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I pick up my boot and see his glasses, lying in a mangled mess on the floor.

“This is why we don’t wear shoes in the house,” he gripes as he pulls himself up. He flexes his wrist and winces. “I didn’t see the bags when I came in,” he says.

“You weren’t supposed to. They were supposed to be gone by the time you got here. Never mind. Let me see.”

“I’m okay,” he says, more to himself than to me, splaying his fingers on the carpet. He pushes himself up and winces. One hand goes up to the crown of his head and he inhales softly.

“You’re okay when I say you’re okay. Look at me,” I command. “Follow my finger.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he says, shaking his ankle free. “I just…” He turns his left wrist. There’s a nasty carpet burn on his palm.

“Hold still. Let me look at it. And what did you do to your shoes?” I ask.

“I was kicking a box full of my books because you weren’t there.”

I try to restrain myself from giving him side-eye. I fail.

“They packed all my books! I was mad.”

“Apparently. I mean, hey, you could have broken your foot, but that’s fine. Go ahead, kick something with the consistency of cement. Always a good choice. Tell me if this hurts,” I say, palpating the ankle. It already feels warm under my fingertips.

“No, no, owwwwww. Ow ow ow ow.”

I sit back on my heels and sigh. “Well, that’s probably sprained.” I pull him into my lap.

“Please don’t leave me. Please, Kitten.”

“I have to. I’m at the Curlicue Inn tonight. In the morning I sign my reenlistment paperwork. I can stay with Kevin’s people in DC until I have to report.”

He blinks. “No,” he says. “No, no, no, no.” He shakes his head and clutches me and the tears fall unchecked. “Please, no. No, no, no.” His chest rises and falls as he clings to me.

I put my arms around him and he sobs. “You’ll be okay. You’ve got your life back now. What did the committee say after I left?”

“I don’t know.” He pulls back and looks at me. “I told them you were lying. And then I told them to go fuck themselves. And I walked out.”

I cup his face. “Bastien, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I told them that you loved me. You do, right?”

I lean my forehead against his. “Please don’t make me say it. I need to do the right thing for once in my life when it comes to you. They needed a story. They needed a villain. And it was either me or you. So I gave them one. You fucking idiot! You could do so much good for people who really need it. And now you’re going to be a disgraced academic.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I can enlist with you. I have a terminal degree in Psychology and I’m fluent in French. They can use me.”

“You can’t enlist with your visa.”

“Then I’ll come with you. There’s base housing, right? I don’t care, but I won’t lose you again. I won’t, Levi. I won’t. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I don’t want to be without you ever.”

I let go of his face and wrap my arms around his body. “I died in that room,” I say into his hair. “When you said you wished you never met me. I knew I had to get you there. I needed them to believe it. I needed you to sell it, and you did. I’ve never wanted anything less in my life.”

“I told them so.”

“You idiot. You’re a fool,” I murmur to him, but I won’t let him go. “I fell on that grenade so you could have your life back.”

“I didn’t want it without you. I would never not choose you. You’re my Kitten,” he says. “I love you, I love you. All my heart and soul. Tout mon cœur. Tu es le soleil dans le ciel, et je t’aime.” He leans back. “Please tell me you’re not leaving me.”

“Let me at least get you onto the couch and get some frozen peas on that ankle before it blows up.”

“Levi! Tell me that you’re not leaving. Tell me you’ll never leave me.”