Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(44)
“No, but with everything you’ve been through lately…”
“Honestly?” He met my gaze and smiled, the expression bordering on shy. “With everything I get out of being with you, I’m still coming out ahead.”
“You are?”
“Well, yeah. I like what we’re doing. The good nights happen more often than the bad ones.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to complain about that any more than you complain about me jumping out of my skin over a loud noise.”
“Which, to be fair, I sometimes do too.”
Asher smiled and squeezed my leg. “So we understand each other.”
That guilt and uneasiness started to dissipate for the first time in days. “Just, um, say so if it’s too much, okay?”
“I will.” He sipped his wine. “Is, um… Is your time in the military something I can ask about? Or something I should leave alone?”
“You can ask about it.” I twisted around and poured some more wine into my glass. As I topped his off, I said, “As long as you’re not asking for graphic details about things that happened in combat, but somehow I don’t think you’re into that.”
Asher visibly shuddered. “Oh my God, no.”
“Good. So, what do you want to know?”
“Anything, I guess?” He met my eyes. “What made you join?”
“I was eighteen with a shitty GPA and no idea what I wanted to do with my life.”
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much.” I drank some more wine and gazed out at the lake. “The irony is that I decided not to join the Navy because I get seasick, and I ended up doing two shipboard deployments anyway.”
“How did that happen?”
“I was assigned to a unit that was sent out on an amphib ship.” I shuddered. “That was not fun.”
Asher grimaced. “Not if you get seasick, no. Did you at least get used to it?”
“Eh.” I brought my hand up out of the water and made a so-so gestured. “I mean, I only spent the first few days of each cruise heaving and wanting to die. After that, it was just this…green feeling, I guess. Like I wasn’t going to hurl, but I was definitely queasy more often than not.”
“Eww.”
“Yeah. Looking back, though, I’d have taken a few more of those deployments over the boots-on-the-ground combat tours.” A rush of memories made my spine prickle, and I took a deep swallow of wine. “Comes with the territory, I guess.”
“I guess so.”
The silence between us threatened to get uncomfortable, and my past threatened to elbow its way between us, so I changed the subject. “When did you decide you were going to be a professional hockey player?”
“About the time I realized the only thing I gave a shit about was hockey.”
“Which was, when?”
“Fifth grade.”
“Really? That young?”
Asher nodded, gazing out at the water as the deepening sunset warmed his fair skin and blue eyes. “I started when I was younger, but then I got into a competitive league in fifth grade, and that was all I wanted to do. Junior high and high school, same deal. My parents really wanted me to have a backup career in mind, but once I got that full-ride hockey scholarship…” He met my eyes again, a crooked grin on his lips. “They just told me, ‘whatever you do, don’t get hurt.’”
“So they were supportive, just cautious?”
“Oh yeah. They were always supportive. My dad’s the one who helped me research everything I needed to know about the PHL, getting drafted, and whatever.” He sipped his wine. “They did the same thing with my brother. Totally supported his music from day one, but said ‘have a backup plan just in case.’”
“How did he do with music?”
Asher beamed proudly. “First chair clarinet with one of the big symphonies on the East Coast.”
“Wow, nice. Your parents must be thrilled with both of you.”
“They better be,” he muttered with mock indignation.
I laughed, and as we watched the fading sunset, the silence was more relaxed than it would have been a few minutes ago. And even if our earlier conversation had brought some uncomfortable memories to the surface, it was refreshing to be able to talk to someone about my time in the Marine Corps. Marcus had sure as hell never wanted to hear about it. Big surprise that Asher was nothing like him.
Marcus. Jesus. Could the man next to me be any different from the one I’d been with for six long years?
And it occurred to me then that it hadn’t bothered me as much lately when Marcus crossed my mind. I was still pissed at him for the way he’d treated me and for how he’d played my kids against me, but the breakup itself—the loss of the relationship that hadn’t been all bad—didn’t hurt quite so much anymore. I’d felt ridiculous for struggling to get over someone who’d been such a dick, but tonight, I felt like I was over him. Like the grief was far enough behind me that my life felt like mine again.
I supposed that might have a little bit to do with the man watching the sunset beside me. Of course I was over Marcus. I didn’t have time to not be over him because I was too busy thinking about tattoos, freckles, blue eyes, and red hair. Sleepless nights were hard to come by when I spent most of my free evenings getting my brains sucked out my dick. Now if I could just get the nightmares to calm their tits, I’d be good.