Return to Glory. Sara Arden
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I was captured in Mosul. I’m not begging for anything here.”
“I don’t want you to beg. I want you to ask. There is no shame in that.” Her voice, while sweet, was braced with steel. “Ask me.”
“No.”
“Unacceptable.” She nudged him with her foot. “Ask and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“How could you conceivably do that? I can’t taste the sweets you make, and my dick doesn’t work. So what could you possibly offer me?”
“Right now I’m offering to restrain myself from kicking you. The Jack I used to know would knock your teeth down the back of your throat for talking to me that way.”
He sighed. She was right. “I’m sorry, Betsy. Just go.”
“Not a chance.” Her voice was softer now and she leaned down over him. “I will help you. I’m not leaving until you’re at least in that chair.”
“Fine. Help me.”
Seemingly satisfied she wasn’t going to get any better from him, she helped haul him upright. It was an effort, but she managed. He should’ve expected her strength; she carried around fifty-pound bags of flour all day and kneaded loaf after loaf of fresh bread for hours.
She didn’t try to help him to the chair. Instead he found his back against the wall and Betsy on her tiptoes, her matte red lips pressed against his with no care for the ruined part of his face. She kissed him wholly, completely.
It was as if those years had never passed and they were under the stars again the same as the night he’d left. Pieces of himself he thought long dead sparked and flickered—a bulb in a faulty socket. He tightened his arms around her, pressing her more firmly against him.
She felt so good. It had been so long since anything felt good. She even tasted like vanilla. That had to be his imagination because he hadn’t been able to taste anything but ash since he’d awakened from the burning hell of his nightmares into a real world just as awful.
Jack deepened the kiss, tasting more of her, storing up the memories of vanilla and sugar. Betsy broke the kiss all too soon and pulled away from him, and the new bud of light that had taken root grew dark. He’d have given anything to turn it back on.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jack.”
He didn’t respond, only watched her go.
She turned halfway out the door and light from the street lamp pooled around her. “In case you were wondering, everything seems to be working just fine.” She shut the door behind her.
BETSY’S LIPS TINGLED from the passionate kiss. Her body burned with need, and those fireworks she’d been talking about with India had burst to bright and heated life. Even tasting the whiskey on his breath, even scarred as he was, his mouth was still the only thing that had ever lit a blaze so hot. Being pressed against his hard body... Yes, everything was in deliciously proper working order.
Except for the most important spark. The flame that was inside him that made him Jack. There was a darkness in him now that was so heavy it threatened to smother all the light.
Betsy refused to allow that to happen. She’d meant what she said. She would save him whether he wanted her to or not. When she was drowning, she’d had no way to ask for help, and she figured that analogy couldn’t be more spot-on. He was drowning in the dark.
Jack had taught her that life was meant to be lived. He’d shared part of his spark with her, and that was why she had to ignite that inside him again no matter what it took.
She cast a glance back at the house over her shoulder as she headed to her car. Jack was at the window. Betsy knew he would be—he’d watch over her until she was safely locked in her vehicle.
She held up her hand in a gesture that wasn’t quite a wave, but more of a thank-you as she unlocked the door and slid inside.
She drove the short way to her mother’s house on Westwood, and the memory of the night he left crashed over her. Betsy pushed it away; she didn’t want to remember. It was too much like holding on to a dream that could never be real.
Except it had been real and it was over. Time marched forward, their lives changed, but she’d never forgotten how he made her feel.
And the night she’d said goodbye to a dream.
Jack McConnell had been all-American perfect.
The boy who’d been an Eagle Scout, volunteered at the homeless shelter in the city, an all-star quarterback and a straight-A student had graduated from BUDs. Jack was officially a navy SEAL, the best of the best.
And just as he’d come home from BUDs, Betsy had had to say goodbye again. But before he left to serve his country, there was something he had to know. Something that couldn’t wait.
Betsy was in love with him.
Nothing else mattered but making sure Jack knew he had a reason to keep himself safe—to come home. Her mind flashed back to that night.
* * *
HER HEART WAS so full of him, it actually hurt. Sometimes she wondered if it was possible to love someone so much a heart could burst.
The party Betsy’s parents organized in the community center gym to send him off in patriotic style was in full swing. Couples moved on the floor to a high school band that supplied melody while others scavenged the potluck buffet. Veterans and active-duty service members shook Jack’s hand. They thanked him for his service. The man who ran the military memorabilia store teased him and said even though he’d chosen the navy, Jack was still okay in his book and guffawed.
Jack took it all in with a good-natured grin that was his trademarked expression. He turned to her, as if he felt her eyes, and gave her a smile that was only for her. He excused himself from his well-wishers.
“Hey, sweet thing. Did you have a good time?”
She smiled. “The party was for you.” Betsy didn’t know how she could be expected to have a good time when he was leaving again.
“No fun at all?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Not a single bit.” She gave him a conspiratorial look. “You can make it up to me, though.”
“Oh can I? Who says I want to?” he teased.
“You never tell me no.”
“And now I’m paying the price.” He slipped his arm around her waist.
Betsy couldn’t help the thrill that jolted through her at the contact. His hands were so warm; his whole body radiated heat and the sensation stole nearly every thought in her head. “You can let me go with you to the bus station.”
“Bets. We talked about this. You’re still in high school and you shouldn’t be out by yourself that late at night. It’s dangerous.” He held up his hand to silence her when she would’ve interrupted him. “And I don’t want my last memory of tonight to be you red-eyed and snot-nosed.”
Betsy had other plans for his memories of tonight, but she had to get him to agree to the bus station first. “I promise I won’t cry until you’re gone, and Caleb said he’d bring India to ride home with me so I won’t be alone.” Betsy bit her lip. “Please? I need to tell you something and I don’t want to tell you here.”
“What’s this about?” His confusion looked genuine.
As if he didn’t know how she felt or what she could possibly want to tell him. All the more reason this was so important.
“I’ll tell you if you come with me. You’ve had enough of the party, right? Wouldn’t you rather have some of my mother’s fried chicken and my Nutella cheesecake cookies down by the river?”