Read Online SEAL's Bride: A Secret Baby Romance by Vivian Wood - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Vivian Wood
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horse, he mounted without waiting for Sawyer and Walker.
“I’m going all the way down to the end. We don’t need to be this close,” he said.
“Colt—” Walker said, but it was too late.
Colt turned and nudged his horse into a trot, leaving them behind. Sawyer made a face at his brother’s retreating back.
“He’ll never grow up,” he sighed.
“Don’t do that,” Walker said, giving Sawyer a hard look. “Don’t infantilize him.”
“He’s being a child. There’s nothing to psychoanalyze there, brainiac.”
“I’m just pointing out the obvious, if you take a second to think about it. He’s reacting to you coming home,” Walker said, crossing his arms. “Well, to both of us.”
“What, because he was injured?” Sawyer asked.
“Colt’s competitive as all get-out. You don’t think he’s worked up about the fact that he was medically discharged from service? Or that he served less time than both his brothers or his father?”
Sawyer crossed his own arms, mimicking Walker. He stared off into the distance, thinking. “I can see how he’d be in his own head about that.”
“Yeah, not to mention that he’s got some physical limitations now,” Walker said. “You haven’t seen his leg, since this all happened while you were gone, but… it’s pretty bad.”
“Scarred?”
“Burned, scarred. He got hit with a spray of small IED shrapnel, and it took a good couple chunks out of his calf. His ankle is pretty busted up too, with burns and scars from where they put that steel rod in.”
Sawyer gave a low whistle. “That’s tough.”
“Yeah,” Walker said, shaking his head. “And he refuses to talk about it, won’t even acknowledge that it happened.”
“PTSD?” Sawyer asked.
Walker gave him a hard look. “Not like yours.”
“Mmm,” Sawyer said, nodding. “Good for him.”
They were both quiet for a minute, Sawyer lost in thoughts of Colt. He wished like anything that he could’ve come home when Colt was in the hospital, but The Colonel hadn’t even told Sawyer or Walker about it until after Colt had moved back home.
“This tomcatting around thing he does, sleeping with any cute girl who’ll look his way,” Sawyer said after a moment. “You think that’s the same thing, him trying to compensate?”
Walker arched a brow. “Now who’s the psychologist?”
“Hey, I’m the oldest brother. That’s my thing. You’re the smart one, Colt’s the wild child. Let’s all just stick to our roles, huh?”
Something dark flashed across Walker’s expression as he touched the brim of his hat.
“I hope and pray every single day that we’re more than just our past,” he said.
“Walker, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t even bring up—”
“Let’s get moving, huh?” Walker said, cutting him off abruptly.
Sawyer followed Walker back to the horses, letting silence reign. Apparently Colt wasn’t the only one who was working through some issues. Though Walker’s troubles were harder to see, since his scars were on his heart, rather than on his leg.
“I’ll take the middle,” Walker said, riding off without another word.
Sawyer rode east, decidedly happy for a bit of his own company. The day grew hotter and hotter, his body started to ache from riding, and his fingers sore from working the pliers and wire.
Still, he savored it. His job in D.C. was satisfying in some ways, knowing he was making a difference in the lives of young soldiers. But it called for a lot of meetings, conferences, long days in offices where he hardly saw the sun.
This kind of physical work brought out his innermost soldier. The part of him that loved a challenge, the part that pushed through the pain to achieve a goal.
When he’d done several miles of posts, the sun passing its zenith and starting to slide downward, he decided to head back to the main house. The ride was a little uncomfortable, his back and butt less than appreciative of Pericles’
“I’m going all the way down to the end. We don’t need to be this close,” he said.
“Colt—” Walker said, but it was too late.
Colt turned and nudged his horse into a trot, leaving them behind. Sawyer made a face at his brother’s retreating back.
“He’ll never grow up,” he sighed.
“Don’t do that,” Walker said, giving Sawyer a hard look. “Don’t infantilize him.”
“He’s being a child. There’s nothing to psychoanalyze there, brainiac.”
“I’m just pointing out the obvious, if you take a second to think about it. He’s reacting to you coming home,” Walker said, crossing his arms. “Well, to both of us.”
“What, because he was injured?” Sawyer asked.
“Colt’s competitive as all get-out. You don’t think he’s worked up about the fact that he was medically discharged from service? Or that he served less time than both his brothers or his father?”
Sawyer crossed his own arms, mimicking Walker. He stared off into the distance, thinking. “I can see how he’d be in his own head about that.”
“Yeah, not to mention that he’s got some physical limitations now,” Walker said. “You haven’t seen his leg, since this all happened while you were gone, but… it’s pretty bad.”
“Scarred?”
“Burned, scarred. He got hit with a spray of small IED shrapnel, and it took a good couple chunks out of his calf. His ankle is pretty busted up too, with burns and scars from where they put that steel rod in.”
Sawyer gave a low whistle. “That’s tough.”
“Yeah,” Walker said, shaking his head. “And he refuses to talk about it, won’t even acknowledge that it happened.”
“PTSD?” Sawyer asked.
Walker gave him a hard look. “Not like yours.”
“Mmm,” Sawyer said, nodding. “Good for him.”
They were both quiet for a minute, Sawyer lost in thoughts of Colt. He wished like anything that he could’ve come home when Colt was in the hospital, but The Colonel hadn’t even told Sawyer or Walker about it until after Colt had moved back home.
“This tomcatting around thing he does, sleeping with any cute girl who’ll look his way,” Sawyer said after a moment. “You think that’s the same thing, him trying to compensate?”
Walker arched a brow. “Now who’s the psychologist?”
“Hey, I’m the oldest brother. That’s my thing. You’re the smart one, Colt’s the wild child. Let’s all just stick to our roles, huh?”
Something dark flashed across Walker’s expression as he touched the brim of his hat.
“I hope and pray every single day that we’re more than just our past,” he said.
“Walker, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t even bring up—”
“Let’s get moving, huh?” Walker said, cutting him off abruptly.
Sawyer followed Walker back to the horses, letting silence reign. Apparently Colt wasn’t the only one who was working through some issues. Though Walker’s troubles were harder to see, since his scars were on his heart, rather than on his leg.
“I’ll take the middle,” Walker said, riding off without another word.
Sawyer rode east, decidedly happy for a bit of his own company. The day grew hotter and hotter, his body started to ache from riding, and his fingers sore from working the pliers and wire.
Still, he savored it. His job in D.C. was satisfying in some ways, knowing he was making a difference in the lives of young soldiers. But it called for a lot of meetings, conferences, long days in offices where he hardly saw the sun.
This kind of physical work brought out his innermost soldier. The part of him that loved a challenge, the part that pushed through the pain to achieve a goal.
When he’d done several miles of posts, the sun passing its zenith and starting to slide downward, he decided to head back to the main house. The ride was a little uncomfortable, his back and butt less than appreciative of Pericles’
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