She steps forward and is in my arms. I pull her close. Feel her body against mine. For that moment I wonder why I waited so long. Why didn't I go find her as soon as I got home? In that embrace, it’s like no time has passed, like the space between us is gone.
I lean back and look into her eyes. Brush her hair back and lean in to kiss her.
“Sergeant Ricks.”
She pulls out of my grasp. He’s standing behind her.
Stephens.
Her expression clouds as she steps away and looks down at the floor.
For the first time, I see her face clearly—thinner, pale, etched with pain. The light in her eyes is dim. It makes me want to pull her close again, take away her pain. But he’s already there. His hand on her back.
Possessive.
He extends his other hand. It takes all of my strength to take it. Nerve. Him standing here. His hand on my girl. Smiling at me. Shaking my hand.
“Good to have you back, Ricks. I was so sorry to hear about Gage. He was a good man, an excellent soldier.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Thanking him for taking my girl. Kills me to call him “Sir” even if he outranks me.
Jess won’t look at me anymore. She looks like she’s in physical pain. He’s still touching her, his hand pressed into her back, guiding her away from me. I follow them into the house.
“We were getting ready to eat. I’m sure Juli and Paul would be happy to have you stay for dinner.”
Nerve again. Acting like this is his house, and he has a say in who stays for dinner. I’ve known them a lot longer than he has, and I’ve never called Mr. Roberts anything but Mr. Roberts. His eyes hold a challenge. He thinks I’m going to bow out gracefully, make some excuse for coming by and leave. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“I’d love to stay.”
"Great," he says. But his expression says otherwise.
She barely looks up at dinner. Barely eats anything. He keeps touching her—putting his hand on her back, covering her hand with his, touching her knee under the table. Reminding me they’re together now.
After we eat, I let Tyler drag me out to the shop. Jess’ old car is here–the '65 Mustang she called The Nag. Seeing it gives me a stab of bittersweet nostalgia. I worked on it so many times while she was in high school. It was the best excuse I had to hang out with her. Tyler wants me to help him fix it.
I wrinkle my nose as we walk in. "It smells like something died in here."
“Squirrel,” Tyler says, opening the window. “I think it got into the antifreeze.”
I try to focus on the car. Try to lose myself in the workings of the engine. It gets harder when Jess and Stephens come outside and their voices come through the open window.
“...why won’t you come with me?” Stephens sounds impatient, annoyed. “It will be good for you to get out and do something fun.”
Jess’ voice is quieter. It's hard to pick out what she’s saying. Something like, “I need to stay... Jasmine, shower.”
“They’re all expecting us to be at the party.” I move closer to the window, not even trying to be casual about it, even though Tyler is standing right here. If he weren’t, I'd probably be at the window, my face pressed against the glass, trying to see her face.
Now I can hear her. “I can’t go.”
“Because he’s here.”
She either doesn’t answer or speaks quietly enough that I can’t hear. Now I’m dying that I can’t see her face.
“I know my timing is off.” Stephen’s voice again. He almost sounds desperate. “But there’s something I haven’t told you yet. I didn’t want to put extra pressure on you.”
Yeah right. Everything about the way he acts around her screams pressure.
“I have new orders. I’m going to Korea for a hardship tour in June. I’ll be gone for a year.”
