the way she’d looked at me when I acted like a dick. It was no wonder the woman hated me. Even me bringing it up to her and asking her why was an asshole thing to do.
I knew why.
I just didn’t know why I couldn’t stop myself from lashing out. When she turned those pretty green eyes my way, something inside of me cracked. Every damn time since the moment I first saw her. Adalynn was the last person I wanted to feel sorry for me. I didn’t want her pity, I didn’t want her to see me as a patient, I didn’t want her to see how fucking broken I was. I wanted her to see me as a man. Like I used to be, strong and capable. Not this sad excuse.
The truth was I just plain wanted her with an unhealthy obsession that was beginning to seriously fucking worry me. She was all I thought about. Night and day. Day and night. And the worst damn part was I knew—she was the one woman in the world I wanted for a lifetime, the woman who would challenge me and complete me the way no one else ever would.
And I was a washed-up has-been.
Flawed. Broken. Wrecked.
I felt Matt’s eyes boring into my skull. I didn’t need to turn to know he was scowling at me. Further, I didn’t need a lecture.
“Not in the mood to hear how I fucked up,” I warned.
“How did you fuck up?”
“Don’t want to talk about that either.”
“One day, you’re gonna have to sort your head. You have to let go—”
“I do, really, Matt? What exactly do I have to let go of?”
I heard the legs of the stool scrape on the floor before I felt Matt lean close.
“Everything,” he grunted. “You’ve been so busy feeling sorry for yourself you missed it. So let me clue you the fuck in. You’re not the only one struggling with the change. But you’re the only one trying to hold on to the old days with an iron fist. You’re the only one glorifying what we did, where we went, and the sacrifices we made. Not saying I regret a minute of it. I wouldn’t change it and I’d do it again. But, brother, it fucking sucked, and if you’d pull your head out you’d remember. You’ve never been about ego, you’ve never been about being a SEAL—you were a team guy, a team player, and team leader. Now you’re acting like a fucking SEAL, and, Trey, that shit ain’t you. That’s your dad and brother getting in your head. That’s their bullshit, you did your time. You did it with honor. You served your country, not them. You. It’s your life, not theirs, and if they’re so fucking torn up they lost their bragging rights, that’s their problem.
“But you’re taking that on when you should be fucking grateful you have an opportunity to start over. You and I both could name at least a dozen men, good men, brothers, fathers, and sons who weren’t so fucking lucky. Think about that as you sit here having your one-man pity party. Think about those mothers, wives, children, siblings, who wish their men came home with a few scars instead of in a pine box.”
Matt stepped away but he wasn’t done. “One last thing to think about—if we hadn’t gone on that mission, where would Liberty be? Your face would be as pretty as ever, your back clean of burns, your dad still up-your-ass happy, you’d still be in the Navy, but that woman would be dead.”
When Matt was done hurling insults, he turned and strolled out of the bar.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I sat in silence and drained my Jack. I did this thinking I was a selfish prick full of ego and self-pity.
Now you’re acting like a fucking SEAL.
I damn well was and it fucking sucked having to admit to yourself you’d turned into someone you didn’t like very much. All of my years on the teams I’d never acted like a douchebag SEAL, I was a member of a team. There was a distinct difference between the two. SEALs loved to brag they were a SEAL. A Team Guy was all about the team, the job, the mission, the important work they did—there was no ego involved.
Now I was crying in my soup and moping around because…why? I wasn’t a SEAL anymore? Because my dad was a fucking jackass and had made me feel worthless? Or was it because