Eventually, the sobs taper off.She takes a shuddering breath and pulls back just enough to look at me.Her eyes are red and swollen, her face blotchy from crying.
She's never looked more beautiful.
"Sorry," she says, her voice hoarse.
"Don't apologize."
"I just fell apart on you."
"You're allowed."
"I'm a Marine.I'm supposed to be tougher than this."
"You are tough.The toughest person I know."I brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb."But even Marines are allowed to break down after what you've been through."
She lets out a breath that's half laugh, half sob."I thought I'd feel different.Now that it's over.I thought I'd feel free or relieved or something.But I just feel empty."
"That'll change.Give it time."
"How much time?"
"As much as you need."
She's quiet for a moment, then she says, "He's really gone?"
"Yeah.He's done.He's not coming back.And even if he tries, he'll have to go through me.And Vincent.And Jonah.And Buddy and Sinclair.You're not alone anymore.You've got a whole team of people who've got your back."
Her eyes fill with tears again."Why?Why do you all care so much?"
"Because you're worth caring about.Because you're one of us.A soldier.A survivor.Someone who deserves better than what she got."
"I don't know how to accept that."
"Then learn.Because I'm not going anywhere.And I'm going to keep telling you until you believe it."
She kisses me.Soft at first—testing, questioning.Then her hands fist in my shirt and she's pulling me closer.
I kiss her back, trying to show her what I can't say.That I'd burn the world down to keep her safe.That she's everything.
When we break apart, her pupils are blown wide, her chest heaving.
"Take me to bed," she whispers."I need to feel alive."
I know what she means.After combat, after staring down death, you need proof you survived.
I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist instinctively.She's clinging to me, face buried in my neck, breathing hard.I can feel her trembling.
In the bedroom, I set her down gently.She doesn't let go immediately.
"Hey."I cup her face, tilting it up."We've got time.No rush."
"I just—" She closes her eyes."I need you close."
"I'm not going anywhere."
She takes a shaky breath, then pulls back.Her hands go to the hem of her shirt, and she strips it off.No bra.Just bare skin and the evidence of a life hard-lived—scars she's earned, ink she's chosen.
The tattoo on her hip catches my eye.Semper Fi.Always faithful.
