I nod as emotion swells deep within my chest. “We did.”
“What I’m saying, Nat, is that the only way I would want children anyway is with you, and you have them. And, if it’s okay with Eric, and you, I’d be honored to be in your boys’ lives.” His smile starts at his eyes as he brushes hair away from my neck, pulling me in for a kiss.
While Eric isn’t going to be throwing us a parade any time soon, he’s been fairly supportive of my relationship with Ryker. By fairly supportive, I mean he doesn’t fight me on it and isn’t an ass when I take the boys to the farm to play. And, really, that’s all I need from him at this point. I know Eric and Ryker will have to meet and talk sometime in the near future, and I half-cynically wonder if that meeting should take place in Dr. Greene’s office.
After a few seconds, I pull away and run my thumb across Ryker’s bottom lip. “I love you, Ryker, you know that?”
“I do,” he whispers as he lifts me off the couch. “And I love you, too, Natalie. I always have.”
With his lips barely leaving mine, Ryker carries me to his bedroom, where I spot our picture on his bedside stand.
“They were a great couple.” I look to the picture as he sets me down.
“Mmm, they were.” Ryker pushes my hair away from my neck with his nose as he kisses me softly down to my collarbone.
“Good looking, too,” I chuckle.
He laughs, too. “The hottest.”
“I wonder whatever happened to them,” I tease as I shakily unbutton his shirt.
Ryker tosses his shirt to the floor and gives me that heart-melting, kiss-me-the-second-you-meet-me smile as he leans down toward my mouth.
“This.”
The End
While Natalie and Ryker are fictional characters, their struggles are not. If you, or someone you know, are in crisis, whether or not they are considering suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. 1-800-273-TALK (8255). For veterans, press 1.
5% of the proceeds of this e-book are being donated to The New England Center for Homeless Veterans.
Read on for an exclusive look at “The Last Hour”, a contemporary fiction novel by Charles Sheehan-Miles set to be released May 15, 2013
CHAPTER TWELVE
Eight Months Ago: New York
Tell the Army I said hi! (Carrie)
The plane touched the ground with a bump and screech of tires, and I felt the force of the sudden deceleration as the engines reversed. I closed my book as we taxied across the airport. For the first time since I’d left my parents’ townhouse that morning, I felt tension, just a slight twist in my stomach. I was excited to see Ray, but nervous too. He’d sounded so stressed when we spoke on the phone last night. Stressed and exhausted. He’d spent another day being questioned by the Army. It was beyond excessive. How many different ways could he tell the same story?
I wanted badly by the end of that phone call to hug him so tightly that all of the tension would just drain out. And that’s exactly what I was going to do the moment I met him at the security gate.
I tensed in my seat, watching out the window as the plane inched toward the gate. Now that we were moving slowly, I pulled my bag out from under the seat and put away my book, then took out my phone. The flight had been smooth, and I’d relaxed and read a book since the eight a.m. departure from San Francisco. I was tired, but not so much I wouldn’t be fine making it through the day and evening.
Finally. The plane shut down, the engines slowing to a stop, and I heard the clicks and thumps as the gate connected. I switched on my phone. At least I’d be off the plane quickly, my frequent flyer miles let me upgrade to business class, so I was on the second row of the plane.
My phone chirped with an incoming text message, and the screen lit up.
Damn it. The preview on the screen said, “I’m so sorry.”
I unlocked the phone and flipped to the messages.
The Army and FBI just showed up here AGAIN with more questions. I don’t know how long this is going to take.
The next message read: It’s been two hours. I’ll keep you updated.
And two more. The first said: Shit. There’s no way I’m going to make it to the airport in time. Take a cab to Glen Cove, and I’ll pay.
Finally: I’m so sorry.
I sighed. Poor Ray. They were putting him through the wringer. The thing was, they hadn’t called him in. They hadn’t called him up and said, “We’ll be there tomorrow at 11.” Instead, they just randomly showed up. It was as if they thought he was lying and were trying to catch him on inconsistencies. I couldn’t even imagine the stress he was under.
Once I got clear of the gate, I called Ray.
It rang four times, then he answered.
“Hey,” he said. “Carrie, I am so sorry. I feel awful.”
“Stop,” I replied. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, it was out of your control. I’m going to rent a car, just text me your address?”