All of which were delivered. There’s no need to pretend anymore. Is there?
Except. I’m in love with my wife, and I don’t have the guts to confess my feelings to her.
I’ve gone on missions where one wrong move meant death.
I’ve dragged brothers out of danger and stared down enemies without blinking.
I’ve faced corporate predators who’d sell their own blood for a profit.
But none of it prepared me for this feeling of being torn apart from inside.
There’s no need to accept that, for the first time, there’s something in my life that feels more important than myself and what I need.
I glance sideways to find her looking out the window. She’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and has her hair put up in a messy bun with tendrils escaping that frame her face. That familiar lurch of my heart, the one I’m not used to yet, takes me by surprise.
No, what I feel for her is not simple at all.
And I have a sinking feeling that it might be too late to put distance between us. But I have to try.
"Ten minutes to landing," the pilot’s voice comes over our earphones.
Suddenly, the chopper pitches to the side, then dips as if the bottom has fallen out of the world.
She gasps and grips the armrests. My heart threatens to leap out of my rib cage, and all I can think to do is grab her and hold her close.
Then the helicopter straightens out. It regains altitude, then levels out. It’s flying along now like that brush with turbulence never happened.
"Sorry, folks. Bit of wind shear. Caught us off guard, but all good now," the pilot apologizes.
Some of the tension slides from me, but my muscles refuse to relax completely. My heart feels like it’s in my throat. My cheat heaves, and each inhale scrapes against my throat. I have her head pushed into my chest, and for a few seconds, she stays there.
I sense her trembling and run my fingers down her hair.
"It’s fine. You heard the pilot. We’re okay."
She nods. Takes in a few breaths. She doesn’t let go of me, and I don’t release her, either.
I tuck her head under my chin and absorb her nearness. It was a patch of rough weather. I’ve faced much worse on my tours as a Royal Marine. But that had beenmein the line of fire. That, I can cope with.
The thought of anything happening to her, though, is unbearable. It sets my heart racing and my pulse rate multiplying all over again.
She must feel my agitation for she runs slow circles over my back. Her touch is soothing. The gentleness of her touch a balm for my ragged nerves. Slowly, the rest of the tension fades away. But I don’t let go of her. And to my relief, she doesn’t try to break free of my embrace either.
Once we land, I help her off the chopper.
Our bags are unloaded, and I thank the pilot, who apologizes again for the rough ride. I wave him off, it’s not his fault, and really, it barely lasted a few seconds. But it was enough to turn my world upside down. I can’t seem to let go of her hand as I walk her to the waiting car.
Once inside, though, I take refuge in the length of the back seat between us.
Coward.
The fresh burst of confused feelings inside of me doesn’t let me start a conversation or look at her.
I sense her shift restlessly in her seat and look at me a few times. But I pretend not to notice. I keep my gaze firmly on the passing scenery. Once we reach home, my manners don’t allow me to leave her behind. I make sure to be the first out of the car and wave the chauffeur off to open her door. She doesn’t look at me as she gets out of the car and precedes me to the house.
I should carry her over the threshold. This is the first time we’re coming home after the wedding. And this is her home as much as mine. I do want her to feel comfortable here. Only I’m unable to get the words out.
The incident on the chopper has revealed the depths of my feelings for her, and that’s confused me further.
