Under Fire (Love Over Duty #1)(67)

Which she wasn't. At his request. Which was noble  …  and fucked up.

And now she sat primly an arm's length away from him on the bench in one of his favorite places on earth, so stiff that it looked like she had a pole up her spine. 

"Relax," he said, putting his arm along the back of the bench. Her hair tickled his skin, but he resisted the urge to grip her shoulder and pull her close to him. Instead, he focused on the blue of the ocean, and the green of the plants, and the pinkish red of the flowers. Colors he'd missed when deployed to dust bowls in Satan's kitchen, where the landscape came in varying shades of beige and brown.

"Am I supposed to have a mantra or something?" she asked. "Or say om?"

"Funny, Lou. You ever hear about box breathing?"

She tilted her head to look at him, and it took every ounce of his control not to lean forward and kiss her.

"Is it like breathing in for eight and out for eight?"

"Not quite. You breathe in for four, hold for four, breathe out for four, and hold for four. Just focus on your breathing. Don't think about anything else. If you find your thoughts drifting, just stop as soon as you realize it and go back to your breath."

"This is very New Age of you, Six," she said quietly, eyes closed and a serene smile on her face despite her teasing.

He watched as she followed his instructions and he found himself breathing in sync with her. "Yeah, well. You'd be surprised at the shit I know."

They sat in silence, but he couldn't focus. Couldn't help sneaking sideways glances in her direction. At the way her long eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, or the way she ran her tongue over her lips. Periodically, her chest would lift, highlighting the way her thin T-shirt hugged her breasts, and she'd release her breath in a long sigh that reminded him of the moment he'd slid inside her for the first time.

You need to get laid. Of course he did. When he'd been back in Virginia, there'd been no shortage of women willing to spend time with him. And he'd had an ongoing understanding with a couple of women happy to receive the occasional booty call. So once in two weeks was almost as bad as being deployed. Going out and finding someone would be no problem, except the idea that it wouldn't be Louisa made his chest hurt. It would be empty, a word he'd never associated with women before.

He felt it, the moment Louisa finally relaxed. She had an anxious, frenetic energy usually. Her shoulders slumped, rounded. And her head dropped forward. At first he thought she'd fallen asleep, but then she opened her eyes.

"It's hard to keep thoughts at bay, isn't it?" she asked, linking her fingers.

It sounded more like a statement than a question, and if he didn't know better, he could have sworn she read his mind. "Yeah, it can be. But it gets easier over time." He was clearly out of practice, even though it had been his nightly routine when he was deployed to clear shit he couldn't unsee from his brain just long enough to grab a couple of hours of sleep.

"How do you do it, Six?" She turned on the bench to face him and lifted her sunglasses, popping them onto the top of her head.

For some reason it felt important that he do the same. To look her in the eye. "My mom teaches meditation, and my sister teaches yoga. I've been doing both since I was a kid."

Louisa smiled. "That's a really sweet story," she said. "And I want to hear more about little Sixton, the yogi. But I meant gear yourself up to put yourself in danger. You never seem bothered by it."

"If I thought for a second that it would help, I'd panic along with those I'm to defend." He offered her his hand and marveled, when she accepted it, at how small hers seemed in his. "But, unfortunately, it doesn't. Fear affects your ability to think straight, to make good decisions. In the toughest moments I've ever experienced, I've dug hard for the quietest place I can find inside myself. Try to get rid of all the noise, and crap, and panic, and focus on the little voice inside you that knows the answers."



       
         
       
        

"You do realize that sounds a little like Use the force, Luke?" She looked down at their joined hands, and he noticed she had a dimple in her left cheek that showed when she smiled broadly.

"It takes a certain kind of person to be a SEAL. It's hard to explain. Ask any of us and we'll tell you there is a moment of absolute clarity as things play out in slow motion in front of you."

"I can't imagine it. I mean, I've watched movies about SEALs, and you see images on TV, but it must be something else to be there in person. You're a bona fide hero."