Safe with Me (With Me in Seattle, #5)(66)

“How do you know that?” I ask and slam back the amber liquid and push it forward in a silent request for more.

“I’ve been tending this bar for more than fifteen years,” she informs me and pours me another. “I know the comings and goings of the military guys on this base. And I can tell by looking at you that you’re not active duty anymore.”

I glare at her and take a sip of the Jack, not confirming or denying her assumption.

“So why are you here and not back home fighting for your girl?” She asks with a sympathetic smile.

Fuck off and let me drink.

“You don’t know anything about it,” I growl and slam my drink.

“I know plenty.” She grabs a white bar towel and wipes off the bar, clearly not ready to leave me in peace. “I know you’ve been coming here three nights a week like clock work for the past three months. You drink whiskey until you stagger out of here and walk back wherever you came from. You’re drinking to forget something, and my bet is it’s a woman.”

“Maybe it’s a man,” I smirk.

“Nah, I’ve seen you check out some of the SEAL bunnies’ asses, but if they approach you, you growl and scare them away.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with looking,” I sulk. I just want to drink until I’m so drunk that it dulls the mile-wide ache in my chest and I forget the look in Brynna’s face as I walked out of her hotel room three months ago.

“No,” she agrees and shakes her head thoughtfully. “But you look guilty as hell after you do.”

“What do you want?” I ask and push my empty glass forward for another.

“Just thought I’d talk to you is all,” she replies with a smile. “You don’t scare me with that glare, by the way. Been married to a SEAL for ten years, and his glare doesn’t scare me either.”

“Congratulations,” I mutter and swig my whiskey.

“Oh, it hasn’t been a walk through the park, trust me. The fool actually left me for a while. Claimed he didn’t deserve me.” She shrugs and chuckles as I whip my head up and stare at her with narrowed eyes.

“What did you say?” I ask.

“Said he didn’t deserve me,” she repeats and watches me for several seconds. “Ah, there it is.” She shakes her head again and rolls her eyes. “So, when they’re teaching you guys to bench press a pine tree and hold your breath for forty-five minutes…”

“Four minutes,” I correct her with a growl.

“Do you they also teach you to be stubborn asses?”

“They taught me to ignore nosy f*cking bartenders,” I reply and pop a pretzel in my mouth.

“Okay, don’t talk, then, moron and listen to me.”

“Why are you talking to me?” I ask incredulously.

“Because you’re gonna ruin your f*cking life, and you’re too damn hot for that, so shut up and listen to me.” She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me, and for a minute I’d swear I’m talking to my mother.

“Fine,” I sigh and keep my eyes on the bar.

“He didn’t come back to me until we found out I was pregnant,” she begins and then sighs. “Lost that baby, though.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I’ve had three more,” she responds and I can hear the smile in her voice and I can’t help but hate her just a little. She’s a nice, if not way too nosy, woman, but I don’t give a rat’s ass about her kids.

“But I’m going to tell you what I told him, and then I’ll go pay attention to the other customers.”

“Oh, goody,” I respond sarcastically.

“That American Dream that y’all fight so hard for over there? The freedoms that you would die to protect? They’re yours too, you know.”

My head jerks up and I stare at her as she continues.

“You’ve earned the right to be happy, more than most of us.” She swallows and lays her hand over my arm. “You have earned her, Sergeant.”

“How did you know?” I ask but she cuts me off.

“You scream Sergeant. Or Lieutenant.”

“Sergeant,” I whisper.

She nods and glances down the bar. “Before you go home and claim her before someone else does, you need to get some help for the PTSD and get your head on straight.”

“What are you a f*cking shrink?” I sneer.

“No,” she shakes her head and smiles softly. “But I know a good one.” She pulls a card out of her back pocket and slides it across the bar to me before she winks and saunters down the bar to help other customers.

What the f*ck does she know, anyway?

I suddenly don’t want any more whiskey, and can’t stand the stale smell of liquor in this bar, so I throw some bills on the bar and walk away, through the crowd beginning to gather and out the door. This particular joint isn’t far from the apartment the Navy put me up in during my contract. I’ve been training SEALs near San Diego, California for the better part of three months, and the pretty bartender was right.

The contract is over.

I have an open invitation at the mercenary training center I left near Seattle, but living in Seattle means living near Brynna and the girls, and I don’t know that I could survive that.