He turned to me with an audible exhale. “Make me a list, you naughty little elf, and Santa will try to bring you a Christmas wish.”
Chapter 8
LUCY
The large firepit sat steady on a concrete slab, easy to use once Sam piled the wood near the bottom before turning to me with an outstretched hand. I returned the gesture, planting my hand in his, and was met with a deep-rooted laugh.
“As much as I want to hold your hand, I was asking for a lighter.”
Oh shit.
I smiled sheepishly his way, guilty of forgetting we had nothing in the first place.
“Really, Lu. Christ. This is why you can’t be up here by yourself.”
With a huff, the brittle snow crackled under his feet as he took long strides toward his truck, coming back after a few minutes with a camouflage pouch. It only took him a moment to pull out a small firestarting kit and get the fire going, so we didn’t freeze.
I looked at him with furrowed brows. It was convenient. Almost like having an extra makeup bag in my car.
“Ask any service member. Everyone has one,” he defended.
I held my hands up. “No judgment here. You saved the fire.”
We set the bench back a little way from the pit, facing the fire, and sat down. Sam seemed tense, drastically changing from how he'd been moments before. He was quiet as he sat beside me, his knee bouncing every so often.
Frankly, I had forgiven him a long time ago, but there was something about seeing him in the flesh that brought back my unresolved feelings. The constant fluttering in my chest, I hadn’t felt it in so long. I wanted to catch the feeling in the palm of my hand and protect it.
There was also the possibility I was breaking my own heart by letting him touch every inch of my body, something I would have to face eventually.
“Sam, why the Marines when you could have picked any other branch?” I whispered out of genuine curiosity.
My fingers traced along the sleeve of my jacket, playing with an out-of-place string as I sat and waited patiently for the answer.
His brows knit together as he opened his mouth a few times to speak. From where I sat, his jaw was sharp, defined as it tightened. Maybe I could get him to talk to me, tell me something he's buried.
Moving my hand along his arm, I rested it on his bicep. His muscles were tense under my fingers, his face blank, and remaining on the fire.
I knew better. He was masking.
He needed to know I would be there. What better way than to try and share some tactics I use when I get anxious? I barely registered his voice as I dug through my jacket pocket for the sour candy.
“They didn’t give up on me,” he muttered.
“What?”
A soft chuckle rolled off Sam’s lips as he motioned to my pocket. I pulled out a piece and handed it to him, waiting for an answer.
“What do you mean?”
Warmth enveloped me as Sam reached his arm around and pulled me into his side.
There it was, that pounding against my ribcage.
I turned to face him, and icy blue eyes were already on me, seemingly trying to find the words to say.
“My D.I. never let me fail. You know I hated authority growing up, but this, Lu. It's different when I had people who never gave up on me, even when I’d given up on myself. Aside from loving you, serving was the best decision I could’ve ever made. I became a leader, confident leader. Something I never thought was possible.”
“Do you know the real reason why I didn’t come home with Marco?”
