Eight days left.

It’s the first thing I think the next morning, the number shining in my head so brightly that at first, I think it’s the light that woke me. But no, no, it’s the sunlight streaming through the windows of the cabin’s bedroom, a square of light falling perfectly across my face.

I squint and sit up, unsurprised to find that Heath isn’t in bed beside me. I steal the comforter off the bed and wrap it around my body, then shuffle from the bedroom to find him. He’s in the main room, looking at his phone. It strikes me that I’ve never really seen him do this before; his phone is used for calls or texts, but never as a source of distraction or entertainment.

“Good morning,” I say. “What’re you looking at?”

Heath looks up at me in a way that tells me I didn’t startle him— even if I’d wanted to, I doubt I could have startled him.

“Reading up on you,” he says, and edges to one side of the couch so there’s plenty of room for me to curl up beside him.

“What?” I ask, craning my neck to see his phone screen. “Oh.” It’s information on my dad’s arrest and upcoming parole.

Dad is hardly famous for his crimes; he’s one of a billion abusers, unfortunately. My Aunt Lisa never believed that her big brother could do such a thing, though, and my mother had a massive falling out over his arrest. Aunt Lisa said my mother was making the whole abuse story up, even saying that I’d been tricked into believing it all. She created a Facebook page called “JUSTICE FOR CHAD”, and given how close he is to parole, it’s being updated daily.

“Oh, Aunt Lisa,” I say, sighing. “Don’t believe everything you read on there, okay? She’s nuts.”

“Clearly. Did you see the Photoshop job she did of your dad arm wrestling the devil? Apparently if I “like”, then your dad wins,” Heath says, kissing the top of my head playfully.

I groan and bury my head in my blanket-dress. “Why are you reading that?”

“I already read everything else on the case.”

“Why are you reading any of it?”

Heath drops his phone on the coffee table and waits a few beats before answering, like he’s thinking this through. Finally, he says, “I want to see what I can do to keep you safe while I’m gone.”

Eight days.

“He’s not getting paroled. It’s fine,” I say. My voice is stiff and uneasy. I don’t want to think about Heath being gone, and somehow, the idea of him try to keep me safe after he’s gone makes it even worse. It’s just harder, thinking on how he’ll linger, knowing how I’ll miss him, how he won’t be around to convince my mother to go outside or call or—

He moves the blanket away from and kisses the top of my head again. “What do you want to do today?”

“Well, we don’t have to be out till three o’clock,” I say slowly. “And we haven’t used the hot tub yet.”

“We haven’t,” he says. “I’ll be there in a minute. I have to call in to my boss and check in about some things.”

I nod, rise, and take my blanket to the kitchen to make some coffee. It’s not like I’ve got to get undressed for the hot tub; instead I drop the blanket and skirt outside, hurrying to the warm water. I sink down to my neck, eager to escape the cool air outside.

It’s only once I’m in the water that I realize the button for the jets is on the wall. I curse, debating whether or not I should climb out and face the cold or just wait for Heath.

Without the jets, it strikes me how quiet it is up here. There’s the occasional scamper of some animal in the trees, and every now and then a light breeze, but other than that it’s meditatively silent. I tilt my head back against the edge of the hot tub, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

That’s when Heath’s voice edges into the quiet. I don’t mean to hear, exactly, but now that I’ve gone still I can make out his low, wall-muted words.

“Yes, sir. Absolutely. It’s no trouble at all,” he’s saying. “I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday.”

Tuesday— that’ll be four days before he leaves. For someone who is straight up lousy at knowing what day it is, I’ve become a regular calendar app.

Heath emerges a few moments later, dropping the towel he’s slung around his waist at the door. Even in the chill, he’s huge, and I bite my lip eagerly at the sight.

“Wait!” I say as he steps into the hot tub. I realize I’ve nearly shrieked, and the alarmed expression on his face makes me laugh. “Sorry, sorry— the jets. The button is right there,” I say, pointing at the wall.

“Here?” he asks, pointing to the large red button on the wall. “This button?” As there’s literally nothing else on the wall, I know he’s messing with me.

“Come on. Hit it and get in with me,” I say.

“Are you telling me, Karli, that you were too lazy to get out of the hot tub and push it yourself?” he asks, teasing.

“Not too lazy— too cold!” I argue.

“I don’t think so,” Heath says, and then sweeps forward. He launches himself into the hot tub; I squeal and try to escape him, but there’s no point. He grabs me up in his arms and hauls me out, and I scream when the cold air hits me.

“No, put me back! I’m going to get frostbite!” I yell, thrashing in his arms, laughing. Slippery as we both are from the water, he’s got such a tight hold on me that I’m not worried about falling. He carries me over to the wall.

“Go on. Hit it,” he says, shaking his head in faux disappointment at my “laziness”.

“You’re the worst,” I say, and punch him in the shoulder (which I suspect hurts my hand more than it hurts him). I lunge over and slam my hand against the button. The hot tub fizzes, then begins to bubble like lava.

“Was that really so hard?” Heath plays, and carries me back. The water is now almost too hot— ALMOST. I sigh in relief as I sink down, and Heath laughs, apparently unfazed by the temperature change. I sidle up next to him, shaking my head at how he’s merely sitting on the bench, perfectly willing to let his torso freeze.

“What was your call about?” I ask.

Heath looks up at the trees for a second, then sinks down into the water as far as he can. He’s more limited by his height than I am, though, so his shoulders remain exposed. When he pulls me a bit to kiss me, I find I don’t mind the cold as much.

“There’s been a change of plans,” he says, pulling away from my lips, though he keeps his face close to mine.

I go still. “What?”

“I have to fly out on Tuesday.”

I stare. “What?”

“I have to fly—“

“I know what you said, Heath, I just don’t— Tuesday?” I ask, stepping back from him, trying to tame the expressions reeling across my face.

“The situation in North Africa changed. We’ve got to get there sooner than I expected,” Heath says, and I notice the regular calm is gone from his voice. He isn’t angry, but there’s an edge that isn’t usually there, and he glowers in the middle distance like the source of his frustration is looming there.

“That’s half the time. It’s not fair to just change your life around like that,” I protest.

Heath smiles a little at me. “I didn’t sign up for fair, Karli. I signed up with the SEALS.”

“So you’re just fine with it? With leaving?”

“Of course not— you know I’m not fine with leaving you,” he says, shaking his head. At some point I’ve pushed away from him, and I’m standing in the hot tub, essentially oblivious to both the cold and my own nudity. For once, though, being naked in front of Heath is doing nothing at all for my sex drive.

“I just…” I look away, trying to tamp down the growing lump in my throat. “I said we were streamlining, but 8 days already felt like a rush. Now to cut that in half—“

“I know.”

“You don’t know! You know what it’s like to leave, but not what it’s like to be left— or to be about-to-be-left!” I say, and I can hear how childish I sound. I’m throwing a tantrum, basically, but I don’t care.

Heath presses his lips together and nods a little, the movement uneasy. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to be left. But I do know what it feels like to leave someone you care about. It’s why I’ve done my best not to care about anyone all too much. I always figured I could do my caring once I left active duty. But then you happened, and…well…”

I sink back into the water, both because the cold has finally gotten to me and because I hope the splashing jets will help hide the tears in my eyes.

“I just don’t understand what I’m supposed to do while you’re gone.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, and pulls me through the water to him.

“I was fine with sort of…just seeing how this plays out, you know? But now it feels like four days isn’t enough time to even know how it plays out. Four days isn’t enough time to do anything.”

Heath leans down to kiss me long and deep. “I disagree.”

“To do anything other than have sex. Not that I’m complaining, I just—“

“Look who’s got a dirty mind! Can’t I kiss my girlfriend without her thinking I’m trying to get in her pants?”

“I’m not wearing pants,” I argue, and as I’m saying it, I realize what he just called me. I swallow, bite my lip, then kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling my body up against his smooth chest.

“Come on, baby,” Heath says. “We’ve got ninety-six hours. Let’s fill them.”