I stood, shouldering the bag. “We should go. Thanks for lunch.”
Zach crinkled the bill as he stood. He wagged a finger at me, but his smile returned, bigger than ever.
“We’re not done yet,” he said. “You and I got a lot to discuss.”
“We really don’t.”
“Yes, we do.” He loomed over me, brushing my chin with the bump of his fingers. I swallowed, trapped in the size, the scent, and the power of him. “From this moment on, baby, you are mine. And I’m going to spoil you, pamper you, and fuck the hell out of you until you finally admit it. That I promise.”
He parted from me to pay the tab. I rushed outside to gulp as much air as possible. The humid, smoggy afternoon didn’t help, but I was at least free of him.
Until I saw the bike.
A half hour trip back home, clutching on a man more dangerous to me than the open road and his crazy driving.
Zach wanted me to admit what I felt.
Keeping that hidden would be more than a challenge.
It’d be Hard.
Chapter Seventeen - Zach
I left Shay at home and told her I’d return from Washington D.C. with good news.
Good news for one of us at least.
I made it to my scheduled physical twenty minutes early, but the doctor’s office didn’t operate on naval time.
I sat in the cramped waiting room for thirty minutes before a pretty nurse took my vitals. I stripped down and waited another fifteen for the doctor. Not that I didn’t enjoy a good sixty degree office shriveling my balls, but today wasn’t the day I wanted to get fucked around.
I needed to pass this physical.
Everything in my goddamned life depended on convincing the doctor I was fit to serve.
I had a lifetime of preparation, training, and sacrifice that punished my body beyond the breaking point, and this was how my fucking future would be determined. Not at a promotional ceremony getting commended for valor in combat. Not in the field taking out low-life, scum-of-the-earth murderers who targeted innocent people.
Here.
My worth was judged in a shitty doctor’s office with faded wallpaper and a sink that perpetually dripped. My bare ass hung out of my gown, and my feet covered in nurse issued booties. To make it worse, they piped in some hackneyed Barbara Streisand and left me to freeze.
My only good luck was a kiss from Shay who seemed more relieved to be rid of me than to actually touch me.
Maybe.
Hell if I understood that woman, but I’d love to try.
I flipped my phone. I texted her when I landed. Not because she asked me to, but because I thought it’d be like, nice? Something I was supposed to do? Shay answered immediately with:
Ok! : )
Nothing else since.
I shouldn’t have expected anything. The girl I texted feared being abandoned. Here I was, sitting half-naked on a table, waiting on pins, needles, and the memory of IVs shoved into my veins to see how soon I could ship out and leave her alone.
I wasn’t the only man who ever made a choice between his family and country, but goddamn if it wasn’t both the easiest and hardest decision of my life.
I belonged somewhere, but now I wasn’t sure if it was with the SEALs or Shay.
Only one way to find out. I texted her again.
waiting in the doctor’s office
Nothing. I gave it a minute before tapping the screen. I snapped the photo and sent it.
if u think the gown is sexy, u should see my ass in it . everyone else can
My phone buzzed. Can the doctor give you a lobotomy instead?
I grinned. So she did care.
shouldn’t b here that long. u should call the office. tell him I’m fit enough to serve you.
A delayed response. I imagined it flustered her. I hoped it did.
I’ll call and recommend a castration if you aren’t careful.
I took my shot and hoped for the best. that wouldn’t make either of us happy
An even longer delay. One step too far, or just enough of a push? What would it take to get her to see how fucking perfect we were together?
Heading into the attorney about the charity. Good luck!
Ah, willful ignorance. Or avoidance. Probably avoidance.
Shay warmed up with the intensity of an M80 and shut down with the force of a cleaver into a cutting board. I had to watch my fingers, toes, and more important areas around her.
Damn it. I shouldn’t have scared her off. I liked talking to her.
I wanted to talk to her.
Christ, I wanted her to be here with me.
How pathetic was that? I was a fucking Navy SEAL, and I needed someone to hold my hand in a doctor’s office?
During my injury, I had more needles in my arms, catheters in my cock, and fingers in my brain than I ever told Shay. I didn’t need her to fucking baby me.
I was getting back in the SEALs.
And there wasn’t a damn thing that would stop me.
Except her.
And she had no idea. All she had to do was say the word.
That scared me more than anything the doctor might have said.
The door opened, and a balding doctor in his late fifties entered. He washed his hands and gave me a cautious glance.
“SEAL, huh?” He asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“You guys really do have two modes—living and dead.”
“I’m still breathing.”
“Lucky for you.” He studied me with dark, skeptical eyes. “I had a look at your file, son. I’m sure how you survived.”
I gave him a smile. “I’m not complaining, sir.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to.” He tapped my chart. “Your blood work is fine.”
“With all due respect sir, the issue wasn’t with my blood. I had too much of it spilled.”
“Well, you’re looking solid now.”
“Yes, sir.”
He approached, and I straightened as he gripped my right shoulder. “You seem to be in good shape. Exercising every day?”
“At least, sir.”
“Not overdoing it?”
I grinned. “No such thing.”
He hummed. Squeezed. The shock bit through my shoulder. My nerves set on fire, rampaging down my spine.
“Does that hurt?” He asked.
I’d swallow my tongue. “Uncomfortable.”
“You had an injury to your rotator cuff,” he said. “They opted not to do surgery and wait.”
Probably because they were still stitching my head. “It’s getting better without the surgery.”
“Right.” He had me stand. I gritted my teeth as he moved the gown aside and pressed against my chest. “Broken ribs too?”
“Healed.”
“Right.”
He didn’t fucking believe me? Holy Christ, when I first woke, the ribs and collapsed lung fucked me up more than the head wound.
The doctor had me sit. He examined the scars on my head and exhaled.
“Do you feel you are physically capable of returning to duty?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir.”
“Son, you suffered a severe, near-fatal accident only eight months ago. You endured months of intense therapy after weeks of extended hospitalization. Do you understand what that sort of trauma does to a body?”
“I remember it well,” I said. “A lesser man might have fallen.”
“But not you?”
“No, sir. I guarantee, I’m the strongest son of a bitch you’ve ever had the pleasure of examining.”
“That so?”
“Yes, sir. Just wait until I turn my head and cough.”
Finally got a chuckle out of him, but it faded quick. He tapped the chart. “Well, you seem mostly recovered. I’m guessing you’re more physically fit now than you were before the accident which is…impressive, given the SEALs expectations.”