I stared at a swirl in my coffee. “When I came here,” I started, not entirely sure what I was going to say, but pretty sure I didn’t want her filling in the blanks on her own, “it was simple. A job. Protect the asset, meaning you. Make sure you didn’t get blindsided. Get you through the year in one piece. That was the brief.”
She watched me over the rim of her mug, eyes weary.
“There was always a ticking clock,” I went on. “End of the term, hand off the keys, head back to my old life.” I tried to smile. “I’ve been rotating in and out of other people’s messes for so long, it’s kind of my default.”
“And now?” she asked softly.
I rubbed my thumb along the handle of the mug. “Now the contract’s fulfilled. Browne was right. I don’t have to stay. I still have obligations and responsibilities back in Denver. I took a sabbatical, a leave of absence. My boss and old CO are relying on me to pick back up where I left off. You have what you came here for. Your shiny new ranch and clinic, without me hovering in the doorway.”
My stomach dropped when I thought I saw tears prick the corners of her eyes.
She set her mug down. “Is that… what you want?” She almost looked offended.
For a minute, I considered lying. Old habits. Even weeks later, I still remembered the smoke in my lungs, a barn roof coming down, and the way her voice sounded in that moment. The fear in her voice when she called my name.
“I’m not sure,” I said, and watched heartbreak, pain, and rejection fill her eyes.
She shifted, just a little, bracing for the hit. “Then what are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid I’d be trapping you,” I admitted. “Making you feel like you got stuck with some guy your aunt hired. Obligated to keep me around because Penny wrote my name in a file. And I’m afraid you’d always wonder if I was here because I was convenient and familiar, or because you really wanted me here.”
“Austin,” she said quietly, but never finished. Her eyebrows knitted together as if she was weighing it all. There was hurt, confusion, and thoughtfulness in her expression. But I think, on some level, I was only saying out loud the thoughts no one dares to say.
A knock at the door pulled Milly from her thoughts, but for three days after that, the question was never answered. The topic remained untouched, and as much as it hurt, I heard my answer in the silence.
Browne’s voice had been on repeat since he left.
“As Penny’s terms have been fulfilled, Mr. Adams, your contract has also been fulfilled. You can either return to work, or…”
Or.
He hadn’t finished the sentence out loud, but my brain had filled in the rest. Or you can stay. Because you want to, because Milly wants you to, and not because a contract told you to.
Which is exactly why I was standing on the porch this morning with my military duffel and my boots.
Milly hugged herself in her coat, breath visible in the cold air.
“You don’t have to go,” she said for the third time, her posture trembling, her voice a murmur.
“I’m sorry,” I said gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
I wanted to say I’d stay. To walk back inside, put my bag back in the closet, pretend things were back to how they were before the fire. To stay where I knew the creaks of the house, the rhythm of her laugh, and the way she hummed while baking.
But wanting something and being sure of it weren’t always the same thing. I’d learned that the hard way in a valley with three helicopters and nineteen men, half a world away.
“I left loose ends in Denver. Cases Reaper and I were working. People who think I’m coming back. An apartment with at least one lonely little plant I promised I wouldn’t kill.”
Her mouth twitched despite everything. “Poor plant.” She blinked slowly. “So you’ll leave, and then… what?”
I wanted to say, I’ll have to figure out what my life actually looks like without you.
In the past, I’d run from mission to mission. From the desert. From dog tags and funerals caused by decisions I’d made. And although Milly wasn’t running, she’d always wonder, and I didn’t want to be the mistake she wished she could run from.
I looked past her at the new barn, the clinic, the house, at the plume of breath from the horses in the pasture. At the faint glowing line where the river cut through the snow.
Everything in me wanted to stay.
Before I changed my mind, I pulled her close and kissed her. My chest tightened, and I knew Milly would be the one that got away. The one I’d always love, the one who owned my heart. The kiss was long and sweet. Her tears dampened my cheeks, and her quiet sobs shook in my arms.
