Logan
Hampton, Virginia
The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every sound sharper.
The clock ticking in the kitchen. The faint hum of the heater kicking on.
The rustle of fabric as I pull on my flight suit, the zipper echoing too loud in the dim light of my bedroom.
The sun hasn’t even started to rise, and the faint glow of the bathroom light barely brushes against the shadows clinging to the corners of the room.
Lila is still asleep, her body curled up in my bed like she belongs there.
The sheet is twisted around her legs, her bare shoulder peeking out from beneath the fabric, the delicate strap of her silk tank top hanging loose against her skin.
Her long hair is braided, but pieces have slipped free, strands of gold and chestnut spilling across my pillow.
She looks peaceful, but I know better. She hasn’t been sleeping well, neither of us have.
I kneel beside the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress, and just watch her for a moment, memorizing the way her chest rises and falls, the soft part of her lips.
I lean in, brushing my lips against her forehead.
“Lila,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. “Sweetheart, wake up.”
She stirs, her brows pulling tighter before her eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep. It takes her a second to focus on me, and when she does, her fingers immediately reach out, curling around the front of my flight suit.
“Already?” she whispers, her voice laced with exhaustion and something far heavier.
I nod, covering her hand with mine. “It’s time.”
She doesn’t cry. She hasn’t cried once since I told her about the mission, but her eyes shine like she might. Instead, she scoots over, making room as she tugs me toward her. I go willingly, climbing onto the bed to hold her for the minute I have.
She buries her face in my chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of my uniform like she can physically keep me there. My hand slips beneath her tank top, resting against the small of her back, just needing to feel her skin, to remind myself that she’s here. That she’s safe.
“Please be careful,” she whispers, her voice barely a breath.
“I will,” I say, without hesitation, even though we both know it’s a vow I might not be able to keep.
I tip her chin up, capturing her mouth with mine, and she melts into me, her body fitting against mine like we’re two halves of the same whole.
The kiss is slow, lingering. A goodbye and a promise all wrapped into one.
I try to pour everything I can’t say into it.
How much I love her, how she’s my reason to fight and my reason to come home.
“I love you,” I murmur against her lips, and she presses another kiss there, sealing the words between us.
“I love you,” she whispers back, her fingers tracing the edges of my jaw.
I stay as long as I can, longer than I should, until I can’t justify it anymore. I gently ease her back against the pillows, tucking the blanket up to her chin even though I know she won’t go back to sleep. She watches me with wide, worried eyes, and it guts me to leave her like this.
But I do.
I force myself to walk out the door, shutting it behind me with a quiet click, knowing I’m leaving my heart on the other side.