I glared at him but couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching. “You’ll survive.”
“Yeah,” Dalton said, grin widening. “But I ain’t makin’ any promises about my sanity.”?
I only had a few days before Camp Geiger and infantry school, but it mattered knowing someone would have her back while I was gone again. Clapping him on the shoulder, I gave Hannah a kiss on the cheek and headed outside where Diego was waiting to give me a ride home. In front of the familiar trailer, I paused before going inside, and headed for the ramshackle shed to check on the other girl I had missed. My Harley sat under the dust cover, and I ran my hands over it before covering it back up. Resigned to my fate, I headed inside.?
I wanted to be surprised when I found my mother sitting half-drunk on the couch, TV glow flickering against her face. I wasn’t. She barely stirred when I came in. Had she even noticed my absence?
I’d left Atlanta thinking I was tough. I came back realizing I’d only been half-built before. Now I could run until my lungs gave out, push through pain until it blurred into background noise,fire a rifle until the stock bruised me raw and still hold it steady. But there are some things they don’t teach you how to fight. Like the silence of a house where your mother lives but never reallyis.
“Jackson,” she slurred, eyes glassy, trying to push herself upright before giving up and slumping back.
“Yeah, Ma. It’s me.”
“You look….Different.” Her brow furrowed in confusion as she took in my uniform and she tried to stand before falling back.?
“I graduated Basic, Ma. I did it. I’m a Marine now.” She didn’t respond. Her blanket had slid to the floor, and I picked it up, tucking it back around her shoulders. I hated myself for the tenderness—hated how I still craved something she couldn’t give. She smelled like whiskey and the cheap perfume she never stopped wearing. I pressed my lips tight and sat with her for a minute, staring at the ceiling fan turning lazy circles above us.
I’d faced drill instructors who made it their mission to grind me down to nothing. I’d pushed through twenty-mile humps with blisters bleeding through my boots. But none of it scared me the way leaving again in a few days did. Back to Camp Geiger. Away from my mother. Away from the Saints. The thought of some far-off battlefield didn’t gut me half as much as the idea of saying goodbye again—especially toher.
Her flame. Her heat. The pull I couldn’t shake.
And maybe that was the real problem. I didn’t want distance. I wanted more of it. More of her.
I hadn’t planned on stopping by. Hell, I told myself I wouldn’t. But Sally was parked in her driveway like a taunt. I almost kept driving. Almost. Then I noticed her sitting on her porch, head tilted towards the sky and bathed in moonlight. Next thing I know, I was parking next to her car. She didn’t look at me, seemingly intent on the stars above her.
She sat there, hood up on some oversized sweatshirt, hair spilling over her shoulders. Bare feet, blue nail polish, that soft hum in her throat she probably didn’t realize she was making. She looked…peaceful. Which somehow made my chest hurt worse.
“You stalking me, Marine?”
“No. Just making sure you’re real.”
She looked over then, a half-smile ghosting her lips. “Careful. Reality’s overrated.”
Her eyes were that impossible kind of hazel—sunlight trapped in green glass. They never just looked at you; theysearched.And when they landed on me, I swear the air changed temperature. I stopped in front of her. “Mind if I sit?”
She shrugged. “Free country.”
For a minute we just sat there, legs dangling, the night humming around us. It was stupidly perfect—summer air, crickets, that faint smell of motor oil and lilacs.
“You leave tomorrow?” she asked finally.
“Yeah.”
She nodded, eyes fixed ahead. “You just got back.”
“Didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”
“You could’ve texted.”
“Would’ve,” I said. “But maybe I wanted to see you smile.”
She turned then, lips parted like she might say something smart, but no words came. I reached for her hand before I could think better of it. “Holly—”
“Don’t,” she said softly. “If you say something real, I might believe it.”
“Maybe I want you to.”
The air between us snapped tight. She didn’t move when I leaned in, just breathed, slow, shallow, like she was trying to decide if this was a bad idea. Our noses brushed first. A tiny static crack in the dark. Then her lips grazed mine—quick, uncertain. Just enough for me to get a taste of coffee and something sweet. She started to pull back, but I followed, deepening it just enough to make the world tilt.
