He moved so fast that my heart stopped.
My back hit the mattress in the same second that Nate appeared above me. His eyes were wide and intense, and his forearm—
It was pressed to my collarbone as his other hand batted for something on the bed.
“Nate!” I cried out as my stomach lurched into my throat.
Horror streaked across his face, and he jumped backward, removing his weight in less than a heartbeat and scrambling for the edge of the bed. “Oh shit.” The blood ran from his face. “Izzy. God. Izzy.”
I moved back against the headboard, my mind trying like hell to catch up to what just happened.
“I’m so sorry.” He lifted his hand like he was going to reach for me, then set it back down. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” The stricken look on his face broke my heart. “I’m okay,” I promised.
He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m fine, Nate. Startled, but fine.” My pulse raced, but it was nothing compared to the way my chest tightened at the misery in his voice. “Nate, look at me.”
He slowly lifted his head, his eyes rising to meet mine.
“You didn’t hurt me.” I shook my head, logic cutting through the shock. “You were having a nightmare, and I startled you. I never should have touched you. I know enough about PTSD to know that, and I just . . . forgot. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me.” He drew his knees to his chest.
I scooted closer but stopped midway across the bed, giving him space. “You didn’t choke me. You didn’t cut off my airway. You didn’t throw me to the ground. You. Didn’t. Hurt. Me.”
He slid off the bed and pulled on a pair of dry swim trunks. “And I’m not going to.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” My stomach sank as he walked through the doors and out onto the deck. “Nate!”
“Get some sleep, Izzy.” He turned to face me but continued to walk backward. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“I think I do,” I started, but Nate pivoted and dove off the deck into the water below. I rushed to the banister, but even the moonlight didn’t reveal where he’d popped up. “Nate!” I whispered as loudly as I could, trying not to wake up anyone around us.
But he didn’t appear.
I waited on the deck for twenty minutes.
Then I waited in bed for another fifteen. Or maybe it was twenty. Then I closed my eyes just for a second.
I woke slowly and stretched my arms above my head, then brought my hands down to skim Nate’s body.
But he wasn’t there.
My eyes flew open and I sat up, staring at the empty side of the bed.
“I’m here,” Nate said from my left.
I looked left and found Nate sitting on the sofa in the corner, already dressed for the day. Shadows hung under his eyes.
“Were you up all night?” I slid out of bed and took the opposite side of the couch.
“I couldn’t sleep after I . . .” His voice trailed off, and he jerked his gaze from mine, then leaned over the coffee table and handed me a sheet of paper. “Anyway, I made a list. It’s everywhere we’ve talked about over the last few days.”
I took the list from him and read over it. “Palau next year, Peru the year after that, then Borneo, the Canary Islands, and the Maldives.”
“Did I miss anything?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Seychelles,” I said.
“Right.” He handed me a pen. “Write it in.”
I glanced from him to the pen, then took it slowly and wrote Seychelles in the empty space at the bottom, pushing a little too hard and sending the pen through the paper. “Shit.”
“I already booked flights for next year. You wanted Palau, right?” he asked, putting his cell phone on the table.
My pulse leapt. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? “You did?”
He nodded. “I made them for October next year, but we can move the dates, depending on which firm you go with, or if I’m . . . not around.”
In other words, deployed.
I put the paper and pen next to the phone and sat back, curling my legs underneath me. Nate’s eyes heated as he glanced down my body, and I did my best to ignore the answering hum of desire that look ignited. “Where did you buy the tickets from? What cities?”
He took a deep breath. “I bought mine from North Carolina, and yours from New York.”
My lips parted.
“I texted Serena, since the time difference helped me out, and she said that’s where the firm you want is. The one that you’ve been talking about for the last year.”
He didn’t want me to even consider moving to North Carolina to be with him. He wanted to keep us just like this, the once-a-year fling that consumed my life, my heart.
“Is this about last night?”
“I just wanted to make sure that we followed through.” He swallowed. “We spent years talking about doing this, and it took . . . years. Now we know we’ll get to see each other.”
“Even if it’s just for a week?”
“A week is better than nothing,” he said.
“And how long is nothing supposed to be our baseline?” I stood, needing a little distance from him. “How long are we supposed to try and steal a weekend here, a week there?”
“As long as we have to.” He watched me pace, his body calm and still but his eyes assessing every move I made.
“That’s not an answer!”
“It’s the only one I have.” So. Damned. Calm.
How long did he plan to stay in the military? Couldn’t he see what it was doing to him? I could. It was clear as day.
“Are we even going to talk about last night?”
“There’s no point in us talking about a nightmare,” he said, his eyes tracking my movements. “I get them. You probably get them.”
“Yeah, well, I go to therapy too.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Please tell me you’re seeing someone.” I held up my hand. “And before you ask, no, you didn’t hurt me. I’m not mad about last night. I know you’d cut your hand off before you’d use it against me.”
His jaw locked and he looked away, focusing on the scenery outside the open double doors. “I passed the psych eval for selection, so apparently I’m just fine. I can’t control what I dream about, Izzy. And the second I go talking to some shrink about nightmares, I can forget all about getting through the Q Course for Special Forces. They’ll kick me out.”
“What were you looking for last night?” I asked. “When you had me underneath you, your hand was searching for something.”
He blew out a slow breath and raked his hands through his short hair. “I usually keep a weapon under my pillow when I’m deployed, and I was dreaming—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. And honestly, things like what happened last night just add to the many reasons that you and I work the way we do.”