I showed up at Dani’s house Sunday afternoon, questioning my sanity for the hundredth time since I’d agreed to paint her spare bedroom the day before. The past few months hadn’t been so much out-of-sight, out-of-mind as much as out-of-sight, out-of-trouble, and I’d figured the best way to keep things from becoming awkward between us was to avoid her, period. Except—
She’d looked so lost in the paint aisle, standing there by herself, and if I had an Achilles’ heel, she was it.
I knocked on the front door, shifting my weight back and forth. I was way too excited to see her. Excited and dreading it. And then Dani opened the door, a smile transforming her mouth as her gaze settled on me, and I braced myself—
She stepped into me, wrapping her arms around my neck, her body pressing against mine.
Her hugs weren’t casual; no, she hugged you as though she meant it, and I couldn’t resist the urge to let her hold me close, for my palm to rest on her back as I inhaled the scent of her shampoo. Her hair was silk against my face, a strand brushing across my lips. She wasn’t curvy, but she was soft, her body the kind you wanted to curl up against. The height difference between us was significant enough that she felt tiny in my arms, and the familiar need bubbled up inside me—to protect her, love her, worship her.
I took a step back.
“Thank you so much for coming over.”
The hint of her accent sent a pull low in my belly, and an ache even lower. I swallowed, my mouth dry, giving her a nod, not sure I trusted my emotions enough to speak.
I followed her into the house, my gaze drifting over the swaying copper-colored hair, the loose top, the denim shorts, the bare legs. There was a rhythm to her walk, one I’d memorized.
Fuck.
I forced myself to look away, the sight of the pictures on the wall—her and Joker on their wedding day—obliterating my body’s reaction faster than a bucket of cold water could have.
She led me into the room they’d planned for their nursery, the one I’d helped Joker paint blue what seemed like a lifetime ago. A whole other host of emotions hit me as I remembered that day, the two of us sharing a beer, talking about flying, about him becoming a dad.
He’d been the weapons officer at my first F-16 assignment, and despite the years between us, we’d struck up a friendship. He wasn’t defined by his rank; he didn’t use it to set himself apart. He was nice to everyone, approachable, genuinely cared about the people in his squadron. He’d been a bro. We’d kept in touch over the years, run into each other at various assignments, our paths crossing as they so often did in the small community of F-16 pilots. When I’d heard he was going to be the squadron commander of the Wild Aces, I’d been thrilled. He was the kind of guy you wanted leading, who was destined for great things. We hadn’t been as close back then, but I’d admired him, respected him.
The first time I saw Dani was at a squadron Hail and Farewell—a party to celebrate the pilots and families leaving the squadron and those coming in. I’d been standing at the bar, talking to Noah, and all of a sudden, I’d looked up and I swear to God, I fucking fell.
She’d been standing behind the bar with one of the wives, wearing a pink dress and a smile on her face that lit up the room. Her eyes fucking sparkled. And I wasn’t a guy who thought shit like that. At all. But the second I saw her, any hope of game disappeared. I had to talk to her. I’d taken the first step, and Noah had nudged me, and then I’d watched, the dream of her sliding away, as Joker took her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers, my gut twisting as something inside me that had sprung to life simply died.
I wasn’t someone who messed around with married women or the kind of guy who would ever move in on a bro’s girl. There was a code to this stuff and it was the same code that made us willing to die fighting to protect the guy at our side. I’d vowed to put her out of my mind, that whatever I’d felt in that moment, or thought I’d felt, wasn’t real, didn’t matter, had to be forgotten at all costs.
Two years later, I was still trying.
“—I set everything up,” Dani said, and I realized she’d been speaking this whole time, and I’d been somewhere else entirely.
A smile played at her lips. “Are you okay? Rough night last night? Do you want me to make you coffee or something?”
There was no censure in her voice, merely affectionate amusement. I knew the reputation I had in the squadron—player, asshole, manwhore—and I couldn’t care less what people thought about me. Hell, I’d worked hard to cultivate that reputation and had a pretty damn good time doing it. As fucked up as it was, in my world you got ahead by being the flashiest guy in the group, by having a larger-than-life personality that translated to how you handled yourself in the jet. Ours was not a profession for the meek or humble. There was an arrogance to what we did, an absolute belief in yourself that often meant the difference between life and death, a need to be the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the sky and on the ground.
And at the same time, I couldn’t stand the idea of her seeing me through that lens—all swagger and no substance.
“No. I stayed in last night. Sorry. Distracted.”
I forced a smile, wishing I could relax around her. It hadn’t been this hard before, but now there was too much there, too many things twisting me up in knots, so much guilt washing over me that I was drowning.
I was here and Joker wasn’t.
“Are we okay?” Dani asked, her voice going quiet.
The worry in her voice added another layer to the guilt.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Are you sure? Because you seem different with me. You said everything was fine the other day, but it doesn’t seem fine.”
I ran a hand through my hair. Of all the emotions running through me, I picked the easiest one to address. We’d spent enough time together that she knew me well, and I figured my act wasn’t really fooling anyone.
“I’m sorry. I miss him. It’s weird being here again.” I took a deep breath, releasing some of the pressure from my chest. “I’m still . . .” My voice trailed off.
“Getting used to him being gone?”
“Yeah.”
“Me, too.” Her gaze surveyed the room before settling back on me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She bit down on her lip, worry in her eyes. “Jordan wants to set me up on a date.”
My gaze was so focused on her mouth, on all that pale pink, that I didn’t hear what she’d said, and then her words registered and they hit me like a fucking truck. Was Jordan trying to kill me?
“What?”
“Jordan wants me to go on a date with her doctor. I guess he’s divorced or something, and she said he’s really nice . . .” Dani swallowed, her face pale. “It’s weird. Michael’s gone, but I feel . . . guilty. You were one of his closest friends, and I guess I want to know . . .”
Was she really asking my permission to go on a date? If I thought her husband would be okay with her dating now? I experienced a momentary stab of anger at Jordan for wanting to set up Dani, for injecting some fucking doctor into this mess. I wasn’t waiting in the wings, but—
I moved away from her, needing to put distance between us.
“You think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?” she asked. “I did, too. I was worried it was too soon.”
“No.” I took a deep breath, steadying myself, trying to be the man she deserved, a better man than I’d ever been. I turned, fixing my gaze to a point over her shoulder. It had been what, a year now? “It’s not too soon.” I’d seen what she’d been through. The losses she carried with her. She deserved to be happy. Deserved to have a good life, a stable life, deserved a guy who would love her and treat her right. For all she’d loved Joker, she’d never had stability, had come second to the military, and I wanted that for her now. A doctor could give her that. And Jordan loved Dani. She wouldn’t have set her up with anyone who wasn’t good for her.
“You should go out with him.”
Surprise filled her gaze. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
I would have been lying if I didn’t admit it hurt to get the words out, but it was the right answer.
I forced a smile. “Yeah. You deserve to be happy. Joker loved you with everything he had, everything he was. When you love someone like that, you want what’s best for them. He would want you to be happy.”
I wanted her, had always wanted her, would always want her. But more than anything, I wanted her to be happy. I would have gladly given up everything to remove the pain she’d experienced, for things to have ended differently. I lived with that moment in my head constantly, plagued by the question of why it had gone down the way it did, why the spatial disorientation had hit him and not me, why I’d returned home in a jet and his remains had come home in a coffin.
I messed around in the kitchen while Easy painted the nursery, the remnants of our conversation lingering in my mind. I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of going on a date, but I did feel better after talking to him. On the surface, Easy didn’t seem like the deepest guy; he embodied the stereotypical image of the fighter pilot who partied hard, fucked harder, and lived on the edge. But I’d learned throughout the years that there were layers there, and he could be a rock when you needed him to be. So I took his advice and I trusted him, not only because he’d mattered to Michael, but because he mattered to me.
I worried about him. I’d watched Noah and Thor take time to recover from the accident, had seen them lean on the people in their lives to get them through their loss. Easy didn’t really have anyone. Noah was his closest friend, but he had his hands full with Jordan’s pregnancy and managing their life apart. Easy and Thor hung out socially, but I couldn’t quite envision them having deep heart-to-hearts. Couldn’t really envision Easy having that with anyone. I’d tried reaching out to him a few times over the past year without much success. Maybe it was time for me to make more of an effort.
I pulled the roast from the oven, letting it cool for a few minutes, walking over to the dining room to set the table. There was something both comforting and sad in this ritual, too. Another piece of myself I’d lost somewhere along the way since Michael’s death. I’d taken these moments for granted when he was alive, relegating them to the mundane, but now these were the things I missed the most. I blinked, imagining Michael sitting at the head of the table, in his usual seat. An empty space greeted me instead.
When the table was finished, I walked back to the bedroom to tell Easy the food was ready.
The smell of fresh paint hit me first, and then I walked over the threshold to my now-beige guest bedroom, and stopped in my tracks at the sight before me.
I’d heard the guys’ jokes about how fanatical Easy was about working out and eating healthy; even in a squadron where most guys had made CrossFit their own personal religion, he had a rep for taking it a step further. And holy hell, it showed.
At some point he’d clearly gotten hot, his T-shirt now tucked into the waistband of his cargo shorts . . .
I swallowed, my gaze riveted to the sight of those muscles, so many muscles, the tan skin, the indentation above the back of his shorts that dipped beneath the fabric. I swallowed. It was so wrong to perv on Easy of all people, and then he turned and whatever I’d been prepared to say dried up in my throat.
I didn’t even bother trying to hide my reaction, because there hardly seemed to be a point. I doubted I was the first, tenth, or even hundredth woman to lose her shit in the face of Easy’s body.
I swallowed again, not meeting his gaze, lost somewhere in pec-land. And then I went lower.
Defined, tan abs gave way to indents on either side of his hips. He was tan and smooth, his skin . . .
Jesus.
No wonder he had so much success with women. If this was what came of hitting the gym and eating healthy, maybe I needed to rethink my life choices.
Say something.
The words tumbled out. “So that working-out thing is working for you, huh?”
I did not just say that.
A moment passed and then he let out a strangled laugh. “Something like that.”
I forced myself to look higher, staring at his stomach, those pecs, his neck, that angular jaw, until our gazes met. His eyes were wide, and if I hadn’t known how confident Easy always was, I’d almost have thought he was embarrassed.
I was ready for a hole to open in the ground and swallow me up.
And underneath it all, the thing that shocked me the most was that for a moment, I hadn’t thought of Easy as my friend, but as a guy. A hot guy. The sensation inside me—it wasn’t arousal or attraction, but it was something—a feeling I’d thought I’d lost. I hadn’t appreciated male beauty in a long time. That it was Easy made the whole thing weird on so many levels.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, my face on fire. “I didn’t realize you’d taken your shirt off.” I was a grown woman, not some innocent virgin, but damn nothing had really prepared me for this. In all the years we’d known each other, I’d never seen him shirtless. It was like seeing a Renoir for the first time.
A flush settled over his cheeks. “Yeah, sorry, I got a little warm.”
Me, too.
I took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact and mentally dressing him, which I was pretty sure was a first with someone who looked like Easy.
“No, it’s fine.” I forced myself to act like an adult and not dissolve into awkward giggles. “I wasn’t expecting all that.” I made a waving motion in the general direction of THE SIX-PACK. “I mean, go you. Clearly the kale and wheatgrass and those weird little smoothies you drink are working their magic.”
This time his laugh came out full-bodied and warm, his lips curving into a smile that was quintessentially Easy, that reminded me of the side of him I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Thanks, I think.”
Silence settled between us and I remembered why I’d come back here in the first place. “So dinner’s ready.”
“Perfect timing. The room’s finished.”
So it was.
I looked around at the beige-colored walls, another knot forming in my stomach, and suddenly I couldn’t be in this room, didn’t want to acknowledge that my life was moving on, that Michael and I would never have a baby.
I took a deep breath, and then another, the room blurring together as I struggled to adjust, to keep moving forward, when all I wanted was to fall to the floor and give in to the emotions ripping me to shreds.
Grief was a sneaky bitch.
And then Easy was there, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in close as the tears began to fall, stroking my back, telling me it was going to be okay over and over again, his voice so determined even I almost believed him. And as much as it should have felt awkward crying in a half-naked man’s arms, it didn’t because it was Easy. There were very few people I was comfortable showing this side of my grief, but he was one of them. He’d seen me with my walls down.
I’d never forget how he’d stood beside me when I’d faltered at Michael’s memorial service. There was something about him—as if a switch had been flipped—transforming him from the cocky guy who seemed to sail through life without taking anything seriously, to a rock.
My rock.
“Thank you,” I whispered, the sound muffled by my face buried against his chest.
He stroked my hair. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
I nodded, reaching between us to wipe at my face. I let myself linger there for a beat, and then another, enjoying the solace I found in his arms until his grip on me loosened, and I took a step away, missing the comfort of his body.
My hand came to rest between my breasts, the heel pressing into my skin as though it could erase the permanent ache in my heart.
“Sorry. It hits me sometimes. I figured doing the room would be hard, but I wasn’t prepared for it.”
“I know.”
And he did. When I’d miscarried, Easy had been the one who took me to the hospital and stayed with me until Michael arrived. Some of the wives had shown up, but I’d never forget that he’d stayed, holding my hand when the doctors gave me the news, after I’d been inconsolable. For that alone, I would forever love Easy.
He reached out and hooked his arm around me, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“Come on, let’s get out of here and go eat.”
I nodded.
He let me go, reaching down and grabbing his shirt, pulling it on over his head.
He walked behind me, his hand at the small of my back, his touch gentle but steady, as though he knew I needed the extra support. It was nice to have someone to lean on, even for a little bit. Felt good to not be so alone. That was another thing I hadn’t been prepared for—how lonely I would feel now that I was on my own. Not even lonely—it was more than that—I’d simply disappeared, had gone from someone who was loved, who experienced affection, to someone who wandered an empty house alone. I missed the physical affection I’d almost taken for granted when I was married, the little signs that let me know someone was thinking of me, caring for me. I felt like a plant that had gone without sunlight or food for a year, and this little bit of kindness from Easy was needed more than I’d realized.
We took our seats at the dining room table, the food already spread out.
He smiled at me, a beautiful, blinding curve of his lips. “This looks amazing.”
“Thank you. It’s the least I could do for how much you helped me today.” A wave of emotion hit me as I looked at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been such a good friend to me these past few years, and if there’s ever anything you need, I’m here for you.”
He looked down at his plate, and I wondered if I’d gone too touchy-feely, but then he looked up at me and the emotion in his gaze staggered me.
“I’ll always be here for you, Dani. You . . .” He trailed off, staring down at his plate once again. “I care about you, too. I always will.”
I reached between us and took his hand, lacing my fingers with his, and squeezed, trying to give him some of my strength, just as he’d so often done for me.