Saved by the SEAL by Diana Gardin Read Free Book Online Page B

leading up to the three-story home, the front door swings open. My mother stands there, a huge smile on her pretty face.
    “Grisham, honey! Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” She hustles down the steps to grab me into a bone-crushing hug.
    I hug her to me, a large lump forming in my throat as I realize how thin she is.
    “Mom, it’s good to see you, too. How are you doing? I’m sorry I’ve stayed away.”
    When she pulls back, her eyes are shining. “I’m glad you’re here now. And just in time for dinner!”
    I glance up at the house, wary. “I don’t think I’m staying, Mom. I just wanted to talk to you and Dad for a minute. Okay?”
    Her face falls. Upon closer inspection, I can see that her makeup is flawless, as usual. The tiny creases around her eyes and mouth are cleverly hidden with whatever miracle product she’s currently using. Her blond hair is perfect, placed in a short style, and even at five o’clock in the evening, when most people are changing into comfortable clothes to wind down the day, she’s still wearing a skirt and heels.
    “Come in, then, sweetheart.”
    She leads me up the stairs and into the house.
    My parents’ Lone Sands home has been a second home ever since my father reached two-star admiral status and was stationed to the base in Brunswick County just under his long-time friend Admiral Holtz. Berkeley’s father.
    Just off the gray slate-tiled foyer, Mom walks into her front sitting room and sits on the sleek, white couch. She pats the cushion next to her. Her eyes monitor my progression as I move to join her.
    “How goes it these days with your foot?” she asks, all trace of a smile gone from her tone.
    If anyone knows the frustration I endured while fighting my way back from an amputation, it’s my mother. She was there at the beginning. She saw the circuit of emotions I traveled, from denial, to red-hot anger, to mourning. The loss of a limb is a living, breathing journey from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other.
    “I’m all good,” I assure her. “Regular workouts with the team and everything.”
    She nods with genuine mother happiness. “I knew you’d get there, Grisham. Now, what’s this you need to talk with me about?”
    I open my mouth to speak when the heavy thud of boots on the stairs freezes us both.
    “Katie? Do we have company?”
    My father.
    My mother stiffens beside me, and my hand shoots out to rest on her arm, reassuring her that I’m here. It’s funny; it doesn’t matter how much time you spend away from your family, the habits ingrained in you don’t ever change or fade away. They’re permanent, like the sunrise or the way the leaves change color in autumn.
    “Yes, dear. Grisham’s here.”
    Her voice is completely different when she talks to him. When she’s talking to me, her voice is clear and confident. Loving. She’s my mother, and she throws herself into that job fully. During my recovery, there wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in her the entire time. She knew I’d make it back to full usage of my leg, and she made sure I never forgot her faith in me.
    But when she talks to him? She’s unsure and tentative. She walks on fucking eggshells. Anger roils inside my gut, threatening to overtake me.
    Chill out, Grisham. He hasn’t done anything. This time. Just get the invitation out. You’re here for Mom.
    I stand and wait for Admiral Michael Abbot to enter the room.
    And enter he does, with a gigantic presence that envelops every room he’s in. Our heights are identical at six foot one, and our faces are complementary. But I get my dark blond hair from my mother, whereas my father has a thick head of salt-and-pepper locks. His sun-weathered, tan skin stands out today in his white golf polo and crisp khaki pants.
    “Ah. The prodigal son returns. What can we do for you, Grisham?” His tone is smooth, detached. In his opinion, we had it out once and that was all he needed to cut me off emotionally.
    I avert my gaze from him