Women don’t want grand romantic gestures, son, they want to be taken and have the feeling they have to fight for you, and that they deserve you because they won you. Roses, candles… no woman needs that. Don’t be a softie.
His mother’s words turned over and over in his head as Tank turned on his laptop for the Skype date he hopefully had. It was barely ten at night, but would be six a.m. in England now.
It rang and rang, then suddenly a small window opened and hazel eyes appeared so close to it, Tank had to smother a laugh.
Damn, he wasn’t that guy. He knew better about women.
Or maybe he knew better now?
It didn’t matter. He shook his head, forcing his mind to stay on the talk that hadn’t yet started.
“Sorry, it’s a mess,” Evy explained, stepping back so he could see her and her beautiful baby girl.
“You always say that, and it never is,” he replied, wanting to ease her mind although he was, most likely, the last one who could.
He’d learned that much by now. They’d been Skyping rather regularly since she’d left the US after her first visit.
“Tank, did Jazz say anything about the wedding?”
His best friend Jazz had gotten engaged not three weeks ago, and Tank still couldn’t believe it. Not even two years back they’d started the new year with the promise of making it big, becoming the soldiers everyone wanted to be.
It had been Jazz’s goal all along, but Tank had agreed to aim for the same just so his best friend knew they’d do everything together.
“Not yet. It seems he wants to push it out. First, because they want to make it somewhat big, and second, because he wants to be utterly sure he’s okay. You know, with all the PTSD and everything.” Tank swallowed, remembering the horrible months after his best friend had come back.
Leila, Evy’s daughter, squealed and Evy laughed, but since she knelt down, Tank couldn’t see what the two were doing.
“Well, I hope I can make it over eventually, so they better tell me on time.”
“You’ll be maid of honor,” Tank pointed out and silence greeted the comment. “I cannot see you, Ev, so please, say something.”
He knew her silences by now, knew exactly which words caused which feelings in her. He’d realized that over Christmas when she’d been there for five days.
He could read her like a book and damn if it didn’t freak him out majorly.
The chair he could see the back rest of moved, and suddenly she sat with her beautiful daughter on her lap. The little girl had her mother’s hazel eyes, but so far sadly her father’s lighter hair.
“Hey Lei,” he greeted her and the girl giggled before waving. She always did that and then turned into her mother, hiding.
“I’m not sure if Tessa will still make me maid of honor,” Evy finally muttered.
Tank shook his head. “Of course. She loves you, Ev, and you know that. Hell, if it wasn’t for Jazz, I’d say she almost agreed to marry you.”
It was an exaggeration, but when he’d first met Tessa, the woman had been on the phone with Evy, and had dropped everything to get her best friend from the airport. However, he wanted to make Evy smile and it worked.
“It’s been more than a year since then,” she whispered softly, lowering her eyes to her daughter’s small fingers curling impatiently into her shirt.
“I don’t think much changed,” he confessed, almost sure. After Jazz finally let her close again, Tessa and Tank hadn’t spoken as much anymore.
He’d never admit it out loud, but he missed talking to her sometimes, sharing worries with her.
Actually he just missed sharing his worries with someone, period.
An insistent vibration made Evy turn half way away from the screen and Tank stared at her profile: the long lashes, the pale skin, her dark curls.
He didn’t even know what he was feeling when watching her.
Leila turned to him, grinning, and then struggled to get down.
“I need to run,” Evy announced, turning back to him and Tank glanced at the clock on the bottom corner of the laptop. They’d spoken less than ten minutes.
“Yeah, I figured, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You were kinda down when leaving after Christmas.”
And he knew it had gotten worse because although Tessa had cried about having to let her friend go, she’d still beamed overall. Hard not to when your life was fucking picture-perfect.
“I’m perfectly fine. It’s just hard being on the other side of the world, so far away from everything you want.”
He knew she meant being around Tessa and away from her fucking boss, but he felt a stab in his heart; something that felt incredibly much like hope. Hope that maybe she could see more in him. Hope that she wanted to be by his side, too.
And hope was fucking deadly.
It always broke you.
Hope was a fucking liar.
“I’m gonna let you go then. Catch you soon and take care.”
He closed the laptop before she caught something in his eyes he didn’t want her to see.
Something like regret about not being on the same continent—or the same page.