"Didn't think you were a quitter."
"We're all quitters. Don't give me that. I couldn't stay on the teams."
"Not what I said. To everything there is a season, and we're done serving our country in that way, sure. But we're not done being good guys and doing good things, right?"
But Mick thought he might be tapped out. Drained of all that heroic virtue he'd once thought such a core part of his being. He hadn't felt like a hero since the day his leg had been ripped to shreds, and he sure as shit didn't feel like one now.
Except … he couldn't shake that nagging feeling in his gut that he shouldn't have left the plantation. Shouldn't have left Cara.
He might not feel heroic, but he still had a strong sense of duty. He just resented it, because … "You guys are doing good things here, aren't you?"
Finn shrugged. "Yeah, I think so. It's hard not to be on the front lines anymore. But you also gotta trust that the guys who took our place are the best. Brayden's trained them to be hard as fuck, right?"
Mick had to nod. Yeah, his buddy was the best BUD/S instructor there was.
"You didn't leave a hole there, Mick. Getting injured … that's life-altering. But you didn't wound the navy. You're the one that got hurt. You're the one that needs to be put back together. The navy will carry on just fine without you."
He laughed, raw and hollow at first, but then the truth of what Finn was saying finally hit him. "Damn."
"Yeah." Finn took a long, slow drink, watching Mick over the bottle the whole time. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing. "Can I ask you a hard question?"
"What has the rest of this conversation been?"
Finn laughed. "Didn't you know you were coming to the Keys for kick-in-the-ass therapy?"
"Not exactly." Mick tipped his head forward. "Shoot. Hit me with your worst."
"Does your woman know you're torn up like this inside?"
No. And if he had anything to say about it, she wouldn't. Ever. "It's dark, you know? That guilt. Like I'm embarrassed to feel this way. But it's hard to shake, too."
"I get that." Finn spread his arms out wide. "I'm not judging, man. At all. Just talking it out."
"Thanks."
"Just remember, getting out of the military didn't change your personality, and what you need. It's in your blood, it's who you are, and if you pretend otherwise, you're never going to be satisfied with the new life you're trying to create. It won't be enough."
They sat like that for a few minutes, Mick stewing over his thought, Finn just watching the dogs in the nearby dog run.
Then Finn stood and pointed to the kennel. "You want to see what we're doing here?"
"You bet." Mick stood as well, promising himself that he'd leave as much of this shit behind him when he left again. It was time to step up and be all-the-way honest with Cara about who he was and what he wanted.
EIGHTEEN
WHEN MICK GOT BACK TO THE ISLAND LATE TWO NIGHTS LATER, he couldn't find Cara anywhere.
She wasn't at home, or the plantation, and he even looked up the Historical Society and went by their offices. Closed up for the night.
He'd promised her a week, but after spending two days getting some good sense knocked into him by Finn, he knew he couldn't stay away that long.
He didn't need to stalk her, though, so he headed back to the plantation and tucked himself into his bunk.
While he was gone, Will had arranged to officially rent the space from the estate, so Mick was a legal tenant. This was his home for the foreseeable future.
In the morning he would see what he could do about getting a bigger bed.
After his worn paperback copy of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep smacked him in the face for the third time, he admitted he needed to just go the fuck to sleep.
She'll be around in the morning.
He left his light on, though. Just in case.
CARA'S HEART SWELLED IN HER CHEST WHEN SHE PULLED INTO THE PLANTATION in the middle of the night.
A little bird had told her that Mick had landed at the airport, and when she got back from Sunshine Bay, Miralinda's capital city, she came straight to him.
Using a flashlight to light her way, she made her way through the garden. There was a faint glow in the front window, and when she opened the door she found the source-he'd left his lantern on and his door open.
After slipping off her shoes, she kept silently into his room and lifted the soft sheet draped over his large, slumbering body.
He needed a bigger bed. Maybe one that didn't have a top bunk.
"Cara?" he mumbled as she curved against his back.
"Shhh, go back to sleep," she whispered, kissing his back.
"I couldn't stay away."
"I know. I'm sorry I asked you to."
"Come here." He rolled over and pulled her into his side. His voice was full of sleep and all his muscles were relaxed, and it was like being hugged by a giant, sweet teddy bear. "Just let me hold you."
An unexpected tear leaked out the corner of her eye as he quickly drifted off again, his arms now steel bands around her.
She didn't sleep much herself, which was totally fine, because when he woke up at the crack of dawn, she rose with him, and over coffee she told him her plan.
"They can take it or leave it," she said after explaining how she'd come to the realization that she didn't need the Historical Society to do what she wanted to do with Villa Sucre.
"Are you sure you can be that firm with them? It all sounds expensive."
She nodded. "And that's where your friend comes in. The billionaire?"
"He's not exactly a billionaire," Mick said, his lips twitching at the echo of his own threat.
She stuck her tongue out at him. "I know. But his grandmother was, and there's a butt load of money somewhere in that estate. So I think, and this is where you come in-we make a joint application to the executors. Will inherits the land, as it's probably rightfully his, but the millworks and the main house are protected and supported by a trust. There's enough land around, either that came with the property or that could be purchased adjacent to it, that he can build a modern training facility somewhere that doesn't require demolishing those two buildings. And the trust would provide money, not just for repairs, but also fund an endowment that would support an ongoing living history project. And if we do that right, then the Tourism Board would provide an annual grant as well. Tax write-offs, charitable good will, and a tourist draw that goes beyond beach and pampering. It's a win for everyone."
"You've thought this out." He looked surprised, and then chagrined. "Of course you have. This is what you do, isn't it?"
It was what she'd wanted to do, but the Historical Society had never been interested. But now … she pressed her hands tighter around her coffee mug to keep her fingers from shaking. "When I was at school, I did a placement at an aboriginal village living museum. It was amazing. I don't want to go off-island to have that kind of career opportunity again. I want to make my own opportunity, you know?"
He looked at her for a long, stretched-out beat, then nodded. His cheeks had coloured a bit. "I do. And I wish I'd seen that before. It's a brilliant solution, Cara. But more than that, I'm proud of you. I've spent the last couple of days with a friend of mine who's built something really incredible in the Florida Keys. I want to do that here. With you. It would mean a lot to me to get this right."
Mick was talking about feelings? The world had tilted on its axis overnight. "That's great," she said softly. "So you had a good trip?"
"If by good you mean humbling, then yes." He gave her a rueful smile. "But at the end of it, inspiring as well. Finn reminded me that I need to find something I can fight for again. He's struggling with his own demons, too, but he's still putting one foot in front of the other. That's what I need to do. That's who I am-a fighter, a protector. Leaving you to do this on you own didn't sit right with me. But I'm proud as hell that you dug deep and figured out what you wanted."
"I did." God, that felt awesome to admit. "Still need to actually put the plan into action, though."
"We'll do that together."
"I might need to quit my job."
"We can be unemployed together."
"I'm going to start a blog about this."
"You're on your own for that. I prefer to lurk in the shadows of the internet."
"I know." She let out a small squeak when he set down his mug and stood, rounding the table.
"Cara … "
"Yes?"
"Were you spying on me?"
"You were spying on me! You left my computer on after you looked in it."
"No, I definitely turned it off."
"Ah ha!" She slid off her chair and shifted it between them, laughing like an idiot when he lunged for her. "I tricked you into admitting you spied on me, though."