Page 31 of SEAL of Valor

Yet there’s a heaviness to it now.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Lord, please help me.

After taking two Advil and lying down for half an hour, I’m functional, but the pounding in my head is still present. I nearly skipped out on coming over here, but he’d looked so worried about my mom earlier, and I feel like I owe him an update, given all he’s done for her.

I could have called. Probably should have. But would he even answer?

Maybe I can still try to call first.

No. I’m here now. I can do this.

Before I can convince myself to run the other way, I raise my fist and knock. You worked side-by-side with Phil for months after you broke up. You can face Weston. Except what I felt for Phil was never even close to a quarter of what I felt for Weston. He was always so much more.

He was always…everything.

The door opens, and Weston comes into view. He’s wearing dark sweats and a black tank top stretched across a broad, muscled chest. It reveals more of his tattoos, as well as some scars I’d really like to avoid looking at, but I can’t help it.

I drink him in.

My mouth dries.

My pulse hammers.

How is he this gorgeous? How is it fair that he aged the way he did?

“How is she?” he asks, his deep baritone a reminder of better days.

The emotional toll today took weighs on me, and I fight the urge to lean into his strong arms and let him hold me like he did after we lost my dad. He was a rock for me, a steady reminder that I wasn’t alone in my pain.

And now—we’re nothing.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I tell myself it’s likely just from the migraine. It has to be.

I clear my throat and meet his gaze. “The doctor ran a full toxin panel and discovered benzodiazepines in her system.”

“I didn’t realize she was on any medications.”

“She’s not,” I reply. “She has no idea where they came from and swears she hasn’t ever taken one. Of course, things only got more awkward when the doctor accused her of buying drugs.”

“Your mother would never do that.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Then what does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. I got her home and settled, and went through her pill organizer, but there was nothing but her normal supplements inside. I still tossed them all just in case. She has more on the way to replace them.” The throbbing in my head beats back the relief from the Advil, and my vision swims. I cross my arms. “Can I come in, or are you going to make me stand out here all night?”

Weston moves out of the way, so I step into his cabin.

The living room has certainly changed, even if the outside hasn’t. Where there was once a floral couch, a leather three-seater has been added. The small TV he had growing up has been replaced with an impressive flat screen mounted on the wall.

There’s no trace of the pictures or decorations that had once adorned the walls, and the mirror his mother once hung over the fireplace is gone as well. Did he remove all of it because it was too painful to have the reminders? Or was he just looking to spruce things up?

He shuts the door and heads into the kitchen where he’s been cutting up an apple.

“My mom told me that she hit some financial trouble a few years ago.” When he doesn’t respond, I continue, “She said that she was going to lose this place to the bank until you stepped up and made a major payment on the loan.”