“Excellent choice. And for you?” The young woman turned her smile toward Chase.
“I’ll pass on the wine, but a nice, cold beer sounds good.” He grinned. “Whatever’s on tap is fine.”
“One wine, and one beer. I’ll get those for you right away.” She nodded. “And just so you’re aware, tonight’s Chef’s Special is Cacio e pepe with a slice of freshly made garlic bread, Ceasar salad, and a side of seasonal fruit. I’ll give you both a moment to review the menu while I get your drinks.”
“Thank you,” Chase offered kindly.
A moment later, they were semi-hidden away in the shadows of their little corner…alone.
Scottie picked up the menu, if for no other reason than to give her hands something to do. “Sorry I was late.” She forced herself to act as normal as possible. “There was a problem with one of the ovens at the shelter, and Sloane had already left for the day, so I had to wait for the repair guy to come take a look.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t been waiting long.”
She had. The truth was, she’d been waiting for the chance to talk to him like this again—toreallytalk—for what felt like forever. Waiting. Dreading. Hoping. Praying.
It was like a never-ending rollercoaster of conflicting thoughts and emotions. And despite the years between them, the tormenting ride was still refusing to let her go.
“What’s going on with the oven?” Chase’s masculine rumble effectively ended her near-fall down Painful Memory Lane.
“Oh, um…nothing major, thank goodness.” Scottie cleared the nerves from her throat. “The broiler element went out, is all. Luckily, the appliance place we use promised to have a new one delivered and installed by tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s good news.”
“It is,” she agreed. “I use the broiler a lot, so it’s a huge relief knowing we won’t have to wait weeks or months before it’s fixed.”
Almost immediately, the conversation fell into an uncomfortable lull. Both she and Chase filled the few seconds’ worth of time by silently sipping on their ice-cold waters.
Desperate to say something—anything—to avoid sitting in the deafening silence, she heard herself asking him?—
“So, why did you leave the Navy?”
Scottie’s lips clamped shut, and she rolled them in to keep from outwardly cursing. She had no intention of asking him something so personal right out of the gate. And if the heaviness filling her gut wasn’t enough, the look that had just flashed across Chase’s gorgeous grown face certainly did the trick.
“It, uh…” He sat back in his chair, giving his head the slightest of shakes. “It wasn’t exactly my choice.”
The brief conversation they’d previously shared at the shelter came rushing back. Though she couldn’t remember every word the man had spoken—she’d been too busy soaking in the sight of him after all this time—Scottie did recall him mentioning something about the Navy leaving him…not the other way around.
And here she’d gone and asked the man to share why he was presumably forced out of the only career she’d ever known him to desire.
Smooth, Scottie. Really freaking smooth.
“I-I’m sorry,” she hurriedly apologized. “I should never have?—”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He blew it off. “The way ithappenedwasn’t, that’s for damn sure. But I’m good talking about it. With you.”
That last part was added almost as a condition. As if she’d just been invited into a very select group.
“What…happened?” Scottie hesitated only slightly in her speech.
“My team got sent to Afghanistan. A quick in and out. At least, that’s what it was supposed to be. Long story short, we got ambushed, lost one of our teammates in the process, and the rest of us were forced out to appease the powers that be. But hey, at least they were nice enough to give us honorable discharges. So there’s that.”
She sucked in a breath, her lips parting with a fallen jaw. “Oh my gosh, Chase. That’s…that’s awful!”
Being a Navy SEAL was all he’d ever wanted. Knowing that dream had been stolen from him…at the same time that he and his teammates lost one of their own…
Here, I thought I’d been through a lot.
“Losing our Tridents was one thing, but losing Hunt…” His tortured gaze slid her way. “Hunter Garrison. That was his name, and…damn, he was one helluva guy.” A sad smile lifted his lips at the corners. “Believe it or not, Hunt and Natalie were married when he was killed.”