21

Chase wondered if there was an Asshole of the Year award. If there was, he suspected he’d get his trophy in the mail any day now.

Vivien loved him.

She’d tossed it at him so quickly and unexpectedly in the heat of a passionate moment, and he’d fumbled.

He couldn’t process it.

No one had ever said those words to him. Not that he had any memory of anyway. It was as if she’d spoken a foreign language he wasn’t fluent in.

He knew what she expected. Knew what she deserved. But his mouth dried up as if he’d shoved a handful of sand in it. They’d had an amazing time at the beach. Privacy. Hot sex. Comfort and solace in each other’s company. Laughter. Hot sex that was worth mentioning two or three more times.

Even opening up to her about his parents and his roommates and his goals for rising in the military ranks hadn’t been as difficult as he’d expected.

In his entire life, Chase had never had a place he truly considered home. Growing up, his dad’s house was a living nightmare. After that it was military barracks, which all started to look the same after a while. Then cots in the desert. Then a shared space with Luke and Aiden, where only one bedroom truly felt like his.

But with Vivien . . . watching her make coffee in the morning, humming and shaking her perfect apple-shaped ass while she did it, chasing behind that ass as she ran down the beach way too early in the morning, sitting down to meals with her knowing she was going to like whatever greasy, fattening thing he ordered much more than the health-conscious meal she had until he simply gave in and traded plates with her, all of it felt like . . . home. Like where he belonged.

And she’d be leaving soon. When they returned, she’d get her certification, there’d be a small ceremony for the ones graduating from the training program, and then she’d go where the wind, or rather, Uncle Sam, blew her.

Leaving him . . . behind.

He didn’t say much on the drive back to the base and neither did she. He remained in his head, trying to work out a way they could continue this, whatever it was, even after she was reassigned.

He could only think of one way and that involved him doing as she’d said and going back to fieldwork. He didn’t have a problem with that at all and he missed it a great deal. He’d only taken the instructor position to begin with because they were shorthanded. But he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about him following her wherever she was sent. Sure, she’d said she loved him, but that didn’t mean she’d want him tagging along on her assignment.

Ask her, idiot.

He wanted to. Badly. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answer if it was no.

He glanced over at her profile. Her expression was pensive as she stared out the window.

Just tell her, jackass. Give her the words. She needs them.

He would, he decided.

No one had ever said I love you to him as far as he could recall. He assumed his mom had said it at some point before she passed, but there was no concrete memory of hearing those words for him to hold on to.

Having Vivien say it to him for the first time had awoken feelings in him that he hadn’t been aware he was capable of having. Elation. Confusion. A desperate need that made him uncomfortable.

His entire life he’d learned that the moment you thought you were safe, the moment you relied on someone else for anything, you became vulnerable to being kicked in the teeth.

But the hard lessons of his childhood weren’t something he wanted Vivien to pay for. She deserved better than that. Now that he was positive without a doubt that he loved her, as much as someone like him was capable of loving another human being, he would tell her. Then he’d ask how she felt about him transferring to wherever she was assigned. Or if she wanted to try long distance first. He wasn’t picky; he just knew whatever he had that resembled a heart was hers. Since he didn’t have much else to offer, he prayed that would be enough.