The words land like a punch to the gut.
“Oh,” I say, because my brain suddenly feels like it’s full of static.
Images flicker through my mind—him in uniform, stepping onto a plane. Me at the receptionist desk, watching other soldiers walk past, wondering if they’ll be the ones to tell me something happened to my husband. Our bed cold. Our house well-ordered but empty. My textbooks piled on the couch where he should be.
“Rowan.” His voice cuts through my panic again, steady. “Hey. Breathe.”
I drag in a shaky breath, then another.
“Congratulations,” I say, because that’s what I’m supposed to say, right? “That’s… that’s what you wanted.”
He huffs out a breath. “Is it?”
I blink at him.
“What do you mean?”
He looks at me like I’m the only thing in his world.
“I thought it was,” he says slowly. “For years. All I wanted was to get back to my team. To the field. To the mission. But now…”
His gaze drops briefly to our joined hands, then lifts back to my face. “Now my mission feels different.”
My heartbeat thunders.
He squeezes my hand gently. “They offered me a slot. I don’t have to say yes right away. I can defer active duty for a few moremonths, keep doing rehab here, stay on light duty while they work out assignments. But after that… they’ll want an answer.”
He swallows. “I don’t want to decide without you,” he says firmly. “This isn’t just my life anymore. We’re married. We’re a team now. We decide together.”
Something in my chest loosens.
He could have come in here and simply told me how it was going to be. That he was going back. That I’d have to figure it out around him. That my dreams came second, like they always have.
He didn’t.
He’s looking at me like my opinion actually matters. Like my future matters as much as his.
“You’re my wife,” he says as if that explains everything. “Your plans, your career, your safety—they’re not negotiable to me. The military’s had me my whole adult life. They don’t get to have you too. Not unless we decide together that it’s worth it.”
I blink rapidly, overwhelmed.
“I—” My throat closes. I try again. “I applied to med school.”
He nods once. “You told me that.”
“I should hear back in a few weeks,” I continue, my voice shaking a little. “There are a few schools on the East Coast, some in Colorado. I cast a wide net and hoped for the best.”
He nods again, slower this time. “Where?”
“All over. I applied to my dream schools, safety schools, everywhere. Some on the East Coast, some on the West, one here in Colorado.”
He listens without interrupting, his thumb stroking along my knuckles.
When I finish, he nods thoughtfully. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I echo.
“I’ll start looking at bases,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “See where I could be stationed near thoseschools. If we decide I go back, I want to be somewhere that makes sense for you.”
