Seeing her cry earlier, how fragile she looked—whatever I felt for her, however badly I ached, I couldn’t keep putting distance between us. I’d hoped it would help, that I could force myself to get over her, but I’d have been lying if I didn’t admit I’d thought of her constantly. I’d missed her, and now, even as much as it hurt, there was something about being around her. I loved her, and loving someone was more about them than you, so it didn’t matter what I wanted. If she wanted me around, if she wanted to be friends, then I’d give her that. I’d give her everything I could.
We ate in silence, and then slowly eased ourselves into conversation, past the emotions throbbing at the periphery of the dinner.
“When do you leave for Afghanistan?” she asked.
“Four weeks.”
In the past ten years, I’d deployed to the Middle East five times. Considering I was single and rented my house, deploying was little more than packing some bags and heading out. The living situation usually sucked, the food and not being able to drink alcohol sucked more, but it came with the territory. And it definitely felt good to do the mission we spent so much time training for. I was one of those guys who got a little restless if too much time passed between deployments, if I didn’t get to do what I’d been born to do.
“Are you doing better with experience in the squadron?” she asked.
Dani hadn’t just been the squadron commander’s wife; she’d been tapped in to the day-to-day operations. She’d been part of the F-16 community for long enough; she understood the nuances of what we did and what it took to manage a squadron.
“Yeah. We got three new pilots in who are all IPs, so we should have the instructor problem sorted. We have two guys going through the FLUG now, so that’ll help to have more pilots who can lead sorties.”
I was the assistant director of operations in the squadron, which meant manning issues slowly trickled down to be my problem. Our director of operations, the guy who was second in command, was uncharacteristically laid-back for the job, so he tended to delegate a lot to me. Which I fucking loathed. I loved to fly, but the rest of it? Hated it with the fire of a thousand suns.
“That’s good. Jordan mentioned you guys were doing a big send-off before the deployment.”
“Yeah, I heard something about that. Are you going to come?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
“Good.”
For the first time it hit me that she might sell the house while we were gone, and I could return to Oklahoma and never see her again. As much as I’d miss her, it would be good for her to move on, to start her new life, away from the squadron and the memories of Joker. She thought of us as a family, but it also hadn’t escaped my notice that she was basically in the same place she’d been before he died.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Okay, so tell me about this date.”
She made a face.
I could do this. We just needed to keep things friendly and casual between us.
“Come on, it’ll help to talk about it. Besides, Jordan wouldn’t set you up with anyone terrible. And the guy’s a doctor, right? That’s good.”
What did I know? Women were probably into doctors. They made good money, and saved lives and shit.
“What, are you playing matchmaker now?” she asked, her tone incredulous.
I coughed, choking on the beer she’d poured for me. What a fucking joke. “God, no.”
“’Cause it sounded like it.”
“I wasn’t playing matchmaker; I’m just saying it might not be bad.” I swallowed, the beer bitter on my tongue. Or maybe that was just the words coming out of my mouth. “And if you go into it with a good attitude, you might be surprised.”
Where did I come up with this stuff?
“Maybe.”
“Come on. You might enjoy yourself.”
He definitely would.
I bet she was fun to go on a date with, could too easily imagine taking her out to a nice dinner or hanging out at a bar somewhere. That was one of the things I loved most about Dani—how proper and elegant she could be one moment—utterly untouchable—and the next she was joking around, completely at home with a rowdy group of fighter pilots.
She groaned. “I doubt it. I didn’t really date before I met Michael. I mean, a little bit, but nothing serious. And I never really liked it. It always felt awkward sitting across from someone playing twenty questions.”
“You have a point there.” I hesitated, not entirely sure I wanted to go down this path, but unable to resist the urge to know more about her past, about her. “You were young when you guys met?”
Joker had been older than Dani—we’d celebrated his fortieth birthday right before he died—but I didn’t know much about their relationship. Joker had been a great guy, but he wasn’t one to talk about emotional shit.
“I was twenty-one. He was thirty.” A smile played at her lips and I realized she was somewhere else entirely. “My parents freaked out. A thirty-year-old fighter pilot? I was in my last semester of college and trust me, Michael was not what they had in mind.”
That wasn’t shocking. I’d known Joker when he was younger; Dani had definitely mellowed him out.
“How did you guys meet?”
I wanted the image in my head of her when she was younger, of her happy. It was another piece of her to add to all the other ones I’d collected throughout the years.
“We met at a bar after a Georgia football game. He was there doing the flyover; I was out with friends. We locked gazes across the room and that was it. He walked over and introduced himself, and I knew my life was about to change.”
The expression on her face—
Her smile was blinding.
“I never talk about him anymore. Everyone’s so afraid to upset me that they avoid mentioning him as much as possible. And sometimes it is hard to remember—sometimes it hurts so much—but other times it feels good. I’ve missed talking about him. Sometimes I’m afraid if I don’t talk about him, if I let these memories fade, I’ll forget them all.”
“You won’t.” I reached out and squeezed her hand, her skin smooth beneath mine, the ban I’d made on touching her obviously obliterated. “You can always talk to me.”
The smile she sent my way had my heart tumbling in my chest.
“Thank you.”
I nodded, my voice hoarse. “Anytime.”
She released my hand, going back to her food. “Enough about me dating. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked. “It’s been so long since we’ve caught up.”
“Nah, not really.”
This year had been rough on every level. Joker’s death had messed me up too much to consider seriously dating anyone and honestly, I couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm. There’d been a few nights I could barely remember, even more nights searching for peace at the bottom of a bottle, but I’d learned pretty early on that screwing pain out of my system never quite did the trick. And I’d also figured out that as much as I wanted to get over Dani, it wasn’t fair to someone else to use them as a placeholder for the woman I really wanted. I wasn’t a saint; I still had sex once in a while, but lately those times had become few and far between. Maybe I was finally growing up, or maybe I’d tried all the tricks in the book to get over her and finally come to the irrefutable conclusion that I was one of those poor bastards who was done for once he gave his heart away.
I settled for the politic answer rather than spilling my guts.
“I’m not looking to date right now.”
She smiled. “Just wait. Love will knock you on your ass when you least expect it.”
Oh, the irony.
“I’m not really in a place where I’m up for a relationship. Work’s taking up my focus right now.”
Not entirely true, but she understood better than anyone the level of sacrifice that came with being a fighter pilot’s wife.
“Are you ready for the deployment?” she asked, putting us back on safer ground.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Being away will suck, but at least it’s not too long. And at this point, there’s so much buildup that I’m ready to leave.”
Our dates had shifted a few times, the length changing from four months to three, and now I was ready to go, do what we needed to, and get home. And yeah, it helped that I wasn’t leaving anyone behind who’d miss me while I was gone. In my younger years, I’d had a few girlfriends through deployments and the separation was tough. It was easier when you were on your own.
“Becca’s having a hard time with the lead-up to you guys being gone. I told Jordan I’d talk to her,” Dani commented.
“Yeah, Thor’s a little worried about it, too.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Better. He’s looking forward to getting out and joining the Guard.”
“Have you ever considered it?”
“Getting out and joining the Guard?”
She nodded.
“After I retire, maybe. I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest.”
I’d made the decision to stay active duty until I was eligible for retirement in seven years, pretty fucking pleased with the fact that I’d be receiving a pension at forty-one. I hadn’t been tapped by the Air Force brass for leadership, though, which was fine with me; guys like Noah and Joker were groomed early on. I was a damn good pilot, but I didn’t have the patience or finesse to play the game the way I needed to in order to get ahead. Flying was all I really cared about.
“What about you? Have you considered going back to work?” I asked.
“Sort of. My Series 7 license lapsed a few years ago so if I go back to working as a financial advisor I’ll have to retake the test.”
“How bad is it?”
“It was okay the first time around, but that was when I was straight out of college. Now it’s like my brain’s been asleep for years. I’m not really sure I’ll pick up the material as quickly.” She shrugged. “The other problem is that in order to get licensed you need to be employed by a financial services firm, and I’ve filled out more job applications than I can count, and still nothing.”
“It’s gotta be tough after moving around so much.”
“It is. With all our overseas assignments I didn’t really work much, at least not the type of work experience that’s helpful now. I can explain the gaps in my employment history, but it’s hard enough to get a job.” She took a sip of her beer, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of liquid that landed on her bottom lip. I forced myself to look down at my plate, to concentrate on something other than her mouth. “Plus we got married so young that I didn’t have a lot of time to build much work experience.”
“Are you okay with money? If you need help . . .” I figured Joker had the same standard life insurance we all did, but I’d never been in the position to worry if it was enough to take care of a wife. Mine would go to my parents in the event something happened to me.
“I’m fine, but thanks. I’m just trying to find out what happens next.”
“You will.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. It’s been a year.”
I’d never imagined it was possible to feel someone else’s pain, but hers was a knife in my heart.
“That’s right. It’s only been a year. You need time. You don’t need to have all the answers now and no one expects you to.”
I didn’t know where these words came from, didn’t even know I had them inside me, just that I had an overwhelming need to make her feel better. Maybe that was what drew me to her—the way she made me want to work to be a better person, to be more than I’d ever thought I could be. Flying came easy; the rest of it? Not so much. Maybe that’s why it mattered more, why I felt more like a hero when she swept those green eyes my way than I ever did in the sky.
We made small talk for the rest of dinner and then I helped her clean up, having more fun hanging out in the kitchen with her than I’d had in a long time. So much so that I didn’t want to leave to go back to my empty house.
I hovered in the doorway, the dishes cleaned and put away. I shoved my hands in my pockets, feeling like I was in high school again, lingering on a doorstep after a date, saying good night to a girl I crushed on.
Dani stood in front of me, tugging yellow rubber gloves off her hands, an apron tied around her waist.
Fuck me—I didn’t know why it was hot, only that it was.
“Thanks for dinner.”
She grinned. “Thanks for painting. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. If you need anything else done before we go, let me know. I’m happy to help out.”
“Thanks. And if you want another home-cooked meal, you’re always welcome. I had fun tonight.”
I nodded, the curve of her lips doing funny things to my heart. I’d had plenty of women in my life, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever known anyone with a smile like hers. She was so expressive—when she smiled, I swore it set something inside me on fire, and when she was sad, my heart broke.
I didn’t move. Neither did she.
“I should probably get going.”
“Night’s still young?” she teased.
“It’s a Sunday.”
“I seem to remember a Sunday Funday, or two, or twelve throughout the years.”
I laughed, embarrassment filling me. “Not too many of those anymore. I’m old now. I usually limit my partying to one night a week.”
If even.
“So no big plans?”
I shook my head. “I’ll probably just go home and watch TV or something.”
Sundays were always the worst days when you lived alone. Everyone was with their families, and I usually ended up sitting home alone and bored. Now that Noah and Thor were in relationships, there were only a few of us single guys left in the squadron, and I’d lost my two best wingmen.
“Do you want to watch TV here for a bit?” She looked a little nervous, and that tugged at my heart, too. “If you don’t have anything else going on.”
How had I missed that she was lonely? She had friends here—people like Jordan and Becca—but it was tough when everyone else around you had families and lives of their own.
“I would love to watch TV with you,” I answered honestly.
I followed her into the living room, a rush of adrenaline similar to the one I got in the jet hitting me as I settled onto the couch next to her, careful to put some distance between us. This whole day had been exquisite torture, no more apparent than sitting next to her now, the scent of her perfume clinging to me. I shifted, trying to adjust my arousal without her noticing—the odds of her staring at my crotch were blessedly low—willing myself to think of the least sexy thing I could.
“What do you want to watch?” she asked.
Considering how much I was struggling to concentrate on something other than her, it didn’t really matter. “Whatever you want.”
She flipped the channels for a bit until she came to a home improvement show. “Does this work?”
“Sure.”
The couch shifted next to me, and I stared at the screen, not allowing my gaze to drift in her direction. The last time I’d felt like this—hell, I was having some serious flashbacks to being fourteen and sitting next to my first girlfriend, Casey, too shy and awkward to make a move. Except I wasn’t fourteen anymore, and I knew exactly how good it would feel to have her beneath me, or on top of me, or against the wall . . .
Out of my periphery, I watched Dani bring her bare legs up to the couch, tucking them to the side so she was curled up in the corner, the hem of her T-shirt raising a hair and exposing the tiniest sliver of skin, her shorts exposing a whole lot of leg.
Fuck me.
I wanted to take her into my arms and settle her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her, pressing my lips to her hair. That was the thing about Dani—it wasn’t only that I wanted to be inside her; I wanted to hold her hand. That alone, the simple gesture of her fingers linked with mine, would be everything.
The show went by in a painful half hour. I couldn’t focus on anything besides Dani sitting next to me on the couch, looking so soft and warm, while I sat there, my body stiff and aching. The credits rolled and I waited to see if she’d say something, if she’d get up, but instead she shifted to the other side, another hit of her perfume wafting over me.
Another episode started, and she began making small talk—how she would have chosen a different paint color or commenting on how difficult the couple was. I wasn’t a big fan of talking when the TV was on, and I definitely didn’t give a shit about home improvement, but I found myself relaxing with each of her comments, laughing along with her. Maybe we could do this. I’d been her friend for years; it hurt, but having her in my life as my friend was better than not having her at all. Not to mention, she seemed happy having me around. Lighter.
Another show started and she got up, grabbing a blanket from a basket next to the TV.
“Are you cold?”
The fan was going overhead, the A/C was on, I was wearing cargo shorts, and I was on fucking fire. But even as I told myself we were going to be friends, the devil on my shoulder answered for me.
“A bit.”
My heart hammered as she sat back down on the couch, closer this time, wrapping the blanket around her legs and handing me the rest so I could cover myself as well. I took it from her, her fingers brushing mine in a tantalizing tease. The blanket wasn’t quite long enough to cover both of us, and she moved a little closer, her leg settling against me, suddenly making touching calves seem erotic.
Jesus.
“Better?”
I nodded, not sure I trusted myself to speak. I was rock hard, need pummeling me like a prizefighter.
Another episode started up, and I sat there pretending I was riveted, pretty sure nothing in the fucking world would get me to move off this couch. This was heaven and this was hell, and I swallowed up every single moment.
I settled into the curve of Easy’s body, barely resisting the urge to lay my head on his shoulder. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this relaxed, my mind, for once, quiet. These were the moments I’d missed, the times I ended up talking to myself while I sat alone.
I missed cuddling. Missed the sensation of having someone close by, of feeling a little less alone. I wasn’t necessarily physically affectionate by nature, but there was something about Easy, a bond that had been forged long ago that made me more comfortable with him than I was with anyone else. He’d held my hand—held me—through so many of the toughest moments in my life, that now it was the most natural thing in the world to curl my body into his.
I snuck a peek at his profile, wondering if he minded. I couldn’t see his eyes, his gaze focused on the show, could barely make out the edge of his strong jaw, the curve of his full lips.
His head cocked to the side, his blue eyes connecting with mine. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Is this okay?” I made a face, trying not to laugh. “The cuddling, I mean?” I doubted many women said the word “cuddling” to Easy. Likely, if they found themselves in my position, there were a lot of other things they’d do instead.
He was quiet for a moment.
Oh God, had I made him uncomfortable? I was so used to being myself with Easy, I hadn’t even considered . . .
I pulled back, but he caught me mid-motion, his arm coming around my waist, tugging me toward him until my body curled up against his side, my arm draped over his waist, my head leaning against a monster bicep. He adjusted me for a second, his big hands coming under my calves, his fingers grazing the back of my knees, pulling my legs across his until they rested just above his knees.
“Better?” he asked.
It really was. My body went limp against his, my limbs boneless. I sighed and nodded against his shoulder, completely and utterly content.
We watched three more episodes with me wrapped around him, my legs in his lap, until my eyelids started fluttering, sleep beckoning.
He nudged me gently with his shoulder. “Why don’t I go and let you get some sleep?”
I nodded, too tired to say much of anything. I released him, my body reluctantly rising from its position on the couch. I walked him to the front door, hiding a yawn behind my hand. He caught that, too, smiling down at me.
“Get some sleep, okay?”
“I will. Thanks for hanging out tonight.”
His smile deepened. “My pleasure.”
I expected him to turn and walk out, but instead he took a step toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in for a hug. His lips ghosted across the top of my head and something inside me swelled with the sweetness of the gesture, with the way he looked at me, the kindness in his voice.
He really was an amazing friend.
He released me, but I reached up, placing my palm on his face, my fingers skimming his cheekbone.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and by the look in his eyes, he knew I wasn’t just talking about the painting, or even tonight, but how much he’d been there for me these past few years. I couldn’t imagine what I would have done without him.
He nodded, his jaw clenching against my fingers. “Sweet dreams, Dani.”
I let my palm fall, watching as he turned and walked to his car, all long-limbed grace. I stayed there in the doorway, waiting until he got in, and then it was clear he was waiting for me to close the door before he’d drive away, so I did, locking up and walking into the bedroom.
A few minutes later I was asleep, and I didn’t wake until morning.