Page 24 of Misery In Me

Much more.

I adjust Zoe in the carrier on my chest, adjusting the straps to make sure she’s comfortable. She’s sound asleep, her tiny body nestled against me, her breath soft and steady. She looks so peaceful, unaware of the world around her, but for me, the pressure of everything is overwhelming.

I keep my eyes on the bus, watching as it slows to a stop before us. Marines in full gear begin to file off, their faces tired but familiar. The heat from the engine can be felt in the crowdand one by one—a sea of men who have fought and bled for their country—file off the rig.

I try not to focus too hard on the fact that Gage is among them. He’s been gone for weeks. That he’s been through God knows what, and I don’t know how it has changed him. And that’s the hardest part.

Not knowing.

I scan the faces, my heart fluttering in my chest, a mix of anxiety and hope clawing at me. I don’t recognize any of the other men, and why would I? It’s not like I’m that important of a person to where Gage would feel the need to introduce me to people.

Then I see him.

Gage is near the back of the group, moving slower than the others. His usual confident stride is replaced with something more uncertain, more... burdened. His face is drawn, his eyes shadowed, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s being helped down the steps of the bus by a corpsman.

I can’t breathe for a second as I watch him—the way he limps slightly, the obvious grimace on his face. There’s a slight stagger to his step, and my mind races, trying to process the sight. I want to run to him, but my feet are frozen, my hands clutching Zoe a little too tightly, like I’m holding on to something that’s slipping away.

My stomach churns with a sudden wave of fear.

I can see that he’s hurt.

My throat constricts, a lump of fear lodged there, as I try to calm myself, but the truth is, I’m terrified. In the weeks since he left, I’d replayed this moment a hundred times in my mind, each time imagining a different outcome, but nothing prepared me for the gut-wrenching reality. I never thought it would feel like the ground beneath me might collapse.

Gage looks up, scanning the crowd, and then, for a split second, his eyes meet mine. I almost think I imagined the way his face softens, the way his posture shifts, like he’s relieved to see me. But then he pulls his hand free of the Marine helping him, and he stumbles toward me, moving with purpose.

My breath catches as he closes the distance between us, and everything else in the world fades. The noise of the crowd, the shuffling of feet—it all becomes background noise as I focus on him. His gaze flickers to Zoe, and something in his face shifts.

“Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, like he hasn’t spoken in days. He reaches out, and I expect him to grab for Zoe first, but instead, he rests his hand gently on my cheek, his touch warm and surprisingly tender.

I draw in a breath, surprised at the intimacy of the gesture. There’s something in the way he’s looking at me—something I don’t know how to interpret. And for a second, I don’t know what to say. I’m here, holding his daughter, holding his world, and I realize—I don’t know my place in all of this.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I say softly, the words coming out more easily than I expected, but my heart is still hammering in my chest. I want to say more, want to reach for him, but something in my throat is caught, tangled with emotions I can’t fully process. I have to stay calm.

“I’m fine,” he replies, though his face tells a different story. His eyes scan me briefly, lingering longer than usual. “How’s she been?”

“Perfect. She’s honestly the best baby on the planet,” I tell him, shifting Zoe on my chest, feeling the baby’s warmth press against me. “She’s growing so fast. You’re going to blink, and she’ll be walking.”

Gage chuckles, but it’s strained, as if the sound is forced. “Yeah, well, I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?”

I nod, biting my lip. “A lot.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll be home for a bit while I heal up. You’ll have a break.”

I want to reach out to offer some comfort, but I don’t know how. He’s not just the father of my charge, no, he’s a man I’ve come to care about in ways I never thought I would. But I can’t cross that line. Not now. Not with him like this. I take a small step back, putting more distance between us, trying to keep things professional—just for a moment longer.

Gage seems to notice the shift in the air. He lowers his gaze to Zoe, the softness returning to his eyes. Then he gently leans down, careful of his injury, and places a kiss on her forehead. It’s so tender that it makes my breath catch in my throat.This is what love looks like, I think.

And I feel like an intruder.

He pulls back slowly, his eyes dark with something unspoken. Something more than gratitude. Something more than just obligation.

And then, as if it’s instinct, his hand reaches for mine, brushing my fingers lightly as if testing the waters. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the weight of his hand there, steady and warm. A sudden warmth spreads through me and I almost pull my hand away, but I don’t. I can’t.

When his eyes meet mine again, there’s a flicker of something in them, something I can’t name, but it makes the space between us feel like it’s shrinking, pulling us closer in ways I can’t explain.

“We should get you home,” I say, my voice a little shaky. I step back, moving towards the waiting car, still clutching Zoe close. “I’ll take care of you, Gage. Everything is going to be okay.”

I know it’s not my job to take care of him. But I don’t just care about Zoe. I care about his well-being too. We get plenty of stares from men in his unit and their significant others, and I can only imagine the things they are thinking.

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