Luke. Didn’t know him and already fucking loathed him.
“Not just because of this trip, but because we’ve been dancing around each other for years, Nate. Years. And we keep saying that the time isn’t right, and that we owe ourselves a real, true shot and not some half-assed long-distance tragedy, right?” She moved toward me, gripping my biceps. “I’m realizing that it doesn’t matter who I date. They’re all just placeholders because I’m waiting for you. Waiting for us.”
“Izzy.” I cradled the side of her face, soaking in every single word and rejecting them at the same time.
“I’ve graduated now, Nate. I can go anywhere. Do anything. You could get out if you wanted to.” Her grip tightened, and the intensity in her eyes, her tone, made my heart clench. “We could be together. Not just send emails and letters and highlighted books, but actually be together. We could wake up next to each other if we wanted to, or even just date. I can move to Tacoma if you want me to—”
“I won’t be in Tacoma,” I said softly.
“What?” Her brow knit.
“I can’t get out, and I won’t be in Tacoma.” I slid my thumb over the high rise of her cheekbone, relishing how soft her skin was. “I’ll be at Fort Bragg.”
“Fort Bragg?”
“North Carolina.” I nodded slowly, like it might soften the blow. “I haven’t told you where I’ve been the last few months. Why my emails weren’t as frequent.”
“I figured you were deployed.” She drew back.
“No. I was at selection. It’s like . . .” How the hell did I describe it? “Tryouts for Special Forces.”
“You went with Torres,” she said. “That’s what he always wanted to do, right?”
“Right.” I always knew she read my letters, but damn did she pay attention too. “Four of us went. Rowell—he’s my other best friend—”
“Justin and Julian. I remember.”
“Pierson too. We all made it.”
“Of course you made it.” She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she stepped back, out of my reach. “You’re not getting out. You’re getting in deeper.”
I nodded again, like I was a plastic bobblehead. “Yeah. It’ll be about a year of training, and then . . .” The words wouldn’t come. “And then we’ll see where I go after that.”
“Then we’ll see.” She tugged her hair behind her ears, and the ocean breeze blew the strands loose again.
“I highly doubt they have the kinds of law firms you’re looking at in Fayetteville.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “You’re probably interviewing at all the glitzy firms, right? The high-paying, high-rise, high-clout ones.”
“Yes. I’m looking at the firms that make the most impact, the places I can make the biggest difference, but . . . I don’t have to.” She took another step backward, and then another, until the waves lapped over her feet.
“Yeah, you do. I’m never going to be the guy who holds you back, Izzy. Never going to be that asshole that demands you give up everything for what he wants.” I kept my feet firmly planted in the sand and didn’t reach for her. “It would be so easy to tell you yes, to move to Fayetteville and get in with a practice there for a year. And then easy to tell you to pack up and move with me again to wherever they’ll send me next. Easy to be with you, easy to make this thing between us . . .” I looked down at the sand.
“Why is it that I always have too many words and you never have enough?”
A sad smile tugged at my mouth as I slowly raised my eyes to meet hers. “Because we balance each other out. And that means I’m not going to watch that light in your eyes turn to resentment when you realize I’m the reason you don’t achieve everything you’ve worked for. I won’t be able to live with myself if I’m always holding you back.”
“So this is all we get?” She threw her arms out. “Moments that we have to carve out, never actually able to share our lives?”
“The sky is cloudless. That water is crystal clear. And you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Isabeau. If this is all we get, then it’s pretty great.”
She took a shaky breath. “I know I told you that I’d rather spend a week with you than forever with him.”
I held my breath.
“But I’m not going to wait around forever, Nate. There’s going to come a moment where we either have to take our shot or we let each other go.”
“I know.” That knowledge haunted me more than the nightmares.
“Because it’s not like you and I could ever be just friends.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you could,” she said, kicking at the ankle-deep water. “But I can’t. Not now that I know what it feels like to have you. I’ll never be able to look at you and not want you.”
Even the small amount of distance between us now was killing me. “It’s the same for me.”
Her shoulders dipped, and she threw her head back at the sky. “Why is our timing always shit?”
“Because nothing worth having is easy.”
“Just . . . promise me you’ll think about it while we’re here, okay?” She looked back at me. “Think about what it could be like if we became more than a possibility.”
“Yeah. I can do that.” I thought about it more than she knew and always came to the same conclusion, but it was impossible to deny her request.
Her answering smile was worth it. “We have the week. So get over here and kiss me in the water like I’ve been dreaming about, Nathaniel Phelan.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IZZY
Kandahar, Afghanistan
August 2021
I shifted in my sleep, rolling to my back. The pillow beneath my head was warm, but the fabric of the pillowcase abraded the base of my neck. But the scent—metal and spearmint mixed with something warmer—made me sigh with recognition.
My mind acknowledged the dream—it always did—but I clung to it, willing myself to fall more deeply asleep so I wouldn’t lose it.
Fingers gently stroked down my cheek, and I leaned into the caress.
“Wake up, Isabeau.” His voice wrapped around me like velvet, just like it did every morning in Fiji when he’d woken me with his hands and mouth, rousing my body to a fever pitch before sliding into me and bringing us both home.
“I don’t want to,” I mumbled. Waking would mean he’d be gone, that I’d have to face another day of wondering where he was.
“You have to,” he said softly. “It’s almost time to go.”
“You’re always going.” I angled my head more comfortably and let my breathing deepen again, slipping back into sleep. “Ever considered staying?”
“Too many times to count.” Fingers brushed through my hair. “But we can’t stay here. We have to go.”
This wasn’t what I wanted to dream. I wanted to go back to my apartment in New York. Wanted to open the door and find him standing there. Wanted to take back everything I’d said and do it all differently.
“Izzy.” His voice was still soft, but more insistent.