“I’ll agree on one condition.” He sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Wego. You tell her. Then we’re gone. Out. Clear. I mean it, Reese.”
“I know.”
“I’m not letting you stay in this country another night.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He gives me a skeptical look, like he’s waiting for me to change my mind, then says, “We leave in an hour, and then we’re on a flight tonight.”
By early afternoon, we’re bouncing down a makeshift dirt road in a borrowed Humvee. It’s hot as hell. Blinding heat is radiating off the sand, blurring the route before us. The sun is beating down hard through the windshield, and the sad little AC unit can’t keep up with our demand. Chris drives in silence, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gearshift. Every time we hit a bump, the muscles in his forearms flex and the veins pop beneath the ink covering them.
I hold my backpack in my lap as we jostle over another bump, holding desperately to Chris’s laptop and every noteI have made about this story. This story and these photos I’ve taken are the things Pulitzers are made of. I just never realized before what cost they come with. The lives of all those innocent people. Possiblymylife. But this… this is what I was made for. This is why I became a journalist. The opportunity to share truths with the world that burn bright enough to scorch the lies around them.
My eyes flit between my laptop and Chris as we make our way deeper into the desert, and my thoughts do the same. They bounce back and forth between the story, Chris, the fallout after this is published, and the fallout of leaving this place that has thrust us back together.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Chris breaks the silence and pulls me from my thoughts.
“Just thinking.”
He glances at me. “About the story?”
“Yeah…” I shift slightly in my seat. “About everything.”
He grunts in response with his eyes still focused before us.
“What happens when we leave?” The words tumble from my mouth without a second thought. The question has been on my mind since we first slept together, and it’s only grown more prominent since I told him that I still love him.Even if he hasn’t said it back. Part of me thinks it’s why I’m so determined to dig in my feet to finish the story here. As long as we’re together, he won’t leave me. He can’t. It’s not in his nature to quit on a job. But his need to be by my side, I don’t know if that lasts once we get on a plane.
The Humvee slows when Chris stomps heavily on the brakes, dust kicking up around us and swirling in theafternoon light. The engine idles low when he slips it into park. Both of his hands grip the steering wheel, flexing around it as he continues to stare straight ahead through the windshield.
“Chris?” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He slowly exhales it as I repeat, “What happens when we leave?”
He turns his head, and his eyes meet mine, the look in them nearly breaking me before he even utters a word. “That’s the problem, baby,” he says quietly. “I don’t know.”
The Humvee rumbles beneath us, the desert wind blowing sand against the metal and dust swirling around us. I stare through the windshield, but I’m not looking at anything. Even with the horizon before me, all I see is her.
I thought walking away a decade ago would hurt her less than a lifetime with the man I had become after Afghanistan.I was wrong.Deep down, I knew. Neither of us was better off. It’s the real reason the women who followed her were fleeting and meaningless. My heart belonged to Reese. Itbelongsto my baby.
Sighing, I pull my hands from the steering wheel and drag them down my face, groaning into them. This… Us… It’s not the real world. We’re living on borrowed time in a war zone. We are bound together by my duty to protect her. For as seamlessly as she slipped into my life, she could just as easily be torn out the second we step back into the real world.
Light shimmers off her blonde locks when I turn to face her, finding quiet determination written in every line etched into her face. My chest aches at the sight of her with the kind of longing I thought I’d buried years ago.
“This,” I whisper, my voice rough, “right now… this isn’t real.”Even though I want it to be.
Reese turns toward me, eyes wide and already tearing, emotion trembling underneath the surface. “It doesn’t get anymorereal than this, Chris.”
I shake my head, fingers tightening on the steering wheel again. “You don’t understand?—”
“Then make me,” she fires back.
Even with the air conditioning fizzling through the vents, the air in the Humvee is suddenly stifling. I grab at my chest, like I can’t breathe. After shoving open the door, my boots hit the dirt hard, and I quickly climb out. The air outside feels thinner, but only slightly easier to breathe. I pace beside the SUV, my heart pounding.
The past is loud in my head. Gunfire. Screaming. The night that rewired who I am. And the guilt of making Reese suffer for it grates like sand under my skin.
A car door slams, abruptly pulling me from my thoughts as Reese climbs out of the Humvee. The soft wind whips her hair around her face, and she looks at me with raw emotion. She looks furious and heartbroken at once, like every emotion she’s kept buried is suddenly spilling out of her at once.
She rounds the SUV, walking straight to me. She doesn’t stop until she’s close enough that I can see the shimmer oftears in her eyes. “The years,” I choke, forcing the words out past the lump in my throat, “the hurt… the pain I caused you… that doesn’t just go away.”
She blinks, desperate to hold back the tears trying to break free. “I can forgive you, Chris.”
