Her brothers made exaggerated kissy noises into the phone that had them all cracking up.
“Disgusting.” Jake was clearly enjoying himself, just like old times.
“Our sister gets lost in the snow and somehow still finds a man,” Tanner teased.
“I was not lost!”
Her cheeks hurt from smiling, but inside she was in so much pain she could barely sit still. One half of her was filled with joy and relief at hearing the people she loved most in the world.
The other half was gutted by Archer walking out that door.
Lara, of course, cut straight to the point. “Are you going to see him again?”
Her smile faded. “Probably not.”
Three silent responses filled her ear.
“It’s fine,” she rushed to say, hoping her voice sounded believable. “I’m just tired. It was a lot.”
Tanner exhaled. “Come home.”
She swallowed around the thickness in her throat. “I am. I’m on my way home as soon as I can get a flight. I’ve had enough adventure for a whole lifetime.”
“Stina’s been texting me. She said to tell you the restaurant is holding your job for you,” Lara said.
Her heart squeezed with affection for her friend, but all of her emotions were crashing in on her and she felt wrung out.
Jake made her promise to text when she left. Lara begged for a photo of the hot guy who rescued her. Tanner told her he’d pick her up at the airport.
By the time she ended the call, her chest felt even tighter than before. She loved them all so much. But she ached so damn bad for Archer.
She set the phone on the bed beside her and sat there with the sound of her siblings’ voices echoing in her mind.
Somewhere in the motel, a door slammed. A shovel scraped on the sidewalk as someone removed snow.
The world felt ordinary in all the wrong ways.
She breathed in, then out, and tried not to think about Archer, but it was impossible not to imagine him already back on base, already unreachable.
A knock sounded at the door, and she jerked upright.
Probably the motel woman with her luggage, or the promised soup and grilled cheese, or more blankets because she clearly believed all emotional crises could be softened by carbs and warmth.
Jolie crossed the room and opened the door without checking, too lost in her thoughts.
A man stood there.
Not the motel woman.
Not anyone she recognized.
He wore a dark coat dusted with snow, and his expression was empty in a way that made her stomach bottom out before she ever saw the gun held low against his thigh.
Aimed straight at her.
“Come with me.”
Her blood turned to ice.
