“It depends on the station commander.” Some were compassionate and believed that the air crew tended to be more reliable if they lived on- or off-station with their families. Others didn’t give a shit—or passes. “What about you?”
“I’m barely allowed a pass as it is. All the other women live in the huts or are billeted in the old married quarters.” Her brow puckered.
“None of the other women are married to someone posted at the same station,” he noted. Soon, she’d be just like the few others with wedding rings—married but forced to live apart.
She gnawed on her lower lip, clearly thinking something over.
“What’s going on in that remarkable brain of yours, Scarlett Stanton?”
Her gaze jumped to meet his. “I can’t go with you, but there’s a slight chance I might be able to get reposted closer than where we are now.”
He tried like hell not to hope but failed. “I’ll take even the slightest chance over the possibility of going months without seeing you.”
“If only postings were up to you, my husband, and as I am not currently recognized as my father’s daughter, I can’t pull the strings I did to get here.” She laced her fingers behind his neck. “But I’ll try.”
Relief loosened the knot in his throat but didn’t dispel it completely. “God, I love you.”
“If I can’t get reposted and all we have are weeks, then we’d better make them count.” She nodded toward the stove and its forgotten contents. “Skip dinner and take me to bed.”
“We don’t need a bed.” He lifted her to the kitchen table and sank into her kiss. She was right—if they only had weeks, he wasn’t wasting a second of it.
Chapter Seventeen
Georgia
Jameson,
Oh, love. I could never regret choosing you. You’re the very breath in my lungs and the beat of my heart. You were my choice before I even knew there was one to make. Please don’t worry. Close your eyes and picture us in that spot you’ve told me about—where the creek bends. We’ll be there soon, and even sooner I’ll be in your arms again. Until then, we’ll be waiting here for you. Always waiting. Always yours.
Scarlett
“This was the worst idea in the history of ideas!” I shouted down at Noah from fifteen feet above him, clinging to a wall I had no business being on. He’d waited a week before forcing me to hold up my end of the deal, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“So you’ve told me every five minutes since you started climbing,” he called up. “Now look to your left at that purple handhold.”
“I hate you,” I snapped, but reached for the hold. He’d taken me to a climbing gym a half hour away, so it wasn’t like I was dangling off the side of a mountain, but still. I might have been tied into the harness, but he held the other end of the rope. “You think you’d be better at metaphors, being a writer and all. Put your life in my hands, Georgia,” I did my best Noah impression. “Look at my superior climbing abilities and pretty face, Georgia.”
“Well, at least you still think I’m pretty.”
“You suck!” My arms trembled as I stepped up to the next foothold. The bell about thirty feet above me was only second on my shit list to Noah. I hated heights. Hated the weakness in my own body since I’d stopped taking care of it. I really hated the impossibly gorgeous guy beneath me with the rope.
“If it’s easier, I can grab Zach to belay you instead, then climb up and guide you myself,” Noah offered.
“What?” I glared down at him and the climbing gym attendant. “I don’t know Zach. He looks like he’s in high school!”
“Taking a gap year, actually,” the employee answered, waving up at me.
“You’re not helping,” Noah said quietly, but I still heard him. “But Zach is employed here, and you dying would probably really mess up his job, so I think you can trust that he’s a professional.”
“You move and I swear I’ll kick off my shoes so they hit you in the head, Morelli!” I shut my eyes for a second and stared straight ahead at the textured, gray rock of the climbing wall. Looking down made it even worse.
“Well, at least I rate higher than someone,” Noah joked.
“Barely!” I reached for the green handhold just above my right hand, then secured my foot on the next logical hold and pulled myself up the wall. “This only makes me hate you more,” I said as I gripped the next hold.
“But you’re climbing,” he countered.
Again, I reached for the next handhold, placed my feet, and continued upward. “I guess I just don’t see how this is going to help solve our plotting issues, considering I’m going to kill you as soon as I get down from here.” I was only a few feet away from the accursed bell. As soon as I rang that sucker, I was home free.
“I’ll take my chances,” he called up. I couldn’t help but notice how tight he kept the line. It was comforting, seeing I had to be a good twenty-five feet above him now. “You know, if you honestly hate it that much, I’m not gonna hold you to the bargain. This is really about trusting me, not hating me.”
I kept my eyes on the prize and hoisted myself another foot, then two. “The hell with that,” I called down. “I’m almost there.”
“You sure are.” I heard the pride in his voice and glanced down to see the same as he smiled up at me.
I was far from happy, but even I could admit I felt empowered. Capable. Strong.
Well, maybe not that strong. My arms and legs shook with fatigue as I made that last handhold and climbed the last twelve inches by sheer willpower alone.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Yes!” Noah shouted.
I felt the bell’s vibrations from the depths of my soul. They were strong enough to break apart my own preconceived notions that this was impossible. Strong enough to wake parts of me that had been sleeping since long before Damian’s latest indiscretion.
Perhaps even before I met him.
Just because I could, I rang the bell again just once. This time it wasn’t in desperation to be let down, to be set free of the bargain I made for myself, or to be validated by the person who had set me on this task.
It was in victory.
Logically, I knew it wasn’t Everest. I was maybe forty feet up a climbing wall in a professional environment, secured with ropes, a harness, and a liability policy.
But my chest swelled, filling with a ferocious sense of pride nonetheless.