by Zoe York
“Cleaning you up.”
She laughed. “Can you grab the light? I’ve got baby wipes stashed in like every room of the house, but especially in here, because of paint and glitter glue.”
Nothing quite took the heat out of a post-coital moment like talk of glitter glue. He stood and found the lamp. Squinting against the sudden brightness, he kept his back to Faith for a moment, needing to compose himself. But before he could figure out what he was thinking, what he wanted to say, she sighed and stood up, following him across the small room. The crinkle of plastic accompanied her slide against his back, and she wrapped her arms around him, an open baby wipes container in her left hand.
“Here you go,” she whispered, pressing her lips against his spine.
“Do you—”
“I got one.”
He nodded.
“I’m glad you’re here tonight,” she said softly. “So, so glad. It’s kind of crazy, though, right?”
Did she mean falling in love after a week? It hardly felt like the most dangerous thing he’d done in his life. Driving around a poorly mapped mine field took that prize, and he’d fucking survived that. “I’ve done crazier things.”
“Come back to the couch.” Her arms slipped away, and he cursed himself for not holding on to her.
He tucked himself away and zipped up his jeans.
When he turned around, Faith had curled up on the couch. She was looking at him with a surprisingly open, happy look on her face.
Maybe he hadn’t gone too far.
“You okay?” she asked, holding out a hand. He took it and sat beside her, tugging her into his side. Her back fit right there, perfectly, like his chest had been carved just to hold her against him. Of course, he was supposed to be comforting her, not the other way round.
“Of course.” He buried his face in her hair, breathing her scent deep into his lungs before slowly exhaling. He wrapped his arm around her waist, like just holding her might ebb some of the tension away. It didn’t work. So he went for honest confession instead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“What are you talking about?” She tried to turn, but he banded his arm tighter around her waist. Emotional dumps weren’t his strong suit. He didn’t need to get lost in her eyes at the same time.
“That was rough.”
“That was hot,” she said softly, and damn if that didn’t make his balls throb. It had been hot as hell—when he wasn’t thinking too much about it. “If or when you hurt me, I promise it’s not going to be because you held me down and made me come so hard I almost blacked out.”
“If or when? What does that mean?”
A long pause flooded between them, ratcheting up his pulse before she answered. He could feel her nibbling on her lower lip. “Well…you know…”
“I don’t. And since I’m heading back to work tomorrow, don’t you think we should clear this up now?”
“No?” She twisted again, and this time he let her because he wasn’t going to hold her against her will. She didn’t go far, though, just spun around and planted her hands gently on his chest, pushing him back against the arm of the couch. Then she wiggled into the space between his body and the back of the couch. Instantly, his panic eased.
She worked her fingers slowly down his chest in a lazy walking-man pattern. “Maybe let’s back up to talking about how hot it was. I might be out of practice, but I think when I turned around and said—”
“Minx,” he whispered, and she laughed.
“You don’t want me to say it again?”
“Didn’t we learn last night that I’m an insatiable ogre when it comes to you? Yes, I want you to say it again, and then I’ll flip you over and do it. Hard.” He tried like hell to ignore her shiver. He couldn’t.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I wanted tonight to be—” Fuck, he was going to lose his bad-ass infantry soldier status if he admitted this. “Special.”
The giggle-snort in response was not reassuring.
“I can bench my body weight.”
“Wow,” she gasped, wiping at her eyes as laughter still wracked her body. “That’s a terrible attempt to change the subject.”
“I’m saying I’m strong.”
“And kind, and brave, and responsible. And…a giant girl when it comes to negotiating a friends-with-benefits thing.”
“That’s not what this is, and you know it.”
“Okay, that was the wrong phrase, but it’s not like this is…”
“What?” He sat up, pulling her with him. “This isn’t real? Because it’s pretty fucking real for me, Faith.”
Her mouth dropped open and she frowned at him. “You’re the one who called yourself my Mr. Right Now.”
“That was before. Hell, I want to bring you to my sister’s wedding. And you said yes. I want to introduce you as my girlfriend.”
Her eyes were big, wide, and suspiciously bright. “You said you’re not that kind of guy.”
“Maybe I didn’t know that I was.”
Her cheeks turned pink and she shook her head. “Don’t say that kind of thing. Not if you preface it with maybe. I can’t go there, you know? It’s too much, too soon.”
Shit, he did know that. He needed to shut himself up and the best way to do that was to pull her tight and kiss her senseless.
“Ignore the maybe,” he said, his voice strained as he pressed his forehead against hers once she was breathless and he’d laid the physical claim he couldn’t say out loud. Her lips were red and swollen, and he stroked his thumb across her mouth, around the bottom curve of her lower lip, then ghosted it over the cupid’s bow of her upper lip.
“I’m going to miss you so much.” Her voice cracked.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “I’m coming back, Faith. No maybe about that.”
— THIRTEEN —
SEPTEMBER brought the start of school, edits on Faith’s finished book, and daily video calls with Zander, usually after dinner in Tobermory, which was about the time he got home from work in Wainwright. Most days he was still in his camo fatigues, which Eric loved—and it didn’t take Faith long to figure out that’s why Zander didn’t change first before he Skyped them.
Right now, Eric was holding the iPad at the table, sitting with his back to Faith so she could see the screen over his shoulder as she tidied up the kitchen. She watched with amusement as her son tested his new best friend with spelling words.
“Brontosaurus.”
“B-R-O…”
She went to the front hall to get Eric’s backpack as Zander kept spelling. When she pulled out his lunch bag, it felt suspiciously heavy. Damn it. She should have checked right when they got home from school, but her mom had been raking leaves and they’d gotten distracted by jumping into the pile and taking some impromptu family pictures.
“Eric, honey, say goodbye to Zander,” she said when she returned to the kitchen.
He groaned, but when she wiggled her fingers, he handed over the iPad.
“Go find a book about dinosaurs for us to read together, please.” She waited until he was upstairs until she collapsed on the couch and gave Zander a sad face. “He didn’t eat his lunch again today.”
“Ahhh, shit. I’m sorry, babe. Did you talk to his teacher about that anxiety you were worried about?”
Yeah, and it had been a bust of a conversation. “She thinks he’s just too busy talking with his friends.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
“I don’t know. I’m worried I’m being paranoid.”
He gave her a gentle but firm look. “That’s not an answer to the question.”
“I think he’s struggling.”
“Then keep on it. Trust your gut.” The screen blurred as he moved through his small apartment, then he propped his phone against something in his bedroom and she watched as he first stripped off his uniform shirt, then the skin-tight, olive-green t-shirt underneath. He came closer to the screen—maybe his ph
one was on top of his dresser?—and then stepped back and pulled on a basic black t-shirt.
“Shame to cover that up,” she whispered, and he winked at her.
“Got a book, Mommy.”
She jumped up as Eric leapt onto the couch beside her, the iPad tumbling out of her hands. When she picked it up again, Zander was biting his knuckle to keep from laughing. She could feel her cheeks were on fire. She covered her face, then waved at the screen. “Okay, we’re going to go read that book.”
“I’m going to finish getting changed and hit the gym.”
It was the most mundane, ordinary conversation, but as they said their goodbyes, Faith felt refreshed.
Three weeks had gone by, and there was no sign of Zander losing interest. She’d been afraid that when he wasn’t near her, he would change his mind. Go back to being the guy who lived just for the present, and since his present reality was thousands of miles away…
But while he was there, he was also still here in her kitchen, in her living room, and some nights, after Eric was asleep, they’d call each other again, and he’d be in her bedroom, too.
It was easy and wonderful, and almost too good to be true.
She tried not to think about that last point too hard. He’d be back in another week for Dani’s wedding, and she’d have a chance to hold him in her arms. Feel his strength and refill the hope bank a little more.
— —
Zander sat through the rehearsal dinner at his mother’s cafe trying hard to contain his impatience. His sister was getting married. That was important. Jake was a great guy—even better. But they were going to do this again in another two days, and there was only so much polite, multi-generational friendly conversation he could make when he hadn’t seen Faith in a month and he was probably missing Eric’s bedtime and why hadn’t he invited them to this?
Right. He was trying not to rush her.
That was rolling around in his head as he finally made his goodbyes, taking his dessert to go. It had required admitting to his mother that he was going to “his friend’s” house for the night, but she’d put two pieces of chocolate tart in his takeout box, so that was something. And his sister just gave him a thumbs up as he kissed her cheek and apologized for ducking out.
No ribbing.
No demands for information.
The distraction of a wedding was proving to be a good time to show a slice of his personal life to his usually meddlesome kin.
Arriving at the little house overlooking the harbour in Tobermory was like coming home, although he was smart enough not to say that to Faith. She needed a long, slow courtship, he’d realized once he’d arrived back in Alberta. With some distance, he could see how the week of constant, escalating tension between them—good tension, holy shit—had been too overwhelming.
How he’d overwhelmed her.
So now he was playing a long game. He was all in, but she didn’t need to know that yet. He could show her, because deeds felt good. Right. And where words could be doubted, his actions would build a solid, dependable foundation for Faith to believe they could build something real on top of.
He pulled out his phone and texted her. I’m sitting in your driveway like a creeper. Wasn’t sure if I should knock, don’t want to wake up Eric if he’s asleep.
Ten seconds later the front porch light turned on, and ten seconds after that she was in his arms on the front walk.
She was salty-sweet softness and unexpected steel. Her mouth crashed into his and her hands dug into his shoulders as he lifted her in the air, not caring if anyone saw how much he’d missed her.
“He’s asleep and my mom is gone for the night,” she whispered, nuzzling against his neck as he lowered her slowly to the ground.
He picked up his duffle bag from where he’d dropped it and followed her straight to bed.
— —
The second Faith’s front door opened on Saturday afternoon, a wave of calm settled over Zander. He’d only been gone for five hours, but it was enough to once again remind him that this was where he belonged.
He hadn’t let himself in—there was something formal about coming to collect her as his date for his sister’s wedding, so he knocked and waited for Miriam to open the door.
“Faith is upstairs changing her dress for the fifth time,” she stage-whispered.
From upstairs, Faith groaned and called out that she could hear them.
“You look lovely,” Zander used his sergeant’s voice to make that clear, even though he hadn’t seen her yet. He had no doubt she’d take his breath away, she always did.
She appeared at the top of the stairs, and lovely didn’t cover it. She was wearing a strappy, sky-blue chiffon dress that floated down her body and skimmed the top of her bare knees. A dark blue wrap was fisted in one hand and her other was thrust toward him, holding a pair of flat silver sandals with straps that would probably wind around her ankles and drive him mad. “Can I wear these? Should I wear heels? That seems impractical for a dock wedding, but I don’t want to—”
He held out his hand and crooked his index finger. “Come here.”
“Nope, can’t do. I still have to do my makeup. Yes or no on the shoes?”
“Yes.”
She grinned at him. “Ten more minutes.”
“Sounds good. Where’s Eric? I’ll go hang with him until you’re ready.”
“He’s out in the backyard,” Miriam said, shooing him in that direction as she moved to follow her daughter upstairs.
“Thanks.” He found Faith’s gaze again, holding it for longer than was probably decent. He didn’t care. “You really look extra beautiful today.”
She twirled away, her skirt lifting high enough on her legs to give him a glimpse at her thighs. Gorgeous.
Outside, he found Eric stretched out on a blanket with a bucket of Lego and a hardcover kids’ reference book about construction vehicles. He was building something similar to what was on the page.
Zander dropped down beside him. “Hey.”
Eric flashed him a grin and kept building. They’d hung out for hours the night before, from the time Zander picked him up from school with Faith to the extra-late bedtime since it was a special occasion. Eric had been like a spider monkey, all over Zander and full of silly giggles, but now Zander was already part of the background again. The resiliency of kids always shocked the hell out of him. He hadn’t been this strong when he was four.
He rolled onto his back and watched the clouds, asking Eric a question or two about what he was building. Apparently the spies at his spy base needed custom-built dump trucks and bulldozers for an undercover something.
After a few minutes, Eric pushed aside his project and rolled over as well, using Zander’s arm as a pillow.
“Look at that cloud,” Eric said, pointing at a low-lying puffy dragon riding a motorcycle.
“And there’s a horse,” Zander added, but as a wispier altostratus cloud floated behind, Eric pointed out it had transformed into a unicorn. “Good point.”
“There are a lot of clouds today. Is it going to rain on your party?”
“Nah. It rained last night, and some of those clouds are left over from that. Did you know that? Those streaky clouds, they come after a storm, not before.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yep. Science is often weird. And cool.”
“What kind of cloud is that one? It looks full to bursting,” Eric asked, pointing at a cumulus cloud.
“That’s a marshmallow cloud.”
“No it’s not.”
Zander laughed. “No. It’s called a cumulus cloud, and it is full of water vapour, but it’s a hungry cloud that wants to get bigger, so it eats all the water droplets and doesn’t let them go until it gets big enough. So it floats on by, getting bigger and stronger and eventually will rain somewhere else.”
“When it gets to China?”
“Maybe, sure.” Zander hesitated, then turned his head and looked at Eric. “Are you a hungry cloud?
Are you eating all your food and getting big and strong?”
Eric gave him a confused look.
Shit. He should mind his own business. “Never mind.”
“I eat my lunch sometimes,” Eric said, his voice extra small. Smart kid, figuring out where Zander was going—where he had no right to go, though.
“That’s good.”
“Do you always eat your lunch?”
“Every day.”
“Do you ever run out of time?”
Awww, poor kid. “Sometimes. Especially if I’m thinking hard about something.”
“Like what?”
“Football. You. Work, sometimes.”
“My mom?”
Hell fucking yes. “Sure thing. I think about your mom a lot.”
“Me too.”
“Your mom wouldn’t want either of us to worry about her so much that we don’t eat our lunch, though, right?”
“I guess.”
“What are you thinking about at lunch time?”
“My spy base.”
Zander laughed gently. “Yeah?”
“I wish I could go to spy school instead of regular school.”
“I’m pretty sure you need to finish regular school first. Spy school is like college.” Zander squeezed Eric close in a little kid version of a one-arm bro-hug. “We should go inside. Your mom is probably ready by now.”
“Are you taking her to a fancy ball?”
“My sister’s wedding. Which is going to be like a ball, but outside.”
“My mom got married in a church.”
“Lots of people do.”
“Where did you get married?”
He laughed. “I’ve never been married.”
“Why not?”
“That’s a big question.”
Eric gave him a look that said, clearly not, it’s only two words. Did four-year-olds understand the idea of a loaded question?
“How about, it’s a small question with a big answer?”
“Okay.”
One of Zander’s favourite things about talking to Eric was how he just bounced along. Were all kids this agreeable? Or smart? Or funny?
