Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
MILO
W hen Marilee finally takes a seat across from me, my heart beats so fast I wonder if this is what the beginning of a heart attack feels like. “Talk to me—please,” I blurt. My voice sounds raw, but it’s nothing compared to the pain I’ve felt every day since she left.
Marilee crosses her arms. “Say what you have to say.”
I nod, chest tight. “I was twenty-eight when my convoy hit an IED outside Kunduz.” The words taste like rust, but I keep going. “Carter and Santiago rode in the last Humvee. They’d spent the morning arguing about whose hometown had better barbecue. One minute, they were laughing. The next—nothing but fire and metal.” My throat closes. I force air through it. I can still smell the fire and carnage all these years later. “I pulled at the wreck until my nails split, but they were already gone. That’s how I got my scars.”
Her expression softens, but she lets me talk.
“I flew home for their funerals, told their mothers I’d bring the rest of the team back alive. I believed I could. Then I redeployed.” I rub a thumb over the edge of the table. “Three months later, a drunk driver took out my parents and both grandparents while they were on a Sunday drive. Four caskets, one service, and all I could do was watch on a laptop with a shitty internet connection because planes were grounded that week.” My voice cracks. “I couldn’t even be there to bury my family.”
“After that, I promised myself I’d never feel that kind of loss again. No close friends, no woman to call mine. I came here, built my cabin, and kept people at arm’s length. I take construction jobs when I’m running low on cash. It’s all I’ve needed.” I look up and meet her gaze. “Then I found you in my bed, insisting you weren’t going to leave because you had a lease.”
She swallows. “Oh, Milo. How come you never shared any of this?”
“It’s all too painful to even think about, much less put to words. I’m sorry.” I run a hand through my hair. “But needing you scares me more than RPGs ever did. That night in the cabin, I felt you under my skin, right against my heart— in my heart. But then I panicked so fast, and I couldn’t breathe. I shut down because I was suddenly certain I’d lose you, too.”
I pause and look at Marilee. The anger in her eyes is gone, replaced by a weary sadness.
“I’m tired of living like a ghost,” I say, voice low. “I miss you. I miss your body against mine so bad it aches.”
A flush climbs her cheeks, but she doesn’t pull back when I reach for her hands.
“I keep remembering waking up and finding you gone,” I confess, “and it feels like the convoy all over again—something exploding, and I wasn’t able to stop it. Everyone I love ends up a name on a headstone,” I whisper, the words tearing loose. “I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you, if you leave.”
Marilee leans in and puts her hands in mine. “I’m alive, Milo. I’m right here, sitting across this table from you and breathing.” She places one of her hands over her chest. “Fear is a part of life, but you can’t let it rule your life. You need to talk to the people you care about—especially when things are hard.”
“I’ll tear the walls down,” I promise. “I’ll prove myself to you. And I’ll do it every damn day for the rest of my life.” I tighten my grip on her hand. “I’m done running, Marilee. Give me another chance, so I can do this right.”
She squeezes my hands, eyes shining, and nods. “Show me, Milo. Day by day.”
I’m on my feet before I know I’ve moved. Marilee’s hands are still laced with mine, and I pull her up so that we’re standing together.
“Stay with me, Marilee,” I say, cupping her face gently in my hands. “Not for a week. Not for the summer. Stay for good—cabin, town, all of it. I’ve spent years pretending I didn’t need anyone. I thought if I kept the world at arm’s length, I wouldn’t have anything to lose, and I wouldn’t hurt again. But now I have an idea of how good life could be, and I want with everything in my soul to have that chance—with you. You are the one who made me believe I could have happiness.”
Marilee studies my face, eyes wide and shining. She steps closer, reaching up and resting her hand on my jaw. “Okay, Roomie,” she says, shyly smiling up at me. Then she kisses me, and my heart thunders in my chest.
Heat floods my body, sharp and sweet. I slide my hands down to her waist, loving the feel of the curve of her hips, the strength in the way she presses closer. Desire burns through my blood, but deeper than that is a fierce, aching tenderness. I will love this woman with everything I have to give.
Hank shoulders through the cheering crowd. He pokes a thick finger in front of my face, but his eyes aren’t angry. “You break her heart, Adamson, and I’ll rain hellfire.”
I don’t flinch. I feel stronger right now than I ever have before. “Not happening. I love her.”