Page 17 of Light on Love
Laurel’s lips part as she shudders, reacting to the way their bodies are touching. Her brain helpfully reminding her of otherways she could be wrapped around his hips. Her breathing is ragged, and from this close, she can feel his is also uneven.
A moment passes like this, her watching Brett as he regains control of his breathing. There is something about witnessing his crack in stoic demeanor that is making her unravel further.
“You did great today, consider it all positive,” he assures her, his voice thick.
“You’re just saying that.”
Brett squeezes his hand that’s still wrapped around her leg. “No, on my first day of hand-to-hand I walked away with a bloody nose and a black eye.”
“I have a feeling you’re going easier on me than they did on you,” she points out, her hands now against his chest. She tells herself it’s to keep balanced and steady, although logically she knows he wouldn’t let her fall while in his grip.
“Yeah, well I do have a different motivation than them.”
“What’s your motivation?” Laurel asks softly. Brett doesn’t answer. Instead, he places her leg back on the ground below her, smiles, and then turns and walks off the mat to where his jacket is waiting.
“You’re not what they prepared me for,” she says, her words breathy.
“They thought they had to prepare you for me? I was that insufferable when I served?” He turns in surprise, his tone resentful.
“No, I think you’re that skilled. And people don’t know what to make of it.”
Brett studies her, as if searching for any fear or distain towards him in her eyes. “I’ll see you for dinner?” he asks after a moment, shrugging on his jacket and taking his cowboy hat from the hook.
“I’ll see you for dinner,” she agrees, still standing in a daze in the center of the mat.
10
Aweek passes quickly, and Laurel wonders if it’s because she is putting all her energy towards ignoring her nagging feelings for Brett. Since her first day of hand-to-hand, she’s had difficulty stopping her thoughts from going back to the moment with him holding her wrapped around his hips. And she tells herself it’s working, because she’s getting stronger, able to protect herself better after each lesson.
At training yesterday, she successfully surprised him with a blow from her elbow. Today though, she winces as she leans on that elbow at the table, a bruise darkening across it. It’s worth it, though. She loves feeling stronger, she loves not being handled like a fragile little thing.
Laurel shifts off her elbow, bringing her hand down and wrapping it around a warm coffee mug. With the other hand, she flips open an operation report from six months prior, in which SEAL Team 3 Bravo encounters the terror cell. The problem is, most of the report is redacted. She thumbs through the blacked-out pages in confusion before pulling out her phone to call Ray.
“Hey Laurel! How’s it going?” Ray answers cheerfully.
“Hi Ray, everything is great out here. I just... I thought I received the clearance I needed for this profile. Do I still have restrictions on some of that?”
“You should have the same clearance as me now, as all of us under Cap for that matter. Why?”
“December of last year, Bravo. What does it say for their Operation Dark Horse?” she requests, bringing the mug up and taking a sip as she waits.
Laurel listens to the sound of Ray typing through the phone, pulling up the electronic copies that can be accessed on base. Then she hears, “what the hell,” from his end of the call.
“What is it?” she probes.
“It’s redacted for me too. And it’s a lower-level report, even before all this you would have had access.”
They sit in confused silence for a beat, then Ray speaks again, his tone tense. “Call the captain.”
Hanging up, she taps over to Captain Ireland’s number and hits call. Her palms are sweating, her gut telling her that this means something. The phone rings only once before he answers.
Laurel knows he’s not the type to beat around the bush, so she jumps right in explaining the situation. And to her surprise, the captain is eager to get her a copy that provides the information otherwise blacked out. He even seems off put that it’s redacted in the first place. This again creates an alarm in the back of her mind.
“I’ll have a secure carrier get this copy to you; it’ll be the guys that delivered you there. Tell Brett they’re coming tomorrow so he doesn’t shoot the messenger. Literally.”
Captain Ireland hangs up and Laurel sets her phone down, leaning back and pursing her lips. She can’t help but feel like whatever missing piece that she was looking for, is in this report.
I found something. Cap sending more info for me tomorrow. DON’T SHOOT THEM, she writes on a post-it,underlining “don’t shoot them” twice. She then writes four more identical notes and begins placing them around the house.She puts one on each door that leads outside and then one on the refrigerator. With one note remaining, Laurel heads up stairs to put it on Brett’s bedroom door.