SEALed Under the Mistletoe

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

KNOX

K nox stood before the mirror, fiddling with his tie. His fingers, always steady in the field when pointing his weapon, seemed to be all thumbs now. With a frustrated sigh, he dropped his hands to his sides, glaring at his own reflection. He wasn’t an insecure man, nor was he cocky. He knew he wasn’t God’s gift to women, but he wasn’t bad looking either. He’d been lanky in high school, bulked up and worked out after. Now, his build was solid. As soon as he’d been able after being shot, he started working out again. He’d lost a few pounds of muscle while in the hospital but nothing dramatic. Before leaving for the airport to head to Colorado, he’d got a fresh haircut and cleaned up his beard.

“Get it together, man,” he muttered under his breath. “It's just dinner. She’s just a girl.”

But he knew better. It wasn’t just a dinner, and Vickie wasn’t just a girl. It was the first time he'd see Vickie in three years. The anticipation in his stomach twisted itself into knots, a mixture of eagerness and dread. He was familiar with the emotion; it was the same he felt before he went out on a mission. This wasn’t a dangerous mission he was about to embark on. Not, physically dangerous anyway.

He rubbed his hands down his thighs, attempting to dispel the tension. It was the first time he’d see her in three years. Three years of silence, unanswered questions. When they’d seen each other earlier in the lobby, her reaction had thrown him. Did he catch a flicker of anger in her eyes before she’d forced a polite smile? The thought gnawed at him. Could she still be upset that he’d left her in the middle of the night all those years ago? Admittedly the timing sucked. He hadn't exactly chosen to leave—it was an urgent mission, an American diplomat and his family held hostage. Yet somehow, explaining that didn’t seem like it would be enough.

Was she not the person he thought her to be? If she couldn’t handle him being called out on rescue missions, how would she tolerate the military lifestyle? Had she found the note he’d left? He’d put it right on the pillow beside her head, obvious enough that she couldn’t miss it. But if she hadn’t seen it… if something strange had happened and it’d fallen or been misplaced… What if she thought he’d simply walked out on her? A sense of urgency built in his chest. He needed to talk to her. All these what-ifs were tearing him apart.

A sharp knock broke him from his thoughts. “You ready, Knox?” Carson’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” He stepped into the hallway to greet Carson and Campbell.

Carson gave him a quick once-over. “Hell, look at you all cleaned up. It’s like you’re a different man.”

Knox rolled his eyes, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before you start thinking you’re funny.”

As they made their way down the hallway, the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drifted from the dining hall, growing louder with each step. The scent of roasted meat filled the air, making Knox’s stomach rumble in spite of the nerves churning within him. They stopped in front of the heavy double doors, carved wood with brass handles polished to a high shine. He could almost feel the buzz of energy from the other side, the anticipation of the evening’s festivities.

Just as he reached for the door handle, it swung open, and his brothers slipped inside ahead of him, past the person heading out.

Then, the world seemed to slow. Vickie stepped into the hallway, her emerald green dress catching the warm glow of the chandeliers. The satin clung to her curves, accentuating every line, every angle he remembered so well. She was even more beautiful than he remembered —she seemed more composed, more confident. She froze when she saw him, her mouth parting in surprise. The smile she’d been wearing faded, replaced with an unreadable expression.

Knox froze, his breath catching in his throat.

Damn.

She was fucking gorgeous. Remembering how each one of those curves tasted, his cock stirred uncomfortably in his pants.

Vickie's eyes widening. “Knox?” she whispered.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Vickie…” His tone was rougher than intended. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “I… Uh… You look… amazing.”

She blinked, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks as she glanced down at her dress. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

They stood there for a moment, the awkwardness between them almost palpable. Knox's mind raced, searching for something to say that wouldn't sound completely idiotic. This was not the time or the place for the discussion about their past.

After a moment, he cleared his throat again. “Are you… leaving?” It sounded wrong the second he said it, and he immediately wished he could take it back.

Vickie’s brows knitted together. “Leaving?” She looked from him to the door. “No… no, I was just going to check on Grams. Make sure she didn’t need help getting to dinner.”

“Oh.” Knox rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot. “That’s… nice of you. I don’t remember you mentioning her before. Are you two close?” He thought back to their night together, the conversations that had stretched until dawn. They’d talked about everything. Although they spent hours talking, there was so much more he didn’t know, but wanted to, about her.

“Yes, very close. She’s had some health issues, so I moved in with her. It’s been a crazy year,” a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Still in California?” He wanted to kick himself for the inane question, but he was desperate to keep her talking.

“No, actually. I moved out to where she lives.” She hesitated, then tilted her head, her gaze searching his. “Did you… come here alone?”

Knox’s pulse quickened. Was she asking if he’d brought a date? “To dinner?” He tried to keep his tone casual.

“No,” she said, a little flustered. “To the wedding.”

A grin tugged at his lips. So, she was curious, it was a good sign. “Just me and my brothers.” He paused. “You?”

“Just me and Grams.” Her voice softened as she mentioned her grandmother, her fingers absently tracing a fold in her dress. He could tell by her reaction that she was very fond of her grandmother.

They stood in silence, surrounded by the hum of voices and clinking glasses from the dining hall. The unspoken words, the hurt, and the misunderstandings hung heavy between them, thickening the air until it felt almost suffocating.

Knox opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a voice called out from inside the dining hall.

“Hey, you two! Are you coming in or what? We're about to start without you!” Melody called, oblivious to the tension. He didn’t miss the little wink she sent Vickie.

Vickie jumped slightly, as if broken from a trance. “You should... probably head in,” she said, gesturing towards the door. “I’m going to go make sure Grams is okay.”

Knox nodded, stepping aside to let her pass. As she brushed by, the scent of her perfume—a delicate mix of vanilla and something he couldn’t place—wrapped around him, pulling him back to that night. He inhaled, steadying himself, before going inside, wondering how he’d get through the evening without losing his mind.

Once inside, the rich scent of roasted garlic, rosemary, and butter drifted through the room, mingling with the sweet notes of champagne being poured. Knox’s gaze swept over the dining hall, a lavish space filled with candlelight, elegant red and gold Christmas decor, and tables draped in crisp white linen.

Knox scanned the room, his eyes quickly finding his assigned seat at a table near the center. He made his way over, nodding politely to the other guests as he passed. As he pulled out his chair, he couldn't help but glance across the room to where Vickie was settling in at her own table, surrounded by her siblings.

“Earth to Knox,” Campbell said, accompanied by a gentle elbow to his ribs. “You going to sit down or just stand there all night?”

Knox blinked, turning to see Carson grinning up at him. He sank into his chair, grateful for the distraction. “Sorry, man. Just taking in the scene.”

“Uh-huh,” Campbell replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I'm sure that scene has nothing to do with a certain brunette across the room.”

Knox felt heat creep up his neck. “Shut up,” he muttered, reaching for his water glass, grateful for something to focus on, even if his eyes kept straying to the other side of the room, where Vickie sat with her siblings.

Campbell smirked, nudging him again. “Man, you’re so obvious. Thought you’d be better at hiding it.”

Knox rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of water. “What are you, twelve?”

As the appetizers were served, his gaze betrayed him, drifting back to Vickie as she threw her head back, laughing at something her brother had said. Her laughter echoed faintly across the room, and for a moment, Knox forgot everyone around him. Her skin glowed in the candlelight, her cheeks flushed with joy, and he found himself captivated by the way she looked, so at ease and alive. He wanted to be the one sitting next to her, making her laugh. Her head was thrown back, exposing the graceful curve of her neck.

God, she was beautiful.

As if she sensed his gaze, Vickie suddenly looked up. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Vickie studied him and then, with a slight frown, looked away. She appeared confused, almost conflicted. Knox exhaled slowly, his mind whirling. What was going on? What had he done? Nothing made sense. The letter he’d left must have fallen to the floor. She must have felt like he ghosted her completely. Used her for sex. Fuck. If she thought he was the type of guy who’d just walk out after a night together, she couldn’t be more wrong. He needed to get her alone and explain.

As the main course arrived, Knox found himself only half-listening to the conversations around him. The taste of roasted beef and potatoes barely registered as he replayed their brief conversation, the pain in her eyes.

His thoughts were filled with questions and no answers. What if she didn’t believe him? What if she thought he was a player? A man who used women and ran off? Would she listen to him? He’d never found the letter and he’d moved. Why didn’t he find it?

This time, he wouldn’t rely on words on paper or messages left behind. No more leaving things to chance. This time, he would look her in the eye, tell her everything, and let her decide. Whatever it took, he’d fight for her. For what should have been.