Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Because everything that happens when we’re not together is the bullshit,” he said. “This is real.” He picked up my hand and put it on his chest. “This is the reality I live for.”
His heart beat erratically under my fingers. “And yet you won’t let me love you.”
He shook his head. “You can’t, Iz. You just can’t. I’m not good enough for you, not yet. Look at what happened last night. One nightmare, and I’ve got my arm at your—” He swallowed hard. “Look, I’m not just scared—I’m terrified of ruining the only shot we’ll get. You want real? That’s how I feel. I can’t lose you.” His eyes searched mine, and I felt a crack in my chest that I tried to ignore, knowing that if I looked too closely, I’d find a fault line in my heart.
“But you won’t really have me either,” I whispered. That’s when it hit me. He’d chosen his path, and he wouldn’t allow me to follow. He would always be at war in some way or another, and my fate, if I chose it, would be to watch him slowly change from the boy I met on that plane six years ago into whatever years and years of combat would turn him into.
That crack in my heart expanded with a painful jolt.
“I’ll have whatever you’ll let me.” He cradled my face between his hands and looked into my soul. “And we will have whatever we can give each other.” Lowering his head slowly, he pressed his against mine. “I can only give you what I have, Izzy. I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I have.”
His lips brushed over mine, and I melted.
I was screwed. That was all it took—one touch of his mouth, and I was his. Because as wrong as it might be, I loved him so much that I was willing to take whatever I could get when it came to Nate.
So, I took everything he’d give me for the next two days, and then I went home to DC, packed for the job I was offered in New York, and counted down the days until I’d see him in Palau.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
NATHANIEL
Kabul, Afghanistan
August 2021
To put it as mildly as possible, the country was falling the fuck apart.
And Isabeau refused to leave.
She was about to lose that choice.
We’d been back in Kabul twenty-four hours, and the embassy had descended into what could only be called chaos. For every person within its walls, seeking shelter, or a way out of the country, there were ten outside the gates demanding entrance. I could only imagine what the temporary site being established at the airport looked like.
We were at the center of a mountain of stockpiled powder kegs, just watching the flickering flame of the lit fuse race toward us. Destruction was imminent. It was only a question of when.
“Herat,” Webb said, gesturing to the surveillance picture of the fallen province projected onto the wall of the conference room we’d commandeered in the basement of the embassy. All but one of us had been gathered for the noon briefing. Graham was sticking to Izzy on my orders. Webb clicked, and the next picture appeared showing the same scene in a different province. “Lashkar Gah, which as you know, means the entirety of Helmand is now in Taliban hands.”
My jaw clenched.
The already-tense atmosphere around the conference table went up a notch, but no one said a word. We’d all spent enough time in country to know that the initial estimates of how long the government would remain in control were way too generous, but to watch it fall apart on our watch was beyond words.
“Add Kandahar to the list,” he said, clicking again. More of the same flooded the screen. Two of Afghanistan’s three largest cities were now in the hands of the Taliban.
The special ops guys at the airport—
“Unit 03?” Parker asked, voicing my exact thoughts as he leaned forward in his seat across from me. The twitch of his black mustache was the only sign of his agitation.
“Holding the airport for now,” Webb replied. “But it’s not looking good. They’re cut off, and air is the only evac route. They’re low on food and ammunition.”
“So basically, fucked,” Black said. “They’re fucked.”
“Afghan Special Forces is working on something,” Webb replied. “If our orders change, I’ll let you know.”
Which meant we weren’t going to be allowed to do shit. My jaw clenched. They were pinned down, surrounded, and starving.
“Moving on . . .” Webb clicked for the next picture, showing just how many provinces had fallen, and I took any feelings I had about the Kandahar situation and shoved them where they belonged—out of my head. Every province the Taliban had reclaimed was highlighted in red, and there was a shit ton of red.
“There’s a lot of red between us and a certain photojournalist,” Torres mumbled from behind me.