“I never said I was spending the night with you,” she rebuked, but her grin was back. “I’m staying at Morgan’s house.”
“I will sleep on the damn doorstep if that’s as close as I can get to you.” We both paused, words from an earlier vow running through our heads. “I’d sleep on the floor to get closer to you.” Six months, and nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
Dinner was signaled, and I led her to our seats. The meal was a blur, and honestly, all I could think about was getting my mouth back on Sam. She kept her hand in mine while we ate, only breaking apart to cut our food. I couldn’t stop touching her.
“If I can have your attention?” Major Davidson called from the podium.
We all turned in our seats to where he spoke from across the empty dance floor. “We’re very lucky to have General Donovan with us tonight. He has some special interest in this class, and he’d like to address you before we announce the distinguished honor graduates.”
Paisley’s father took the podium. His remarks on loyalty, bravery, and accomplishment were short, and I heard next to none of them over the steady pounding in my heart. It didn’t matter. First in my class or not, I’d gotten my duty station. The actual class ranking shouldn’t matter to me.
Except it did.
Major Davidson announced the Chinook class first, and we all clapped. Then the Blackhawk class.
“It’s cool Josh is graduating with you guys,” Sam whispered.
“Yeah, they should have been done a while ago, but they needed the aircraft during the tornado relief and it set them back long enough to coincide with us. I’m not complaining.” There was a sense of poetry to going out together.
“Distinguished honor graduate from Blackhawk class 1509 is Second Lieutenant William Carter.”
I clapped a little harder and toasted my water charger when he smiled over at me. Not second-choice Carter anymore. Maybe Sam had made me soft, but even that ass had grown on me.
Sam took hold of my hand and wove her fingers through mine until they fit in that perfect space of familiarity. Here we go.
“Distinguished honor graduate from Apache class 1506 is Second Lieutenant”—Jagger Bateman—“Grayson Masters.”
My breath stalled.
Sam kissed my cheek as the crowd applauded again. “You did it. I’m so proud of you!”
Jagger clapped me on the back. “Congratulations, man!”
“It should have been you.”
He shook his head. “You kept up with me test for test academically. Trust me, I paid attention. And in the cockpit, you’re a better pilot. Take the fucking accolade, Grayson. You earned it.”
I pulled Sam under my arm and kissed her forehead and then her lips, putting all my joy, incredulousness, and hope into it. This moment was perfect.
“Now, soon-to-be aviators. We all know that you didn’t get here alone. In Army Aviation, we have a tradition. You ladies put up with late nights, early mornings, absent spouses, irritated, worried, over-stressed spouses, and I’d bet that more than a few of you know the 5&9s as well as they do.” Laughter rolled over the small crowd. “So, gentlemen, invite your ladies to stand, and pin them. They’ve earned it.”
Fuck. What was I going—My velvet box appeared in front of me. “You didn’t think I’d actually lose Paisley’s wings, did you?”
“You knew. Asshole.” I was too relieved to have her wings to actually be angry.
He had the audacity to wink as we stood. I offered my hand to Sam, and she stood slowly, unsure of herself. “I’m not your wife.”
“Not yet.” I grinned at the way her jaw dropped. My fingers fumbled with the chain, finally working the tiny clasp and securing it around her neck. The wings rested exactly where I knew they would, in gorgeous contrast to her perfect skin. “I wouldn’t have made it through without you.”