Page 69 of Backed By You
“Do you think you’re the same person?” she asks softly. “You know, before you left.”
The question is vague, but I know what she’s asking without the details.Am I the same person I was before I left for the military?“There are plenty of men, women, who feel they come back different. That they’ve changed somehow.”
She nods, listening.
“I never felt that,” I confess, my arms tightening around her at the admission. “And either I’m lucky or…cold.”
She peers up at me finally, her expression soft. “You’re not cold.”
The last time I saw Rhett flashes in my mind. How hard he was trying to talk to me and how hard I fought back to keep everyone at arm’s length—or farther. “My family would disagree.”
Her brow furrows, an edge of adorable defiance I’ve seen more than once in her eyes. “Then they don’t know you like I do.”
I huff a laugh. “Only you, sweetheart.”
We head back, our footprints leaving parallel trails in the damp sand. The sun hangs low now, casting long shadows ahead of us as we walk toward the narrow path.
“Tell me something about Montana,” she says, slipping her hand in mine as we walk. “What’s your favorite thing about it?”
I think for a moment.My favorite thing. “There’s this moment, just before sunrise, when the mountains are still dark, but the sky is beginning to lighten. Everything is perfectly still—no wind, no sound. It’s like the whole world is holding its breath. Then, when the first light hits the highest peaks, it’s like watching the earth wake up one ridge at a time.”
“That’s beautiful.” She peers up at me, beaming. “You should write that down.”
I chuckle. “Nah. That’s your department.”
She smiles, and we pause where the beach narrows, the water now painting ribbons of gold and crimson across the surface as we watch the last sliver of sun disappear below the horizon. Tomorrow will bring chaos—cameras and questions, politics and public scrutiny.
But right now, it’s just us, the beach, and a few words that have changed everything.
I pull her close, and she comes willingly, fitting against me perfectly. As darkness settles over the beach, I hold tight to the woman who crashed into my carefully constructed solitude and turned it into something infinitely better—a life built for two.
Twenty-Five.
Callie
Iblowoutabreath and shake out my hands in front of me.
“How are you doing, Callie? Can I get you anything? Water, gum?” Ellen asks, a phone in each of her hands as she checks her meticulously set, by-the-minute schedule.
“I’m fine.” The lie comes automatically. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears alongside a familiar tightness in my chest that’s threatening to overwhelm me.
We’re in the back of the limo, moments away from pulling up to the theater. Outside the tinted windows waits a gauntlet of photographers, reporters, and fans—all eyes waiting for me and the cast to walk the red carpet.
I wish Hulk were here…
Beau grips my thigh from his spot beside me, a solid presence in his perfectly tailored tuxedo. I shift my focus to him. He’s devastatingly handsome—the black suit emphasizes his broadshoulders and the crisp white shirt makes me want to crawl inside, rest my head on his juicy pecs, and never come out.
His gaze meets mine, steady and calm.
“Breathe,” he says quietly, just for me. His thumb presses into my thigh, forcing me to focus. To listen.
I take a deep breath, my bare shoulders rising with the action. He doesn’t smile or offer any words of encouragement. He doesn’t have to. He simply holds my gaze and breathes with me. He rubs his thumb back and forth over my skin through the slit on my dress.
Last night on the beach feels like a dream now. His quiet confession of love, the peaceful sunset, the simplicity of the moment. It was perfect. This, however, the premiere, the cameras, the noise—not so much.
“Thirty seconds,” Ellen announces, checking her phone. “Jack and the rest of the cast are already on the carpet. Studio executives are waiting to greet you at the entrance.”
I take another deep breath. “How do I look?” I ask no one in particular.
