Page 5 of SEAL'S Secret Vows

“You don't have to be smug about it.” I grumble.

“Pull yourself together. I know you are quick on your feet and assertive. You are the most brilliant analyst I know. You’ll bounce right back.” He gestures encouragingly.

“You think so?”

He nods. “And maybe you’ll learn to be more decisive from now on,” he adds with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You are Rogue.” I say with a chuckle, glancing down at the dress. The ends are so muddy now. I’m probably dragging mud all over his house. I pull at the puffy layers a bit, then see the state of my feet.

“I own that title. I'm the man.” He does a little bow that I see out of the corner of my eyes while I stare at my heels, devastated. “What is it?”

“I ruined my shoe heel.” I show him the broken shoe. “I loved these shoes. But I ruined it.” Titan also senses something is wrong. He stares at the heel with alert brown eyes and barks at it. “Yes. Titan. Everything is such a mess.”

“Hey, hey,” Chase says pulling me into a hug as I break down in tears. “It can be fixed or replaced.”

For a quiet moment, I stay in his embrace, drawing comfort and strength. His strong arms and familiar scent around me make me feel safe, like I can simply forget my worries and be totally unfazed.

In his Navy SEAL days, Chase was called “Rogue.” I’ve been told he was a force to be reckoned with. His reputation preceded him as a fearless leader, a master strategist, and a man who thrived on danger. Tales of his daring missions and unwavering loyalty to his team were legendary in military circles.

It was during one of his missions that our paths first crossed. I was working as a junior analyst for a defense contractor, and my team was tasked with providing support for Rogue's unit. I remember the adrenaline-fueled excitement of those days, poring over data, analyzing intel, and feeling like a small part of something much bigger.

Rogue was everything the rumors said and more. Tough, focused, and with a presence that commanded respect. But whatstruck me most was his dedication to his team and his sense of justice. He never hesitated to put himself in harm's way for the greater good.

Our professional relationship evolved over time when I was transferred to the Navy SEALs base in Colorado. I gained his trust with my work ethic and attention to detail, and he appreciated my ability to think outside the box and come up with creative solutions.

Working with Chase is a daunting but exhilarating experience. He challenges me to push my limits, to think bigger, and to never settle for mediocrity. And despite the occasional clash of personalities—his bold, risk-taking nature contrasting with my cautious, detail-oriented personality—we work pretty well together.

He pats my back and slowly pulls away. His gaze roams my face, and I try to muster a positive smile. I can barely do a grimace though.

“You should get out of this mistake and freshen up. My chef’s not here tonight, but I'll make dinner myself. Fine with pasta and meatballs?”

“Chef?” I ask, raising my brow. “For your giant army of roommates?”

Chase rolls his eyes. “He comes in when I’m in town and preps lunches and dinners for me. I’m not exactly a great cook.”

I do not say anything.

He scowls. “I mean I’m fine at it. I’m decent. Anyway, spaghetti?”

“Are you sure?” I ask him, suddenly scared of that idea. “I mean, I can cook.”

“Yes, I’m sure. What do you mean? Are you trying to say I can't cook?”

“No, I’m not. You do try. You know how to make coffee. I’ve had it. You make great coffee.” I reply, adding a smile thatcertainly looks more like a grimace after remembering how it went the last time I tasted his cooking.

“I can’t believe you don’t trust my cooking skills,” he says, faux wounded.

I have the urge to laugh. “No, it’s—your cooking is always fine!”

“Fine?”

“Non-toxic,” I offer.

He laughs loudly. For the first time since I ran out of the wedding, I grin for real.

“We’ll order take out.” He offers.

“Can we have pizza and beer then? And just so you know, if it’ll make you feel better, I trust your ordering out skills.” I add with a wink, my sour mood lifting gradually.

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