Free Two Weeks With a SEAL (The Wakefield Romance Series) by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt Page A

cheery laughter flowing
through the lonely cabin. Leaving Kendall and Rosa downstairs as they
straightened the living room and kitchen, I made the bed in the master bedroom,
throwing Chad's dirty clothes in the wicker hamper. My phone starts vibrating
on the night stand and picking it up I see it's a text message from Chad's mom,
Dana. ' Hope you kids are being safe. Love u both' making me smile and I
sent back a 'We are, we love u too. C u tomorrow.'
    Straightening the
comforter, I plopped down on the semi-squeaky bed, pulling on a pair of jeans
and thick socks. It was colder than yesterday, being only thirty-two degrees,
snow covering the ground when we got out of bed this morning. It was all melted
now, but the chill hung in the air so I threw some more wood into the stove as
I got off the stairs. Putting my arms through Chad's camo zip-up hoodie, I
shuffled into the kitchen where Kendall and Rosa were busy making lunch.
"Smells good ladies," I smile, both of them chattering away about how
I can help them, pushing bowls, vegetables and knives my way.
    The three of us had
tackled a five quart crock pot of beef stew, still simmering when the guys all
piled into the house around three. Kendall and I had our legs thrown over
Rosa's lap, each doing the other's toe nails while Rosa switched between
painting our finger nails. Reno kissed her on the cheek, shaking his head at
the three of us as he followed the others into the kitchen, their groans of
delight filling the once silent cabin. "What smells so good," Timmons
said and I could hear the lid of the crock pot being set on the counter, the
glass dinging on the tiled top.
    "Get outta
there," I yell, the muffled 'oh shits' and 'put it downs' making Kendall
laugh. Coming back into the living room, I notice that Timmons has my brother's
shotgun in his hands, "Where'd you get that," I ask, pointing at it
with my still wet fingernails. I sounded sharp and that was for a reason. That
gun was my brother's and no one should be touching it.
    Timmons held it up as if
to say 'What? This?', a dumb founded look on his face. "Um, Chief let me
use it," he pointed to Chad.
    "That's Randy's
gun," I say to Chad, a heat boiling under my skin. Rosa's hand on my
shoulder makes me feel a little better, but still, it bothers me that someone
who isn't me or Chad had his hands on my brother's gun. "Please put it
back, after cleaning it," I snap my eyes back to Timmons and he
sharply nods his head, retreating into the den with Black and French in tow. I
spare Kendall a look and I can tell she knows how I'm feeling, she can tell how
much Randy's death still bothers me. He had been my guardian angel and she
knows how he got that gun that one spring morning when I was five.
    Before I had witnessed
my father having sex in our living room with a hooker, I had come
face-to-barrel with that shotgun. It was an early April morning, I was still in
my nightgown with my little rain boots on, stomping through the house, Randy
playing video games splayed out on the living room floor. I trudged through the
hallway, coming to a loud halt at my parents’ door, smiling at my father who
was cleaning the shotgun on their bed. I remember running up to him, jumping on
the bed and wanting him to play, his large hands pushing me away and off the
bed, my butt bouncing off of the carpet making a loud thud. My mother had come
out of the bathroom, yelling at my father for pushing me and going to sweep me
up when the sound of a racking shell rang out. The barrel of the shotgun met my
eyes, only inches from my skin as my mother screamed, Randy's running form
appearing in the doorway.
    "You know I could
kill you," my dad had said, his grey eyes blood-shot and locked on me as I
cried, going to get to my feet when he screamed at me, "I'll kill you ya
little bitch, like I should've killed your mama a long time ago." I fell
back to my butt, screaming for my mother, her cries mingling with Randy's
yells.
    Randy was only ten at
the time,