Skin Deep (4 page)

“Child support?” he asked bitterly.

She took a step back, shocked. “Is that what you think? Okay, look, fine. Forget I said anything.” Erin followed the path her dad had taken. “When and if you ever want to meet him,” she threw back over her shoulder. “Let me know.”

“I don’t have your number,” he yelled after her.

“You’re a SEAL. Improvise!”

Once the Navy reared its arrogant head, there was no talking normal human logic. It was as if they wore military blinders and quit speaking English. She turned and walked away. Finding her keys, she unlocked her car, started it up, and headed home. Her dad had managed to bungle the moment. Tears of frustration burned behind her eyes, but she refused to cry.

What was worse was realizing that Hotch still had an effect on her. That sex with him after the funeral may have been equal parts grief and attraction. Okay, so there was no actual doubt that Hotch was sexier than hell. The man wore confidence like second skin, and the vulnerability in his eyes the night they’d laid Troy to rest had joined with her grief so perfectly that it spoke to her soul on a level she’d never known with another man.

Time, distance, hadn’t changed it. His time on deployment seemed to have put a harder edge on him, but Hotch was still the dark haired, aqua-eyed hunk she remembered. Her mind filled with her son, drawing a smile from her. Besides, she was predisposed to be a soft touch for a guy who looked exactly like her son. From coloring, to the dimple in his cheek, the subtle cleft in his chin, to the lopsided smile. Toby’s was mostly toothless, but he was a dead-ringer for his father.

She gave the car door a hardy slam when she arrived at the small home where she lived with her mother and son. Her mother was waiting at the open door for her, a look of concern on her face.

“It went that well?” she asked sympathetically.

Erin sighed her exasperation as she walked toward her mom. “How’s Toby?”

“Asleep.”

Erin hugged her. “Thank you for watching him again.”

“For my grandson? Any time.” She hugged her back and stepped aside to let Erin in. “What happened when you told him?”

Erin blushed. “I didn’t. Dad sort of did.”

“You told the commander?”

“Dad interrupted us in a—compromising—moment, accused me of trying to seduce more of his Skins again, and then mentioned Toby.”

Her mother covered her mouth, eyes wide and green above the tips of her fingers. “Heavens.”

Erin plopped onto the couch. Her mother sat beside her. “Dad’s so stubborn. He’s never going to understand that I changed. He thinks I’m still eighteen trying to make him angry by undermining his authority with a subordinate.”

“In all fairness, that was your primary mission for most of your life.”

“I know, but now I have a sweet boy in the next room and I just want him to know his father. Mine too, if dad will ever meet him,” Erin said sadly.

“Did you give him the journal copy?” her mother asked after a minute.

“Not yet.”

“You don’t have to. Troy left it to
you
, not him.”

The box. She couldn’t call it the kill-box anymore, because Troy had breathed so much of himself into that tiny treasure. Inside, there’d been an engagement letter among some other small personal items he’d left for her. One was a flashdrive. In loading it onto her laptop she’d discovered years of journal notes. It was through them that she’d seen herself and Hotch the way Troy has seen them.

“Because he planned to propose to me. He trusted me to know what to do with it.” She had rested against the couch and now she rolled her head to the side to look at her mother. “He loved Hotch like a brother. He should know that.”

She’d glimpsed the inner workings of Troy’s mind and his complete respect for the man he called his friend. If she were being honest, she’d admit to having fallen a little in love with Hotch as she finished healing after Troy’s death, and as the life Hotch had planted in her, grew each day.

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” her mother asked.

“Hmm?” Distracted from her thoughts, she refocused on her attention.

“What else is bothering you about the journal?”

“Nothing. Well, no, not nothing. I think.”

“That clears it up,” her mother teased.

Erin laughed. “Sorry. I just keep thinking that the journal was written for a reason. More than just collecting his thoughts. But toward the last few months he was alive, it’s like he’s trying to tell me something.”

“He didn’t know he was going to die, honey.”

Erin sighed softly. “True, but these guys are like dad. They’re always prepared for the possibility that the next mission is their last. They have to feel like there’s something out there carrying on their lives for them. Maybe his journal is like that. Once he knew I was in the picture, he needed me to help carry on the legacy of who he is and what he loved.”

Her mother’s expression grew sad. “I couldn’t live with that pressure. Your dad never understood why his missions left me an emotional wreck. He loves the Navy. She’s not a sharing mistress.”

“And neither were you,” Erin offered, dropping her hand on her mom’s arm.

Her mother took a deep breath and blew it out. The divorce had taken its toll on her, and Erin wished her father could see her mother like this. Maybe then, he would’ve fought a little harder to keep her.

“It doesn’t matter. When the Navy called, he went. When I called, he explained why he couldn’t come to me.” Her eyes welled up as she looked earnestly at Erin. “I want so much more for you. More for Toby. You deserve to have a man who thinks about his family first.”

“That’s why they serve, mom.”

“That’s the military line and you know it. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how many birthday parties and school plays your father missed. I’ve lost count of the number of times you cried over him. Do you want that for Toby?”

“No.”

“So maybe finding your soul mate is not the primary goal of the United States Navy. I’m sorry Troy died. I’m
not
sorry you didn’t marry him. If saying that makes me a bad person, then I can accept that.”

Erin squeezed her mother’s forearm. “It doesn’t make you bad. It makes you a mother who wants a better marriage for her daughter than she had for herself. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, honey. Give the journal to Hotch. Introduce him to Toby, then wash your hands of any involvement with the military. We can move away, if you want. I’ll come with you and we’ll have a small little family of three to support each other.”

Erin tried to smile, but the offer felt funny to her. Cutting strings definitely appealed to her, but she wanted better for Toby. She wanted Toby to know his father the way she’d never really connected with her own. Even if Hotch pushed her away, Toby deserved the right to know his father.

“No, Mom. This is your home. I’m just here until they ship out again.”

“It’s a rental. I can make my home anywhere.”

“You could, but you’d miss seeing Dad.” She bent and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll move here permanently. Toby could use a grandpa, if Dad would come to accept us.”

Erin rose and walked to Toby’s room. He cuddled under the thin blanket, fists under his chin, knees drawn so that his butt pushed up like a little snail. His dark hair, so much like his fathers, fell over his brow and she knew his beautiful aqua-blue eyes better than she knew her own reflection.

Toby broke her heart and healed it in the span of one of his quick smiles. His laughter made her days seem better and his spontaneous joy was more precious to her than anything else she’d ever experienced. If Hotch didn’t want to meet him, she could keep Toby all to herself. If he did, would Toby bond with him? Would he cry when his daddy was deployed next time?

God, would
she
? The damn journal had told her too much about the man. Stuff that she couldn’t ignore. Stuff that rationalized his attachment to the military, and stuff that made it impossible for her to leave without making sure Hotch had a chance to get involved in Toby’s life.

Hotch would be on leave in the morning, but he’d be back as soon as the Navy called. Erin would know when that was because of her father’s schedule. She brushed the baby-soft hair off Toby’s forehead and stroked down his small, round cheek. She’d give Hotch the span of his leave to get used to the idea. Then she was going to hunt him down. He could take out his frustration on her if he wanted to, but Toby was innocent. Toby was going to have the best of everything she could give him, even if that meant dealing with Hotch’s unfounded contempt.

Chapter Three

“Report for duty at oh-eight-hundred in two weeks. Keep your cell phones on in case we’re recalled sooner. Until then, Skins dismissed. Enjoy your time off, boys. You’ve deserved it,” Commander Hawking barked the next morning.

The team relaxed as they packed up their duffels and slung them over their shoulders. Commander Hawking glared at Hotch.

“Hotch. My office.”

“Yes, sir.” Hotch followed him out of the briefing room and into Commander Hawking’s office. He closed the door behind him, knowing he was in for it. You didn’t fuck the Commander’s daughter outside a bar, get caught, and expect him to high-five you. Hotch prepared for the worst.

“Sit, Lieutenant.”

Hotch dropped his bag and sat. Commander Hawking poised behind his desk as though he meant to take his seat, leaned on the surface instead. He pursed his lips and stared Hotch down for several seconds. Hotch didn’t move a muscle.

“Are you in a relationship with my daughter, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir.”

Commander Hawking’s eyes narrowed. “How would you classify what happened behind Hell’s Dune?”

Hotch couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable than if Command Hawking had witnessed the whole thing in full lighting. It took everything in him not to squirm.

“I asked you a direct question, Lieutenant. I expect a direct answer.”

“Yes, sir.” Hotch’s ears burned with a blush. “It was a hook up, sir.”

Commander Hawking seemed to have some difficulty containing his rage. His lips worked as his cheeks turned ruddy. His fingers curled onto the desktop. Finally, he stood, clasping his hands behind his back.

“She’s a mother, for God’s sake.”

“Yes, sir.”

“She has a pattern, Lieutenant. She likes to make me angry. Always has. She picks men from my teams for that reason. It’s not love, son. It’s emotional butchery.”

Hotch frowned.

“You’ve been a
Skins
for five years, Hotch.” Commander Hawking seemed to have gotten control of his anger. He let the formality slide into off-duty conversation. “Why would you hook up with my daughter?”

“Permission to speak freely?” Hotch asked, just to be sure he’d read his commander correctly.

Hawking waved a hand. “Of course.” He sounded tired, disappointed.

It was the disappointment that made this conversation so difficult. Hotch respected Hawking. Hotch had spent his Naval career improving until he knew he was ready for the SEALs. Even in those days, he knew Hawking was as tough as they got.

Hotch had wanted to be assigned to him. He’d had a sense of relief when Hawking barked orders all the way through training. Disappointing him hurt. Yet truth would be respected. Hotch wasn’t looking forward to this confession.

“I met her at Nebraska’s funeral. I knew her before last night.”

“Why would she be at his funeral?” Hawking asked.

“They were dating, sir. Nebraska bought a ring. They were going to get married.”

Commander Hawking sat heavily in his chair.

“We were both upset,” Hotch continued. He didn’t relish the idea of telling the Commander that last night hadn’t been the first time he’d had sex with Erin. He’d have to eventually, considering the Commander didn’t seem to know the child was Hotch’s.

“Same tricks, over and over,” he said tiredly. “I didn’t do such a great job raising her, Hotch.”

“With all due respect, she’s an amazing woman. Or, I thought so until last night.” Hotch shook his head wondering how the same incredible woman Nebraska had talked about could be the same vindictive bitch the commander talked about.

“Stay away from Erin. I’ll take it personally if you don’t.” Hawking’s quiet words didn’t have the resonance of a threat, but they were. You didn’t burn the commander. You certainly didn’t do it twice if he gave you another shot.

“What about your grandson, sir?”

Commander Hawking stiffened. “What about him?”

“She said he’s mine. I don’t know how to be a parent, sir, but involvement may be required.”

Hawking’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Yours? When you said she was at Nebraska’s funeral, I thought that meant he was Nebraska’s. Now you’re telling me he’s yours.”

Hawking leaned forward again.

“I take it when you met at the funeral you weren’t shaking hands, Lieutenant.” His words snapped at Hotch.