Page 49 of Never Always
“Close quarters combat. Weapon training,” Rexy explains, simple and tactfully. My daddy perks up at the mention of anything military-related.
“Where do you guys do that?” Daddy asks. “Sounds awesome.”
Grange indulges him and explains it’s a facility in Kentucky that the SEALs use to practice clearing rooms. There are kill houses set up on the property with various pretend threats and scenarios worked up. It’s similar to things SEALs will encounter in real life and it’s a block of their training that is very important to stay sharp. I listen intently, gobbling up the rare glimpses into his everyday life. So foreign, so physical, the opposite of my career, and anything I’ve ever encountered in my life.
Rexy adds a few details, and Maeve looks uninterested. She’s heard this before, knows what her fiancé does. I’m still learning and I feel behind the power curve, but there’s a delicate balance of knowing so much that it scares me—makes me worry.
Rexy takes this opportunity to delve straight into a story about Grange. “This man was half this size when we started BUD/s. A tiny little fellow. I have no idea how he made it through the first screening.”
Grange’s expression turns sarcastic. “Look at me now. I’m stronger than you are!”
Rexy laughs, and it’s a great laugh, it transforms his whole face. “Not back then. Remember boat teams during Hell Week? I had to carry your weight when you got delirious and started hallucinating monsters and snakes.”
“We hadn’t slept in almost two days. That’s not my fault,” Grange argues.
“When you wanted to ring the bell and quit because the instructor told you that you didn’t belong?”
Grange swallows, smile fading. “You physically held me back. You didn’t let me quit.” Ah, this is a familiar story.
Rexy pats Grange on the shoulder as he stands. “Because I saw the man you are today. You saw the man I wanted to be, too. Brotherhood. That’s what they need to show on the news. Not this bullshit about dissecting our every mission and trying to figure out our names and faces. Nothing is sacred these days.”
My stomach sinks. Grange pulls me to his side.
“Speaking of. What is your news channel up here in the north? I want to see what’s new with the Cape Cod Carver,” Daddy says.
They gave him a name. More bodies turned up with the S carved into their shoulders. The FBI doesn’t have any leads and from everything I’ve read, they’re confused. The crimes don’t seem to be sexually motivated, and the pattern of victims can’t be linked. No one knows where he will dump a body next.
“Let’s not ruin the day with that kind of negativity,” I say. “At least wait until tonight before we go to bed so we can have nightmares.” It was a joke, but no one laughs.
“Football,” Grange says. “That’s always a happy medium in between serial killers and conversation.” He stands and grabs the remote and turns on whatever big game is happening. I retreat to the kitchen to clean, Maeve joins me.
“Did you expect it at all?” I nod to her ring as I scrub a pot.
She smirks. “I underestimated the lengths he would go to get me to move in with him. I’ve been hoping he would propose. Because somehow that would make it, him, more permanent, I guess. It’s just a façade. This ring. How can that mean forever? Look at Sierra.”
It’s a grim notion for a woman newly engaged. “I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve seen more marriages and divorces in the Teams than I care to admit. The divorce rate is almost double than it is for average citizens. I love Rexy with my whole heart, but I also know love isn’t something that keeps someone.” I think about how Grange loved Sierra. Wanted to marry her.
I swallow hard and turn to her. “You will make it. Maybe some love doesn’t keep, but yours will. That man in there would move mountains for you. This isn’t about anyone else, or about statistics, which I could argue are probably skewed, because that’s part of my job, this is about you and the man you love. The man you’re marrying.” It’s the best advice I can give. Sue-Ellen heard the tail end of my sentence and moves her nose into our business.
“Please, dear sister. This isn’t for public consumption,” I say, passing her a dishtowel and the pot. “If you’re here to gossip, go ahead and tell us about the suitor Daddy thinks you’re marrying.”
Sue-Ellen pales. “There isn’t a suitor. That’s why I didn’t mention him to you. I made him up to get them off my back.”
I turn to her, wide eyes, mouth ajar. “How is that supposed to work out? A ghost gonna show up to the wedding Mama plans for you? How did you fake it?”
She shrugs and hangs the pot back up on the rack above our heads and holds out her hand for the pan I’ve cleaned. Maeve grabs platters and dishes from the table, trying to look as if she’s not listening to my insane sister. “I dated him a few times, and he came over to the house to meet them twice. I was deliberate in making sure they met him and then after I dumped him I kept going on fake dates with myself or my girlfriends. You know Mama. She expects marriage after a certain amount of time has passed.” She sighs. “So that’s where the rumor turned real.” Have to love small town talk. “He’s from out of town so he didn’t deal with the gossip mill and my friends have been covering for me. Honestly, I don’t know if I want to get married. At all.”
I gasp, covering my mouth with a soapy hand. “Shut your mouth. They’ll disown you.”
Maeve laughs and my sister giggles. “They have been fine with you not getting married,Fire.”My sister says the nickname with malice. Or rather, Southern malice which is the same as sarcasm. “Listen, I had nothing to do with that nickname.”
“It’s adorable,” Maeve says. “Grange isn’t a nickname kind of guy. The fact that you have one should have been indicator number one that the man is crazy about you. And that nighttime pool date when he spent like five hours cracking glow sticks to impress you.”
“What?” I didn’t tell my sister and she’s properly offended.
I explain the whole date in detail and the kiss underwater. It helps me validate the relationship because we have kissed. Just not in the typical, normal way. I want to ask them what to think of it. For them to tell me it’s going to be okay, but I can’t be sure of their responses and I have to play it cool. It’s new with Grange. Even if I’m completely in love with the man, not that much time has passed.
“Dear God. He looks like that and he’s romantic. What’s he like in the sack?” Sue-Ellen’s eyes widen. She wants details.
