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“I was kidding, Atlas.” Zeb exhaled harshly before merging onto the interstate. “Of course you’re important enough to warrant a helicopter. Unquestionably, the navy needs you. You’re the best at what you do.”
“Thank you.” I swallowed hard. Other words crowded my throat, thoughts and sentiments, none of them helpful. No matter what I said, I couldn’t change the reality.
“I do wish you had time to go and get your stuff, however. Don’t you need a uniform, at least?” Zeb shook his head, taking the exit that led to 276, which would take us out of Philly and into New Jersey. And away from Kringle’s Crossing, but that went without saying.
“No time.” I glanced down at my phone, a flurry of incoming messages underscoring how serious the situation was and how rapidly the mission was coming together. “I’ve got my military ID to get on base, and a buddy from the barracks is handling getting my uniform and stuff like that. I’ll worry about my other stuff later. Even if traffic is light, it’s still going to take us around an hour to get to McGuire.”
“Okay.” Zeb seemed zapped, all his usual sunny energy gone, like a holiday light display with a blown circuit. And it was all my fault.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Zeb spared me a quick glance. “This is your job. And you love your job, and it’s vital to the whole damn nation. You don’t have to apologize for needing to work, especially not with so many people counting on you.”
But he’d been counting on me too, and we’d both been counting on at least one more night. I rubbed my temples. I hadn’t bothered shaving that morning. Even my appearance was in vacation mode, and I wasn’t ready to report for duty.
“I can still be sorry I have to cut my stay short and sorry that I’m leaving you on Christmas.” I wanted to touch him in the worst way, but I knew better than to distract a driver in thick Philadelphia-area highway traffic.
“It was a good Christmas.” Zeb’s tone was resolved like he was willing himself to stay positive and not get overly emotional. I understood, but I almost wished he’d let himself be upset. Perversely, Zeb being all matter-of-fact made it harder for me to outrun my own tsunami of mixed emotions.
“It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” I tried to match his even tone, but I also wasn’t lying. The last forty-eight hours had been heartbreakingly wonderful. “I didn’t get to give you my present. It’s hidden in the bottom of my duffel under some T-shirts. Open it when you get home.”
“That’s no fair.” Zeb pursed his lips. “Mine for you is at my apartment too. I wanted you to have it before…” He paused to swallow hard. “It’s okay. It’ll keep.”
“I’ll get it when I come get my stuff.”
“Sure.” Zeb sounded the exact opposite of certain.
“What? I’m coming back, Zeb.” Trying to keep my emotions in check, I made my voice firm. “I might not know when, but I’ll be back for my stuff. And you.”
“I’m sure Gabe and I could figure out how to ship you your clothes and whatever else if needed.” Zeb stared straight ahead at the line of traffic stretching down the dark interstate. Nothing to see but taillights and billboards. “I know you have no idea how long this deployment will last.”
“Is that you saying you’d rather not see me?”
“Of course not.” He managed the weakest of smiles. “Any time you can make it back, you should. You’ll want to see the twins as often as you can. They’ll change a ton this first year especially.”
“And you?” I pressed.
“I’m always going to want to see you.” His smile went from barely there to bittersweet to downright sad.
“Somehow, that’s not all that reassuring.” A nervous chuckle escaped my throat. God, I hated this.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
Say you’ll wait for me. Say you’ll be right where I left you. Say there will always be a place for me in your bed. In your life. Say we can have next Christmas and the one after that.
But of course, I couldn’t ask for any of that. It wouldn’t be fair to Zeb, and I cared for him far too much to make selfish requests, but damn did I want.
In the distance, houses draped in holiday lights sped by, a blur of bright colors. Elsewhere, it was still Christmas night. Kids playing with new toys. Exhausted parents dozing. Grandparents picking up wrapping paper. Family and friends munching leftovers. Others, like the cars around us, were on their way home. Home. If I knew where that was, I might miss it as much as I was going to miss Zeb.
“Say you’ll miss me,” I said at last, tone light, just this side of flip.
