Page 102 of Under Fire

“I love you, too,” she said.

He heaved her up to his chest, and something changed in his eye. He kissed her again and again, like he’d truly never get enough of her—like they’d never get enough of each other.

And, as it happened, they never would.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Warren

The next morning

Warren sat stiffly, alone on his couch. The sun’s early rays danced through the window. His steaming mug of coffee in hand, he glanced around his living room. With Alisa still fast asleep in his bed, he drank in the peace of the morning. Everything was silent.

Mindful, he felt his body still.

As if for the first time, he took in a breath. There was no pain in his back or in his chest. He felt the air smoothly diving down to the very bottom of his lungs and back out again.

It was fucking weird.

Suddenly, he felt unmanageable stress creeping in. Just sitting there, doing absolutely fucking nothing. But that was it, wasn’t it? He was doing fucking nothing. The plane had left yesterday. The op was going ahead…without him. He’d stayed behind. All the guys were on the ground, in the battlefield, guns out, ready to fight, as he sat there drinking a fucking coffee like a goddamn clown.

Like a coward.

What the fuck am I doing here?

The hot mug seemed to burn his hand. He flinched, ready to whip it against the damn wall.I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get over there.

He jumped up and slammed his coffee on the table in front of him. His whole body flexed and snapped to attention. He couldn’t just stay on the couch. He couldn’t just be there, doing nothing. Being home. He had to go. Happiness didn’t come for men like him. He had shit to do.

Get the keys, and let’s go.

Twisting, plotting, he glanced around his house—a place he hadn’t spent a lot of time. A picture of Katy in the distance smiled back at him, warming him. The nearby edge of his walnut dining table poked out, reminding him of how things had changed.Alisa, a kid, maybe more. He had more to live for than he’d ever appreciated.

So did Geoff.The memory of his former lead never left Warren’s mind. Every time he looked at Katy he saw her father…his best friend. The picture of Katy smiling across the room tempered him. For so damn long, he had to pretend her dad was still around.

“He’s gone,” Warren grunted to himself. “He’s never coming back.”

Warren tightened where he stood as his stress response flooded his senses. He felt that same physical impulse to get on a fucking plane and get back to work, to get back to being a goddamn war fighter. That’s what he’d been bred and trained for. If he left all the guys out there alone, fighting without him, how many more of them would die? How many more funerals would he get invitations to? How many more guys would he have to pretend were still alive.

It was never your fault.He heard Alisa saying something at the back of his mind, like her own voice had grown to be part of his conscience.

He exhaled slowly, deeply. He welcomed the morning air back into his lungs once again. He felt it go all the way down to the bottom and back out through his mouth, less smooth than before. He closed his eyes, recognizing his physiological responses. It was going to take a while to reintegrate. He’d been gone for a long time. He hadn’t stopped for a long time. And whenever he had been back, he’d never really been back.

He reached down, picked up his mug and took a swig of the hot coffee. Damn, it felt good—much better than field coffee.

It was in that moment that he realized—both he and Geoff hadn’t stopped but had kept going. The difference between them was that he could still come back, live. Geoff couldn’t. Warren nodded, making the pact with himself, then and there. He wasn’t over there. He was home. He sat his ass back down on his couch. He’d done his time. He’d given everything he had to a life of service. The best thing he could do then was what Geoff never could—come back and be present for the people he loved.

His cell buzzed. He reached for it, seeing an email coming in from the master chief.

These guys are singing your praises out here. You trained them damn well. Everyone’s rooting for your fast recovery…so you can get back at it. I hate to say I told you so, but morale’s way, way up. It’s buzzing. You did something right.

Warren read the message five times, thinking about those work parties he hated going to and never showed up at. Alisa had made it all different—the engagement party, the wedding. Alisa had made him a little more human. And it looked like a little tequila between men had gone a long way to repair his bond with his guys, to boost morale.

He laughed to himself, sipping his coffee. Strange, the things a man could realize. Sometimes a good leader knew when to set an example—and take a knee to heal.

It’s time to heal.

“Okay.” Warren exhaled, slowing the stress reaction. “I got this.”

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