Natasha’s gaze latches onto me. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Fuck. I rush to get back in bed before she notices the bulge tenting my boxers. Or the phone in my hand.
But she’s so focused on the cup in her hands—and her plans to run—I don’t have to worry.
“I have to call Gladys before I go,” she says, staring into the coffee like it holds the answers to life itself. “I don’t know what to say to her.”
Draping my arm around her shoulders, I wait for her to settle against my chest. Having her here—in my bed—feels right. We belong together. If only I could convince her to give us a chance.
“What about the truth?”
The quiet sniffle shatters my heart into dust. She’s protected herself for so long, I’m not sure she realizes how much she cares for the older woman. Or how much Gladys cares for her.
“I can’t. Anyone who knows who I really am…it’s too dangerous. It’s bad enough I told you.” She lets her hand trail down my stomach, tracing the edge of one of the darker bruises. “You know how to take care of yourself. Gladys is eighty-three years old, and she’s all alone up there. Or will be, now that I’m gone.”
With each word, Natasha makes herself smaller and smaller. The coffee is half gone, and she clutches the mug like a shield.
“There is no world where he doesn’t find me, Doc. It doesn’t matter that he’s still in Leavenworth—or was the last time I checked—he’s connected. He has to be. The first attempt on my life was less than forty-eight hours after I reported him.”
She won’t meet my gaze, and it takes me a beat to understand why.
“Someone way above his pay grade was in on it.”
Natasha’s shoulders slump, and she nods. “That’s why I have to keep running.”
“You don’t.” I nudge her chin up so I can look her in the eyes. “Let me call McCabe. Or…West. Apparently, he’s running things now.”
She jerks away. “No. They’re all former military, right? They could be part of this. God, I was so stupid coming here.Stayinghere. I should have gone directly to the bus station from the hospital. I could havemailedyou that goddamn letter.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Anger sharpens my tone—or is that pain? I can’t tell anymore. I thought we’d moved past this last night, but if she’s still determined to shut me out, I was wrong.
“I didn’t have a choice!” Natasha throws the covers back, jerks up, and starts pacing the room in short, choppy steps. “The first day we met, I saw your tattoo. My dad used to talk about PJs like they walked on water. When I left for my first deployment, he said, ‘You ever get in trouble over there, you find yourself a PJ and they’ll get you out of it.’”
Pride stirs in my chest. It doesn’t matter that I’m a civilian now. That I’vebeenone for more than a decade. I’ll always be a PJ.
“I thought if I stayed away from you, it would be easier.” Natasha runs her fingers through her hair, wincing as her thumb catches on one of the butterfly bandages along her forehead.“But once Gladys sets her mind to something, there isn’t a force on this earth that can stop her. And after that night—when we fooled around?—she made it her personal mission to get us together.”
I’d suspected as much. “Gladys isn’t exactly…subtle.”
Natasha’s laugh surprises me, but I think it shocks her even more. “God, no. She’s the polar opposite of subtle.”
Holding out my hand, I meet her gaze. Does she care enough—trust me enough—to come back to bed? “Please, baby. Let me hold you.”
For a moment, I think she does. But she stops right in front of me, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “Why couldn’t you just read the damn letter?”
“Because I want to hear you say it. Whateveritis. Tell me why you trusted me.”
With a sigh, she climbs onto the bed, straddling me. I cup her ass, digging my fingers into the soft globes.
Soft kisses feather along my collarbone. “What do I feel like, Doc?”
Her teeth score the shell of my ear. I reach up and pinch a nipple between my fingers. Her little whimper shoots straight to my dick. If I’m not inside of her soon, I’ll be in a world of hurt.
“What did you tell me I felt like that night?” she asks.
“Home.”
The single word hangs between us. It’s in her eyes. In the part of her lips. In the breath catching in her throat.
In her tears.
