Page 38 of Chasing Amanda

“Oh.” Her expression dimmed. “They want to meet you.”

He didn’t want to disappoint Amanda. Or them.

At least they didn’t live next door. A phone call, he could handle.

After finishing both their breakfasts, he grabbed her plate. “You cooked, so I’ll clean.”

She took it back and set it on the counter. Then she grabbed her phone. “I’ll clean, and you talk to my parents.”

He stifled a groan while she dialed. “Mom? You still want to talk to Mark?” Amanda grinned at him, then said, “Okay. Here he is,” and held out the phone.

He stood tall, as if he were lining up for inspection. “Hello.”

“This is Amanda’s mom, Lydia.”

“Lieutenant Mark Johnson, United States Marine Corps.” He sounded so formal. What an idiot.

“This is her dad, Paul.”

“We can’t thank you enough for saving our baby.” Lydia had tears in her voice. Like mother, like daughter. “We needed to tell you how much we appreciate what you did. You can’t imagine…” Her words were choked off by a sob.

Paul picked up the thread. “Not a lot of men would’ve gone to the lengths you did to keep her safe.”

“It wasn’t that much,” he said.

“It was. It was all that and more.” Lydia’s voice was stronger. “Who knows what would’ve happened if not for you?”

Mark knew, but he wasn’t about to tell Amanda’s parents the news about her attacker. Amanda was watching from across the kitchen. She lifted her eyebrows, and he shrugged.

Paul cleared his throat. “She said you spent the night.”

“On the couch. I mean, she slept on the couch, sir, and I slept on the chair. She didn’t want to be alone.”

“So she said.” Paul didn’t sound upset, just matter-of-fact.

“Nothing happened, obviously⁠—”

“Thank you for that too. A lot of men would’ve taken advantage of the situation.”

“No, sir. Of course not.”

Lydia said, “Mark, Mandy tells us you’re being sent to Afghanistan.”

Mandy. He liked that nickname. “I leave a week from tomorrow.”

“That’s horrible business over there,” Lydia said. “I’m sorry you have to go.” She paused, but what was he supposed to say? That he was sorry to be going off to war? He wasn’t sorry.

But across the room, Amanda was washing dishes, sending him glances every few seconds, and a stab of regret pierced him. If not for the Marines and terrorists and Afghanistan, he could stay here, with her.

Maybe he wasn’t so happy after all.

He must’ve paused too long because Lydia spoke again. “I hope you don’t mind if Mandy gives us your contact information. We’d like to send you care packages now and then. Would that be okay?”

They wanted to send him care packages? His own mother wouldn’t do that.

Before he recovered from his surprise, Paul said, “Uh, Lydia, could I talk to Mark for a second? Alone?”

“Oh. Okay. It was good to talk to you. I’ll pray for you every day.”