Kandahar, Afghanistan
Evan tried not to think about what she might find as she quickly made her way to the main entrance of the hospital. But it was impossible to shut everything out, and her heart hammered painfully at the realization Tate was hurt and receiving treatment somewhere inside the trauma center.
For the past six weeks, flight operations on the Nimitz had been running nearly round the clock, and for eighteen hours a day, she’d been constantly on the go. Most days, it meant attending flight briefings and flying sorties over Afghanistan twice daily.
That, in turn, meant keeping a watchful eye on her team, especially the nuggets, while still maintaining constant focus on waypoints, radio frequencies, fuel plans, locations of refueling tankers, emergency divert fields…and, oh yeah, trying to avoid task saturation.
She normally thrived under pressure. But the schedule was as intense as it was brutal, and she had taken to declaring it a good day if she and her team made it back to their respective racks at the end of each day.
It was why, for eighteen hours a day, she’d been too busy to think about Tate.
But for the remaining six hours at the end of each day, even as she tried to sleep, Tate was all she thought about. She wanted to see her. Be with her.
She had an upcoming thirty-day leave and she’d originally made plans to spend the time with Alex. But that was months ago. Before Tate. Now she wanted to spend her leave with Tate.
She could, of course, do both, simply by asking Tate to join her in Chamonix.
Alex would love it. He’d been clamoring to meet Tate ever since Evan had let slip she’d met someone. She could already see Tate and her brother becoming fast friends. And being able to spend her leave with Tate would go a long way to making her final sea tour more bearable.
But there was a challenge.
In his last e-mail, her father had let her know he would see her in France and was looking forward to spending a few days with both his children. Under normal circumstances that would be great. She missed her father. Except there was a better-than-even chance he would bring Althea with him in another attempt to reconcile mother and daughter.
Her father wouldn’t understand her reluctance wasn’t about reconciling with her mother. And she didn’t know how to explain. It was a simple matter to introduce Tate to Alex. But the situation grew infinitely more complex when it came to introducing Tate to her parents. Especially when Althea already knew her—as a reporter.
She’d been weighing her options before this last sortie. Wondering if she should simply let Tate decide if she was up to it. If she was even interested.
When the call came in to provide air support to a convoy in trouble, fuel levels were running low and she’d already been scanning the horizon looking for the tanker. So once the ground situation had been resolved, the decision to divert to Kandahar Airbase rather than tank and return to the Nimitz was an easy one.
It was after she’d landed, while talking to the base maintenance chief, that she discovered a reporter had been injured in the convoy she’d been called to support. There was a heart-stopping instant before she could ask, “Did you happen to catch a name?”
*
Unable to accept assurances Tate hadn’t been badly injured, Evan made her way to the base hospital and left Deacon to look after arranging an overnight billet for them. Just before she entered the building, she caught sight of her reflection in a window and groaned softly. There were visible signs of fatigue carved into her face, her hair was damp with sweat and badly in need of a cut, her flight suit was sun faded, and her boots were coated with salt from weeks of being at sea.
She wouldn’t make a great impression, but she needed to see Tate.
Thankfully, the hospital was quiet. A medic, handing out food to an Afghan family waiting for a doctor to see them, pointed to his right when she inquired about Tate. Twenty feet down the corridor, she found her sitting on a bed behind a privacy screen. Drawing the curtain aside, Evan hesitated, looking Tate over to assure herself she was still in one piece.
She’d acquired a tan since Evan had last seen her and it looked good on her. Her hair was up in a twisted knot, but some of the strands had escaped and hung loose, curling around her neck. Her lips were parted, and she seemed to be struggling to balance a tray on her lap while trying to eat one-handed.
It was then she saw Tate’s right arm was bandaged, and then she noticed the bruising above Tate’s right eye. There were no other injuries immediately evident, but the look of pain on her face was unmistakable, and she looked surprisingly fragile.
A single heartbeat became two and then two more, but Evan found herself unable to speak. Instead, she took an aching breath and continued to gaze at Tate. Allowing her eyes to linger on Tate’s lips, Evan was suddenly struck by a memory of what it was like to kiss her, and a shiver worked through her body.
No other woman tasted like that. No other lips felt like those. No other kiss made her feel as much. Tate’s touch could make the world disappear, making her feel as if they were the only two people in it.
Biting back a sigh, she swallowed past the dryness in her throat and hoped her voice would still function. “Looks like you could use a hand.”
Tate looked visibly startled and their eyes met with an almost palpable intensity. But as recognition set in, there was an immediate change in her expression. Evan was going to remember that look of joy—pure and unfettered—for a long time.
“Evan? Oh my God, what are you doing here?”
“I was hungry.” She scanned the tray, sniffing at the aromatic cheese and tomato sauce appreciatively. “Is that vegetarian pizza?”
Tate’s laughter was soft and spontaneous. She held out a slice, almost succeeding in sending the tray crashing to the floor.
Evan reached over in time and grabbed the hapless tray, then leaned in, took a bite, and nodded her approval. “Not bad at all.”
“For you, I’m more than willing to share. It’s actually not bad considering it’s hospital food. When I can get some in my mouth without dropping everything else, that is…sorry, I’m rambling. God, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
Evan could feel Tate watching her for a moment, weighing whatever she was going to say. Their gazes locked and fenced before Tate spoke again. “Earlier today…that was you overhead, wasn’t it? Dealing with those insurgents?”
“All in a day’s work. I’m only sorry I couldn’t do more—beyond providing support after the fact.” Evan gave her a tight smile as she cut a piece of pizza and fed it to Tate. She waited patiently for her to swallow before offering another piece, continuing to feed her until Tate put her good arm up in surrender.
“No more, please. But thank you. If you hadn’t come along, I’d have ended up wearing it.”
“As I said, just doing my job.”
“It’s more than that,” Tate said softly. “You saved our lives today. You’ll be my hero forever.” She began to shake as if just recognizing the enormity of what had happened earlier.
Evan took the tray and set it on a table before she wordlessly sat down next her, pulling Tate into her arms. She felt a brief splash of hot tears and held her gently. With her thumbs, she brushed away the tears, then continued to stroke her cheeks. “Don’t think about it,” she whispered. “You’re all right, that’s all that matters.”
For the next few minutes, she continued to hold Tate in her arms, stroking her and whispering soft, comforting words. Finally Tate eased out of her arms, leaned back, and gave a hesitant smile.
“Sorry about that. The doctor did say there was a good chance my emotions would be all over the place after what happened, and he was right. Every time I think about it, I start to come undone. But I’m all right for the moment.”
“Okay. If I ask, will you tell me how you’re really feeling?”
Tate blinked, and Evan could see she was uncertain how to answer. But as she tilted her head, her eyes narrowed, revealing even that small movement hurt.
“I’m okay—really.” She sank into the bedding and fought back a tired yawn. “I’ve got some stitches in my arm and some of my bruises have bruises, but everything seems to still be attached. My only problem right now is the doctor gave me something lovely for the pain just before you got here and it’s making me sleepy. And they want to keep me overnight for observation because I got hit in the head.”
“Were you unconscious at any time?”
“Maybe, but only for a minute or so.”
“Tate—” The pain darkening Tate’s eyes stopped her. Without saying another word, Evan reached for her hands. Slowly she turned them palm up, revealing scrapes and bruises. She placed a gentle kiss on each palm, felt an overwhelming surge of emotion, and willed her voice not to shake. “I’m sorry. I think I panicked earlier when I found out you’d been in that convoy and you’d been hurt.” She cleared her throat when she heard how raw her voice sounded. “I feel better now that I’ve seen you for myself. But you’re tired and in pain if your eyes are telling me anything, so I should go and let you get some sleep.”
Visibly wilting, Tate grabbed onto her hand as if seeking an anchor in a storm, clearly not wanting to lose the connection. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and I know I’m fading on you, but please don’t go. Not yet. Can you stay a while longer?”
Exhaustion and thoughts of sleeping in a bed vanished. “The maintenance chief’s currently working on my plane, so I’m not going anywhere until morning.” Evan gently squeezed the fingers entwined with hers and leaned in, placed a kiss on Tate’s lips. “Go to sleep, beautiful lady. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
*
Evan shifted uncomfortably in the hospital’s vinyl-covered chair, pulling her knees to her chest and setting her chin on them. The good news was the doctor had been by and Tate would be allowed to leave in the morning. The bad news was it would be light soon.
It meant all too soon, Tate would be leaving the hospital, and she would be flying in the opposite direction, back to the Nimitz. Except she didn’t want to leave.
Not without talking to Tate first.
“Evan?” Her name was a hoarse whisper on Tate’s lips.
Gratefully vacating the chair, Evan moved to the side of the bed, reaching over to gently push locks of sweat-dampened hair off Tate’s forehead. “I’m right here. Do you need something?”
“Just to see you.” Her voice sounded sleepy and sexy. “You stayed.”
“You asked me to.”
Tate stared at her in the dim light and blinked. “I just realized something. I never thought I’d say this to you, but you look like hell.”
Evan laughed a little at that. “Thanks.”
“I’m serious. I can see you’ve lost weight, even though you probably thought I wouldn’t notice. You also look exhausted and in need of two or three days of sleep. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Too wired, I guess.”
“But you’ve got to fly back to the Nimitz…sooner rather than later, I would guess. How are you going to do that? How are you going to keep safe if you haven’t slept?”
“Tate, please don’t worry. I can find my way back to the Nimitz with my eyes closed. Otherwise I’ll be in for a long, cold swim and the navy frowns when we drop their toys into the water.”
“Hey, don’t joke about it,” Tate responded in a strained voice.
Evan mentally swore. “I’m sorry. When I’m tired, my mouth moves before my brain engages. As for how I look, it’s actually pretty normal for me at the end of a sea tour.”
“Except you’re doing back-to-back six-month tours. Jesus, Evan. How are you going to survive?”
“Actually—” She took a breath and straightened a little, figuring she’d put off the inevitable long enough. “I just need to survive another few days and then I can R and R to my heart’s content.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve a thirty-day leave coming up before I start my final tour.”
“Oh?” Tate’s eyes narrowed.
“Alex and I rented a chalet in Chamonix—” She’d intended to tread carefully, but the flare of disappointment suddenly evident on Tate’s face came as a moment of clarity and was all the encouragement she needed. “Do you ski?”
Tate nodded stiffly.
“The skiing in Chamonix is unbelievable.” She paused, feeling a shudder of uncharacteristic nervousness. “Um, you need to know my father—and probably Althea as well—will be there for at least a couple of days sometime during the second week, but I’d really love for you to join me if you could see your way to coming anyway. Still, I’ll understand it if you can’t.”
Tate remained silent for a long, uncertain moment. When she finally spoke, her voice maintained an edge. “Are you asking me to spend your leave with you? To meet your brother and your parents?”
There was no room for hesitation. “Yes.”
“To be open with your family about the fact we’re involved—in a relationship?”
Evan nodded, took a breath, and waited.
“Okay.”
Evan felt a measure of calm descend. Leaning closer, she gently kissed Tate’s mouth. It lasted for only a heartbeat, but it was the only thing she could think to do. She didn’t want Tate to voice her reservations. Kissing her was a much better and far more enjoyable idea. And it tasted like heaven.