Page 26 of Legacy
There wasn’t any car talk there. “Night, Luke.” The line goes dead.
Now there’s zero chance of me going to sleep without him in my dreams. Filling up every single corner.
* * *
It’s day four of skydiving. The first three days a Jump Master held my hand—someone who has a massive number of jumps and is fully capable of handling himself and me if shit goes sideways while we float in the atmosphere. All day today, I was jumping out all by my lonesome. The first time completely solo I thought for sure one of the few terrible things that they taught me about would happen. I checked the altimeter on my wrist near constantly until I got to the highest acceptable height to pull my chute. Once I was under canopy with the toggle handles to guide me down in my hands, I felt an immense sense of relief. More than I felt when Hell Week was over. I didn’t die. I can land without hurting myself because I don’t weigh two hundred plus pounds like my teammates do. They blow knees and hurt ligaments on their skydiving landings because they come down like sacks of bricks.
Luckily, I wasn’t in Luke’s group while I was learning, the drop zone employees are specially trained to teach SEALs here. Luke has jumped hundreds of times so he’s with the veterans doing complicated formations in the sky. They link up with hands and pull away from each other and land in tight knit groups together. It’s impressive how comfortable they are, and I cannot wait until I get to that point—the level of confidence where I don’t want to pee my pants when I see the person in front of me drop out of the plane door like a satchel of rocks.
We’re packing our chutes under the watchful eye of the masters when Luke’s group saunters up, chattering animatedly from the adrenaline rush that accompanies falling from the sky. He spots me and takes the spot next to me and begins the process of laying out the parachute and folding it ever so carefully. I never realized how important this step was in the process. If you fumble here, you’ll fumble in the sky.
He settles in next to me. “How was it?” His eyes sparkle when they meet mine. Dagger catches my eye. He’s across from us. I try not to overthink him looking at us, but since hanging out with Luke at his house I feel differently toward him, and my subconscious tells me it shows outwardly.
I don’t take my eyes off the soft material. “The most amazing feeling in the entire world.” The fold I’m on takes longer than it should. “The formations you guys were making looked pretty awesome.”
“You’re up next, Little Dempsey.”
“What? Not today. It’s too soon. The new guys aren’t joining formations yet. That’s like next level shit.” I think about Sanders who is petrified of heights and how much he’s struggled the past days. He’s sitting with a group, his head between his knees. He hasn’t stopped shaking yet. Also of note, his fear hasn’t stopped him from doing the damn thing either. I don’t envy his strength at the moment. I’m relieved I don’t have to sympathize. And therein lies the Type A issues. Having someone’s back and also wanting to have a better back than them.
Luke clears his throat. “I’m joking. You guys would kill us all. I recall that out-of-control feeling when I was first learning. Scary as fuck.” He laughs, not even looking at his chute as he folds. It’s autopilot for him. “Do you want to come out for drinks when we get back? In Dagger’s room.”
We stay at hotels when we travel for training. Some destinations don’t have bases, and it makes it easier. We have our own rooms. It’s a neutral playing field. There aren’t women’s and men’s facilities separating us.
I groan. “I heard about Dagger’s three Tinder dates last night. At the same time.” I smirk when I feel Hart’s eyes on my face. “I don’t want to have any part of witnessing that and also that’s not really going out for drinks. It’s staying in for drinks.”
“Hey, it’s our last night here. You’re jumping out of planes by yourself. That’s kind of a big deal.” He’s already surpassed my progress in folding and that annoys me. I try to speed up, but maintain accuracy. “Also, no paps will be in Dagger’s hotel room. It’s easier.”
Cringing, I mentally agree. Whenever I go anywhere, even here, out of state, the media finds a way to locate me. The feeling is sort of seedy, almost like I never truly left the circus surrounding Henry’s scandal. It’s the same, but also completely different. “Fine,” I agree. “But are you sure they want me there?”
Dagger is still watching me. Sighing, I think about how strange the integration has been. There’s one female civilian jump instructor here and other than that, I am surrounded by men. My fellow FNGs from my BUD/S class treat me with respect, and a bit of normalcy. Save for Luke, the veterans sort of pretend I don’t exist. They’re irritated that my presence changed things. I can’t help the media curiosity. My mom pushed out the interview piece, and while it did quell some of the rumors, it didn’t do anything to abate their scrutiny. It’s not going away. Lt. Williams doubts it will die down at all until another few females make it on to the teams. “If they don’t want to hang out with me, I don’t want to force it, Hart.”
“Listen, we’d usually be out at a bar the last night of a trip. You make it easier to stay in. And Tinder,” he adds, when he looks at his friend.
“Maybe I should Tinder,” I muse. “Be more like my guys.”
Hart scoffs, finishing his pack. “Do not Tinder. That would give them something else to gossip about.”
“Like I couldn’t hide it if I wanted to. Pssssh. You of little faith.”
He sighs, and raises two middle fingers to Dagger before standing, putting his parachute back on. At least he felt the heated stare, too. “Hurry up, Little Dempsey. I’m taking you up.”
“What?” I choke on the word, and the person watching me fold makes a correction, then moves me out of the way to finish the job properly. So I don’t die.
He raises one brow. “Unless you’re not ready after four days. Our plane is gassed and ready.” Luke looks at his wrist. “We have time for one more.”
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. The OIC agrees that it will be good if we mix company to gain skills. The Officer in Charge’s opinion seals my fate. How can I tell him that Luke’s presence makes me nervous on land and that my stupid body is going to betray me if I’m forced to jump out of a steel death trap with him? I don’t. Because this is part of the job.
My birth father, Aaron, wasn’t pleased when I told him of my plans to be a Navy SEAL. He was even less impressed when I made it. He, too, was a SEAL and couldn’t understand my drive and desire to not only follow the footsteps of the man who stepped in and became a true father, but because the patriotism quite literally ran through my blood. His argument was that I wasn’t capable of handling everything that was part of the job.
As I trudge behind Luke Hart, trying my best not to obsess over the smell of his sweat mixed with his deodorant, or is that body wash? Shampoo? I feel like, for the first time, I might know what Aaron was trying to say. Surely, he wasn’t talking about me falling for a man I can’t have, but maybe he understood that some challenges presented by the odd, and unfamiliar territory I would explore for the first time, would feel like a burden.
Luke smiles over his shoulder when the engine roar becomes too loud for us to communicate easily. His goggles blessedly hide his eyes and the headphones obscure his dimples. I can’t let Luke Hart be my burden. We are to deploy together on a small ship off the coast of Africa soon. Together. I have to be stronger than this part of my job. Closing my eyes, I step into the plane, ducking my head and take my seat against the wall.
Like Luke and his parachute folding. I put him on autopilot. Except when we’re in the plane together, alone. He sets his gloved hand on mine. My heart pounds against my ribs double time. I glance at him and his smile is wide. I bet his palms aren’t sweaty like mine.
I pull my hand out of his and give him the bull horns. It’s safe.
His smile widens as I imagine the sound of his laugh over the roar of the plane taking off. Drumming my fingers on my thighs, I try and fail at controlling my reaction to him. The heat radiating from his side against mine captivates my senses. He makes signals with his hands I’m familiar with after days of practicing and testing. We’re jumping out together as I suspected, but we’re holding both of our hands instead of just one. It’s the smallest formation we can make. My mind goes blank except for protocol—everything I need to remember. Which would seem like a lot for such a simple action.
