Page 53 of Good Enough

“Badass, huh? I’ll take that. Hmm…” She could see the gears turning as he thought about what to share. “When I’m at home, I sleep with a night light.”

She stared. “I don’t even know how to begin to process that.”

He chuckled. “No, I’m not afraid of the dark. And I don’t do it anywhere else. Just at home.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“Because when I was in the military, the light could be dangerous, so we kept everything pitch black. Besides, if I ever decide to have company at home, I’m guessing I’d like to see what’s in front of me.” He winked again.

Holy hell, horseshoes, and hand grenades!

He changed the subject. “Why the Dodgers? You’re not originally from L.A.”

“For as far back as I can remember, I always wanted to live in L.A., so anything that centered around the city was what I loved. But you want to know a secret?”

“Always wanna know your secrets, Kubrick.”

Bet you don’t want to know the Big Secret. The one where I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.

Hugging the throw pillow to her stomach, she shoved that secret to the side. “My favorite player isn’t a Dodger. I mean, Kershaw is a god greater than Thor, but my secret crush is actually Yasmani Grandal.”

“That’s serious treason,” he teased.

“Shh. You have to protect me from the Dodger spy network.” She giggled. “My turn. I know you can’t tell me your real name, but why do they call you Waters? Is that your Navy nickname or Tribe?”

“Navy and Tribe.”

“Is it because you were a SEAL?”

“No. It’s because I never used to talk.”

“When I met you, I wouldn’t exactly have called you a chatterbox, so I’m guessing not much changed. But what does that have to do with your name?”

“My team said that they never knew what I was thinking, and then when I did talk, it was always ‘sensitive’ or some shit, so they took it from the phrase ‘still waters run deep.’”

“Ah. Makes sense. Do you ever wish it was something different? Like Zeus? Or Maverick?”

He laughed. “No. I’ve never really thought about my name. You get called a lot of different things until a nickname somehow sticks. It’s not like anyone gets to pick their own. And you get used to responding to it. Better than Petty Officer Miller, or whatever.”

“It suits you. The nickname.”

“G.I. Joe isn’t better?”

“Too much of a mouthful to yell in a firefight, and just Joe is too generic.”

His eyes drifted from her face to his hands on her calves. “Do you want to know it?”

Her forehead crinkled in confusion. “Know what?”

“My real name.”

17

MARCH 6TH

Waters

This is so not a good idea. Any of it. Touching her. Trading personal information. Telling her my name. And I’m still gonna do it. What the hell is wrong with me?

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