Playboy Billionaire

“Mason was my – best friend,” I finally said in a voice barely more than a whisper.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Her eyes grew wide, her expression one of sympathy. “I'm very sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, that's what everybody says,” I muttered to myself, avoiding the look in her eyes. “No offense, but it doesn't particularly help. I mean, it's not like you knew him or anything... ”

“No, but I can see that his passing had a profound effect on you. And I'm sorry for that. It's a pain nobody should have to endure.”

I nodded. “I appreciate that. It's just – I don't know,” I said, shaking my head. “I don't know what I mean.”

“Well, what would you prefer I say, Drew?”

I shrugged. “There's really nothing you can say,” I said. “That's not a knock on you, it's just that there's nothing anyone can say to make it better. I watched as my best friend was blown to pieces right in front of me. My uniform was coated in his blood. And the real bitch of it is, that it's all my fault.”

“It's not –”

“Yes, it is. You don't know what you're talking about. You weren't there,” I snapped.

She lowered her eyes and looked abashed. “No, I wasn't there. But from what I know of you –”

I snorted derisively. “No offense, but you don't know anything about me,” I said, my voice rising. “The only thing you really know about me is that I'm really good in the sack.”

Her cheeks colored, but when she raised her eyes and looked straight at me, I could see the defiance in them. I'd crossed a line and had pissed her off. But to her credit, she remained composed and didn't let my outburst rattle her.

“We're getting a little off topic, Drew,” she said. “I know you're angry – and we certainly can talk about the reasons for your anger. I'm sure they're justifiable. But I'm not the enemy here, so let's just take a breath and try to calm down a bit.”

I sighed and slumped back in my seat. She was right. I wasn't pissed at her. She just happened to be there and was an easy target. I felt bad for cracking back on her like I had.

“You okay?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It's okay,” she replied. “Please, go on.”

I cleared my throat and looked up, but still couldn't force myself to meet her eyes. “It is my fault because what everyone seems to forget – what isn't in the official reports – is that I was supposed to run point on that mission. Me. But I sent Mason out ahead of me instead. I hung back a bit and screwed around because I thought it was going to be boring as shit. It was just a standard recon. We hadn't had any enemy contact in a few days and everything was quiet. It was supposed to be mellow. But guess what? He walked right over an IED that I failed to detect because I figured we were safe and didn't have my head on straight. I sent him out there ahead of me and he got blown to shit because of it. Because I didn't do my goddamn job. That should have been me. Not him.”

My heart felt like it was breaking all over again and my eyes welled with tears, but I fought them off. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut tight, cursing myself for giving in and crying. Again. And more than that, for crying, right in front of a woman I'd fucked a little more than a week ago. Yeah, I was sure my little display of weakness in her office was getting her all hot and wet for me again.

“Listen, I'm not comfortable –” I said, standing up and heading toward the door. “I have to leave. I can't do this anymore –”

She moved so smoothly and quickly I hadn't even heard her stand up. The next thing I knew though, she was beside me and grabbed my arm. Her grip was tight – she was stronger than she looked.

“You can't keep running away, Drew,” she said. “You have to confront this and do something with it otherwise it's going to keep eating away at your soul. It is going to rot you from the inside out. You're going to change – become a shell of yourself. Is that what you want? Is that what Mason would have wanted for you?

Pulling my arm free, I snapped back, “OH yeah? You're one to talk about running away. You seem really well versed in that,” I roared. “And you don't know shit about Mason, so keep your fuckin' mouth shut about things you don't have the first goddamn clue about.”

She didn't try to stop me again. Instead, she just stared up at me, an expression of hurt upon her face. Her mouth was open as if she wanted to say something. To fight back. I thought she was going to for a moment, but then that moment passed and she didn't say anything. She simply closed her mouth and lowered her eyes once more. With a small sense of triumph – one I knew would fade and leave me feeling like shit later – I walked out the door and slammed it as I left. I strode down the hall, my boot steps echoing off the walls, anger coursing through my veins. I didn't even bother looking back as I walked through the waiting room and out of the building.

I wasn't going back. There was no purpose in it other than to rip the scabs off old wounds rather than letting them heal.

But then, I wasn't sure these were wounds that really would ever heal.

ooo000ooo

That night, I was afraid to fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. I saw Mason staring back at me, that goofy ass grin he got whenever we were cutting up – which was most of the time. He got me in a way nobody had ever gotten me before – or ever since.

We were like brothers – and it wasn't just that brotherhood bond that formed during SEAL training or close quarter combat situations. We had a bond that went even deeper than that. He was more than just my best friend and I loved him. Not a day went by that I didn't think about him. That my heart didn't hurt for not having him in my life anymore.

Back in the day, we'd talk about what our lives were going to be like after the service. We made plans to chase chicks together when we were finally home – being a SEAL had some definite perks. We talked about opening a business together – a food truck or some shit like that. We joked about growing old and fat together.