My heart raced as we quickly made our way down the same walkway we’d entered on yesterday. It looked different now. Longer. The arches we walked under were somehow less beautiful and more . . . exposed. Or maybe it was simply the way I looked at them that had changed.
Once we hit the open air of the runway, my heart threatened to jump ship. We passed a crater in the concrete that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday, and my blood rushed, pounding through my ears. Nate led me across the cool tarmac, not yet heated from the sun at this early hour, and to the farthest helicopter.
The door gunner waved us in, and Nate all but lifted me into the Blackhawk, forcing me in first. I didn’t waste time by arguing. I found my usual seat and got myself out of his way.
But he didn’t follow.
My head whipped toward the door. Nate waited on the tarmac, looking back toward the terminal. I held my breath. If the last twenty-four hours had taught me anything, it was that seconds counted.
And my heart noted every single one of them as he stood out there, completely exposed.
Lilac appeared, escorted by a pair of Afghan soldiers, one of whom was carrying Kaameh. He set her down just inside the door and let her go, and then the rest of the family shuffled into the helicopter. They took the seats directly across from me, their chests heaving and their eyes wide. I leaned forward and buckled Kaameh into the seat by the window, where Nate usually sat, as her mother and father juggled her little brother so they could each fasten their own.
Nate and Lilac climbed in, and once Nate’s thigh touched mine, I took a full breath, then another, and another, until they came too fast. He was fine. We were fine.
The helicopter launched, and the ground fell away.
Nate reached onto my lap and took my hand, lacing my fingers with his, holding tight as we flew out of Kandahar. My breathing steadied with every mile we flew. I knew the moment wouldn’t last, that he wouldn’t keep hold of me forever, and he didn’t.
His hand slid free, and I couldn’t help but mourn the loss immediately.
But he didn’t know that my left hand was bare for a reason.
And I had yet to decide if I was going to tell him, yet to figure out if he’d even want to know.
When we landed, the girls hugged me, and then were immediately put into SUVs with their families to head to the airport. It was short. Anticlimactic. Perfect.
“Look at you, making a difference,” Nate said as he led me to our own SUV.
“Feels good,” I admitted, sliding into the car. “It’s probably the best thing I’ll ever do.” If that was the culmination of all my time in Washington, it would have been worth it.
Nate closed my door and climbed in front. I smiled the entire way to the embassy.
But I stopped smiling when we walked into the chaotic lobby and I saw through the anxious crowd that the glass-front conference room we’d taken over was empty.
“You need to find Dickface and tell him you’re okay?” Nate asked, his voice trailing off as he followed my line of sight.
His major walked forward, his mouth set in a firm line. “Good job getting the team out.”
“Where’s my team?” I asked, my stomach sinking.
“State Department has ordered a partial evacuation of the embassy.” The major looked at Nate, then me. “Sorry to tell you this, but the others on your team left a few hours ago with the congressional candidate . . . the one who wasn’t scheduled to be here. Covington.”
I wobbled, and Nate steadied me with a hand on my lower back.
“What do you mean they left?” he practically growled.
“The senators called off their trip, and they got on the plane,” the major explained, his voice gentling as he studied my face. “You might want to give your boss a call.”
I’d been left behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IZZY
Fiji
June 2017
There was nothing quite as beautiful as watching the reflection of the moon ripple on the water off the deck of our overwater bungalow. I glanced over my shoulder, back through the open double doors, and took in the expanse of Nate’s naked back as he lay asleep on what had become his side of the bed in the last five days we’d been here. The top of the sheet rested at the small of his back, just above the delectable curve of his ass, and the dim light from the bedside table caught on every line of muscle, now lying dormant.
Fine, maybe there was one thing in this world more beautiful than the moon.
The breeze fluttered the silk of my spaghetti-strapped, thigh-high nightgown, and I turned away from Nate to face the water again. It was the middle of the night, and our deck was sheltered from any prying eyes—if there was even anyone awake in the bungalows beside us—but though Nate had no problem walking around gorgeously, mouthwateringly naked, I wasn’t quite that confident.
I also couldn’t sleep. He’d worn my body out into a blissful state of euphoric exhaustion, but my mind had spun long after his eyes had drifted shut.
We only had two days left.
Two days, and then we’d head back to the States. Back to reality. Back to a life where we never knew where we stood with each other, or when we’d see the other again. Back to a life where I pushed away every man who got too close for the simple reason that he wasn’t Nate.
When I’d broken things off with Luke, I hadn’t cried out of heartbreak. I’d cried because I’d spent months with him and only fallen into like, a like I’d been shamefully willing to toss aside.
Love? That word belonged to one man in my life, and I couldn’t have him. Not really.
I was hopelessly, inexorably in love with Nathaniel, and only Nathaniel.
And he wouldn’t let me in. I was forever kept in his orbit, allowed to glimpse the damage I knew lingered beneath his surface, but condemned to watch helplessly from afar as he collected scars.
Maybe it was because he’d saved me all those years ago. Maybe it was the ease I seemed to feel only around him, the way I could be me, just me, and it was more than enough. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at me at his mom’s funeral, like I was the lone boat in an ocean trying its best to drown him. Or maybe it was the way he erased every logical thought with a single touch.
Whatever it was about him that held my heart, it only existed with Nate.
And we only had two more days.
How was I supposed to sleep even an hour of that away?
I wrapped my arms around my middle and stared up at the moon like it might deliver the answers I needed. Was I supposed to move to North Carolina? Give up the kind of work I wanted to do in order to be with him on the few days of the year he’d actually be home, when that clearly wasn’t what he wanted?
A noise made me turn back toward the bed.
Nate’s body jerked.
I moved toward him, walking soundlessly so I wouldn’t wake him, watching to see if anything was wrong. After about a minute, I sat carefully on my side of the bed, then slowly pulled my legs up so I wouldn’t jostle the bed too much.
He jolted again, letting out a shout that startled me.
He was having a nightmare.
“Nate.” I leaned over to him, gently touching his shoulder. “Nate, wake—”