Page 69 of Stone

Everybody laughed (except her parents). Rumor has it that they arrived home from vacation in the middle of the party (which was way out of hand by all accounts) and caught her making out with some random boy from Mapletree.

College is going well. I’ve passed Staff Management, and now I’m studying Human Resources. I’m really enjoying it. It’s varied, and it uses up a lot of brain power, which makes me tired enough to sleep, instead of lying awake, thinking about how much I miss you.

I’m still confused about everything, John. I know you think it’s nothing and I should get over it, but I still don’t understand how everything you wanted from enlistment changed almost overnight.

I hope when you get some leave, we can sit down and talk, because the things you write don’t explain it in a way I can understand. You use a lot of Marine jargon, and sometimes, it’s like you’re speaking another language. (Either that, or I’m an idiot.)

I love you, John. There’s nothing you can do to hurt me, except not be honest. I’m more challenging than you think, and I’m trying to overcome my shyness and stand up for myself. I guess I proved that by walking into a biker compound and yelling at the president.

Can you believe I did that? I still can’t.

I regret it now because everything’s changed for me at the club. I see the brothers in town, and they don’t say hello to me anymore. It’s weird, because as much as they always scared me, now I miss them, your dad especially. Connie explained the way it was and why hehad to react the way he did. She says there are no hard feelings on his part, but I’m not so sure she’s right.

I feel so alone sometimes, like I’m out at sea and caught in a storm. Not being welcome at the club is isolating because it was my only lifeline to you, and now it’s gone.

All I have is the occasional call and your letters, so please call and write soon.

Yours always,

Elise xoxo

Chapter Eighteen

Elise ? Late December

Biting my lip nervously, I studied Natrona County International Airport’s flight announcement board closely, checking for the zillionth time that John’s flight had landed.

It was there, plain as day. Flight UAL1642 landed twenty minutes ago.

Confused, my gaze veered toward the tunnel the passengers came through—again, for the zillionth time—and stilled as a tall, muscular, handsome man emerged.

With a squeal, I waved softly and called out, “John.”

Gold met green, and a warm feeling slid through my belly as the world around me tipped straight and righted itself again.

John was home at last.

Within seconds, I was almost hauled from my feet as my man caught me up in a hug so warm and comforting, I could’ve cried. He didn’t smell like him anymore; motor oil and leather had been replaced by a hint of California sunshine, mixed with something woody and masculine. For a second, it threw me.

Strong hands framed my face and tipped it up. “Baby,” John muttered huskily, bending his neck and touching his mouth to mine before slowly pulling away.

I blinked, taking in all the changes.

Floppy, collar-touching hair was buzzed short and neat. Gone was the soft stubble I loved scratching my cheeks when he kissed me, and in its place was smooth, freshly shaved skin. All signs of fast MC living had given way to angular cheekbones and bulkymuscles. It was jarring how much John had matured, even more in the few months since I’d last seen him.

John slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me so closely against his side that his wrist and hand hung down just past my shoulder. He kissed the side of my head as we set off toward the exit and asked, “You bring Bessie?”

My hand slipped into my pocket, and I held up the keys. “What do you think?”

I felt his chest rumble as laughter rolled through it. He took the keys from me and muttered, “My girl’s developed some sass.”

I twisted my neck and peered up at him. “You have no idea, John Stone.”

Gold eyes turned on me and softened. “Can’t wait to find out.”

“You leave those assholes to me.” His hand, which had been glued to my thigh for the entire five-hour journey home, rubbed up and down. “I’ll sort it.”

“I don’t need you to sort it, John,” I argued. “I can sort it myself.”

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