Chapter 30

30

Wyatt

I fucked up.

I fucked up hardcore. And I hate fucking up.

I also hate hundred-degree weather with humidity so high you can't get your balls dry when you get out of the shower in the morning, but that's life in Georgia.

I hate hearing from my colonel that there's nothing we can do right now to reapply for early release from my service commitment.

I hate that I'd be arrested for being AWOL if I left fucking Georgia forever anyway in August when I have to take Tucker back to Copper Valley.

And I hate that I feel like a shitty parent because I hurt , and I don't know if I'm making this the best or the worst summer of my son's life.

"Wow, Dad, you missed that by a mile," he calls with a laugh as I jog after a baseball in my backyard. The live oaks provide enough shade to block the sun from helping the grass grow. Or maybe the grass has also lost the will to live in the fucking heat.

My hand's sweating so bad my glove can barely stay on.

But Tucker's grinning and squealing and laughing while we play catch, which is really more him flinging the ball wildly about the backyard while I try to aim to gently toss a baseball into his mitt.

I love Saturdays.

And I hate Saturdays.

"Does Miss Captain Ellie know how to play catch?" Tucker asks when I toss him the ball.

"Yep."

"Is she as good as you?"

"Don't know, bud."

"Can I see her when I go back with Mom?"

"That's up to your mom."

"Ha! Dad, you missed again ."

I sure as fuck did.

I bend to grab the ball as my phone rings, and when I see who's calling, I almost drop it.

Both the ball and the phone, actually.

"Hey, bud, I gotta take this," I say. "Throw it at that back tree for a bit, okay? Be right back."

"Okay, Dad!"

I angle around to the side of the two-bedroom brick house I'm renting a couple miles from the base and put the phone to my ear, my heart in my throat. "Ellie?"

"I thought of you while I masturbated last week and then I ran over a squirrel."

My lungs freeze and I grunt out an unintelligible answer.

She barks out a high-pitched laugh. "Kidding. I mean, not about thinking about you while I masturbate. I mean about the squirrel. Nothing bad happened."

"Fuck, Ellie," I manage, because now I'm hard as a pipe and so fucking glad to hear her voice and terrified what she might say next.

"And I've kissed your picture every night this week before I went to bed, and all that happened was I ran out of milk."

Her voice is wobbling, which is understandable, because my knees are wobbling too. "And?" I ask.

"I miss you," she whispers.

"I miss you too."

"Did you know the odds of getting in an accident and having your house burn down in the same lifetime are less than your odds of getting struck by lightning?"

I have no idea the real statistics. "Of course. I remember all the Trivial Pursuit answers I read."

She laughs, and it sounds watery, and I wish to fuck I could hold her right now. Or just look at her. "Shut up," she says, but there's none of the old venom or irritation.

This is all playful Ellie.

Hesitantly playful, but playful.

"When I'm right, it's my duty to tell you so." My cheeks crack with the effort of smiling, and my heart's buzzing like it's hooked up to a car battery. But this is what we do.

We give each other shit.

"Fine, Mister Smartypants. What are the odds I'm in your driveway?" she asks.

I freeze.

But only a split second before I'm striding to the front of the house.

The back bumper of a white Prius comes into view.

My pulse amps higher.

She's here.

Ellie's here .

I drop my hands to my side, just staring while she pulls herself out of the driver's seat. She cut her hair shorter, so it's framing her ears with crazy, beautiful curls. Her blue eyes match the deep summer sky, but the hesitancy in them almost makes my knees buckle.

"You drove," I say dumbly.

Her lips hitch toward the sky. "The whole way. After I told the universe I was coming to talk you out of your pants. And no vultures attacked my car. Bears didn't dash in front of me. Random ice storms didn't pop up out of nowhere. My hotel didn't burn down. And so I don't have to interrupt the space-time continuum and bring about another ice age."

I'm supposed to smile, but I still can't believe she's standing here. "What—why?—"

She limps as she starts around the car, but holds a hand up when I move toward her. "Do you know what irritates the fuck out of me about you?"

My eyes shift toward the side of the house, but I can hear Tucker still laughing in back, so he missed that little F-bomb. "How perfect I am?" I guess, even though I'm so fucking far from it.

"Exactly. You even knew I was going to say that."

Her gait is smoothing out as she rounds the car.

My fingers itch, and my arms are aching to hold her, but I wait, because I know she'll read me the riot act if I try to make this any easier on her.

"I'm not perfect, Ellie."

"Do you remember what you said? That if anyone would flip off the universe and do what I wanted anyway, it was me?"

She stops inches from me, the waver still in her voice.

I nod.

"You forgot a part."

"What part?"

"The part where I won't have to do it alone."

"I thought that's what you were afraid of."

"I don't want to be afraid to live."

"That's my girl."

"I love you, Wyatt." She finally closes the distance between us and lines her body up with mine, her hands sliding up my chest. "Do you still want me?" she whispers.

"Always."

"Even if always is only like thirty more seconds?"

I laugh, because she's teasing. And she's here . "Ellie Ryder, I will love you long after my heart stops beating. And that , you can count on."

She pushes up on her toes while I angle my head down to meet her, and there's no head-crashing, no black eyes, no sneezes, just her lips teasing mine, here , real, here , in the hot fucking Georgia sauna, her hands exploring while I crush her to me because I am never letting her go.

Ever .

"Dad! Are you— Miss Captain Ellie !"

The joy in Tucker's voice puts a lump in my throat, and I'm blinking hard as Ellie pulls back and leans down to hug my son. "Hey, kiddo. You teaching your dad to play ball?"

"Yeah, he's kinda bad. He keeps missing the ball. Are you better?"

"Probably not."

"That's okay. We have ice cream when you're bad."

I choke on a laugh. "We what ?"

He grins hopefully at me. "Right, Dad? Ice cream. Miss Captain Ellie, can you stay for ice cream? My dad's grilling burgers later too. You can have his. He'll go to the store for more."

I gape at him, because he's moving in and pulling smoother moves than I have.

But Ellie hugs him again. "You are adorable."

"I don't think he needs encouragement," I tell her.

She rises and smiles at me, but as she does, something white lands in her hair.

My jaw slips.

Her brows furrow, and she starts to reach for her head, but I snag her hand. "Don't. Just… Hey, Tucker? Go get the gloves and bring them inside, okay? We'll get ice cream. We'll get ice cream right now."

He giggles. "Miss Captain Ellie, a bird just pooped in your hair!"

"Go on," I say, giving him a gentle shove in the right direction.

"Are you kidding me?" Ellie mutters.

I can't decide if I want to laugh or if I need to go into full-on overprotective mode, but as soon as Tucker turns his back, she lifts a middle finger to the sky. "Bring it, asshole," she mutters.

"If you really meant it," I tell her, "you'd use both middle fingers."

Something squawks, and a bird bounces off the neighbor's side window. It falls on the ground, leaps to its feet, bounces around like it's dizzy for a minute, and then takes off again in the opposite direction.

Ellie dusts her hands. "That's right. Who's in charge now?"

I don't bother stifling a smile.

Because that's my girl.