Juliette tilted her head, her eyes swimming with warmth. “What were their names?”
“What?”
“Their names. What were their names?”
“Corporal Mar—” He stopped himself. They deserved more from him than just their rank. They deserved to be acknowledged for the brave men they were. “Trevor Marsh, Darian Wells, and Ezra Ward.”
“Ezra,” Juliette murmured. “That’s a really awesome name.”
“He was a really awesome guy.”
“A good friend of yours?”
“One of the best.” Brock wished he had something a little harder than sweet tea. Preferably a glass of whiskey. Straight. “After that, I was ready to come home.”
Her nod was slight, an acknowledgment of understanding him. Of respecting him and his decision.
It was good to get it off his chest. It wasn’t as though he’d been harboring the pain. On the contrary, he’d sought help when he needed it. But now another feeling was sinking into the room around them, the ever-present weight of the unknown. Heavy and suffocating, it filled the space between them, crowding them. But then Juliette shifted, and the cushion slanted her closer to him. Her shoulder and legs were snug next to him, andthe heat radiating from her was excruciating. If she noticed their nearness, she didn’t care. She swirled her tea absently, then took another sip.
“I don’t think I loved him. Not really.”
Juliette stared off into space, a place where he wasn’t invited. He sat beside her, quietly aware they were treading into dangerous territory. Venturing down the road of the past could lead to a mix of messy emotions.
“I wanted to love him.” She sighed but it was half-hearted. Resigned. “I wanted to marry him. I told myself every day how perfect we were together.”
His skin caught fire with rage while listening to her talk about another man, and jealousy swept through him. It didn’t matter if they were no longer together, just knowing she’d been making forever plans with someone else was enough to make him feel like his heart had been ripped from his chest—still pumping, still bleeding.
Juliette shrugged and set her glass of tea on the coffee table. “But nothing was ever easy, you know?”
Brock grabbed another olive. “Nothing ever is.”
He felt her gaze on him, lingering, but couldn’t bring himself to look her way. He knew what would be reflected in those eyes of hers. A thousand questions he couldn’t bring himself to answer. At least not yet.
“Some things are, though. Easy, that is.” Sadness crept into her tone, sinking and harsh, so he stole a hasty glance at her. The firelight reflected in her eyes, flecks of silver against sparks of pale blue. “Nothing about us ever felt easy. Rodrigo and I didn’t fight, but we never agreed on anything. I couldn’t find a job I enjoyed because I was trying too hard to be someone else, and he didn’t really care what I chose, as long as it was something worthwhile. I didn’t click with anyone in his circle of friends. I was always on the outside, looking in.”
Brock rubbed his lips together, debating what to say next. But the admission slipped from him before he could stop himself. “D.C. may not have worked out, but there’s always a place for you here. In Mystic Cove. If you want to stay.”
Juliette twisted on the couch, turning into him, an inch or so more and she might as well be in his lap. Devastation was harbored in her expression, and a kind of darkness lingered there. A tiny line crinkled across her brow as her gaze searched his, those silvery pools of endless beauty haunted by the hollow shadows of the past.
“I waited for you, you know.” When she spoke, her words pierced him, the barb vicious and cruel. “You promised me you’d love me. Until forever.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, lines of hurt etched against her usually soft features. When she opened them, a small glimmer of life returned. “So, I waited.”
“Jules.” His apology would be futile without an explanation. “I?—”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She shook her head and tucked her knees into her chest, waving him away with a dismissive hand. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me or tell me when you found someone else.”
A stream of curses filtered through his mind. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go. He needed to tell her the truth, that he’d never changed his mind about her. Not ever. The choice had been made for him, an ugly lie wrapped in a pretty bow to protect her.
“It’s not like that, Juliette. I just?—”
She leaned forward and pressed a single finger to his lips. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know I waited.” Her finger fell away, but her closeness remained. She was barely a breath away from him. Her eyes dipped to his mouth then lifted, and shescraped her teeth lightly across her bottom lip. “Maybe that’s why I’m restless. I’m just tired of waiting.”
And so was he.
Brock’s hands sought her waist, and he pulled her into his lap so she straddled him. She made a breathy, gasping kind of noise, and it was enough to send a rush of longing straight to his cock. She gripped his shoulders for purchase, pink lips slightly parted, eyes wide with expectation and another emotion he couldn’t quite name. It was so easy for his palms to skate beneath the knotted shirt and discover her skin was as soft as he remembered. As smooth as velvet. The rough pads of his fingers grazed her hips, her waist, all silky bare flesh. His thumbs tempted fate, carefully skimming the area just beneath her breasts. A little higher and he’d be able to grab them, cup them, and gently roll her nipples between his fingers. But he wouldn’t make that move yet because she was sitting on top of him, frozen in place.
A breath shuddered out of her and still he waited.
