Page 16 of No Turning Back
I pull my phone from my pocket and see a missed call from an unknown number. As I’m staring at the screen, it buzzes again.
Same number.
I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Hey, baby.”
My heart stutters. “Markus?” I ask, surprised. “Whose number is this?”
“My phone died,” he says. “I borrowed a buddy’s. I wanted to know how it went.”
“Well,” I say, a little slower now, grounding myself, “it went fine. He’s thirteen. Quiet. I told him where his room is and he just… went.”
Markus exhales. “Wow. He’s definitely our kind of people.”
“His dad’s military,” I say. “Angela said they haven’t been able to reach him yet. So... they don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Markus is quiet.
“And his mom…” I swallow. “She died in that pileup on the interstate last week. The one I told you about. Angela said there’s no other family. Just him. He’s thirteen.”
“Damn,” Markus murmurs. “I can’t imagine.”
“Yeah,” I say, eyes drifting toward the stairs. “Neither can I.”
“How’s it going there?” I ask, changing the subject before the lump in my throat gives me away. “Miss me yet?”
“Baby,” he laughs softly, the sound fraying around the edges like he's tired. “I don’t think I’venotmissed you this whole time.”
I smile, but it doesn’t quite reach. I swallow down thethen why’d you leavethat bubbles up, bitter and sharp. Now’s not the time. We’ve been good lately. He was supportive when I told him about the foster care decision. He listened to my panic, my second-guessing, my spirals about screwing this up.
I know I said, I was done but staying mad at Markus for long has never been one of my superpowers.
I try to push the bitterness away and say, “I needed to hear that.”
“I mean it,” Markus says quietly. “I miss you every damn day.”
“I miss you too,” I say quietly.
“Enough to send me pics?” he says, cheekily.
I smile, despite myself. “Really? Yousureyou want nudes of me showing up on your buddy’s phone?”
He gasps in mock horror. “I never saidnude! Wow.You’rethe dirty one here.”
“Oh, please,” I laugh. “You’ve been deployed like five minutes and already you’re fishing for thirst traps.”
“Guilty,” he says, unbothered. “But to be fair, I’ve been picturing you in that tiny tank top all day.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet you married me,” he says smugly.
“Remind me why?”
“Because I look hot in uniform and make a mean breakfast sandwich.”
“…Okay, valid.”
