Mason elbowed him. “You’re going to ruin your eyes.”
And that was why God made sunglasses. He thumbed his down over his eyes. “I suck at relationships.”
Unfortunately, Mason didn’t disagree. He turned to face the jungle, ready to beat feet. “Maybe you just need a dress rehearsal or some practice.”
“Laney wasn’t a rehearsal.” He couldn’t imagine feeling anything more, anything better, than what he felt when he was with her. And now she was miles away from him and getting farther every second. Yeah. He was brilliant. “She was the real deal.”
“Did you tell her that?” Levi rocked back on his heels. He didn’t seem surprised that they were still standing on the helicopter pad.
“If I had, do you think she’d be somewhere between here and Belize?”
“She’s a doctor,” Mason pointed out.
True. “I’d have her number. We’d have plans.”
Instead, everything was over.
“Personally, I’m anti deep feelings.” Levi shrugged. “I find sex-only keeps things simpler.”
Mason ignored Levi. “So you’ll work it out.”
Right. How? “She’s a doctor. She has a job. I’m a SEAL and I have a job.”
The logistics were overwhelming, but it was easier to focus on the physical difficulties of getting together with Laney than on messy things like emotions.
Mason eyed him. “Are you really going to make me play therapist here?”
Gray flashed him the bird. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
“Fine. You’ll work it out. You go after her, you tell her about these feelings.” Levi looked pained, but Mason kept right on talking. “And then you’ll probably have to do some groveling.”
“Lots of groveling,” Levi added helpfully. “Fall on your knees and beg. There are other options after that, but it depends on how the groveling and begging was received.”
“Hello. She’s Belize-bound. I’m here. How am I supposed to find her?”
Levi gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve got government resources. Use them.”
“Ashley’s a mean hacker,” Mason pointed out.
“Or just mean,” Levi muttered.
“You’re a SEAL. You don’t quit. You finish the mission.” Mason shrugged. “Blah blah blah.”
It was the blah blah blah part that had him worried because, holy shit, he was mentally substituting three different words. I love you. Of course, those were words he should have used earlier, preferably before Laney had gotten on that chopper and out of Dodge. Instead, he’d pushed her away.
“Go after her,” Mason said quietly. “See what happens.”
He was going to have to do that. Find her, say the words I love you and see what happened. He might fall on his face, but he knew one thing. He didn’t have the potential to fall in love with her—because he’d already fallen.
* * *
THE STOCKTON HOSPITAL actually wasn’t bad. In the two weeks since she’d left Fantasy Island and landed here, Laney’s new emergency room had received a decent number of cases, and she’d had two actual trauma cases to go with the small-city onslaught of uninsured people with flu and twisted ankles. Not that the trauma victims were happy about their role in her current state of mind, but she’d keep her thoughts to herself.
Bottom line? Her mom had done well by her. She’d pony up a thank-you during their next call.
Since tonight was slow and she had a double shift, she’d commandeered an empty exam room for a catnap. Unfortunately, the bedding didn’t come close to what she’d had on Fantasy Island. When she made head of ER, she’d order real pillows, not these wafer-thin excuses bulk-ordered from a medical supply catalog. Maybe some of those white duvet things, too. Sadly, bedding aside, sleep played coy. Maybe because every time she closed her eyes, she saw a certain unobtainable SEAL and her blood pressure shot up. And it wasn’t as if she could take out a billboard ad: Have you seen this undercover SEAL?
That thought amused her for the next five minutes of her non-nap. Maybe she’d get a nice five-car pileup. Or an explosion. Okay, not really, but she needed something to do. Stockton was a pleasant enough city. She had a rented condo. With real estate prices down, the prudent thing to do would be to purchase. After she finished digging her credit card out from her Fantasy Island jaunt. All she had now were the bills and the fading tan lines.
And a few purloined souvenirs, including the mason jar on her desk that she’d filled with sand and shells. Bringing the stuff home probably violated all sorts of US custom rules, but bonus, because she’d ridden with Remy to the hospital in Belize City, her luggage had followed her virgo intacta and she hadn’t been forced to prevaricate to a crusty border agent.