But I didn’t stop there. I wanted to be in Delta Force, the elite of the elite. And not only that, I had to lead a team. I was never satisfied. My thirst never quenched. I never doubted myself as a Delta. But as the leader of a family? The patriarch of a dynasty?
I shook my head and turned down the radio with my right hand. That had never been in my plans. Why did my father have to die so young? Why did he leave this to me?
Cane hadn’t been wrong. I was doing all the things for the country I should have been doing for my family. But did that make me a bad man? Did that make me irresponsible?
I didn’t see the world in black and white any longer. I had witnessed so much gray. So many blurred lines. People I never thought could be trusted, risked their lives to give us intelligence. Men I thought would throw themselves on a grenade for me, stabbed me in the back. War brought out the best and worst in people, and I had seen it all.
The longer I focused on Delta Force, the longer I put off what everyone else wanted for me—my place in the Jackson legacy.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew they had selfish motives. I couldn’t blame them for wanting to keep their homes. Their land. I’d want the same too if I had a wife and kids. But I didn’t.
Not yet.
I put the truck in park in the tiny driveway and stared at the cottage house.
There was a light on in the kitchen window.
I knew when I pulled away from Cane’s I was going to end up here. I had to drive for hours. I had to think. I had to sort out this fucked up shit.
But I was always going to end up at Gretchen’s house.
Twelve
Gretchen
I poured a glass of wine and sat on the couch. My DVR was loaded. Nights in the ER kept me from watching much TV. I flipped through the last few shows I had recorded. There should be something on here to keep my mind from reliving the moment on the quilt with Brett under the stars. But even the hottest TV heartthrob didn’t compare. I sighed.
Running had worked. But it seemed as if the instant I was back in the house, I lost that runner’s high.
I jumped when I heard a knock on the door. I stood, grasping my wine. What the hell? Who was here this late?
The problem with my front door was that it was solid wood. It didn’t have a peephole. Every once in a while the family next door ordered a pizza and the driver got the addresses mixed up.
I pulled the door open. It wasn’t the high school pizza kid.
My jaw dropped. My chest heaved. His eyes were blazing. It looked like he hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours.
“B-Brett? Are you ok?” I scanned his face.
He walked past me, straight into my living room. Before I could demand an answer from him, he grabbed my glass of wine from my hand and placed it on the table. He turned towards me as he wrapped me in his arms, bringing his mouth over mine with sudden passionate force.
I started to push against his chest, but his lips were firm and my resistance faded as he tongue slipped inside. I moaned as it twined against mine. His arms held me tightly against his chest. I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe. The kiss was hot and wild. Rough and untamed.
I sighed when he pulled back and looked in my eyes.
“What’s going on?” I whispered. I wanted him to kiss me like that again. Kiss me like he was starving for me. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine.”
I felt the hard planks of his chest through his T-shirt. My palm flattened against it.
“That’s good.” I still didn’t know why he was here. “Do you want a glass of wine? I was just watching some TV.”
He shook his head. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“Ok.” I had no idea where this was going.
“You’re a strong woman, Gretchen.”