Chapter 10 #2
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “The big bad soldier brought down by a five-foot-five pre-med student.”
“Five-five and three-quarters,” I correct automatically.
He smiles. “Exactly.”
I sniff, laughing and crying at the same time.
We stare at each other, the air between us thick and buzzing. I can see every fleck of color in his eyes, every curve of his mouth, every line on his face that wasn’t there the day we met.
“I love you,” I say again, because saying it once doesn’t feel like enough. “I don’t care if we started because of paperwork or if some people think this is crazy. You’re my husband. You’re my home. I love you.”
His breath jerks out of him, like my words punched into his lungs.
“Say it again,” he rasps.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He moves.
One second I’m sitting there with his hand on my cheek, and the next his mouth is on mine. The kiss is deep and wild, his fingers sliding into my hair, his other hand still gripping mine so tightly that it almost hurts.
I kiss him back with everything I have.
All the nights I spent telling myself not to fall. All the mornings I woke up to his breath on my neck and wanted to tell him how safe he made me feel. All the times I watched him move around our house like he never really believed he’d have one, and I wanted to tell him he could stay forever.
I pour it all into this kiss.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
I blink, dazed. Then reality rushes back in.
“What did the doctor say?” I ask, heart jamming in my throat all over again. “Are you… Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”
He hesitates.
Then he nods. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
Relief crashes through me so hard that I slump against the seat.
“Okay,” I breathe. “Good. That’s… that’s good.”
He doesn’t look relieved, though. He looks… heavy. Conflicted.
“What is it?” I ask quietly. “What did they tell you?”
He turns our hands so our fingers are tangled together, our rings sliding against each other.
“They cleared me,” he says finally. “I’m fit for duty. They want me back.”
The words land like a punch to the gut.
“Oh,” I say, because my brain suddenly feels like it’s full of static.
Images flicker through my mind—him in uniform, stepping onto a plane.
Me at the receptionist desk, watching other soldiers walk past, wondering if they’ll be the ones to tell me something happened to my husband.
Our bed cold. Our house well-ordered but empty.
My textbooks piled on the couch where he should be.
“Rowan.” His voice cuts through my panic again, steady. “Hey. Breathe.”
I drag in a shaky breath, then another.
“Congratulations,” I say, because that’s what I’m supposed to say, right? “That’s… that’s what you wanted.”
He huffs out a breath. “Is it?”
I blink at him.
“What do you mean?”
He looks at me like I’m the only thing in his world.
“I thought it was,” he says slowly. “For years. All I wanted was to get back to my team. To the field. To the mission. But now…”
His gaze drops briefly to our joined hands, then lifts back to my face. “Now my mission feels different.”
My heartbeat thunders.
He squeezes my hand gently. “They offered me a slot. I don’t have to say yes right away. I can defer active duty for a few more months, keep doing rehab here, stay on light duty while they work out assignments. But after that… they’ll want an answer.”
He swallows. “I don’t want to decide without you,” he says firmly. “This isn’t just my life anymore. We’re married. We’re a team now. We decide together.”
Something in my chest loosens.
He could have come in here and simply told me how it was going to be. That he was going back. That I’d have to figure it out around him. That my dreams came second, like they always have.
He didn’t.
He’s looking at me like my opinion actually matters. Like my future matters as much as his.
“You’re my wife,” he says as if that explains everything. “Your plans, your career, your safety—they’re not negotiable to me. The military’s had me my whole adult life. They don’t get to have you too. Not unless we decide together that it’s worth it.”
I blink rapidly, overwhelmed.
“I—” My throat closes. I try again. “I applied to med school.”
He nods once. “You told me that.”
“I should hear back in a few weeks,” I continue, my voice shaking a little. “There are a few schools on the East Coast, some in Colorado. I cast a wide net and hoped for the best.”
He nods again, slower this time. “Where?”
“All over. I applied to my dream schools, safety schools, everywhere. Some on the East Coast, some on the West, one here in Colorado.”
He listens without interrupting, his thumb stroking along my knuckles.
When I finish, he nods thoughtfully. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I echo.
“I’ll start looking at bases,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “See where I could be stationed near those schools. If we decide I go back, I want to be somewhere that makes sense for you.”
Emotion punches through me hard enough that my eyes blur again.
“You’d do that?” I whisper. “Move for me? Plan your career around mine?”
He gives me a look. “You have no idea how gone for you I am, do you?”
I let out a wet laugh. “I mean, I had my suspicions.”
He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Listen,” he says, more serious now. “If you get into a school on the East Coast, we’ll figure it out.
Maybe I do a training assignment stateside.
Maybe I take a position teaching or doing recruitment.
Maybe I stay here on medical leave a little longer while you finish undergrad, and we re-evaluate when it’s time for you to move.
There are options. I’m not going to disappear on you. ”
Fear still curls in my stomach, but it’s quieter now. Smaller.
“What do you want?” I ask softly. “If you could pick anything. Without thinking about me or money or what you think you should do. What do you want?”
“I want you,” he says simply. “That’s not me trying to be romantic.
That’s just… truth. I want you. In my house.
In my bed. In my life. I want to see you in a white coat with your name embroidered on it.
I want to go to your med school graduation and embarrass you by cheering too loudly.
I want to hold your hand while you deliver other people’s babies and come home and talk my ear off about it. ”
My heart threatens to explode. A tear slips down my cheek.
“Whatever you want,” I say again, because I can’t help it. “If you want to go back, we’ll make it work. If you want to stay on medical leave longer, we’ll make that work too. I don’t want you to give up a piece of yourself for me.”
He leans in and presses his forehead to mine. “I’m not giving anything up. I’m changing missions.”
My breath catches.
He pulls back enough to look me in the eye.
“I want to stay here with you. At least until you hear back from med schools. I want to be the one driving you to campus, bringing you lunch, and watching you freak out over acceptance letters. I want to be here when you decide where you’re going, so we can sit at our kitchen table and map out our next move together.
After that… we’ll see what makes the most sense. For both of us.”
Relief and love and hope surge through me all at once. I launch myself across the console and kiss him.
He’s ready for it this time, one hand cupping the back of my head, the other still gripping my hand like he has no intention of ever letting go. The angle is awkward, half my body stretched over the gear shift, but I don’t care.
He loves me.
He wants to stay.
He’s choosing us.
When we finally come up for air, I’m half in his lap, my pulse racing.
“If I go to the East Coast,” I say, breathless, “you’ll come with me?”
He brushes his thumb over my lower lip. “I’ll follow you anywhere,” he says simply. “Pine Valley, Boston, the damn moon. You tell me where you need to be, and I’ll figure out how to get there too.”
I laugh, giddy and choked up. “The moon doesn’t have a med school,” I point out.
He grins. “Yet.”
Another wave of affection crashes over me. I kiss him again, softer this time. When I pull back, my voice is steadier.
“Take me to bed,” I whisper.
His eyes darken instantly. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett,” he rumbles.
I press my face into his neck, breathe him in, and whisper it back as he carries me over the threshold and into our home.
Into our future.