Page 97 of Only for Love

“Butwhat ifI did?”

The earnest pleading in her eyes levels me. “Then I’d hatemyselffor being that way, and I’d deal with it.” I scoot closer to her and nod toward the notebook. “Keep going.”

Her wary eyes relax, and after a long glance, she continues flipping the pages.

There.Her eyebrows furrow as she realizes the notes are to her and what they’re about. Then her eyes go wet and shiny. I can almost recite verbatim my many attempts to explain that I’d enlisted, that I didn’t want to go, that I’d signed a contract with zero loopholes. Her heavy tear drips onto a page, and her finger traces the side of the loose-leaf notebook.

“Grayson…” She turns page after page, reading my attempt after miserable attempt, giving me nothing now except for an occasional sniffle. But other than that, she’s completely silent and lost in her thoughts.

There’s a knot in my throat that won’t go away. Maybe this wasn’t the right birthday present. Maybe—

“You tried to tell me. That night. And this…”

“I wasn’t…” Crushing pain in my chest chokes me. “Strong enough to risk losing you.”

She closes the notebook and holds it to her chest. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose red at the tip.

“Maybe this wasn’t a great idea for a present.”

Another tear slips down her cheek. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s making you cry. Damn sure there’s a rule about making your girl tear up on her birthday.”

“It’s helping me understand. And I’m pretty sure the no-cry rule has exceptions.”

“Not likely.”

“This”—she hugs the notebook—“makes me feel love down to the very threads of my existence.” She burrows closer to me on the couch. “I choose you, Gray, like you’ve come home to me. Like I chose you then and want us now. What tore us apart had to have happened for whatever reason, and now I’m in your arms forever.”

Hugging her to me, I’m not sure we can ever get close enough. “I feel like I have it all.”

“Me too.”

“What do you think life will hand us next?”

“You should move in here.” There’s a casual certainty in her voice.

An unnerving calmness runs deep. “Move in here?”

“Fast… but maybe…” She smiles. “You’re good with that?”

“Hell yeah, I’m good with that.” We’re hopping over major relationship steps, but it feels right, almost easy. “First, I told you about that job interview?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to be up-front with you. The interview was good, but it gave way to a job…test, for lack of a better word. The folks I’d work with, it’s not a desk job, and I can’t talk about much.”

She rests her chin on my chest. “A job you can’t talk about?”

“Yeah.”

“Like you need a clearance?”

“It’s more hands-on than that.”

Concern scrunches her forehead. “Is it dangerous?”

I press my lips together, my eyes narrowing, as I try to word what I think might be a truthful answer in my head. “They haven’t exactly told me what the job entails. But, who they are—”

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