Three (Article 5 #3)(49)

“Jesse…” I groaned. “Jesse’s been here five minutes. Don’t you think it’s a little weird that he’s all gung ho when just last week he was hiding out at a safe house?”

Chase frowned. “He was in the army, you know. The real army, before the FBR.”

That wasn’t enough to prove he was a hero in my book, but as always, going up against Chase’s uncle got me nowhere. I floundered, looking for a way to make Chase see reason, but came up blank.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, looking a little embarrassed. “He fought for something important once. He did great things.”

I took a breath, held it a moment. “He did some things that weren’t so great, too.”

He nodded. “But the good things cancelled out the bad. Or, no…” He focused on a point on the floor and scratched the back of his head. “Nothing cancels out the bad. But doing enough good things can make the bad … less bad.” He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Jesse’s earned his rest in the Spirit World, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

The hay dust was suspended in the air between us, as if time had stopped.

“I don’t know if the bad things ever go away,” I said slowly. “But if they could, I think your slate would be wiped clean. And if there is a Spirit World, I think you’ve earned your rest there, too.”

He looked at me for a long time.

“Not yet,” he finally said.

I looked at my hands that had turned into fists on my lap and watched as he took them and pulled gently, until I was curled up on his lap, my cheek against his neck.

“You’re really going,” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head. Everything inside of me felt stretched, like the handful of straw he’d twisted until it broke apart. “Then I’m coming with you,” I said. It wasn’t like I was going to meet Tucker, and anyway, Chase was more important. Even if I had to sneak out, I would be by his side.

He didn’t say anything.

“This morning, when I heard they’d sent a team out to get our injured, I thought you were gone. I thought Three had sent you away. Those moments before I knew were some of the worst I’ve ever had.” I sat up and faced him, running my thumbs down his jaw. “If you’re going to fight, I’m going to fight. If you want to run, we’ll run. But I’m not letting you leave without me.”

I kissed him. I pressed all my fear and pride and love into that kiss, and when I pulled away his eyes were glassy with emotion and his breath came in one hard heave.

“Okay,” he said. And then again. “Okay.”

Then he kissed me back.

It was like every kiss we’d ever shared pressed into one, and because of that so different from anything I’d experienced before. The feelings seemed to collide inside of him, spark, and combust, and soon I was straddling his lap, gasping for breath while he poured every ounce of himself into each touch.

Tomorrow disappeared. Everything disappeared.

His fingers threaded through my hair and inched down my back, pressing us closer. I lifted my chin for air, and his mouth found my neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to my collarbone, where the Saint Michael pendant slid along the chain. The heat exploded within me, ricocheting out to my limbs, making every part of me come alive. My hands flew over his chest, his strong shoulders, around to his back and under his shirt to the rippled scar that wrapped around his side. I tugged the fabric over his head, needing to feel his skin. Needing to push us farther.

He stood, and for a moment I was weightless, my knees locked around his hips while he supported my back with one arm. And then the boards of the loft groaned softly as he kneeled and stuffed his shirt beneath us. He hovered over me, balancing his weight on his elbows, pausing for a moment to check my reaction.

I flattened my hand over his heart, feeling it beating hard. Feeling it as if it were mine, and knowing if he was gone, mine too would go silent. His chest rose and fell with each breath. He seemed to think I was pushing him back and added more distance between us, but I stopped him when I shimmied out of my shirt and tossed it aside.

I stared up at him.

He slowed then, and shifted to his side. His finger drew a line from my throat to my belly button and I wondered if he could feel the way my muscles jumped beneath his touch. I focused on his Adam’s apple bobbing, aware of a new, demanding need taking over, overriding the fear and insecurities, blending us together, stripping us down to the truth: that there was nothing more than him and me, than warmth and trust and right now.

“Wait.” I reached down into my pocket, and removed the two plastic squares Rebecca had given me, reminding myself to thank her later. I shoved them into his hand.

He shook his head, as if trying to clear it.

“Where’d you get this? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” He cleared his throat. His fingertips skimmed down my neck, to my bare shoulder, and down my arm to my wrist. “Are you sure?”

I knew he meant not just about this, but about my promise to stay with him, and I nodded, terrified, but in a good way, because he made me strong.

“Yes.”

I watched as he placed a gentle, trembling hand in the curve of my waist.

He kissed me then, firmly, but slowly enough to break my heart. Our words turned to whispers, then to sighs, then to gasps. And as the moonlight shifted across the window, every worry of what tomorrow would bring, every worry that I didn’t know what to do, melted away, until there was only us.