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“I don’t have to break things off with him. I mean, there’s nothing to break off. It was just dinner.”
Jace pulled her closer to him. “I don’t want him to arrest me when I go into town, later, to buy condoms.”
She blushed and looked down, hiding her face from him. “Jace,” she breathed.
“Don’t hide from me, Bree.”
17
Bree unlocked the door to her office and put the coat back on that she’d taken off when she entered the building. Her office at the academy was cold from sitting empty for a week. She reached down and turned on the space heater that sat under her desk.
She waited while her computer powered up, inserted her access card, and entered her password. Her security level at the Air Force Academy was relatively low, but everyone who worked there needed some level of clearance.
She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair while she waited. The rest of Thanksgiving weekend with Jace was like a dream. It was the same as it had been between them in Idaho, when things were comfortable and easy.
No one commented on her and Jace sharing a bed—why would they? They were consenting adults. She expected her dad would; he was usually the one who said what everyone else was thinking. He seemed preoccupied though, and not his usual self. If there was inappropriate humor to be made, her dad was all for making it. Not so this weekend.
Bree wondered if he was worried about her, and spared her his usual torment. It wouldn’t really be his style, but maybe he was one more person for her to add to the list of her pitiers.
She decided she’d call him soon, and invite him to dinner, just the two of them. She’d let him know she missed his incessant teasing, as hard as it would be to say those words out loud. But she did miss it. When she was little, her mother told her and her sisters that their dad teased them because he loved them. She didn’t doubt her father’s love for her, but she wouldn’t mind him acting more like himself with her.
The ringing office phone startled her. “This is Bree Fox,” she answered. Often phone calls coming in were from people who didn’t realize the permanent professor was on leave.
“Ma’am,” the voice on the phone began. “We have a package for you in the mail area. Would you like us to deliver it now?”
“For Bree Fox?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I can come and get it.”
“No, ma’am. As I said, we can deliver it now.”
“Come in,” she said when she heard the knock on the door a few minutes later. When it didn’t open, she realized the airman making the delivery probably had his or her hands full.
“Hello, ma’am,” the airman said when she opened the door. “Where would you like me to put this?”
She pointed to a table near her desk and thanked him on his way out.
Bree looked at the return address. It was from an APO, a military address.
She reached for a letter opener, and then a pair of scissors, to get the well-taped package open. She removed the tissue paper covering the contents and found several manila envelopes.
She opened the first, and reached for her chair. It held letters from Zack. There were at least a dozen in this one alone.
Bree pulled the second envelope out of the package and opened it. Inside was a notebook. Skimming through the pages, it looked as though it was full of notes, also in Zack’s handwriting.
She stopped there. Bree didn’t want to see what else was in the box, at least not right then. She put the letters back in the first envelope, the notebook back in the second, and returned everything to the box.
Should she have wine or something stronger? She couldn’t decide. The box had been sitting in the middle of her living room for two days, near the couch. She thought about putting it in a closet and looking at the contents later, after she’d had time to prepare herself. But would she ever be ready?
She wasn’t much of a whiskey drinker, but the bottle sitting on the counter was too tempting. She poured a couple of fingers, sat on the sofa, and stared at the box.
Zack’s belongings had already been returned to her. This box was unexpected. She hadn’t decided yet whether it was also unwelcome. After two more shots of whiskey, she reopened the first envelope.
“Dear Bree…” the letter began. She took a deep breath, already anticipating what it would say, like how much he missed her, or maybe something about them starting a family. Instead, he talked more about “the mission.” He said he wished she understood how important this was to him—it wasn’t a job, he wrote, it was his life.
She only read one letter, before moving on to the envelope containing the notebook. She read the first few pages of what she soon realized was Zack’s journal. One she knew nothing about.
