“I never stopped loving you,” I confess, my lower lip trembling with nerves. “Not for a single day. Even when I hated you. Even when I told myself I was over it. You were always… there.”
He stares back at me in silence, and my heart races with fear that doesn’t feel the same as it has done for a decade. That he’ll reject me, because this is nothing more than a fleeting fling. Cupping my face, he leans in until his forehead is pressed to mine and his breath is fanning across my lips.
“Say it again,” he whispers, almost pleading for me to repeat myself. Like he doesn’t believe the words he just heard.
“I love you.” I take a deep breath and slowly expel it. “I’ve always loved you.”
His hand slides along my jaw, his thumb tilting my chin just enough for his mouth to capture mine. The kiss starts soft—hesitant—almost reverent. Within seconds, it deepens, turning fierce and hungry. His fingers twine with my hair, fisting it as I clutch at his shoulders.
It’s not gentle. It’syearsof anger and longing and regret colliding. It’s the ache of every night I cried myself to sleep, wondering if he’d moved on. It’s the way his tongue slides against mine, rough and unrestrained. It’s him trying to reclaim something he lost. The same thing I want most to give back to him…Me.
When we finally break apart, I’m panting, my heart racing. His eyes are glassy, his voice wrecked when he shares, “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” He tugs me closer again, his body curving around mine until I’m half on top of him, the skin of his thigh hot against the cum-dampened panties pressing against my pussy.
When he finally speaks, it’s barely audible. “I can’t lose you again, Reese.”
“You won’t,” I insist. “Not this time.”
He looks like he wants to argue, to tell me it’s not that simple. But he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales, long and slow, his hand tracing my back in steady, grounding strokes until my eyelids start to droop. I press my face against his chest, breathing in the scent of him—oak, cardamom, andhome.
“Get some sleep.” He softly peppers the words across my forehead. His arm tightens protectively around me as I let myself sink deeper into him, still waiting for him to return my sentiment. “I’ll protect you.”
Reese is curled against me, her head resting on my chest and one arm draped across my ribs like she’s holding me in place in her sleep. Her breathing is slow and even, a soft rise and fall that should pull me under with her, but it doesn’t. My eyes stay fixed on the ceiling of the tent, watching the shadows shift as the lantern outside flickers low.
This isn’t what the desert is supposed to smell like. It’s supposed to reek of sweat, diesel, and gun oil. Yet, my nostrils are flooded with the sweet scent of vanilla.Of her. Closing my eyes, I almost feel like I’m somewhere else.
Outside, I can hear the low hum of conversation—Jagger’s easy laugh, Gunnar’s quiet grunt of response. Damon’s voice murmurs something about a patrol route. It’s nothing unusual for a mission, but the normalcy of it feels alien. Because I can’t stop thinking about the woman in my arms and all the years I spent convincing myself I’d never hold her again.
She shifts slightly, her thigh brushing against mine, and warmth seeps into every place I’d thought had gone cold. I tighten my arm around her, splaying my hand against her back and wishing the thin cotton of my T-shirt wasn’t keeping me from touching her creamy skin. She sighs softly, almost a moan, and something in my chest twists so tight it’s hard to breathe.
“I was going to marry you,” I whisper to myself as she sleeps. Maybe that’s for the best. I don’t think I could handle seeing her eyes if she had heard that—wide, shining, and full of the kind of I don’t know if I have anymore. The memory slips in before I can stop it.
The heat is brutal, leaving the air drier than usual. It’s thick and heavy, making every inhale feel like breathing through sand. I squint against the sun as I take advantage of the rare day off, making my way through the small crowd downtown. It’s my last chance to make this trip before we head home in a couple of weeks. Until I get to see Reese.
She sent me a photo last week: my gorgeous girl trying on her cap and gown. Her smile was so bright, I could almost feel her warmth through the screen of my laptop.
Underneath it was a short message: “Don’t you dare miss this. You promised.”
I did. I promised I’d be back from this deployment in time to watch her graduate. I wouldn’t miss watching her walk across the stage at NYU for anything.
A few kilometers outside the base, I duck into a little shop, the kind of building that looks out of place amid the dust and barbed wire. Air conditioning rumbles inside, and the glass counters gleam under the fluorescent lights. Behind them stands a wiry Afghan man in a suit far too warm for this heat.
He opens the display for me, pulling out a few trays for me to look at. It doesn’t take me long, because the perfect ring finds me the second it hits the glass counter. It’s not traditional, not even a diamond. The princess-cut emerald is the color of Reese’s eyes, and it couldn’t be any more perfect. It’s different, but so is she.
“For someone special?” the jeweler asks with a smile, setting it in a small velvet box.
“The only special someone.”
Tucking the box into my pocket, I see the life I wanted. Reese finishing college. The two of us buying a little house wherever she finds a job. Anywhere, as long as it is far from sand, blood, and ghosts. It’s not just the life I want, it’s the life I want with her.
Just a couple more weeks, and I’ll never have to choose between the job and her again.
I blink up at the canvas roof, feeling the weight of the years pressing against my chest. That ring never made it onto her finger, because a few days later, my world split open.
Mattis got hit by the IED blast on our final mission. I can still hear the explosion and feel the ground shake beneath us. But more than anything, I can taste the copper tang in the air as his blood fills the Humvee. He was my brother long before he was my tech genius back home, and nearly losing him…
I thought that would be the worst thing we saw that night.
But it wasn’t. Not even close.
