Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“One Monday, we were supposed to have a video chat, but Mrs. Winger wasn’t there. The substitute told us there was an accident involving Brogan, her son, but wouldn’t tell us anything more. Turns out, his Humvee hit a roadside bomb. All six inside were killed. Mrs. Winger never returned that school year, and it was my first real look at how dangerous military life really was. My parents never talked about it with us, and I can understand why. No one wants to tell their children their father could leave and never come back. That year changed how I viewed our military and those who serve.”
My throat is tight as I try to swallow over the lump and absorb her words, the fear we face all too real.
“When Ford enlisted, I recall exactly how gripping that fear felt. I was transported right back to third grade, to the little girl who felt something so big, yet didn’t really comprehend it until she was older. I have never been so terrified in my life than when he was gone. I constantly worried about him and if I would ever see him again.”
I don’t even realize I’m pulling the car over along the side of the deserted road until I’m stopping and throwing it in Park. Turning to face her, I see tears in those gorgeous emerald eyes. Tears that gut me right to the core.
Squeezing our joined hands once more, I bring the other up to her cheek and cup her soft skin. “I’m sorry you experienced that.”
She gives me a watery grin. “That’s life. The beauty and the pain. You can’t have one without the other.”
“Unfortunately,” I agree, recalling all the heartache that has accompanied my time in the military. Like life in general, there has been a lot of good, but also plenty of bad too.
“Promise me something,” she says, flashing me a sad smile.
“Anything.”
“Promise me if you ever go, you’ll be careful. I can’t ask you to promise not to go, but you have to promise to do everything you can to come home at the end.”
Her request has me reaching for her other hand. “Darlin’, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to come home,” I reply softly, running my thumb across her knuckles. “If I could promise never to go away again, I would in a heartbeat, but that’s not something I can guarantee.”
Her lips turn upward, but her eyes reflect a lot of sadness with that single gesture. “I know, and I was teasing a little when I said that part. I’d never ask you to promise me that, honestly. I know there are no guarantees in this life, especially in the military.”
“No, there’s not,” I concede, wishing I could take her in my arms and hold her close and never fucking let her go. “But I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to come home at the end of the day. Even if I’m thousands of miles away. Okay?”
She nods and leans into my touch again, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling. Her eyes close and the faintest smile plays across her lips. She looks so… content. And so fucking beautiful it hurts. Faith tilts her head just the slightest, her warm, soft lips resting against the inside of my thumb. She moves her mouth and kisses my hand. It’s not a friendly kiss. That slightest touch is packed with passion, desire, and perhaps a hint of intent, and it goes straight to my balls.
Needing a change so I don’t drag her into the back seat of the rental and maul her like a damn animal, I drop my hand to sever the connection. Her eyes slowly open as I ask, “Ready to get back so we can grab a bite to eat?”
Hurt and confusion flash in her eyes before it’s pushed away. “Yes,” she replies, that one word thick in her throat. She clears it away and sits up in her seat, adjusting the belt across her chest. It almost seems like she’s giving her hands something to do.
I feel terrible.
I wanted to kiss her.
So fucking bad that the need caused physical pain, but when I kiss her, I’m not going to want to stop, so now isn’t the time.
The drive back to Fort Irwin is comfortable, mostly because I never let go of her hand. We chat about everything. Her family, mine, my new job, and the base I now call home. I even explain The Box, part of the training process I have to do every couple of weeks, which is set to begin the Monday after she leaves.
“I have an idea,” I say as we approach town and I head toward the hotel. “How about I drop you off so you can jump in the shower, then I’ll run and pick up some food and meet you back in your room? Unless you want to go out somewhere. I can drop you off, run back to the barracks and shower, and be back in thirty.”