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“Right.” He tossed the plastic into the bin.
His gaze moved behind her, snagging on something before his brows furrowed and his expression turned to stone. “I’ll . . . uh . . . go do that, then.” He jogged up the stairs.
She turned around, searching for whatever had given him that reaction. The black and white ultrasound photograph on the fridge drew her attention. Their little bean. She traced the shape with her finger. She was eighteen weeks now. At her next appointment they’d find out if she was going to have a daughter or a son.
Was this what freaked him out? Did he feel trapped? Scared? She tried to place herself in his shoes. Finn just needed her to be strong for him right now. She’d have to forget any hope she’d had of him being there for her for the time being. Charli would start with making him his favorite breakfast.
* * *
Finn descended the stairs and met her in the kitchen. He had on a fresh pair of jeans and blue T-shirt that hugged his body just right. “Smells good in here.”
She closed her eyes and turned her back to him. How many times had he said the same thing before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck?
“Have a seat.” She motioned to the table on the other side of the island. “I’ll bring it over.”
She poured him a cup of black coffee and balanced his plate in the other hand. Charli set it in front of him before grabbing her tea and toast. Sitting across from him, she studied him.
Finn motioned to her simple breakfast. “Not hungry?”
She shook her head. “I’m not really a breakfast person usually, but if I don’t eat something little, I still get nauseous.”
“Oh. Right. Well, thank you.” He nodded before tucking into his food. He slipped a slice of pancake into his mouth and closed his eyes. A drip of maple syrup escaped, and he licked it off his lips. “Mmmm.”
Heat blossomed in her belly, like a flower expanding and spreading out to her limbs. She swallowed hard, clenching her thighs together. “Good?”
“I love blueberry pancakes. They’re my favorite.”
“I know.” She smiled.
His gaze met hers, the side of his mouth quirking up sheepishly. “I’m sorry about before.”
“It’s okay. I know this is a lot for you. I-I just want to help you any way I can. We’ll get through this together.” She moved to put her hand over his and halted mid-air, not wanting a replay of earlier.
“I appreciate that.” He reached out, eclipsing her hand in his warm palm.
Sparklers of hope burst in her chest. She smiled.
He drew back, taking another bite of his food before he asked, “Did that happen before? The nightmares?”
She nodded. “Occasionally. But you’ve never been in an accident before. You told me they were about being under attack, losing men.”
He finished his breakfast in silence, as she sipped her tea and nibbled on her toast. It seemed like he needed space, so she didn’t press.
“I like your ink.” He motioned to her arms.
Her gaze darted instinctively to the black and white lacework decorating her forearm. “Thanks. You actually helped me design one.”
“Which one?” he asked.
“The matching ones we got.” She left him the breadcrumbs, hoping to spark some memory.
His hand rested on his chest. “The compass?”
“Yes.” She stood, moved next to him, and lifted her white shirt over her grey lace bra, exposing the black compass tattooed on her rib cage. “We got them before your first deployment. I was so worried about you leaving. You surprised me with the appointment.” She took a shaky breath, preparing herself for the next part of the story. “You said I was your true north, and if you ever got lost, this would help you find your way back to me.”
Finn’s brows pulled together as he stared at her ink, looking thoughtful. He reached out his hand, halting partway in hesitation. “May I?”
She nodded and held her breath in anticipation of his touch.
