Page 105 of Keeping a Warrior

Give me a good memory to hold on to.

Chapter Nineteen

Rhys opened his eyes to early morning light flowing into the room. Devon stood at the window, gazing out at the dawn, a sheet wrapped loosely around her, tangled hair wild about her shoulders.

God, how he loved her.

“Hey, beautiful,” he rasped, and with a smile, she came to perch next to him on the bed.

Brushing his hair back from his forehead, she leaned down to kiss him gently. “Hey, sweet man. Ready to go home today?”

His chest tightened. No. Not ready to say goodbye to you yet.

But all he said was, “Yeah.”

Her expression told him he hadn’t fooled her at all. “You know, I was thinking, maybe I could ask Beck for a delay—”

“No!” His vehemence made her eyes widen, and he reached up to cup her cheek. “Honey, this is your time. You’ve worked so hard for this chance, overcome so much. This is an amazing opportunity for you, and this is your time, Devon.”

“Ah, Rhys.” When she bent to kiss him again, he could taste the salt from her tears. “I love you.”

Joy swept through him like wildfire. With a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, he pulled her to the bed, rolling her over so he could look down into her face. “Really? You mean it?”

“Oh, yeah.” She stroked his nape with her thumb.

“I—” He choked off. “I just—”

Before he could get anything else out, she yanked him into a scorching kiss that immediately swept him up and drove all rational thought from his mind. With his hands and mouth, he worshiped her, delaying his own pleasure until she’d shattered around him, once, twice, her nails digging into his flexing back.

“Devon,” he cried out, collapsing on top of her as she wrapped him up and held him close.

“Love you,” she whispered hoarsely into his ear. “Mean it.”

His heart full, his body sated, Rhys slid into a contented sleep.

When he woke, she was gone.

I love him. I love him.

Devon’s feet pounded the pavement, her thoughts in a jumble as she cursed her impulsive declaration.

What do I do now?

“You don’t give up everything you’ve worked so hard for, that’s for sure,” she said out loud, puffing. “He’s in the Air Force. You’re going to Afghanistan with Special Forces and the CIA, for God’s sake. It’d never work.”

Why wouldn’t it, though? Matt and Shane are making it. Dual-career military couples are a thing.

If those two clowns could do it, why couldn’t she and Rhys?

Maybe because they’ve had years to get to know each other. Because they’ve already been through some ups and downs, some separations, some trials. They’ve seen each other at their best, and their worst.

“You and Rhys have, too,” she argued with that pesky voice in her head. “You’ve packed a lot of living into these past six months.”

But you’ll be gone for a year or more. You might not speak for weeks, maybe months, at a time.

At that, all Devon’s optimism slowly drained away, and she slowed to a walk. Theirs was a brand-new relationship that hadn’t had a chance to take root, to grow and flourish. How long until it withered on the vine, smothered to death by the weight of silence, and distance?

With a weary sigh, she pushed her way inside a nearby Shoppette, the Air Force’s version of a convenience store, to buy a bottle of water. At the counter, a petite white woman in PT clothes was paying for a sports drink and chatting with the clerk.