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And maybe, to make room for this newthing—a new family—I have to move on from the family I know. I’d never disown them or anything like that. But I think I’ve outgrown being my parent’s perfect daughter.
I think I’m ready to be my own woman. Which means letting my parents’ expectations go.
It means trusting this man with my heart and the little soul growing inside me.
“I don’t regret a damn thing either,” I whisper against Tuck’s lips.
As close as a confession to being in love with him as I’m brave enough to give right now.
We clean up and lie in bed together. He’s on his side facing me, head propped on his hand, while I lazily run my fingers over his bare chest and sides.
I stop at the script on his ribs. “You never told me the story behind this: ‘Don’t let the bastards get you down.’”
His chest heaves on an inhale. “I got it right before my second deployment. Some Navy buddies and I went to Boston for a weekend to get amped up. We call it a hoo-yah trip.”
I grin. “That sounds fun.”
“It was awesome. There’s a lot of cool military history stuff up there, so we did that, then we ran around town like the heathens we were.” His turn to grin. “After five too many Jack and sodas, we decided to get tattoos. I’d always liked the phrase ‘don’t let the bastards get you down’—the idea of not letting life grind you to dust. Felt especially relevant at that point in my life. The fear I felt before being deployed—well, that’ll crush you. But I refused to let it.”
My heart squeezes. “I can’t imagine how terrifying that must have been.”
“You have your training, you have your friends. You rely on that to kind of keep you on an even keel.” He holds up his hand, fingers splayed, palm flat. “But yeah, I was scared out of my fucking mind. Especially the second time, because you know how bad it can get.”
“Tuck.” I kiss his shoulder. “I wish I could’ve been there to give you a hug.”
He laughs. “You were, like, twelve, Maren.”
“And you were fighting a war. Wow.” I laugh too. “That really puts it in perspective.”
“It wasn’t all bad. I liked the physical challenge of it. That, I was always good at.”
“And I was good at... cheerleading and making friendship bracelets?”
He laughs again, making my chest expand. “You’re good at other things now too.”
“Like?”
He looks down at me, his eyes happy, lips swollen. “Making me feel safe for the first time in a decade.”
My pulse thumps. “High praise.”
“You’re also really good at giving head.”
I burst out laughing. “Is that a not-so-subtle hint?”
“It sure as hell is. But here.” He throws the covers over his head. “I’ll start with you.”
I hold up the covers so I can see him. “Because you’re the bastard who’s going down on me?”
He’s laughing as he kisses his way down my stomach. “Christ, Tiny, that was bad.”
“Sounded better in my head.”
“You know what sounds the best?” He settles himself between my legs and reaches for my breast. “You yelling my name when you come.”
Biting my lip, I grab his hair. “Get to it, then.”
twenty-four
