Remember When (Teach Me Book 3) Read online

“Then, I need some clarification, man.” Miller knew his tone was edgy but he couldn’t help it.

  Doc rolled his lips inward thoughtfully before speaking. “I’m saying that maybe you both needed to grow as individuals. If you had stayed together while you were in BUD/S and all through training, who’s to say something else wouldn’t have happened to come between you?”

  He tossed a quick glance at Miller before turning his attention back to the busy interstate. “Maybe you both needed to go off on your own and become your own people, experience some bad. Because, from what I can tell, you both experienced a whole hell of a lot of good when you were together. So maybe there was no balance. You needed yin and yang.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now with this shit?” Miller ran a hand over his face wearily. “I was ready to marry her and you’re telling me that we didn’t have enough bad in our lives? So the Universe tore us apart?”

  “Yeah, about that …” Doc hesitated. “I’ve really got a feeling someone played a part in it.”

  Miller stared at him in disbelief.

  His friend shrugged and continued. “Just a feeling, man.”

  “Yeah,” Miller muttered, “just a feeling.” Because every single guy in Special Ops that he’d ever known knew one certainty. And that certainty was, if you got “a feeling” about something, chances were it was ninety-nine point nine percent legitimate.

  “So. Moving on.” Doc changed lanes to get around some moron who was doing forty-five on the section of I-95 which was clearly marked with seventy mile per hour speed limit signs. “What is your game plan?”

  “I don’t have a game plan.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t have a game plan?” Even though his concentration and gaze was on navigating the vehicle around the traffic surrounding them, Miller could see his friend’s brows furrow.

  “Just what I said.”

  “Dude. That’s a bad idea.”

  He blew out an exasperated breath as he watched the scenery go by. “Go ahead and tell me why.”

  “Because you love her.”

  His head whipped around. “What?”

  With a tone much more subdued than normal, Doc spoke. “Vaughn, I hate to break it to you, but I was there. I was in that fucking sandbox right alongside you. Not to mention, we’re trained to pick up on shit people don’t want us to see.”

  And if those cryptic words weren’t enough, what he said next did him in.

  “I know about the pic.”

  Fuuuuuuck. Narrowing his gaze on his friend, Miller’s tone was quiet, lethal. “How do you know about that?”

  “Hendy said he once caught sight of you stuffing it into one of the pockets of your vest before a mission.” He paused. “I may have snooped a bit and checked it out.”

  “What the fuck, man?” Miller stared, incredulously.

  “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for snooping. I was curious to know who the secret woman was.”

  Miller slammed his head back against the head rest of the seat, eyes closed on a wince. “Shit.”

  “We all agreed that it was selfish of you to keep that pic to yourself.”

  Miller whipped his head around to stare at Doc. “We?”

  “Yeah. Me and the rest of the guys.”

  “Oh, holy fuck,” he muttered.

  “Although, I have to say, she got more beautiful with age.”

  He eyed him, as if warily assessing his friend’s sincerity. “Yeah,” he answered slowly.

  “I’m serious. She is one beautiful woman.”

  Miller let out a loud sigh, not responding.

  “And you still love her.”

  He stared out his window.

  “Might as well admit it. That way we can include you in on the wagering that’s going on.”

  “I don’t even want to know what wager you’re talking about,” Miller muttered.

  “It’s a wager on whether or not you’ll be able to get Tate back.”

  He leaned his head against the glass of the vehicle’s window. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Dare I ask where you put your money?”

  “Pfffft. I put it on you getting her back, of course.”

  “Of course,” Miller repeatedly drily.

  They drove in silence for a few more miles. Finally, Doc’s voice shattered the stillness. “Okay, I have to admit, I recently switched my money over to be in your favor. Because, I have to be honest, man. It didn’t look good in the beginning.”

  “Riiiiiight.” Miller shot him a look.

  They were silent as Doc got off the exit for Fernandina Beach and turned onto Highway A1A.

  “I’m a firm believer that people who are meant to be together will find their way back to one another.” His friend braked at the stoplight at the intersection and turned to cast a glance at him. “Sometimes, there are just some detours along the way.”

  Miller held Doc’s gaze, recognizing the sincerity in his friend’s eyes. Nodding slowly, he felt his own lips curve into a smirk. Before he could say anything, Doc interrupted him.

  “Tell anyone I said any of that shit and I’ll hide the good coffee Noelle likes.” Raising an eyebrow, he added, “And we all know she’ll blame Fos and their bickering will make everyone stabby as shit.”

  Miller stared at his friend, horrified. “I can’t believe you’d actually consider doing that.”

  Doc shrugged, turning his attention to the road as the light turned green. “Dude, it’s just a CYA kind of thing. You know that.”

  Cover Your Ass. Yep, he knew all about that. There had been a ton of that going around when they’d served in the Teams.

  “How’d you get to be so smart? When I grow up, I want to be just like you.” Miller flashed him a grin.

  A cocky smile spread across Doc’s face. “Dreams are good to have, Vaughn. Dreams are good to have.”

  * * *

  November twelfth.

  Tate was sitting on the beach, knees bent, arms wrapped around them as the sound of the crashing waves surrounded her. But it was all merely white noise.

  November twelfth. It really didn’t matter how much time had passed. When you don’t get the chance to say good-bye to the people you loved more than anything in the world, it often turns out to be like one of those cuts that had just begun to heal closed. And then you go and end up reopening it somehow.

  Every year on this date, she already had a substitute teacher set up well in advance, lesson plans prepared. And, every year, she hoped things would get a little easier. They had started to edge into the realm of being a smidge less painful. That didn’t sound like much of an improvement, but when one was dealing with a loss this great, even the smallest improvements were something to be noted.

  Until Miller Vaughn’s presence brought everything back full force. Damn him.

  She had always loved the beach, loved the tranquility of the ocean, the way it always seemed to ease her tension when life didn’t go quite as planned. It was where she went every year, where she felt closest to her parents. Felt as though the majestic beauty of the ocean was like a little piece of heaven on earth.

  Her dark sunglasses hid her eyes and the slight breeze managed to dry her tears quickly as she sat there in her old pair of black yoga pants, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie to ward off the slight breeze in the “cooler” seventy-three degree Florida day.

  The day replayed in her mind. Driving back home with Cassie to stop by Miller’s mother’s house to find out why her letters were being returned. Receiving that answer paled to what had happened only twenty minutes later.

  “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Cassie had asked, worry etched on her face.

  “I’m fine,” she had answered her friend. It was a lie because she was numb. Numb from betrayal and hurt. But she knew she had to drive because it would get her mind off of what had just happened.

  Until they came across the intersection not but two miles from her parents’
house. They had been one of four cars that had encountered the scene minutes before first responders arrived. Tate recalled feeling as though her breath had been stolen from her. Because, in that moment, she saw the mangled vehicle she recognized as her father’s. The same vehicle that was far too compacted—crushed—to allow anyone to make it out alive.

  The police report stated that a driver, under the influence of a mixture of alcohol and methamphetamines, had hit them head on, driving in the wrong direction on the road, before sending her parents head on into a telephone pole. Of course, the man responsible for her parents’ death had come away from the accident unscathed, if not for a few minor cuts and scratches. Had been pulled from his own vehicle with absolutely no remorse for taking the lives of two of the most important people in her life.

  Tate vaguely recalled getting out of her vehicle and running toward her parents’ car, calling out to them; wanting desperately to believe they would still be alive. A police officer had held her back and she remembered breaking down, sobbing there on the pavement, feeling so utterly lost.

  “I miss you both so much.” Tate swallowed thickly, swiping at the rapidly descending tears on her cheeks. Resting her chin on top of her knees, she stared blindly out toward the seemingly endless ocean. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there until she sensed someone approaching. Stiffening slightly, she prayed it was simply someone out walking and not someone who wanted to stop and chat.

  Two shadows fell over her and she braced herself to face whomever was interrupting her private moment. Hell, she’d managed to make it all these years without anyone intruding upon this anniversary so maybe she had pushed her luck. Turning to face who had decided to approach her, her lips parted in shock at the individuals standing beside her.

  “What are you doing here?” Confusion laced her voice. “It’s one o’clock. And a Monday.”

  Laney made a face. “Please. Like you’re the only one who knows how to sign up for a substitute teacher.” She plopped down beside Tate, dressed in a pair of leggings and a hooded sweatshirt.

  “But, we all know what a pain it is to plan for a sub.” Tate knew she sounded like a dumbfounded idiot, but she just couldn’t understand what her friends were doing there.

  Raine tipped her head to the side, hand on her hip, the other holding a large, reusable cloth grocery bag. “Seriously, Tate? We’re not morons. We love you and,” her friend sat down on the other side of her before finishing with, “we felt like maybe you could use us today. Especially since Miller’s popped up pretty hardcore on the radar and everything.” Raine pulled out her favorite organic cheese puffs from the grocery bag as well as a small cooler bag with chilled, individual-sized boxed wines with attached straws.

  “You both took off work for me?” she asked slowly.

  “Duh,” Laney scoffed playfully, nudging Tate’s shoulder with her own. “We love you, you know.”

  Shit. She was going to start bawling. It was almost like her parents had somehow known and had sent her some help, in the form of these two ladies beside her. The same two women whom she had never actually divulged the truth about her parents.

  Feeling guilty, she began, “I’m sorry. I never really told you guys—”

  “Tate,” Raine’s tone was gentle. “We know, sweetie. We put two and two together over the years.” She grasped her hand. “No apologies necessary.”

  “Yeah, we would’ve joined you before but we felt like maybe you didn’t want us to. Until now.” Laney slung an arm around her shoulders. “But, when we both felt like we needed to be here for you, like you truly needed us this time, we had to. Figured the worst thing you could do was to send us away.”

  How did these women seem to know her better than she knew herself sometimes? Silently, she sent up a prayer of thanks. Whatever she had done to deserve them, she would be forever grateful.

  “Thanks for being here,” she whispered, managing to get the words out around the thick emotion lodged in her throat.

  Raine looped her arm through Tate’s. “As if there’s any other place we’d rather be.”

  And, as the three of them sat there on the beach on that November day, it was the very first time she had ever truly felt as though some of the burden of hurt had eased. As if these two women were shouldering part of it for her. Her two friends whom she was convinced, now more so than ever before, were put there in her life for a very specific reason.

  Perhaps they were put there by the very two people who wished they could help ease the pain of their own absence in her life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “GOT IT, ADOLPH. OH, AND your mother wanted me to remind you to bring that stuff over to Tate’s because, and I quote, ‘It’s November twelfth, Foster Bryant.’ I still fail to understand how that sweet woman gave birth to you, by the way. It’s like a Rosemary’s baby kind of thing, huh?”

  Miller’s ears perked up instantly at Noelle’s mention of Tate. Foster, still out on site, had called to check in on something. Hence the “Adolph” and “Rosemary’s Baby” references. Those two just never quit.

  But what was the deal with it being November twelfth? And what “stuff” was Foster bringing over to Tate’s? And why?

  As he continued to type up the report on the status of his and Doc’s “Surviving An Active Shooter” training with the employees at the Jacksonville International Airport, he listened to the conversation taking place. Doc had already finished up their report on Kings Bay and had left early to head home to be around for the guys installing a new A/C unit in his place. Kane was out at one of their potential sites with Langley, completing an assessment, so that had left only himself and Noelle back at the office.

  “Got it, Vader.” Miller heard her scribble something down before she gave what sounded like a cross between a snort and scoff. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You know you’d be lost without me. Get your burly ass back here and sign off on these forms, already.” She muttered another, “Mmm-hmmm,” before hanging up the phone.

  Miller continued typing, trying to concentrate on the task before him, attempting to dismiss his curiosity over the one-sided conversation he’d overhead. He had managed to get through one small section before Noelle spoke.

  “You’re over there dying to know what I was talking about, aren’t you?”

  His back to her as he worked at his desk, he let out a long sigh before turning slightly to face her. She had a barely concealed smirk on her face, leaning forward, forearms resting on her desk.

  He attempted to play it cool. “What makes you say that?”

  Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms, studying him intently. “The fact that your entire back stiffened when I mentioned Tate’s name.” Noelle’s brows raised slightly. “The way your typing paused for a split second as soon as the ‘T’ word slipped from my lips.” She grinned at him.

  Miller was caught between the urge to groan in frustration and being utterly impressed by the way Noelle had zeroed in on his reaction. Hell, maybe this woman had missed her calling.

  Swiveling his chair around to fully face her, he crossed his own arms and leaned back, mimicking her stance. “Oh? Did I?” he asked innocently with a touch of nonchalance.

  “Yes,” she imitated his tone, “you did.” Seeming pleased with herself, she added, “You want to know what I was telling Foster?”

  Giving a quick shrug of his shoulders, as if he couldn’t care less—not true, because he cared a lot—he tossed back, “If you want to tell me.”

  “Do you want me to tell you?”

  “Do you want to tell me?” he shot back.

  “Depends.”

  Fuck. Would she just spit it out already?

  “On what?”

  “On whether you’re going to channel your inner raging asshole or not.”

  “What?” He shot her a look of disbelief. “When have I ever been a raging asshole to you, Noelle?”

  She gave him a look. “You haven’t. But I’ve heard things, Vaughn. And the few tim
es I’ve encountered Tate have given me the impression that she is one hell of a woman.” She paused, eyeing him pointedly. “One hell of a woman who has quite a painful past with you.”

  Noelle got all of that from running into Tate a few times? He would never fail to be amazed by women and their ability to pick up on shit like that.

  Gazing up at the ceiling, he drew in a deep breath. Running his hands over his face, sliding into his hair, he left them to rest on top of his head. “I’m not going to turn into a raging asshole if you tell me.”

  “Promise?”

  She was killing his soul with this shit. “Promise.”

  “How much is it worth?”

  Confused, he wrinkled his brow. “What?”

  Appearing thoughtful, she tapped a finger to her lips. “You know, like is it worth bringing me in a bunch of those decadent brownies?”

  Miller stared at her. “Kane’s the one who bakes those things. I don’t.”

  “Riiiiight.” Noelle looked at him like he was slow. “And you live with him.”

  “Are you seriously extorting brownies from me—through my roommate—in exchange for information?”

  “Yep,” she answered, popping the “p”, looking pleased with herself.

  “Fine,” he breathed, exasperated. “Consider it done.”

  “All right. Apparently, every November twelfth, Foster and the crew drop off food at Tate’s place.”

  He waited. When she didn’t expand upon that answer, he gestured with his hand for her to continue. “Aaaaand?”

  She shrugged. “And that’s it. The reason why they all do it and why it’s only on this date is locked up tight. The only thing I know for sure is that it isn’t her birthday. I asked once. That’s all they’d tell me.

  “But,” she continued when he opened his mouth to speak, “I do know that it’s something pretty serious. Because they all seem so … sad when it comes up. None of the usual joking around or friendly harassment.”

  “Huh,” was all he managed as a response. What the hell was the significance of November twelfth? As much as he wracked his brain, he kept coming up blank. He didn’t recall anyone mentioning Tate and this specific date before. Then again, it wasn’t like they’d been on great terms since reentering each other’s life.