Page 95 of The Way Back Home

Hell, yes, she does. August and I aren’t exactly a conventional couple. There are always going to be days when it feels as if the two of us are fighting a losing battle with his demons. There are days when I think even my own demons will swallow me whole, but that is the price you pay when you fall in love with a Marine. Some nights I wake to his sweat soaking the sheets, Zora between us, licking his face and bringing him back from the brink of the war he fights inside his mind. Other nights, I wake to his hands and mouth on my body, his gravelly voice whispering my name as if it were a prayer stolen from his lips. Those nights are my favorite.

“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “How could she not when the big sullen prince looks like this?” I make a gesture that indicates all of him.

“Prince?” He smiles wryly. “Oh, darlin’ how wrong you are. I’m the ogre who comes to steal the princess away.” He bends to pick me up. I repress a shriek, because it wouldn’t be the first time we’d woken Bett right after I spent twenty minutes putting her to sleep.

“Hero is a far more apt term,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and squealing when he stalks toward the staircase.

“No, not a hero.” He kisses my forehead. “Just a man who’d do anything to protect what’s his.”

“And I’m just a woman who’d do anything to show her man how much she appreciates him saving her life.”

He raises a brow. “Anything?”

“Any-thing.” I sound out the word slowly and bite my lip.

“Well, I can’t wait to see this anything later, but I gotta set you on your feet, darlin’. I can’t carry you down the stairs.”

“August Cotton, are you calling me fat?”

He laughs. “Come on now, you know you’re perfect.”

“I don’t, but say it again and I’ll take your word for it.”

He sets me down and kisses the tip of my nose. “You’re perfect.”

I hurry down the stairs, but I don’t wait for August when I reach the bottom. It takes about zero-point-five of a second for him to catch up to me, and he takes my hand as we walk into the lounge. Josiah and Beau are sprawled on the couch and floor respectively, watching reruns ofThe Walking Dead. The remains of Josiah’s eighteenth birthday cake sit on the coffee table, and there’s a half-empty bowl of popcorn resting on the sofa cushion beside the birthday boy.

“What episode are we up to?” I grab the popcorn, and I’m just about to sit, but August slides his fingers through the belt loop of my jeans and pulls me back against him. The bowl goes flying out of my hands. Popcorn spills out over the floor and Xena hoovers up the buttery treats. I huff and turn to August, who’s grinning down at me. “Now I gotta go pop more.”

“No, you don’t,” he says kissing my neck. “I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” I ask skeptically. August isn’t big on surprises. “What is it?”

“It’s not here,” he says cryptically.

“We’re going somewhere? What about Bettina?”

“We’re not going far. Besides, I think the boys have got it covered. Right?”

“Right,” Josiah murmurs without taking his eyes from the screen.

Beau chuckles from his position on the floor. “Yeah, and August is gonna have you covered.”

Josiah kicks him in the head. “Shut up, fuck face.”

“Ow, dude. Fuck.”

“Both of you assholes need to shut up,” I snap, glaring at the two of them, and then August covers my eyes from behind and slowly eases us forward. “And you better save me some of that birthday cake.”

“Come on,” he whispers in his low, gravelly voice. “As entertaining as it is watching your dirty mouth fling insults at teens, I’ve got far better uses for it.”

My mouth opens in shock, and I chuckle and let him lead me where he will. He opens the front door, and the cool breeze rushes over me. I shiver a little at the fall evening and inhale deeply of rich earth and the scent of a fire.

“I think maybe I should have put a jacket on.”

“Nah, I’ll keep you warm, princess.”

A nervous laugh bubbles up in my throat. “How much farther are we going?”

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