CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

ZANE LEWIS

FOUR MONTHS LATER

My head is killing me as I walk out of the gate and towards the flow of traffic through the terminal, looking around.

Where is she?

My parents expected me to come straight to them as soon as I accepted my discharge paperwork, but I told them I had a job interview to get to first, and they didn’t question it. They were too proud that I already had a potential job to worry about it that much.

It’s been months since I saw Harper in person, and I’m worried for a second that she might be running late, or something might have gone wrong in our plans at the last minute. As I make my way towards the baggage claim, I try to decide if it would be worth it to text her or call her to make sure she’s actually at the airport.

Just when I’m about to take my phone out of my pocket, I spot her. For a couple of seconds I stop mid-step and just stare at the girl I’ve flown so far to see, to be with. The girl I lied to my parents about, who lied to her parents about me. She looks just as hot as ever, dressed in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair pulled back out of her face.

Before I know it, I’m almost running to her, through the other people. It’s been hard on both of us, being in different time zones, trying to keep things going, figuring out what we’re both going to do, and all I’ve been able to think of for the last five hours has been how good it will feel to have Harper in my arms again.

I pick her up off her feet and pull her body up against mine and kiss her. It’s almost like we’ve never kissed before, but also somehow like we’ve done nothing but for the past four months. Harper makes a noise just as our lips connect, and she melts against me, her arms tightening around my shoulders, her tongue wriggling against mine, her lips on me like she’s been starving for weeks and wants to devour me, and I know I’m doing the same to her.

I finally get to the point where I can make myself put her down, make myself pull back from the kiss, and look at her for a second. Just kissing her has made me start to get hard. I can’t wait to get her alone.

“You took tomorrow off from work, right?”

Harper laughs, her cheeks taking on a cute pink flush at what I’m implying.

“I did, actually. Told them after the last minute rush I need a sick day for my mental health,” Harper tells me, finding my hand without even looking at it and slipping her fingers in between mine.

“Good. Then we can spend all day just…” I give her a little look and give her hand a squeeze, and Harper’s blush goes darker while she looks away.

I smirk and start walking towards the baggage claim, pulling her a little closer to me. I don’t even really want to have to share her with the rest of the people watching us. After all the texts we’ve sent each other, after the pictures and the little thirty-second videos back and forth we’ve used to keep things hot between us, I’m almost ready to boil over.

“Let’s see if we can’t make it out of here without getting in trouble with airport security first,” Harper says, and I laugh again.

“I’ll flash my army creds and they’ll leave us alone. Nobody’s about to give too much trouble to a member of the military who’s finally out,” I tell her.

Harper rolls her eyes. “Oh! I meant to tell you before we get too involved in making up for lost time — I might have a job lead for you,” Harper says as we stop at the baggage carousel and wait for the luggage to start coming down.

Everything I own, except for what’s still at my parents’ place, is down to one big duffel bag. After being in the army for better than six years, I’m not exactly surprised by it, but Harper has been asking for weeks if I’m sure I don’t want her to go ahead and get things for me for the apartment.

It’s a risk, moving in together right away, and we both know it. But for the first few months, at least, assuming I don’t get a job right off the bat, I’m going to be spending almost as much time back at home with my parents as I am with Harper, especially since they don’t know about us yet.

“What kind of job?” Part of me is irritated, for a second, at the thought of getting a job through my girlfriend, instead of on my own. But after that flash reaction I realize how thoughtful it is that Harper’s been on the lookout for me, knowing one of my bigger hesitations about leaving the army was the fact that I didn’t know what I could do for work outside the military.

“It’s with my publishing company, but in the shipping department, not anything at all to do with me,” Harper says.

The first few bags from the plane start tumbling down the shoot and onto the conveyor belt, and I start looking for my duffel more intently.

“What would I be doing if I got the job?” I glance at Harper and back at the conveyor belt, and give her hand another quick squeeze.

Really, for the moment, all I care about is getting her alone as quickly as possible. All I can think about is the last video she sent me, the night before, starting out in nothing but a T-shirt I’d sent her and ending with nothing at all.

“It’s a management job, which I figure you would make sense for. But I mean, if you don’t want to do it, we can find you something else in the city.”

The plan, for right now at least, is that I’ll spend a week with Harper, getting a feel for us living together, and go to my parents’ place for at least a week, unless I have a job already on the line. Of course, if I get a job right away, that’s going to change things a bit. But we’ll handle that when we come to it.

“I’ll check it out, for sure,” I tell her, leaning in to kiss her on the lips quickly. I keep one eye open for my duffel and finally see it, and let go of Harper’s hand to go and grab it so we can get out of the busy airport already and back to her apartment. “How long will it take us to get to your place?”

“I think this justifies getting a cab, or maybe an Uber,” Harper says, once I’ve got her hand in mine once more.

“How long?” I give her a little look so she’ll know exactly how important the answer is to me, and Harper giggles.

“It’s still going to take us about twenty, maybe thirty minutes to get back to my place,” she says.

I groan. “Seriously? What the hell is wrong with this city?”

Harper snorts and shakes her head. “Once we’re in Brooklyn, there are like twenty places to eat that are within walking distance, and more than half of them deliver,” she says to me. “We’ll make a city boy out of you yet.”

“Well, then, lead the way,” I tell her.

We finally get out of the airport and into the line for taxis, and I watch Harper do her thing to hail a cab, thinking that for the first time I’m actually kind of glad she’s the leader, the one in charge at the moment, instead of me.

One of these days, I’m going to have to thank my parents for throwing such an involved anniversary party.

Harper gets one of the cabs to stop in front of us, and I take a deep breath of grungy city air, and follow her.