Chapter Reveal~ Tortured by Nicole Williams
When he left for a twelve-month deployment, she knew it would feel like forever before they saw each other again. She didnāt realize how right she was.
When Lance Corporal Brecken Connolly gets taken as a POW, Camryn hopes for the best but steels herself for the worst. In the end, steel was what she needed to survive when he didnāt. She moves on the only way she knows howāgilding herself in more steel.
Years go by.
She builds a new life.
She leaves the old one behind.
Until one day, she sees the face of a ghost on the news. Brecken seems to have risen from the dead, but she knows she canāt perform the same miracle for herself. While Brecken was held in a torture camp for the past five years, sheās been trapped in her own kind of prison. One she canāt be freed from.
The man she mourned comes back to join the living, but the girl he wanted to spend his life with isnāt the same woman he comes back for. Brecken isnāt the same person either. The past five years have changed them both. While heās determined to put the pieces back together, sheās resolved to let hers rot where they shattered.
When Lance Corporal Brecken Connolly gets taken as a POW, Camryn hopes for the best but steels herself for the worst. In the end, steel was what she needed to survive when he didnāt. She moves on the only way she knows howāgilding herself in more steel.
Years go by.
She builds a new life.
She leaves the old one behind.
Until one day, she sees the face of a ghost on the news. Brecken seems to have risen from the dead, but she knows she canāt perform the same miracle for herself. While Brecken was held in a torture camp for the past five years, sheās been trapped in her own kind of prison. One she canāt be freed from.
The man she mourned comes back to join the living, but the girl he wanted to spend his life with isnāt the same woman he comes back for. Brecken isnāt the same person either. The past five years have changed them both. While heās determined to put the pieces back together, sheās resolved to let hers rot where they shattered.
Broken or not, Brecken wants her back. Heāll do anything to achieve that. Even if it means going against the warden of Camrynās personal prisonāher husband.
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PROLOGUE
Whenever he had to leave, it was torture. Youād think Iād get used to it, but I didnātāeach time got harder. This one might have felt especially brutal because of how long heād be gone. A year. Weād done weeks, weād done months, but weād never done the full year.
āBeing with someone in the military, I knew Iād have to get used to it. The separation. The worry. The loneliness. The feeling that I was trying to catch my breath for however long he was gone.
āIt was a way of life. And he was my life. So Iād just have to figure it out.
āāIām never going to look at dog tags the same way again.ā Breckenās mouth turned up as his eyes roamed over me splayed across the backseat as he tucked in his T-shirt. He twisted his wrist, his gaze moving to his watch. A crease folded into his forehead. āBut Iām going to need those back before I climb onto that bus. Something about military regulations. Not wandering around enemy territory without them. Those marines are sticklers for the rules.ā
āHe was trying to make me feel betterātrying to get me to smileābut little could lift my spirits other than finding out he didnāt have to leave for the Middle East for twelve long months.
āāYou donāt need them. Not really.ā
āāWhyās that?ā
āāBecause you only need them if youāre planning on dying, and so help me god, Iām not taking these off my neck if you have plans for some kind of a heroās death.ā My hand curled almost defensively around the metal tags hanging against my bare skin as I focused on the way the cool metal warmed in my hand. The way it seemed to come to life in my hold.
āāIām not planning on dying over there. Iām not going to die,ā he corrected the moment my eyebrow started to lift. āBut I do have plans of scoring some gnarly war wound so I have a story to tell our grandkids one day and can hang one of those Purple Hearts off my chest.ā
āI flattened my face as best as I could, even though it was kind of impossible with the way he was grinning at me as he wrestled his jeans back into place. āNot funny.ā
āāCome on. Itāll make me look tough.ā
āāYou already look tough. Too tough,ā I added as I scanned him for the millionth time since heād arrived back in Medford for a week-long vacation before shipping out. Whenever I looked at him, I didnāt just see the good-looking guy others didāI saw every good memory from my past. I saw every good memory that would be formed in the future. Brecken had been a part of my life since I was eight, and he was as much a part of me as I was.
āāNah, I need one of those big, angry-looking scars running across my chest. Or one of those bullet hole scars on my thigh. Something real tough like that.ā
āāAnd why do you need your dog tags for that?ā My fingers tightened around the thin metal ovals, refusing to let them go as if I hoped in doing so, he couldnāt go either.
āāBlood transfusion. Medics are going to need to know my blood type when theyāre trying to patch up my unconscious body.ā
āāUnconscious body?ā
āHe nodded all solemn-like. āI canāt be one of those guys who earns his Purple Heart by getting a scratch on some barbed wire. I need to lose a quart or two of blood, maybe even code on the operating table. Something worthy of that medal.ā
āThe thought of Brecken marching through a hostile country with a rifle in his hands, with god only knew what aimed his way, made me feel weak with worry. The thought of him fighting for his life in some marine medical tent about took whatever was left of my sanity.
āI must not have been doing a good job hiding my emotions, because his face broke when he saw my eyes, his arms opening toward me. āItās going to be okay, Camryn. Iām going to be okay. Weāre going to be okay. The year will fly by, and before we know it, weāll be getting married and buying a little house as close to the beach as we can afford. Okay?ā
His arms wound around me, swallowing my body, and I let him tuck me close to him. Iād never known the feeling of being safe until Brecken Connollyās arms had shown me the meaning.
āMy hand planted in the middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat vibrate against my palm. āWhy canāt we just get married now? Why canāt I join the marines and go with you, wherever that is, so we can be together?ā
āHis laugh was muffled from his mouth being pressed against my temple. āWell, you canāt join the marines and my unit because the militaryās under this impression that us marines of the male species become distracted and one-track minded when the women we love are marching beside us. Theyāre convinced the only things on our minds are protecting you, flirting with you, or screwing you.ā
āQuietly, I counted off on my fingers, āProtecting, flirting, screwing . . .ā Then I nodded. āDamn, they sure have you pegged.ā
āBreckenās fingers brushed up and down the bend of my waist. āAnd we canāt get married right now because youāve got two more months of high school to finish before you earn that nifty diploma thing.ā He kept going, undeterred by my grumble. āAnd I need to save some money to give you a proper ring and wedding. Iām not doing the courthouse thing with cheap silver bands. Not for you. You deserve the best.ā
āMy head tucked beneath his chin as I let him hold me in the backseat of his auntās old Corsica. The only good thing I could say about the carāwhich was a coin toss if it would start any given dayāwas that it had a decent-sized backseat that Brecken and I had made more than ample use of. Growing up in a strict household with my dad as Brecken grew up in the packed household a few houses down, privacy had been in short supply for both of us. Thankfully, his aunt was willing to lend Brecken her car whenever she could, like today, when Iād just made love to the only boy Iād ever loved for the last time for the next year.
My fingers curled into his chest as I willed time to freeze. āI have the best.ā
Brecken grunted like he doubted that, his head lifting to check out the windshield. We were parked way back in the bus depot lot. His bus would be leaving for the long drive back to Camp Pendleton in a few short minutes.
āBesides, you already got me a ring.ā I raised my left hand in front of him, rolling my fingers so he could see the adjustable birthstone ring on my finger.
He shook his head. āI won that for you at an arcade when we were ten.ā
āIt cost you twelve hundred tickets too. You saved up all summer to get that many tickets.ā
His fingers touched the ring, twisting it around with a small smile on his face. āAnd it probably has the street value of a nickel. Not exactly the kind of wedding ring I want my wife to have.ā
I found myself staring at the ring with him. The gold paint had started chipping off the thin band years ago, but the small pink birthstone still sparkled when the light hit it just right. āWell, itās priceless to me. I donāt care what the street value is. Or how many tickets it cost.ā
āEven so, Iām getting you a nice ring. With all of the hazard pay Iāll earn this year, youād better start working that left ring finger out so it can bear the weight of the diamond Iāll be dropping on it.ā
I was glad he couldnāt see my face, because he hated knowing how worried I was about him. He said hazard pay like a sales rep mentioned a bonus, but I heard it for what it really wasāthe government giving you a little more money for the likelihood of losing your life increasing.
āOne more year. Thatās it. Then weāll be able to be together like weāve always planned. Away from here.ā Breckenās arms loosened around me. We didnāt have much longer. āAway from these people.ā
An uneven exhale came from him, the muscles in his arms twitching. I knew who he was talking about without him going into detail. Neither of our lives had been charmed or particularly easy, but mine had been worse. Being raised by a single dad who was so strict he made a monkās life seem carefree, Iād had an unusual upbringing. Brecken only knew what I let him know about it, which was barely half of the reality.
āI donāt like leaving you alone with him,ā he said, his voice a note lower. āIf things get hard again, just leave. Move in with my insane family or a hotel or anywhere. Donāt let him hurt you. Words or fists. He does it againāāBreckenās hands curled into balls as his back stiffenedāāIāll kill him. I swear I will.ā
āHe wonāt,ā I said instantly, in my most convincing voice. āHeās working on all that. Not drinking as much.ā I made sure to hold his stare to sell as much conviction as I was capable.
My dad wasnāt just a strict man. He was a sad one, a lonely one. After my mom left, heād turned into someone else, almost like sheād taken everything that had been good about him and stuffed it in that small suitcase too. Since I was the only one around and bore a striking resemblance to my mom, Iād taken the brunt of my dadās grief. In the form of cutting words and, occasionally, outstretched palms.
Brecken had been walking down the sidewalk one day when he saw my dad strike me across the cheek for attempting to leave the house in a skirt he described as āfitting for a whore.ā Brecken had only been thirteen, but heād taken my dad down, managing to land a few punches before I could pull him off.
My dad stopped hitting me after that. At least where anyone passing by could see.
Not that I needed to tell Brecken that now. Though I guessed it would get him to stay a while longer . . . if only to be charged with murder and thrown into prison for the next twenty to thirty years.
Suddenly, that year didnāt seem so bad.
āHe wonāt,ā I reiterated, when Brecken continued to give me that penetrating stare, like he was capable of finding a lie if I was hiding one.
Both of his brows lifted. āHe better not.ā
āIf anything happens, Iāll crash at your familyās place, I swear.ā
Sitting up, he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. āWith fourteen people sharing twelve hundred square feet of space, good luck finding a quiet spot to do your homework.ā He pulled every bill out of his wallet. Even the last crumbled dollar. āTake this, hide it from your dad, and use it if you need to. Thatās enough to get you a week or so at a hotel that isnāt a dump, and as soon as I get my next paycheck, Iāll send more.ā
My head was shaking as I tried to stuff the money back into his wallet. Heād already closed it and was sliding it back into his pocket though. āIāll be fine.ā
Breckenās gaze dropped to the money in my hand. āYeah, I know.ā
āBrecken.ā
āCamryn,ā he mimicked.
āIām not taking the last dollar in your wallet.ā
āWhy not?ā he asked, making a face. āIād give you the shirt off my back, the air in my lungs, the last drop of blood in my veins. The last dollarās a cakewalk compared to, you know, dying of suffocation or bleeding out.ā He winked as he folded my fingers around the wad of money in my hand, then he leaned down to pull on his boots. He was moving quickly, glancing in the direction of the buses like he was making sure his wasnāt pulling away from the curb yet.
āDo you want to walk with me to the bus?ā His focus stayed on cinching up his last boot as he waited for my answer.
He already knew it though. Good-byes werenāt my forte. Especially not the kind where I had to wave good-bye to the man I loved as he prepared to head into the middle of a war zone for the next year. Good-bye came with a whole different context when you said it to a marine.
āI know, Blue Bird. I know.ā He sighed, his eyes narrowing at the weathered floorboards before he reached for the dog tags still hanging around my neck.
I didnāt make any move to lift my head or slide my hair aside to make it easier for him. As long as those tags were on my neck instead of his, he was safe. He was alive.
āIām not going to die over there,ā he whispered, pulling the tags over his head. They clinked together as they fell against his chest. āIām coming back to you.ā
My throat was burning from trying to keep myself from crying. āYou canāt promise that.ā
He reached for the blanket that had fallen on the floor and gently tucked it around my still-naked body. It was strange how Iād forgotten I was naked until heād taken his tags off of me. Now though, I felt bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. My dress was somewhere around, even though I didnāt see it. Weād barely managed to make it to the parking lot before falling into the backseat together.
āYes I can,ā he said, his thumb tracing my collarbone before tucking the other corner around my shoulder. āHave I ever broken a promise to you?ā He angled himself so he was in front of me, so I was forced to look him in the eyes.
āThis is different. You canāt know for sure.ā
āIām going to enjoy watching you eat those words when Iām standing in front of that pretty face in twelve months, Blue Bird.ā
I pulled the blanket tighter around me. āYou know I donāt like it when you call me that when Iām mad at you.ā
āYouāre mad? At me?ā He blinked. āWhy?ā
āYou know why.ā My eyes automatically moved toward the line of buses.
āTo set the record straight, itās the marine corps sending me to Iraq. Not me by personal choice.ā
āNo, but you made the personal choice to join the marine corps.ā
āYeah, because I didnāt want to spend the next twenty years pumping gas at the Qwik Mart.ā His hand curled around the back of the front seat. āWeāve talked about this, Camryn. Iām not cut out for college, and I sure as shit am not going to spend my life working a minimum-wage part-time job and stuck in Medford. The marines is a chance at a real life. A career where I can be promoted and provide for a family and get a chance to kick a little ass every once in a while.ā He leaned forward to kiss my forehead. Then my lips. āThis is the ticket to that life weāve been talking about for years. But it comes with a price.ā His mouth covered mine again, this time a bit longer. āIāll be okay. Iāll make it back.ā
My eyes closed so I could focus on the taste of him left behind on my mouth. āYouāre always the first to charge into anything. You donāt hang back. You donāt like the shadows. You like being the one who cast those shadows.ā
When my eyes finally opened, I found his dark blue ones inches away from mine. His light hair, buzzed short so he was all ready for deployment, the few freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw tightened when he stared at me, those were the things Iād remember when Iād lay awake at night, wondering where he was. If he was safe. If he was thinking about me. As long as I held on to a part of him, he could never really leave me.
āIām coming home to you,ā he said like a solemn vow. āIt might be in more than one piece, but Iām coming home to you.ā
I tucked his tags inside his shirt. Theyād become cold again. āA thousand pieces, I donāt care. Just come home.ā
His smile was almost as forced as mine as he leaned in, pulling me into his arms one last time. He held me for a minute, one hand secured around my neck, the other around my back, rocking me against him. Then he kissed me one last time. āGotta go, Blue Bird. The Middle East isnāt going to settle itself down.ā
As he threw open the back door to go around to the trunk to grab his bag, I leaned across the seat. He was leaving. For what felt like forever. āYeah, donāt think youāre single-handedly responsible for tackling that agenda either.ā
Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he crouched beside me. This smile wasnāt contrived. It was real. Perfect. āIāll see you soon.ā
āSoon?ā
His hand formed around my cheek as his thumb traced the seam of my lips. āSounds better than see you in a year, right?ā Tucking his thumb into his mouth, tasting my lips on it, he gave me a wicked smirk before shoving to a stand and starting toward the buses. āIām coming back for you, Camryn Blue Gardner, so youād better be waiting for me, or Iāll just have to come find you and remind you why you fell crazy in love with me.ā
Tucking the blanket around myself, I slid out of the car, leaning over the open door. āIām not going anywhere. Iāll be waiting.ā
Heād started to jog backward. āWaiting as in a few days until some other guy makes his play?ā
My eyes rolled as I gave him a look. Brecken and Iād been together since I was fifteen and he was seventeen. Even before that, weād been inseparable, no one able to come between us.
I cupped my hand around my mouth. āWaiting as in forever.ā
āI wonāt keep you waiting that long. Just long enough.ā He was shouting now, the rumbling buses muffling his voice.
āLong enough for what?ā I yelled back.
Even with this much distance between us, I didnāt miss it. The look in his eyes. The tip of his smile. āFor you to agree to marry me the moment I get back.ā
The breeze played with my hair, sending it away from him, like forces out of our control were already pulling us apart. āI will!ā
He paused just below the bus steps, his eyes consuming me from a hundred yards away. āItās, I do, Blue Bird. I do.ā He grinned and handed his bag off to the person stuffing them into one of the outside compartments. Then his hands cupped around his mouth, and he dropped his head back. āI do, too!ā
His voice echoed across the parking lot, earning the attention of more than just me.
That was it. He climbed the stairs, turned the corner, and disappeared inside the bus. I wouldnāt see him for a year. I might not see him ever . . .
My jaw tensed as I put a stop to that train of thought. Wedding vows and rings were the last things on my mind as his bus lurched away from the curb.
āJust come back to me,ā I whispered to no one. āJust come back.ā
Whenever he had to leave, it was torture. Youād think Iād get used to it, but I didnātāeach time got harder. This one might have felt especially brutal because of how long heād be gone. A year. Weād done weeks, weād done months, but weād never done the full year.
āBeing with someone in the military, I knew Iād have to get used to it. The separation. The worry. The loneliness. The feeling that I was trying to catch my breath for however long he was gone.
āIt was a way of life. And he was my life. So Iād just have to figure it out.
āāIām never going to look at dog tags the same way again.ā Breckenās mouth turned up as his eyes roamed over me splayed across the backseat as he tucked in his T-shirt. He twisted his wrist, his gaze moving to his watch. A crease folded into his forehead. āBut Iām going to need those back before I climb onto that bus. Something about military regulations. Not wandering around enemy territory without them. Those marines are sticklers for the rules.ā
āHe was trying to make me feel betterātrying to get me to smileābut little could lift my spirits other than finding out he didnāt have to leave for the Middle East for twelve long months.
āāYou donāt need them. Not really.ā
āāWhyās that?ā
āāBecause you only need them if youāre planning on dying, and so help me god, Iām not taking these off my neck if you have plans for some kind of a heroās death.ā My hand curled almost defensively around the metal tags hanging against my bare skin as I focused on the way the cool metal warmed in my hand. The way it seemed to come to life in my hold.
āāIām not planning on dying over there. Iām not going to die,ā he corrected the moment my eyebrow started to lift. āBut I do have plans of scoring some gnarly war wound so I have a story to tell our grandkids one day and can hang one of those Purple Hearts off my chest.ā
āI flattened my face as best as I could, even though it was kind of impossible with the way he was grinning at me as he wrestled his jeans back into place. āNot funny.ā
āāCome on. Itāll make me look tough.ā
āāYou already look tough. Too tough,ā I added as I scanned him for the millionth time since heād arrived back in Medford for a week-long vacation before shipping out. Whenever I looked at him, I didnāt just see the good-looking guy others didāI saw every good memory from my past. I saw every good memory that would be formed in the future. Brecken had been a part of my life since I was eight, and he was as much a part of me as I was.
āāNah, I need one of those big, angry-looking scars running across my chest. Or one of those bullet hole scars on my thigh. Something real tough like that.ā
āāAnd why do you need your dog tags for that?ā My fingers tightened around the thin metal ovals, refusing to let them go as if I hoped in doing so, he couldnāt go either.
āāBlood transfusion. Medics are going to need to know my blood type when theyāre trying to patch up my unconscious body.ā
āāUnconscious body?ā
āHe nodded all solemn-like. āI canāt be one of those guys who earns his Purple Heart by getting a scratch on some barbed wire. I need to lose a quart or two of blood, maybe even code on the operating table. Something worthy of that medal.ā
āThe thought of Brecken marching through a hostile country with a rifle in his hands, with god only knew what aimed his way, made me feel weak with worry. The thought of him fighting for his life in some marine medical tent about took whatever was left of my sanity.
āI must not have been doing a good job hiding my emotions, because his face broke when he saw my eyes, his arms opening toward me. āItās going to be okay, Camryn. Iām going to be okay. Weāre going to be okay. The year will fly by, and before we know it, weāll be getting married and buying a little house as close to the beach as we can afford. Okay?ā
His arms wound around me, swallowing my body, and I let him tuck me close to him. Iād never known the feeling of being safe until Brecken Connollyās arms had shown me the meaning.
āMy hand planted in the middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat vibrate against my palm. āWhy canāt we just get married now? Why canāt I join the marines and go with you, wherever that is, so we can be together?ā
āHis laugh was muffled from his mouth being pressed against my temple. āWell, you canāt join the marines and my unit because the militaryās under this impression that us marines of the male species become distracted and one-track minded when the women we love are marching beside us. Theyāre convinced the only things on our minds are protecting you, flirting with you, or screwing you.ā
āQuietly, I counted off on my fingers, āProtecting, flirting, screwing . . .ā Then I nodded. āDamn, they sure have you pegged.ā
āBreckenās fingers brushed up and down the bend of my waist. āAnd we canāt get married right now because youāve got two more months of high school to finish before you earn that nifty diploma thing.ā He kept going, undeterred by my grumble. āAnd I need to save some money to give you a proper ring and wedding. Iām not doing the courthouse thing with cheap silver bands. Not for you. You deserve the best.ā
āMy head tucked beneath his chin as I let him hold me in the backseat of his auntās old Corsica. The only good thing I could say about the carāwhich was a coin toss if it would start any given dayāwas that it had a decent-sized backseat that Brecken and I had made more than ample use of. Growing up in a strict household with my dad as Brecken grew up in the packed household a few houses down, privacy had been in short supply for both of us. Thankfully, his aunt was willing to lend Brecken her car whenever she could, like today, when Iād just made love to the only boy Iād ever loved for the last time for the next year.
My fingers curled into his chest as I willed time to freeze. āI have the best.ā
Brecken grunted like he doubted that, his head lifting to check out the windshield. We were parked way back in the bus depot lot. His bus would be leaving for the long drive back to Camp Pendleton in a few short minutes.
āBesides, you already got me a ring.ā I raised my left hand in front of him, rolling my fingers so he could see the adjustable birthstone ring on my finger.
He shook his head. āI won that for you at an arcade when we were ten.ā
āIt cost you twelve hundred tickets too. You saved up all summer to get that many tickets.ā
His fingers touched the ring, twisting it around with a small smile on his face. āAnd it probably has the street value of a nickel. Not exactly the kind of wedding ring I want my wife to have.ā
I found myself staring at the ring with him. The gold paint had started chipping off the thin band years ago, but the small pink birthstone still sparkled when the light hit it just right. āWell, itās priceless to me. I donāt care what the street value is. Or how many tickets it cost.ā
āEven so, Iām getting you a nice ring. With all of the hazard pay Iāll earn this year, youād better start working that left ring finger out so it can bear the weight of the diamond Iāll be dropping on it.ā
I was glad he couldnāt see my face, because he hated knowing how worried I was about him. He said hazard pay like a sales rep mentioned a bonus, but I heard it for what it really wasāthe government giving you a little more money for the likelihood of losing your life increasing.
āOne more year. Thatās it. Then weāll be able to be together like weāve always planned. Away from here.ā Breckenās arms loosened around me. We didnāt have much longer. āAway from these people.ā
An uneven exhale came from him, the muscles in his arms twitching. I knew who he was talking about without him going into detail. Neither of our lives had been charmed or particularly easy, but mine had been worse. Being raised by a single dad who was so strict he made a monkās life seem carefree, Iād had an unusual upbringing. Brecken only knew what I let him know about it, which was barely half of the reality.
āI donāt like leaving you alone with him,ā he said, his voice a note lower. āIf things get hard again, just leave. Move in with my insane family or a hotel or anywhere. Donāt let him hurt you. Words or fists. He does it againāāBreckenās hands curled into balls as his back stiffenedāāIāll kill him. I swear I will.ā
āHe wonāt,ā I said instantly, in my most convincing voice. āHeās working on all that. Not drinking as much.ā I made sure to hold his stare to sell as much conviction as I was capable.
My dad wasnāt just a strict man. He was a sad one, a lonely one. After my mom left, heād turned into someone else, almost like sheād taken everything that had been good about him and stuffed it in that small suitcase too. Since I was the only one around and bore a striking resemblance to my mom, Iād taken the brunt of my dadās grief. In the form of cutting words and, occasionally, outstretched palms.
Brecken had been walking down the sidewalk one day when he saw my dad strike me across the cheek for attempting to leave the house in a skirt he described as āfitting for a whore.ā Brecken had only been thirteen, but heād taken my dad down, managing to land a few punches before I could pull him off.
My dad stopped hitting me after that. At least where anyone passing by could see.
Not that I needed to tell Brecken that now. Though I guessed it would get him to stay a while longer . . . if only to be charged with murder and thrown into prison for the next twenty to thirty years.
Suddenly, that year didnāt seem so bad.
āHe wonāt,ā I reiterated, when Brecken continued to give me that penetrating stare, like he was capable of finding a lie if I was hiding one.
Both of his brows lifted. āHe better not.ā
āIf anything happens, Iāll crash at your familyās place, I swear.ā
Sitting up, he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. āWith fourteen people sharing twelve hundred square feet of space, good luck finding a quiet spot to do your homework.ā He pulled every bill out of his wallet. Even the last crumbled dollar. āTake this, hide it from your dad, and use it if you need to. Thatās enough to get you a week or so at a hotel that isnāt a dump, and as soon as I get my next paycheck, Iāll send more.ā
My head was shaking as I tried to stuff the money back into his wallet. Heād already closed it and was sliding it back into his pocket though. āIāll be fine.ā
Breckenās gaze dropped to the money in my hand. āYeah, I know.ā
āBrecken.ā
āCamryn,ā he mimicked.
āIām not taking the last dollar in your wallet.ā
āWhy not?ā he asked, making a face. āIād give you the shirt off my back, the air in my lungs, the last drop of blood in my veins. The last dollarās a cakewalk compared to, you know, dying of suffocation or bleeding out.ā He winked as he folded my fingers around the wad of money in my hand, then he leaned down to pull on his boots. He was moving quickly, glancing in the direction of the buses like he was making sure his wasnāt pulling away from the curb yet.
āDo you want to walk with me to the bus?ā His focus stayed on cinching up his last boot as he waited for my answer.
He already knew it though. Good-byes werenāt my forte. Especially not the kind where I had to wave good-bye to the man I loved as he prepared to head into the middle of a war zone for the next year. Good-bye came with a whole different context when you said it to a marine.
āI know, Blue Bird. I know.ā He sighed, his eyes narrowing at the weathered floorboards before he reached for the dog tags still hanging around my neck.
I didnāt make any move to lift my head or slide my hair aside to make it easier for him. As long as those tags were on my neck instead of his, he was safe. He was alive.
āIām not going to die over there,ā he whispered, pulling the tags over his head. They clinked together as they fell against his chest. āIām coming back to you.ā
My throat was burning from trying to keep myself from crying. āYou canāt promise that.ā
He reached for the blanket that had fallen on the floor and gently tucked it around my still-naked body. It was strange how Iād forgotten I was naked until heād taken his tags off of me. Now though, I felt bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. My dress was somewhere around, even though I didnāt see it. Weād barely managed to make it to the parking lot before falling into the backseat together.
āYes I can,ā he said, his thumb tracing my collarbone before tucking the other corner around my shoulder. āHave I ever broken a promise to you?ā He angled himself so he was in front of me, so I was forced to look him in the eyes.
āThis is different. You canāt know for sure.ā
āIām going to enjoy watching you eat those words when Iām standing in front of that pretty face in twelve months, Blue Bird.ā
I pulled the blanket tighter around me. āYou know I donāt like it when you call me that when Iām mad at you.ā
āYouāre mad? At me?ā He blinked. āWhy?ā
āYou know why.ā My eyes automatically moved toward the line of buses.
āTo set the record straight, itās the marine corps sending me to Iraq. Not me by personal choice.ā
āNo, but you made the personal choice to join the marine corps.ā
āYeah, because I didnāt want to spend the next twenty years pumping gas at the Qwik Mart.ā His hand curled around the back of the front seat. āWeāve talked about this, Camryn. Iām not cut out for college, and I sure as shit am not going to spend my life working a minimum-wage part-time job and stuck in Medford. The marines is a chance at a real life. A career where I can be promoted and provide for a family and get a chance to kick a little ass every once in a while.ā He leaned forward to kiss my forehead. Then my lips. āThis is the ticket to that life weāve been talking about for years. But it comes with a price.ā His mouth covered mine again, this time a bit longer. āIāll be okay. Iāll make it back.ā
My eyes closed so I could focus on the taste of him left behind on my mouth. āYouāre always the first to charge into anything. You donāt hang back. You donāt like the shadows. You like being the one who cast those shadows.ā
When my eyes finally opened, I found his dark blue ones inches away from mine. His light hair, buzzed short so he was all ready for deployment, the few freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw tightened when he stared at me, those were the things Iād remember when Iād lay awake at night, wondering where he was. If he was safe. If he was thinking about me. As long as I held on to a part of him, he could never really leave me.
āIām coming home to you,ā he said like a solemn vow. āIt might be in more than one piece, but Iām coming home to you.ā
I tucked his tags inside his shirt. Theyād become cold again. āA thousand pieces, I donāt care. Just come home.ā
His smile was almost as forced as mine as he leaned in, pulling me into his arms one last time. He held me for a minute, one hand secured around my neck, the other around my back, rocking me against him. Then he kissed me one last time. āGotta go, Blue Bird. The Middle East isnāt going to settle itself down.ā
As he threw open the back door to go around to the trunk to grab his bag, I leaned across the seat. He was leaving. For what felt like forever. āYeah, donāt think youāre single-handedly responsible for tackling that agenda either.ā
Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he crouched beside me. This smile wasnāt contrived. It was real. Perfect. āIāll see you soon.ā
āSoon?ā
His hand formed around my cheek as his thumb traced the seam of my lips. āSounds better than see you in a year, right?ā Tucking his thumb into his mouth, tasting my lips on it, he gave me a wicked smirk before shoving to a stand and starting toward the buses. āIām coming back for you, Camryn Blue Gardner, so youād better be waiting for me, or Iāll just have to come find you and remind you why you fell crazy in love with me.ā
Tucking the blanket around myself, I slid out of the car, leaning over the open door. āIām not going anywhere. Iāll be waiting.ā
Heād started to jog backward. āWaiting as in a few days until some other guy makes his play?ā
My eyes rolled as I gave him a look. Brecken and Iād been together since I was fifteen and he was seventeen. Even before that, weād been inseparable, no one able to come between us.
I cupped my hand around my mouth. āWaiting as in forever.ā
āI wonāt keep you waiting that long. Just long enough.ā He was shouting now, the rumbling buses muffling his voice.
āLong enough for what?ā I yelled back.
Even with this much distance between us, I didnāt miss it. The look in his eyes. The tip of his smile. āFor you to agree to marry me the moment I get back.ā
The breeze played with my hair, sending it away from him, like forces out of our control were already pulling us apart. āI will!ā
He paused just below the bus steps, his eyes consuming me from a hundred yards away. āItās, I do, Blue Bird. I do.ā He grinned and handed his bag off to the person stuffing them into one of the outside compartments. Then his hands cupped around his mouth, and he dropped his head back. āI do, too!ā
His voice echoed across the parking lot, earning the attention of more than just me.
That was it. He climbed the stairs, turned the corner, and disappeared inside the bus. I wouldnāt see him for a year. I might not see him ever . . .
My jaw tensed as I put a stop to that train of thought. Wedding vows and rings were the last things on my mind as his bus lurched away from the curb.
āJust come back to me,ā I whispered to no one. āJust come back.ā
Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if itās just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because sheās all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever timeās left over sheās forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.
Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.
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