"What?"
"I just told you the worst thing about me. We’re trapped up here together. I need to learn something about you."
I almost smile. Almost. “You’re negotiating emotional reciprocity?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I am.”
“Okay then, here it goes. My ex-wife left me for my best friend.”
Evelyn lets out a gasp and covers her mouth with her hands.
I continue, “Yeah, I know. It’s bad stuff. I was deployed on my third tour. We'd been married seven years and together since we were nineteen. She called to tell me she was leaving. She failed to mention at the time that the person she was leaving with was the guy I'd trusted more than anyone in the world."
The words feel like rocks. Heavy, rough-edged. But she gave me the shape of her fear, and I can give her mine.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine.”
It’s been a long time since I talked about my past. "I didn't come home after that. Not for a long time actually. I extendedand volunteered for tours. The military was easier. I needed the structure, the mission, and someone telling me where to be so I didn't have to figure out who I was outside of it. I let the uniform be my identity because the person inside it was empty."
“What finally brought you back?” Her voice is soft and laced with soothing compassion.
"I came home because my body gave me a deadline. I was twenty-one years in. A full career behind me when I drove back to Iron Peak because Jocelyn and my mom are here. I told myself I was coming home to take care of them." I look at my hands. "They took care of me instead. If I’m being honest."
Evelyn is nodding and she’s very still. “That’s what family does.” The blanket has slipped from her shoulders. She's not holding it anymore.
"I've been back for three months. And until two weeks ago, I couldn't tell you a single reason to stay that didn't come down to guilt. Then I walked into a library and saw a woman on the floor with picture books on her knee and glasses sliding down her nose, and something clicked."
She makes a sound that’s half laugh, half something else. Then she moves. It isn’t fast, but it’s deliberate. She stands from the couch and crosses the small distance between us. I don't breathe because she's standing right in front of my chair. The firelight is behind her. Her curls are wild around her face.
"Move over," she says.
I shift. She fits herself into the chair beside me. She’s half in the chair and half in my lap. The weight of her curves on my lap ignites me. I put my arm around her because my body knows what to do even when my brain is short-circuiting. Her head finds my chest. Her cold fingers find the collar of my flannel. She smells like vanilla and woodsmoke.
Heat fires through me. "Hey." My voice is rough. "There's no schedule. No pressure. I can sit in this chair all night."
She lifts her head and looks at me. Those dark eyes. The bare shoulder. The firelight.
"What if I don't want you to sit in the chair all night? I haven't been touched by someone I actually wanted touching me in a very long time," she says into my shirt.
My heart stops. Restarts. My hand is in her hair and I don't remember putting it there.
"Then tell me what you want."
"You. I just want you."
I tip her face up. My thumb traces her cheekbone. I move slowly and I watch her face for the flinch, but it doesn't come. Her eyes stay on mine and her lips part. She leans into my hand like she's been starving for this and didn't know it until right now.
"I'm going to kiss you," I say. "Nod if that's okay."
She nods and it makes something possessive and primal claw through my chest.
I lower my mouth to hers. Our lips touch and it’s soft, but there's nothing uncertain about it. Then I part her lips with my tongue and kiss her like I've been thinking about this for weeks. Her hands find my chest. Her palms press flat against my flannel. My heart hammers in my chest.
She makes a sound against my mouth. My hands tighten on her face and I let out a low, rough groan in response. I deepen the kiss, hungry for more of her. My hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck. My fingers thread into her hair. My other hand drops to her waist and I gently pull her closer.
"Stop being careful," she whispers against my mouth.
Something breaks behind my eyes. The last wall is gone and I lose myself. I lift her with both hands under her thighs and get to my feet. She wraps her legs around my waist and I carry her to the bedroom in the dark.
