And I’m never letting her go again.
I keep my hand on her back, fingers gently brushing the slope of her spine. Her breathing is slow, her cheek resting just
above my heart. I wonder if she can feel it thudding beneath he. It’s been doing that since the moment I saw her again-
hell, since the day I met her.
Four days. That’s all we’ve got until she starts school again. Winter break is over, and she’s diving back into eighteen–hour
days, auditions, rehearsals, classes. A schedule built on grit and exhaustion and muscle memory.
I can already picture her–hair up in a messy bun, tights twisted, sweater half–falling off one shoulder, eyes sharp with
focus and lips pink from chewing on them between scenes. It turns me on and terrifies me at the same time, the idea of
her pushing herself to the edge and back.
And I start my new job the same day. Contract signed, protocols briefed, security clearance updated. It’s official now.
Head of Tactical Field Design and Testing.
Not bad for a guy who didn’t think he’d ever wear a uniform again. But this time, it’s different. No combat. No
deployments. I’ll be working with SEALS still, testing new strategy and gear designed for deep–cover teams. It won’t erase
what happened to my old unit, won’t bring back the brothers I lost… but maybe it’ll help someone else live. Maybe I can
keep someone else from waking up in the middle of the night drenched in guilt, wondering if there was a better way.
And she supports it. She was proud. Told me I’d be brilliant at i. Even kissed me so hard I nearly forgot my name.
Then there’s the gala. Five weeks. That’s all the time she’s got left to master her routine, cement her place, carry the show.
It’ll be chaos.
And I love it.
I love all of it. The fullness of it. The fact that we’re building this thing together–this life. Mine and hers. Intertwined and
messy and beautiful.
But of course, I think about more.
I think about… her.
A different version of her.
Barefoot in the kitchen, hair a wild mess down her back, skin glowing in the morning light.
Maybe wearing one of my old T–shirts, baggy over her thighs.
And maybe… maybe there’s a bump beneath that shirt.
C
IF
Small. Barely there. But mine. Ours.
re
Yeah.
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40
“A
That thought?
M
It wrecks me.
Y
I
It’s not the first time I’ve imagined it. The idea’s been gnawing at the back of my mind more and more lately. Seeing her with that little girl the other night? Watching the way she bent down and smiled and tucked that kid’s hair behind her ear like it was second nature?
Fucked me up in a way I didn’t expect.
Because I want that.
I want her like that.
With a baby. With our baby.
Jesus.
I bury my face in her hair and groan quietly against her scalp.
Now’s not the time. I know that. She’s just barely past the worst of it. School’s starting. She has a great career ahead of
her. My new work is beginning. There’s still so much chaos ahead. We’re not there yet.
But still…
God, the idea of her round and glowing and soft–mine in every way possible–makes me feel feral.
She shifts a little in her sleep, letting out a soft sigh, and I tighten my hold around her waist, letting her leg slide more
firmly over mine. My hand curves protectively over her hip, then smooths up, feeling the rise and fall of her breath
beneath my palm.
Yeah, not yet.
But someday?
Someday, I’ll ruin her in the most beautiful way.
And she’ll ruin me right back.
With a little girl who has her eyes, or a boy with that wild hair of hers.
Someday.
C
Ip
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“A
for
But for now… I hold her closer, kiss the crown of her head, and let her breathe easy.
Because right now, this–her wrapped up in me, asleep, safe–is everything.
M
Ye
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And it’s more than enough.
Comments
M Monene Mathiba
will there be more chapters?
く
