Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance) (17 page)

I’d never seen Becca look more beautiful than she did now, covered in flour, a little boy trying to hit her with a plastic sword with fake jewels on the hilt, a goofy smile on her face.

“Bad time?”

“Are you a dragon?” the little boy asked at the same time.

I grinned. “Sometimes.”

He cocked his head to the side, considering, likely assessing whether or not I’d make a worthy opponent. Finally, he nodded.

“I’ll chase you with my sword.”

I laughed. “Best offer I’ve had.” I leaned forward, pressing a swift kiss to Becca’s cheek, her expression still stunned.

“What are you doing here?” she sputtered.

I shrugged. “I talked to Lizzie. She said it was cool. Besides, I heard a rumor that this was the best place to get zoo animal pancakes.”

“It is,” Dylan interjected, wiggling around in Becca’s arms before she set him down and he took off running, sword in hand.

She faced off against me, her hands on her hips, the movement leaving a cloud of white powder in its wake.

“What is that?” I asked, not bothering to hide the smile.

“Flour. I was trying to make the pancakes from scratch, which was a terrible idea.”

“I bet.”

We’d both been hopeless cooks, topping each other with inedible concoction after inedible concoction.

“Why don’t you get back to the pancakes and I’ll hang out with Dylan? You’re channeling ghost more than dragon right now anyway.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “How about now?”

I grinned. “Well, you got the fire-breathing part down. Nicely done.”

I hooked an arm around her waist, bringing her against me for a quick hug that left a trace of powder in its wake, and then I released her, going in search of the knight who wanted to slay me.

*   *   *

I died twice before we all sat down at the big dining room table, animal-shaped pancakes stacked in front of us. Something tightened in my chest at the sight before me, at the realization that this—or a variation of it, at least—could have been my future.

Dylan talked the whole time we ate, in between shoveling forkfuls of animal-shaped pancakes, shifting topics with a lightning speed and randomness I couldn’t even begin to follow. I’d thought the dragon game was exhausting, but I
hadn’t known exhausting until now. Becca kept shooting me tired little smiles and I had a strong feeling she was pretty used to this.

He began to slowly wind down as the evening wore on, after Becca read him a story in bed, changing her tone to do funny voices for each of the characters. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much.

We closed the door softly behind us after many protests from Dylan saying he wasn’t sleepy, he needed a glass of water, he wanted to stay up longer, until finally his eyes closed and dreams overtook him.

Becca sagged against the wall in the hallway. “I could sleep for a year.”

I laughed. “How does one kid have so much energy?”

“No idea.” Her voice softened. “He’s adorable, though, isn’t he? And I’m not just biased because he’s my godson.”

I grinned. “Boys don’t like being called ‘adorable’ as a rule, but he is pretty cute.” I surveyed the living room. “So what do you usually do now?”

“Collapse on the couch with a glass of wine until Adam and Lizzie come home. They’re usually back around eleven.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” I nudged her toward the sofa. “I’ll bring the wine. Sit. You made like twenty pancakes tonight.”

She didn’t fight me, walking to the living room while I went to the kitchen and poured us two glasses of the moscato Lizzie had in her fridge with a Post-it Note that said, “Drink Me.”

I walked back to Becca, handing her the glass and taking a seat next to her on the couch. She looked exhausted, her body bundled up in one of the blankets Lizzie had strewn over the arm.

“Do you want to watch TV?”

I shrugged. “Sure, if you want. I’ll probably just stare at it with a catatonic expression for a while.”

She laughed. “Me, too. He saps me of my energy.”

“He’d sap anyone of their energy. How do Adam and Lizzie do it all the time?”

Becca took a sip of her wine, making that little sound she made in the back of her throat when she thought something was good. “Hell if I know. They’re so good with him, though.” She hesitated for a second before continuing. “Lizzie was so nervous when she found out she was pregnant. They’d been trying, but I think the reality of an actual kid hit her hard. But the second he was born, it was like something just clicked inside her. She’s an amazing mom.”

I swallowed a big gulp of wine, wondering if I was picking at an old wound, but curious just the same. “Do you still want to be a mom?”

“Yeah, I do.” She sighed. “I’ve actually started thinking about having a kid on my own, or adopting, or something. It’s exhausting, but it also feels really rewarding. And I want to have that experience.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “It’s stupid, but I want to do the little things—bedtimes and doctor’s appointments. I want my ankles to swell up and I want my belly to get bigger. I want all of it, and for the longest time I thought I had to have the right guy to have it, but I have a good job and benefits, and even though I work a lot, I’m starting to think it might just be something I end up doing alone. I mean, think of how many two-parent households fuck up a kid. I figure my odds are decent. I think—hope—that I’d be a good mom.”

“You’d be an amazing mom.” A knot formed in my chest, born of guilt and regret over the decisions I’d made years ago. Would she have had the family she wanted? Would
we
have had that if I’d stayed? It was so easy to imagine that it was our son sleeping in the next room, our son filling dinnertime with stories about his day.

I took her hand, entwining our fingers, holding on to her now to make up for the fact that I’d been so fucking stupid to let her go.

“I fucked up with you. Spectacularly so. I hurt you and I hurt myself, and if I could undo all of the wreckage I caused, I would.”

“Do you regret it?” Her voice was so quiet, I barely heard the words. Or maybe they just sounded quiet in comparison to the pounding in my chest.

“Yes.”

She exhaled, her fingers curling around the stem of her glass, staring into the crystal as though it contained some answer that eluded her. I didn’t want to screw with her. Didn’t want to lead her on. All I had to give right now was the truth, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the breadth of my regrets.

She tilted her chin to face me, her eyes wary. “I don’t know what I want here. I don’t even know what you’re offering.”

“Me, either.”

“When we ended things before . . .” Her voice trailed off again as she looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure I’m okay with going through that again. Even the possibility of it. I’m thirty-one. I feel like I only have so many fresh starts left in me. It took me years to get over you and I don’t want to do that again.”

I nodded, even as the lump in my throat grew boulder-sized. “I get that.”

“I threw the ring in Cranberry Lake.”

“What?”

Her lips twitched, her eyes watery, looking like she was somewhere between laughing and crying. “I was so angry when you broke off the engagement that I threw the ring in the lake. Not right away, but later when I realized you weren’t coming back. I got drunk and made Lizzie drive me out to the dock and I just chucked it.”

I didn’t blame her.

“We’re a disaster,” Becca muttered, taking another big gulp of her wine.

I draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to me so she rested in the curve of my body.

“Do you regret this? Us starting up again?”

She met my gaze this time, her voice even. “In the moment, this always feels like the best decision I’ve ever made. It’s the after that’s the problem.

“One of my first cases was a kid who stole a car and took it for a joyride through some fields. He wasn’t even legal, but he drove that car all over until he was caught. When I talked to him afterward, he was so scared, his skin pale, his voice trembling. I asked him why he took the car and he said that he just wanted to feel free. Just for a moment. He had prior offenses, and he ended up in juvie for a bit, and it always stuck with me that he’d had his hour or so of freedom, just to spend months essentially locked up.”

“Are you comparing me to a prison sentence?” I asked, not sure if I should be offended or acknowledge the fact that she’d hit pretty fucking close to home.

“No,” she answered after a long moment. “A joyride.”

Eric held my hand as we got out of the car and walked toward the old metal barn where they held the dance. He held my hand while my palms grew clammy, butterflies in my stomach, a lump in my throat, my knees weak. I told myself this shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, that it shouldn’t matter so much, but I would have been lying if I attempted to deny how much it did mean.

Before, I could convince myself that we were a secret, that whatever happened between us could exist in the cracks and crevices where you hid the most vulnerable parts of yourself. But now, Eric had scooped those parts out of me and put them on display, illuminated with twinkling white fairy lights and the giant harvest moon that shone down on us.

You couldn’t make this stuff up. The night was just . . . magical. And I wasn’t necessarily a romantic person by nature, but the simple beauty of a night like tonight could make even the toughest cynic a believer.

Eric squeezed my fingers, dipping his head to smile at me, and my heart lurched for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

He wore a slate blue cotton button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled, and a pair of worn denim jeans with equally worn brown leather cowboy boots. He’d clearly stopped shaving at some point in the week, because he now had a nice buildup of scruff that made a girl go
rawr
, and there was definitely some kind of sorcery going on with his cologne because he smelled amazing. I’d spent the car ride over taking discreet whiffs and hoping he hadn’t noticed that I might just be a little crazy.

There was something about Eric, something beyond the obvious physical characteristics, that drew me to him. I didn’t know if it was the pheromones or something less scientific—the feeling that he was mine on some primal level. Whatever it was, I felt the rightness of this, even as nerves filled me the more steps we took.

It was an exaggeration to say the entire town of Bradbury had come out tonight, but it definitely felt like they had, and all of their eyes were trained on the point where my flesh met Eric’s, our palms pressed together. I tried to jerk my hand away, but he held steady as if he’d anticipated it, his lips quirking slightly before bringing my fingers up to his mouth and kissing them softly, his breath tickling my skin, sending a whole other host of sensations through my body.

Aww hell.

“This was a bad idea,” I hissed, no easy feat while forcing a smile for the crowd at large. “Everyone is staring at us.”

“Everyone’s staring at you,” he countered, his voice going oh-so-sweet, “because you’re stunning tonight.”

He didn’t say it like a line, like he was trying to flatter.
No, he said it like I was beautiful to
him
, and that made all the difference.

“But if it makes you feel better,” he added, his voice going lower, his words for me alone, “pretend they aren’t even here. Tonight’s just for us. To hell with everyone else. If people want to speculate about what’s going on here, let them. We’re the only ones that matter.”

I didn’t answer him; instead, I leaned up on my toes, fusing my mouth to his, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer to me, the harvest moon a spotlight over us, the twinkling lights flashing a giant I-told-you-so, and I didn’t care who saw. So yeah, I guess I gave him an answer after all.

I just hoped it was the right one.

“Want to dance?”

Becca pulled back a few inches and nodded, her lips puffy from my mouth and her cheeks pink from the cold.

I led her out to the dance floor, the familiar strands of a country song playing over the speakers. I was a pretty shit dancer, but we’d been to enough high school dances and clubs and parties in college for Becca to be fully aware of my skills or lack thereof. I didn’t step on her feet or anything, but my signature move was my arms wrapped around her body, her cheek on my chest, our feet shuffling next to each other.

Then again, it wasn’t a bad move to have.

When we were younger, before things had grown serious between us, I’d lived for the school dances she wanted me to take her to, the ones I never would have attended if not
for her on my arm. Those excuses to touch her had been like air to me.

In the beginning, our relationship had progressed slowly. She’d never had a boyfriend, had been shy at first, but the more we’d talked, the more time we’d spent together, the farther I’d fallen. It had just been so easy to talk to her; she always seemed to get it the way other people in my life didn’t. Or maybe it was the fact that I trusted her in a way that I didn’t trust anyone else.

We stopped on the edge of the dance floor and I looped my arm around her waist as she stepped into me, our movements rote. I didn’t know if it was muscle memory or what, but it was like my body knew instinctively how to adjust to hers, as though we operated on a frequency no one else knew. Even with the ten-year absence.

The height difference between us was enough that she fit under my chin, my lips brushing against her silky hair as I held her as tightly as I could, swaying along to the music, completely caught up in Becca.

In the distance the bonfire kicked up, that familiar smell of burning wood reminding me of the last one I’d been to—the night we’d burned a piano after Joker’s memorial service.

My grip around Becca tightened.

I hadn’t thought about him in days. I’d been playing knights and dragons, flirting with Becca, painting my grandmother’s kitchen, covering major ground as I ran all over Bradbury. I hadn’t thought about flying much, either, besides that one call with Burn. Early in my career when I’d just been a young wingman, days spent not flying were wasted days. I’d volunteered every time a sortie opened up, chasing hours, convinced that flying defined me. It wasn’t just that the novelty had worn off—

I didn’t miss it. Not as much as I’d expected to, at least.

Sure, my time in Bradbury wasn’t completely real. I wasn’t working, this was more like a mental health vacation, but it felt good for once not to be chasing the next adrenaline high, not to be constantly on edge, stressed out, and utterly consumed by my job. It felt good just to dance with the girl who meant more to me than anyone ever had. To laugh and just be me. Not fighter-pilot-me, but the other guy who wasn’t defined by rank, call sign, and patch.

I needed to sort my shit out when I went back to Oklahoma, needed to figure out where my future was headed. Right now I couldn’t imagine my future not including Becca.

One dance bled into another, and then another, both of us content to stay like we were, somewhere between where we’d been and where we could be.

Finally, Becca pulled back.

“I’m getting chilly. Do you want to go stand near the bonfire?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

I took her hand as we walked through the crowd gathering near the flames, standing close to the edge. My gaze locked with a couple a few feet away, and I grinned as I saw Katy from the grocery store, her husband and my old high school buddy, John, next to her. They waved us over.

Katy and Becca exchanged hugs while John and I caught up. I hadn’t had a chance to make it to their place for dinner, and the longer we talked, the more I regretted it.

I didn’t have any friends outside of the guys in the squadron. The Air Force was both personal life and job, and as much as I loved talking about flying, it was nice to chill and talk about other things.

Becca and Katy went off to say hi to Megan. John barely waited before they were out of earshot before he asked—

“Are you guys back together?”

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Maybe the answer wasn’t exactly a “yes,” but I was closer and closer to “yes” the more time we spent together. Getting her to come with me tonight was a huge step, her agreeing to go to church and my grandmother’s tomorrow an even bigger one.

“Let’s just say I’m working on it.”

“It took you long enough.”

“I know.” I hesitated, not sure why I was asking, not sure what answer I wanted him to give. “We haven’t talked a lot about the past, but every time we have, she’s made it seem like there wasn’t anyone serious . . .”

“And you want to know what I’ve seen and heard through the rumor mill?”

“Kind of? I just don’t . . . I can’t imagine a girl like her being single. And it’s fucked up, because it’s not like I want her to have been with another guy or something, but at the same time, I hate the idea of her being miserable and alone.”

“I don’t think she was miserable. She seemed okay for the most part. She dated a few guys. Daniel Perkins. Brad Marshall. Toby Dryer.”

I recognized all the names. Daniel and Brad had been in our high school class; Toby was a few years older. They were all okay guys—which didn’t surprise me because Becca was way too smart to date a guy who was an ass—but . . . Maybe it was unfair, but I couldn’t quite imagine her being happy with any of them. They were kind of boring, and as much as Becca said she wanted stable, she loved the rush.

“How much longer do you have here?” John asked.

“Less than a week.”

“You coming back?”

I started to say,
If she’ll have me
, but I caught myself. Part of staying away from Bradbury had been fear; part had
been a desire to keep from hurting Becca. I wasn’t sure how things would play out between us, but my self-imposed exile was over. I still had my grandmother, still had ties and memories here, and even though those ties had felt like chains pulling me down when I was younger, now they felt like roots keeping me grounded when the wind shook the fuck out of my branches.

“Yeah. I am.”

He gave me a slap on the shoulder and a smile. “Good. Missed you, man.”

“You, too.”

We talked for a few more minutes and then our conversation trailed off as Katy and Becca walked back toward us, the glow of the bonfire adding to the punch of their beauty. My chest tightened as I watched Becca, her brown hair down and tangled from the wind, her cheeks pink, her lips curved.

I took a step away from John and then another, hooking my arm around Becca’s waist and hauling her toward me. I put my mouth on hers, catching her off guard as her lips parted beneath mine in surprise. I kissed her hard and deep, my hands holding her hips, tucking her against my body.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words pushed at me, clawing their way out. Ten years ago I would have just said them, wouldn’t have held anything back. Now I understood what I’d taken from her when I broke up with her, when I told her I no longer wanted the life we’d planned together, when I’d taken the love she gave me and threw it in her face. I’d been the one constant in her life, the only person who had always been there, and for a girl who had lost her family in a crunch of glass and metal, losing us hadn’t just been a breakup. I’d shaken her foundation, taken everything she knew to be true, and made her question it. I couldn’t do that again.

So I held the words in, reeling them back until I could give her the certainty she needed and the future she deserved. My hands were still tied by the strings attached to my military commitments, and I couldn’t offer her a future until I untangled myself, until I could offer those hands to her.

*   *   *

We slid under the covers, Becca burrowing against my side in a move that had become habit. She was a maximum contact sleeper, and if I moved, she would reach for me in the middle of the night, in sleep.

Some things hadn’t changed.

“I had fun tonight,” I whispered in the dark, reaching out and tracing the curve of her cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

She threw her leg over mine, kissing my pec.

“I had fun, too. Thanks for making me go. I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

I grinned. “Yeah, me, too. It was good to catch up with everyone. To be with you.”

“Sorry Lizzie was a little fierce,” Becca mumbled between yawns. “She’s protective.”

We’d run into Lizzie and Adam later in the evening. She’d pulled me aside and mock threatened me that if I screwed Becca over, she’d sic Dylan after me, which considering how bloodthirsty the kid was, probably wasn’t an idle threat.

I was glad that after everything Becca had been through after I’d left, she had someone like Lizzie in her corner, someone who had her back when she needed it.

“Shh. Don’t apologize. She loves you.”

I love you.

Becca’s hand trailed down my stomach, sleepily caressing my abs, and my cock sprung to life.

“I thought you were tired,” I murmured.

She yawned again. “I am. We can still have sex, though.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re falling asleep. There’s always tomorrow morning.”

“We came back here.”

We’d ended up at my hotel room since it was closer than Becca’s apartment.

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean we have to have sex. We can just sleep.”

“So I guess we’re definitely not just fuck buddies, huh?”

I laughed at her tone. I couldn’t tell if she was happy, annoyed, or amused about that fact. Maybe a combination of all three.

“Babe.”

She yawned again. “Have I ever told you it’s kind of sexy when you call me ‘babe’?”

I grinned. “Nope.”

“It is. It’s weird, because if any other guy said it, it would probably annoy me, but it’s kind of cute on you.”

“Good to know.”

I reached out and stroked her hair, listening to the sounds of her breathing, until I realized she’d fallen asleep.

I stared up at the ceiling, my arms and heart full of Becca.

I whispered her name. “Are you awake?”

Silence. She’d always been a heavy sleeper; apparently that hadn’t changed, either.

“I love you,” I whispered, needing to say the words even if it wasn’t time for her to hear them, my arms around her tightening.

This time I wasn’t letting
go.