Chapter Twenty-Five

Katy

“This is your captain speaking. We’ll be touching down shortly at Killeen-Fort Hood Regional Airport. Temperature is forty-two degrees with cloudy skies. We hope you’ve enjoyed your flight. Welcome home, Soldiers.”

I’m hoping for cloudy skies.

Mullins.

My head falls back on the seat while I bite my lips to keep my emotions at bay. Miles away from his hold, I close my eyes tightly as the wheels touch down. I’m no longer his, but that’s not how it feels.

As we taxi to the terminal, my pulse begins to race with anticipation. The flight attendant’s instructions are drowned out by the sound of my own heartbeats thundering in my ears. After weeks of thinking I’d never see them again—never hold my baby boy in my arms again—I’m finally here, and it feels too good to be true.

Noah.

Mind swirling, heart aching, I try to focus on my son, but I can’t get Briggs’s confession out of my head. How will I be able to greet my husband properly, feeling the way I do for another man? I’m so confused. I betrayed him, and yet, somehow…I can’t convince myself that it was wrong. I can’t even pretend that I regret it. What Briggs and I shared was beautiful, and I will cherish it for the rest of my life.

“Here, let me help you with that,” the soldier I’ve been seated next to and had ignored the entire flight offers. He grabs my duffel from the overhead compartment and helps me slide it on to my good arm.

“Thank you.”

He eyes me curiously.

“Just getting home?”

Emotion collects in the back of my throat.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you coming from?”

I open my mouth to speak, and I have no idea what to say.

This man has no clue what he’s asking me.

“Iraq.”

His brows shoot up. “Damn. How’s the action over there?”

I take my backpack from him. “Intense.”

“I can’t wait to go over.”

I don’t bother to respond. He has stars and stripes in his eyes, and I’m not about to douse the light in him.

Light.

Briggs had it in abundance.

Maybe this grunt will be the light for someone else in their darkest hours. After a few strides up the jet bridge, I pause, taking deep breaths, and back myself against the wall. Just a few steps away, my husband waits with my son, and I can’t seem to move my feet. I can’t wrap my head around why I’m not rushing toward them.

An injured soldier on crutches eyes me as he waits for his duffel, and I do my best to avoid talking.

“Just get back?”

I nod, unable to meet his gaze.

“You’ll ease into it eventually,” he assures me.

Will I?

I motion toward his casted leg. “Where were you stationed?”

“Syria. Shitshow. You?”

“Baghdad.” The word is a dagger that falls from my lips and rests in my chest.

“First deployment?”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

He grips his delivered rucksack and throws it over his shoulder, giving me a wink. “Give yourself a little time and grace. It will come to you.”

“Thanks.”

“Have a good one.”

“You too.”

I give myself a few heartbeats, my rhythm thrown off by the past two hours. Last night when Gavin called, I swore on my life I would put my relationship with Briggs in perspective. That plan was shot all to hell with his parting words, his plea for me to love him back.

But as much as it pains me, I can’t give him that. My love belongs to the man patiently waiting while I hide here like some coward.

“Did you leave something on the plane?” the attendant asks as she starts her walk toward the terminal, and I quickly shake my head. Taking slow steps behind her, I throw my shoulders back and attempt to put on my game face. It’s now, I know that the battles I’ve just fought are behind me, but the war isn’t over. Far from it.

As soon as I step out of the gate, I’m overcome by sensory overload. Within the sea of bodies, there is one person I search for. It doesn’t take long to find him, either, because I hear my name—my true calling, my life’s purpose—in a word that makes the embedded dagger seem bearable.

“MOMMY!”

Noah comes running at me in a full sprint. I fall to my knees, and when his little body slams into mine, I wrap him up in my arms and breathe in the scent of sunshine. The heaviness in my chest lightens instantly. I’m home. He is my home.

“I missed you, so much,” I chant, kissing his little face over and over again.

“I missed you so much too, Mommy.” He’s lost a tooth, and I missed it. I missed putting on the Band-Aid that covers his elbow. I missed watching him carve the turkey with Gavin.

Gavin.

I jerk my eyes up and see he’s standing right behind Noah, and every emotion I’ve been holding rushes to the surface—sadness, relief, guilt, love.

Rising to my feet as Noah clings to my waist, my gaze flits to my husband’s. His eyes are brimming over with tears as he tenderly cups my face.

“Katy.” His voice is raw as his features lift in disbelief. I nod against his hands as he wraps me in his embrace. Burying my face in his neck, I breathe in a hint of his cologne, the clean cotton of his shirt, and revel in the familiarity. He is home.

I can’t move. I don’t know how I don’t collapse in a heap on the floor, with the way I’m trembling.

Gavin’s frame shakes almost as violently as my own. I’d longed for this moment…prayed to feel his body against mine again. I’d given up hope, and here we are.

“Is this real?” I whisper against his neck.

He nods, and his voice cracks with his reply. “You’re home, baby. You’re safe.”

For the first time since I landed, I feel like I can breathe again.

Gavin holds me for a small eternity while I soak in the relief in his embrace. When we pull away, his watery eyes scour my features while he keeps a stoic face. Ever the captain, he gives me all I need in his hazel stare. I see the man inside, the one who loves me without condition, without pride; it’s pure, and it’s just the nudge I need.

“Let’s go home.” Gavin nods, still a little choked up, and grabs my duffel as Noah begins to ramble on about a party.

I let him chatter but can’t take my eyes off them as we walk to the parking lot, drinking in my fill of their presence. Gavin tosses my bag in the back.

“Grandma and Grandpa too,” Noah says as he climbs in the back of our Jeep.

“Are at home?” I ask Gavin. He winces and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Sorry, Katy. It was all I could do to keep them from coming to the airport. I was going to give you a few days, but as soon as he knew”—he nods toward the back seat, widening his eyes—“everyone knew.”

I smile and beam at my boy. “Such a tattle,” I tease.

“It’s not tattling if you’re not in trouble.”

I raise a brow at his retort. “Is that so, buddy?”

Gavin grabs my hand, and I flinch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“No.” I squeeze his hand and muster a smile. “No, this is good. This is just what I need.”

He swallows words I know he wants to say and tests the waters instead. “Are you up for it?”

“Who’s there?”

“Gah, Mommy!” Noah pipes from the back seat. “I already told you.”

“Hey,” Gavin says, turning in his seat to scold him. “Button up that smart mouth, Son. We don’t talk like that to anyone taller than us, remember?”

“But what if they are the short people?”

Gavin and I burst into laughter, and I twist to look back at Noah. He gives us both a toothless smile.

Home.