Every life is created with ten thousand deaths. Every breath I breathe steals a moment from another. Selfish I. Selfish love. Selfish broken man.
~ excerpt from the poem “A Living Death” by Jorge Sabio I2—2068
Friday March 28, 2070
Florida District 8
Commonwealth of North America
Iteration 2
Mac sat in the living room, back propped up against the outside wall of Sam’s bedroom, and watched the sun rise. In the service, he’d known soldiers who could sleep anywhere. Guys who could drop onto any surface, close their eyes, and be snoring in minutes no matter what was going around them. Explosions and gunfire wouldn’t rattle them. Until a few years ago, Mac would have put himself in that elite group of snoozers. The ambush and depression had changed all that. He’d lost sleep but never been alert. Now . . . he rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin and tried not to think about Sam.
At least she’d been wearing clothes this time. The problem was she was as sexy in an oversized T-shirt and shorts as she was in a lacy bra and panties.
He bumped his head on the wall to clear the memory. Sam didn’t know it. She never noticed how his heart skipped a beat when she stepped into the room. She never noticed him.
Cursing quietly, he looked at his phone. Leave days would only get him so far. Eventually, he’d have return to Chicago. Go back to the apartment in the city and not seeing Sam every day. He’d break a little. She’d probably not notice his absence.
A shadow fell over him, and he looked up where Hoss’s face should be. He saw knees. He looked up higher at Sam, frowning down at him. “Did you not sleep at all?”
“I was sleeping fine until the phone rang.”
She sat down next to him. “I’m sorry it woke you up.”
“I wasn’t that tired.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“You’re not much better if you think I couldn’t fall back asleep just because the phone rang.”
“Then what is it?”
Besides the fact that you smell like cinnamon and vanilla? “Maybe the contents of the call?”
“I told you not to worry about that.” She leaned sideways, resting her head on his shoulder. “Should have known that wouldn’t work. But I know what would make you feel better.”
“I doubt it.” Her scent taunted him, speaking of home and all the things he’d never have.
Sam held up her phone. “Last night, I had the bureau techs in District 6 run a trace on the creeper who called me. I thought we could have breakfast, then go arrest him.” She smiled. “Yes? Fun times?” She moved away from him. “What’s wrong?”
Mac shook his head. “Nothing. I was just in a weird place when you walked in.”
“You’re mad at me.” It wasn’t even a question.
“No.”
“Your shoulders are tight. You won’t make eye contact. You’re furious with me.”
“With myself,” Mac said. He shut his eyes and tried to relax. “I realized something last night while I was sitting here, and it just . . . ruined my mood I guess. Sorry.”
“Do you want to talk about?”
“No.”
Sam stood up. “All right. I’m doing cereal for breakfast. You can shower and eat whatever you want. I’m leaving in twenty. You can come with me or not.”
“That sounds about right,” Mac muttered.
Sam kicked him in the shin with her bare foot. “This is why you need sleep! You’re such a grump when you’re tired.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Mac, I’m sorry I put you through this.”
He looked up at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I know this isn’t easy for you. You got out. Got away from me, and you were safe. This whole time-travel nonsense. You deserve so much better. I know you’ve got to be stressed out. I know . . .” She sighed, and he thought he saw the shimmer of a tear in her eye. “I’m sorry, all right. You shouldn’t be here, but I need you here. It’s selfish, and I know it, but I need you. You’re my rock, Mac. But I don’t want you losing sleep over me. That’s not fair. I feel safe, because you’re here, but . . .” She shook her head. “If it’s too much, say so. Please. I understand if you need to go back to Chicago.”
“I wouldn’t sleep any better there.”
“Where would you sleep better?”
“Your bed.”
“Fine,” Sam said. “I’ll take the couch.” Her lips quirked up in a smile. “That’s what you meant, right?”
Mac smiled. “Of course.”
“Because you wouldn’t have been suggesting anything else without at least buying me flowers first.”
“I thought I’d bought you flowers before.”
“Nope. Still waiting on those.”
“Were you expecting them?”
“I figured they’d fit into our relationship eventually.”
“Any particular type I should be looking for?”
“Pretty?” San suggested. “I like sunflowers and hibiscus and anything big and bright.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “Are you going to get breakfast now?”
“Yeah.” He stood up. “I don’t want to go back to Chicago.”
“Good. I don’t want you to go back either. You’ll have to, eventually, but I have some leave coming up, and I’ll be due to transfer in another year. This district’s too small for me to grow my career. Maybe I could visit you and do some house hunting while I’m out there.”
“Or we could house hunt together.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you need to make that kind of proposal with a ring.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Any kind of ring?”
“I’m partial to opals, and I think sapphires are bad luck.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that,” Sam said. “I’m going to go get dressed.”
Mac leaned so he could watch her walk down the hall. “Need any help?”
“No, I just needed to see you smile.”
Watching her move was more than enough reason to do just that.