit he needed somebody. Not just anybody–her. Zuly.

  She’d never speak to him again. Fitz was sure of that. But he deserved it, now didn’t he? His self-imposed hell was brought on by no one but himself. Exactly how was he supposed to take it if she gave him that all too familiar stare? The one that said, “I’m so sorry you’re not as complete as you should be.” Or if she suggested that he go to see a counselor like countless others had done?

  Fitz wouldn’t be able to deal. Wouldn’t be able to live with the thought of never getting to fulfill every fantasy he’d ever had about Zuly. He’d wanted her more than his next breath of air from the first time he laid eyes on her. Then he had been in awe of her slight lisp and beautiful golden eyes; her skin the color of sepia, the feel of satin. Over the years that fascination had blossomed into love. And the same way Fitz’s love had blossomed, so had Zuly.

  His brain and cock hadn’t been able to process the change in her the summer they’d turned sixteen and he’d looked up to notice her mouth was suddenly fuller. How her chest had gotten heavier, her hips and thighs thicker, her behind rounder. How suddenly her skin didn’t just seem to glow under the sun. It looked as though it had been dusted in gold and kissed by the rays. How her voice had dropped to a lower register that stirred his groin every time she spoke. How he couldn’t seem to retain moisture in his mouth when he was near her.

  Fitz had plans for them. Plans that had been shot down. Plans that would never come to be. So no, there was no bravery in him. No strength. No wellness. No laughter. No energy. He was going to die a bitter, lonely old man before his time because he couldn’t bring himself to speak a few simple words to the love of his life.

  Fitz allowed his head to roll back on his shoulders, closed his eyes and of course saw her face. Utter perfection. That molten stare focused on him with an intensity that made his skin perspire under the moon. Jesus. He missed her. This old cabin wasn’t the same without her. How many days had they spent up here as kids, lazily dozing on blankets in the grass or roasting marshmallows over hastily made pit fires?

  How many water balloon fights had taken place all over the land his parents had given him as a present after he’d finally finished his pre-deployment training and had been allotted time home for a visit? How many times had they slept under the stars, only to wake up closer to one another than they’d been the night before?

  How many times would he revisit every one of those memories before he made himself sick off regrets? Fitz didn’t have the answer to any of those questions. He didn’t have the answer to anything anymore. Fifteen years as a SEAL had taken away all his answers. Yes, he’d left as a Patrol Leader but at what cost?

  Two months ago he never thought he’d be sitting up in the mountains of West Virginia, watching life pass him by. He never thought he wouldn’t be able to walk without the assistance of pain meds and a cane that made him feel three times his thirty-five years. He never thought he’d have secluded himself from everything he loved.

  Drawing in a shuddering breath, he took another swig from the bottle in his hand. Fitz couldn’t explain the gaping loneliness burning a hole in his chest. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be around others. It was just that it didn’t make a difference. In a room full of people, he still felt alone.

  None of them knew what he’d seen, done, had gone through. None of them would ever understand what it was like to watch the light fade from a man’s eyes after you’d just twisted your knife into his gut. None of them would ever grasp how having the death of a child on your conscience ate at you night after night. Made you wonder if you’d just done one thing differently...

  Fitz blew out a harsh breath. Determined not to let his mind drift there. No, he’d had enough of that. There would be plenty more empty days for him to sit and contemplate all his mistakes.

  With a grunt, he took hold of the railing near his shoulder and hoisted himself up, wincing as his weight began to distribute evenly onto both his legs. He started into his cabin, determined to try and get a few hours of sleep tonight before he woke up just to stare at the ceiling of his bedroom. He stopped when another howl rent the air.

  His heart thumped once, then twice. Without a second thought, he tossed his head back and let his own howl release, giving into the urge to keep up the tradition he and Zuly had started so long ago. And as he finally made his way inside, he wondered if there were any possibility his Z was somewhere near, her eyes to the stars, doing the very same thing.

  ***

  “Okay, either you need a mental evaluation or I should seriously be concerned that you’ve gone rabid. Have you been feeding those goddamn raccoons again? I told you. All it takes is one time for you to run out of leftovers and boom! Your hands suddenly look like delicious little meat treats for their fangs to sink into.”

  Zuly snorted before turning away from her screen door to face her sister. “One of us needs to see a therapist about an irrational fear of raccoons.”

  Kamara shuddered. “They’re unnatural little beasts. I refuse to believe God played a part in combining a cat, a possum and a rat...before giving it opposable thumbs. Had to be Satan’
s work.”

  Despite the sadness tugging at her, Zuly cracked a smile. Kamara had the ability to bring that out of her at the oddest moments. Well, Kamara and someone else. Someone who wouldn’t be mentioned or thought of because he’d become a ridiculous dickhead! She cast a glance over her shoulder to the full moon, the echo of coyote howls still bouncing around just outside. No matter how many times she tried to ignore it, the need to honor a long-standing tradition had nagged her until she finally gave in. Kamara understood a lot about Zuly, but this wasn’t something she’d get.

  “All right,” Zuly’s sibling drawled. “Tell me why you suddenly look like a Disney woodland creature who’s lost its mom.”

  With a resounding click, Zuly closed the door to her home and leaned against the hardwood, shrugging. “Not feeling too great today.”

  Understatement. Zuly hadn’t felt great for a long, long time and the reason for that was somewhere up the mountain, wallowing in misery and drinking himself to death. God, just the thought of him up there in that cabin all alone made her chest ache. How was anyone supposed to help him when he’d suddenly decided to go all Phantom of the Opera?

  Hands clenching at her sides, Zuly stepped away from the door, resisting the urge to run out and get into her truck, just to drive miles up the mountainside and have a door slammed in her face yet again. The fuck was that about, anyway? She’d seen Fitzgerald Carrigan drunk enough to almost piss himself, had watched him clear his stomach of a week’s worth of food and was there to wash his hair after that one awful incident at the carnival. So why was he acting as though she’d recoil in horror at the sight of one injury?

  Then again, maybe his injuries weren’t just physical. How many soldiers had come home completely different from the way they left, hearts and heads bruised from seeing the pits of hell over and over again?

  If that were the case, if that was what was hurting her frogman, why wouldn’t he just say it? Why wouldn’t he simply open his mouth and tell her he needed her, needed anyone?