Chapter 40 Julia
Julia
Three days.
That’s how long it had been since the tarmac.
Since Hawk’s hands had slid out of mine.
Since the transport had carried him away into another world.
Three days of waking up and checking my phone.
Three days of pacing my house like a ghost.
Three days of pretending to be fine at work while my thoughts kept drifting toward D.C.
The message he sent the night before kept replaying in my head.
Leaving D.C. tomorrow.
Coming home.
Every time I read it, my chest tightened in a mixture of relief and fear.
What if something changed overnight?
What if Command pulled him back in?
What if walking away wasn’t as simple as Hawk made it seem? He’d always been good at burning himself out for others.
I put my badge away on the counter, tugged my jacket off, and dropped onto the couch.
Then I heard something.
A soft knock.
Three sharp raps.
My heart slammed into my ribs.
No one knocked on my door. Not like that.
I stood slowly, and opened the door.
And nearly collapsed.
Hawk.
Standing in the doorway.
Dressed in fatigues, sleeves pushed up, hair mussed from travel, duffel slung over his shoulder.
He looked exhausted.
He looked bruised.
He looked like everything I’d been trying not to want too much.
I yanked the door open.
He didn’t even get a word out before I launched into him, arms around his neck, face pressed into the warm column of his throat. He caught me automatically, his duffel thudding to the floor, arms locking tight around my waist.
His breath hitched against my hair.
“I missed you,” I whispered.
“I know,” he whispered back. “I missed you too.”
I pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were tired, rimmed with shadows, but alive in a way I hadn’t seen since before this all started.
“You came back,” I said, voice shaking.
His thumb brushed my cheek. “Of course I did.”
“But what about your briefing? And the position? And—”
“I said no,” he murmured. “I told them I had something more important waiting for me.”
My throat closed.
“What’s more important?” I whispered.
“You,” he said simply.
I kissed him—slow, deliberate, hands cupping the sides of his face as if I let go, he might fade into smoke.
He kissed me back like he was memorizing the shape of my mouth.
He pressed me gently against the door frame, one hand at my waist, one tangled in my hair. My breath caught. My knees went weak. His forehead rested against mine between kisses, breaths mixing.
“I’m not leaving again,” he whispered against my lips. “Not unless you’re coming with me.”
“Promise?” I breathed.
He smiled faintly—small, real, just for me.
“I swear it, Detective.”
My heart finally steadied.
“Good,” I whispered. “Because I wasn’t planning to let you out of my sight.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Good. Because I’m not planning to go anywhere.”
I pulled him into my lake house, kicked the door shut with my foot, and—
The rest of the world fell away.