Page 2 of CJ

“All the time, buddy. All the damn time,” laughed Milo.

CJ remembered that conversation for many years afterwards. He remembered it when he left for basic. He remembered it when he went through BUDs. He remembered it when he got the trident pinned to his chest.

For almost fourteen years, CJ served on the Teams, saving people he didn’t know, countries he’d never heard of, and constantly training for what might be around the corner.

“Abbott?”

“Yes, sir?” said CJ, standing to greet his commander.

“Abbott, we want you to spend some time in D.C. at Quantico,” said the older man.

“Quantico? Am I helping the bureau with something?”

“No and yes. You’re helping the bureau and Marines train for an op they’re gearing up for. They need someone with your skill set, and we’re slow right now. Besides, you’re only ten months from your contract end date. You said you were going to leave. Is that still true?”

“I’m afraid so,” smiled CJ. “I’m ready to go home.”

“I can understand that,” nodded his commander. “I’m three wives and six kids in. I have to keep working.”

“No offense, but for someone who makes amazing decisions on the Teams, you make shit decisions in your personal life,” he grinned. They’d known one another for years, so the banter seemed normal to them.

“You’re not wrong,” he laughed. “What can I say? I love beautiful women, and there always seems to be a prettier one around the corner, ready to be the wife of a SEAL commander. Which begs the question, why isn’t your ass married? Even as a man, I can see you’re a good-looking dude. Big, tall, handsome, and you seem to have decent manners. So, what’s wrong?”

CJ laughed, shaking his head at his old friend.

“I’m a bit more selective,” said CJ. “I’m not looking for the one right now. I’m looking for the right one forever. It’s kind of a family trait.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed. “We’ve rented a condo for you near the Pentagon. You’ll be working half your time at Quantico and half your time at the Pentagon.”

“Sounds like a dream job,” grimaced CJ.

“I can get someone else if you don’t want this,” said his commander.

“No. No, this is fine. You’re right. I’m leaving in a few months, and I can bide my time and still make a difference.”

“Good man.”

CJ was moved into the condo within a week, his furnishings modest but efficient. He had a few photos of his parents, some with his friends from Belle Fleur, and probably ten of his great-grandfather.

Grabbing another box from his car, he walked up the steps and heard the door next to his open. As the woman stepped out, he nearly dropped the box. She was tall, probably six-feet. Her hair reminded him of the cherrywood table in his mother’s dining room. Her eyes were a light brown, almost hazel, as their green and yellow flecks glimmered in the hints of sunlight.

“Hi,” she smiled. “You must be the new neighbor. I’m Jill Morgan.” She extended a beautiful hand, and he shuffled the box beneath one big arm, earning him an eyebrow raise.

“CJ. CJ Abbott,” he said, taking her hand. It was like electricity zipped up his arm straight to his brain. Everything was firing like crazy.

“Nice to meet you, CJ. I have to run to the office, but maybe we can chat later,” she smiled. Behind her, a man stepped out in his uniform and gave him a nod. “Oh, Tim. This is CJ.”

“Hey. I have to run, Jill. I’ll see you later.” He turned and left the woman standing there, not even kissing her cheek.

“Brother?” he asked hopefully.

“Uh. No. I mean, no.” She appeared confused and somewhat hurt by his reaction to her. “No. He’s my fiancé.”

“Ah. Well, he’s a lucky man,” said CJ.

“Yeah?” she said with a sad grin.

“Definitely. Nice to meet you, Jill.”

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