Speaking of thinly veiled double meanings…
Humor laces Miles’s polite reply. “Thank you, sir. She was in rough shape when I found her. Most of the work, I did myself, but I’ve had to ask for help here and there.”
“Well, it looks like you put your heart into her.” Respect is evident in my father’s words. If only he left it at that, but above all else, he’s my dad, and he’s not about to miss an opportunity to drive a threat home. “You treat her right, and she’ll do the same for you. Just don’t jerk her around. Something that special needs to be handled with care. Reverence. You get me?”
“Dad,” I warn.
I know he means well, but he’s pushing too hard. If he keeps this up, he might end things with Miles before they have a chance to get started.
Thankfully, Miles looks like he’s rolling with this display and nods respectfully. “Yes, sir. Loud and clear.”
After lunch, I send Jake up to do his homework, and Miles takes my dad out to the garage, so he can inspect the rest of the repairs. I don’t know if it’s the final inspection or the peek under the hood of Miles’s truck, but my dad seems to have been won over.
“Nora, let’s go. These kids don’t need us old folks hanging around all day. Miles, you ever want to open her up out on the country roads, you give me a call.” They shake hands, and then my dad turns to me. “Chloe, your brother missed you this weekend. Might want to give him a call and catch up.”
And with that and my promise to see them soon, my parents take off, leaving me with their stamp of approval.
“So, those were my parents,” I say, rolling my lips between my teeth. “They mean well, but they can be a bit much.”
“They’re great. Your dad knows his old cars,” Miles comments, smiling. “Hey, how’s your knee? Not too sore?”
“It’s good,” I say, picking up the pile of Jake’s freshly washed clothes and setting it on the stairs. “But I think I’ll just wait to take this up when I go later.”
Miles checkedthat everything still looked good on the repairs. He threw the rugby ball with Jake and wore him out. He threw the tennis ball for Bronson and wore him out. And I watched it all from the comfort of my patio chair, my foot propped up on the ottoman. I graded the rest of my papers and updated the online grading system, happy to see that Tyler Amarre was out of danger of summer school. I drank a glass of sangria—fine, two—and I let my mind wander.
I thought of Dallas.
Every couple we knew had had the conversation somewhere between deployments. Thewhat ifconversation.
What if you’re hurt?
What if there’s an accident?
What if the baby gets sick?
What if something breaks in the house?
What if you don’t come back?
We’d had the conversation more than once, and Dallas was adamant that I not pine for him. That I should move on and love again. That finding love and welcoming someone new into our lives wouldn’t diminish our love, wouldn’t negate what we had.
“Bonus points if he’s in the service, extra if he’s Special Forces. If he looks like me, we’ll call it a tribute—as long as he’s good to you and Jake. But for the love of God, don’t marry navy or air force. Stick with the army. Soldiers work for a living; navy guys write books and the Zoomies take naps.”
I’m sure the other branches of service have similar shit talk about their army brothers, but I’ve seen the respect, the high esteem they hold for each other.
“I think I’m going to head out. You need anything before I go? Another glass of sangria?” The smooth, deep timbre of Miles’s voice pulls me back from the past.
The sun is low, casting pinks and oranges across the sky, a beautiful backdrop for a striking man. A man who looks nothing like Dallas. A former SEAL. Wind kicks up, tousling his dark hair.
“Thank you,” I say, squinting up at him.
“No worries. Glad I could help.”
I stand, taking my wineglass in hand. I reach for my laptop as Miles steps forward to do the same.
“I’ve got it.” He places his hand on my back, steadying me as he invades my space.
We’re close. It would be so easy to slide my hand behind his neck and pull him closer. To tilt my head and kiss him.
