“Thank you for checking on me, but I’m good. I think you should leave.”
He shakes his head, leaning closer until I’m looking directly at him. “Not until it’s over.”
“It’s already fucking over, Riggsby.”
My heart beats so hard it almost hurts. And the storm rages, walls groaning and the wind howling, but all I feel is him. Us.
His anger.
My pain.
His desperation.
My grief.
Chapter 13
Jett
Thisbathroomistoodamn small for both of us and our baggage.
Staring across the room at Wren, who’s still hunkered down in the large tub, a blanket wrapped around her, shadows dancing across her face from the candles flickering, all I can think about is how much she looks like the girl I’ve always loved. The girl I used to chase around and tease relentlessly. But she’s not the same. She’s scarred and haunted by something I can’t pinpoint. I’ve seen the sadness behind her eyes. Years in a war zone will condition you to spot that look. Wren’s whiskey eyes have lost their shine.
Her words replay in my head as we sit in silence.
“You don’t get to explain yourself or offer any excuses. It’s ten years too late.”
“It’s already fucking over, Riggsby.”
She wants to fight, and hell, I’m ready for the battle.
I know she means it, but I refuse to accept it. There’s a reason she’s back, a reason I chose to come home instead of reenlisting.
I drag my hand through my hair as my chest heaves. Before I can say anything more, to push back about things not being over, not even close, I watch as she sits straighter, squaring her shoulders. Like she’s ready to fire the final blow.
“I’m not yours to protect.”
The words grate against my skin because, dammit, she’s still mine.
“I’m not yours.” Her eyebrow quirks, challenging me, as if she can read the thoughts swirling in my mind. God, I hope she can’t. Because then she’ll know how much she still affects me. How I want to rip her out of that tub, flip her over, and punish her for leaving me. How I want to thrust inside of her and show her the effect she still has on me. I want to nip her smooth skin and mark her, claim her over and over again.
Pushing my hands against my thighs, I stand, and she cowers.Is she afraid of me?The sirens wail louder, wind batters the siding, and rain pelts the metal roof, making the house moan and creak. I should take it as a warning, but I don’t. A warning has never stopped me before, and it sure as hell isn’t stopping me now.
We stand locked in a moment, air thickening, hot and suffocating, as we dare the other to break.
And I lose the war.
I can't drown in silence while she still believes I abandoned her. The walls are closing in, and if she won't listen, I'll force her to see the truth.
I turn and storm out of the bathroom.
“Jett!” she screams after me, and I hear her jumping to her feet, clambering against the iron tub.
But I don’t stop.
I wrench open the front door as soon as I reach it and throw myself straight into a different storm. The rain feels like knives. My shirt is drenched in seconds, sticking to my skin in a frozen blanket. Thunder rolls like cannon fire as lightning breaks, painting the sky in a natural artwork.
But I don’t let the fear of a tornado sweeping me away stop me. My feet carry me to my truck, where I’ve kept something hidden below my seat since I returned. It’s the same something I’ve carried with me for ten goddamn years.
