Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(33)

“Of course. Your missions are probably mostly classified.”

“This one wasn’t. It’s just hard to talk about. He was on a training mission that went horribly wrong. His parachute didn’t open correctly. He got separated from his unit, landed in unfriendly waters, and then it became a rescue situation.”

“And you were the one who rescued him,” she guessed.

“My unit, yes.”

“You’re a close-knit bunch?”

“Very.” He shot her a smile. “A unit spends more time together than most families ever do. We get into, and out of, a lot of shit together.”

“So what does a day as a Coastie look like?”

“At the unit, or deployed?”

“Both,” she said, giving in to her ridiculous curiosity about him since he seemed willing—somewhat—to answer her questions.

“If we’re at the PSU—our Port Security Unit,” he clarified, “we start at 0500. It’s training, training, and then more training, most of it brutal. Muscle memory’s everything. We conduct muster, shoot guns, meet with the division, shoot more guns, clean boats, drive boats, and shoot even more guns. Then we go to the range to shoot again until we can’t hold our arms up.” He glanced over at her. “Sensing a trend?”

“Definitely. When do you eat and sleep?”

“Oh, all that’s just the first part of any given day. There’s also division-specific training and inspections. We eat or sleep whenever there’s a spare second. Then wake up and do a wash and repeat.”

Hard life. “And when you’re deployed?” she asked.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. A rare tell, she’d discovered. He wasn’t uncomfortable often, but he definitely wasn’t a fan of talking about himself.

“Sometimes it’s almost a relief, because there’re no inspections. Rule number one: keep weapons clean at all times. A dirty weapon’ll get you killed. There’s mission planning, equipment checks, reports. And then rule number two: sleep when you can and eat anything other than an MRE when you can. We take eight-to twelve-hour shifts, either driving boats, working in a TOC—tactical operation center—or manning an overwatch with mounted machine guns protecting high-value assets.”

“High-value assets.”

“Such as a navy ship, or Guantánamo Bay, or even a liquefied natural gas ship if the US has intel that it might be used in a way that could be detrimental to a highly populated area.”

She boggled and was in sheer awe at the core strength of this man and all the others like him. “Do you ever get downtime?”

“Sometimes. We Skype home, chase any kind of ball we can get ahold of, and drink. In general, if there’s trouble or merriment to be had while we’re gone and left to our own devices, we will find it.”

This she could believe. “Do you know what I think?”

His expression went slightly wary, the equivalent of a normal man’s full-out wince. “Do I want to know?”

“I think you’re incredible.” She saw his surprise, something she was pretty sure he didn’t normally experience. She smiled. “What?”

He shook his head. “Let’s just say I’ve been in a few relationships where me not being able to talk about specifics was a huge issue, like I didn’t trust them enough.”

“Were any of these serious relationships?”

“I thought so once or twice,” he said. “But I was wrong. I know it’s hard for people to understand that it’s not about trust. Sometimes it’s literally my job not to tell.”

“I get it,” she said softly.

“That easy?”

“For me, yes.” Then it was her turn to pause. “But I’m sorry if the people in your past weren’t able to understand it and you got hurt.”

A very small smile touched his lips, but he kept his eyes on the road. “My mom used to say that the past was just building blocks to the future. That all regrets, mistakes, and miscalculations were the foundation, and as necessary as air.”

She smiled. “I’d have liked your mom.”

“She’d have liked you too.”

CAM HAD JUST turned onto their street when Piper got a page calling her back in to work. He parked and walked her to her car, though he really wanted to feed her again and tuck her into bed because he knew she was tired. But he hated being babied, and he knew she’d hate it too. So he opened her door for her and said, “Be safe.”

“I will. And thanks again.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss him, sliding a hand to the back of his neck, a touch he still felt as she drove away.

“You’re still limping,” he said to his dad, as the man came up beside him.

“Show-off. And I’m much better, thanks to that woman who just drove away.” He paused. “And you.”

“Was that an actual, almost thank-you?” Cam asked, amused, because his dad rarely bothered with niceties such as please and thank you.

“Maybe.” Emmitt’s gaze was still on the road, even though Piper was long gone. “I told you she’s had a rough go of it. But I never did tell you how or why.”

“You said it was her story to tell.”

“Yes,” Emmitt said. “And I still believe that. But I also know that she’s likely to shut you out instead of letting you in any closer. So I’m going to give you a leg up and tell you some of it. You’re welcome.”