Chapter 8 Marshall #2
The porch light had buzzed against the dark, throwing a pale circle over her steps. Norah stood inside it like she didn’t know whether to come closer or stay where she was. Her arms were folded, sweatshirt sleeves pushed up, fingers pressed white against her elbows.
Marshall had leaned against the railing, duffel bag at his feet, uniform jacket folded on top. He hadn’t wanted it to happen. But he could feel it coming, the way you feel a storm before it breaks.
“Say something,” she said finally, voice tight.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “You already did the talking.”
“I said I can’t keep doing this.” Her words came fast, like she’d rehearsed them. “I can’t live waiting for a phone call that might not come. I can’t watch the news and wonder which explosion—”
“You think I like that for you?” he cut in. “You think I don’t picture what it’s doing to you every time I’m out there?”
“Then why go back?” she whispered. “Why keep choosing it?”
“It’s not a choice,” he said. “It’s duty.”
She laughed once, brittle. “There it is. Duty. That’s what I’ll tell people when they ask why we didn’t make it—duty.”
He took a step toward her, but she backed up, hitting the doorframe. The space between them filled with everything they hadn’t said. It was love, fear, and pride, all tangled up in silence.
“Norah,” he said softly. “You knew what you were signing up for.”
“I thought I did.” Her eyes shone, but she didn’t let the tears fall. “But I didn’t know it would mean being half of something that only exists on your leave papers.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. The truth was, she was right. He didn’t know how to be both—soldier and man, protector and partner. The job came first because it had to. That was how he made the world make sense.
“You should go,” she said finally. “You’ll miss your flight.”
He flinched like she’d hit him. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?” Her voice broke now, softer. “Stay? When we both know you can’t?”
He stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat off her skin. “I’ll come back,” he said. “When it’s over.”
“When is it ever over, Marshall?” Her hand trembled as she reached up and brushed the corner of his jaw. Then she dropped it like the touch burned her. “I can’t do this halfway anymore.”
The duffel felt heavier when he lifted it. He stared at her, searching for something—permission, forgiveness, a reason to stay.
She didn’t give him one.
He kissed her anyway—brief, aching, final. She didn’t move, but she didn’t stop him either.
“I’ll write,” he said.
She shook her head once, eyes down. “Don’t.”
That was the last word between them.
He’d walked off the porch into the dark, telling himself she didn’t love him enough to wait. Because if she didn’t love him anyway, then he didn’t have to face what the uniform really cost.
Lately, he’d started to wonder if that was just the story he needed to tell so he could live with the leaving.
The glow from her window flickered again, pulling him back to the present as she flipped off the lights. She was safe. For now.
He leaned back, rubbed a hand over his jaw, exhaustion catching up with him. The snow fell softly, a silent lullaby for men who didn’t know how to rest.
He never meant to stay so long. But evening turned to morning and then to afternoon, afternoon to dusk, and then the streetlamps blinked on again.
One hour blurred into the next, the mission excuse wearing thinner every time he checked the clock or took a five minute break at the gas station on the corner.
By the time he saw midnight flash on the clock for the second time, he’d stopped pretending he was just doing his job.
The vibration of his phone startled him. He blinked awake. Joey’s name lit the screen. The numbers on the dashboard read 4:47 a.m. His first glance was back toward Norah’s house, which was dark and quiet.
He answered anyway. “Don’t you sleep?”
“Says the guy sitting outside his ex’s house in the dark.” Joey’s voice rasped, rough with too much caffeine and too few hours’ sleep.
Marshall rolled his eyes. “Does privacy mean anything at Black Tower anymore? I’m off the clock.”
Joey seemed unconcerned. “It’s not like you don’t know I track your cellphone. And since it shows you’ve been there for nearly thirty-six hours, I took the liberty of sending Landon your way. He should be there any minute.”
Joey was like an irritating sister, but he loved her like family. So he ignored the irritation and embarrassment. “Is that why you are calling at zero dark thirty?”
“Partly. You need to step back for a bit, Marshall. Plus, I’ve got something. I know it’s Sunday, but I don’t want to wait. Briefing is at sixteen hundred today, full team. Flint wants your update on Summit and the incident on Friday as well.”
“Copy.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, forcing his brain to catch up. “You find anything off traffic cams?”
“He hightailed it away from you and vanished three blocks out.”
Marshall’s jaw tightened. “Any chatter?”
“Not yet. But the fact that he tailed her instead of engaging means somebody wanted eyes, not blood. That’s the good news.”
It didn’t sound like good news to him. Who wanted eyes on Norah? Who suspected her? “Meaning there’s bad news.”
“Always is.” Joey hesitated, then added, “You okay?”
He glanced once more at Norah’s window. “She’s alive. That’s what matters.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He almost smiled. “I’m fine.”
“Right,” she said, the word dry as salt. “Try not to be late. I’ve got a lot to say.”
“Don’t you always?” he said, but his tone softened. “Thanks, Joey.”
“Don’t thank me yet. See you at four.”
The line clicked off. He stared at the quiet street, the dusting of snow already melted and a new layer of frost formed last night.
Somewhere inside, Norah would wake up soon. She’d make coffee and start digging again. Because she never knew when to stop.
A black SUV pulled up in the lane beside him.
A quick glance confirmed it was Landon, and Marshall felt a wave of gratitude at the way his team had his back, no questions asked.
He leaned forward, turned the ignition, and finally pulled away from the curb.
In his rearview mirror, he watched Landon skillfully parallel park in the vacated spot.
Joey was right. He needed a break. But he was grateful he had his team behind him.