Indefinite (Salvation #6)(43)

As much as that sounds like fun, my legs are still wobbly and I stink. “Slow your roll there, Ladykiller, let’s start with dinner.”

He gives me the healthiest version of fast food he can manage while I smile. It’s definitely not what I’m ordering him, and then we head to the living room.

“So, what did you do today?” I ask.

“You mean since I no longer have the joy of following you around?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I woke up, attempted to go for a run but my leg was acting up. I spoke with Jackson and Mark for about two hours about some ideas I had. Then I called my commanding officer and officially put my discharge paperwork in. After that, I spoke with my doctor about the pain in my leg, cleaned the apartment a little . . .”

“Wait, wait, wait!” I say because I didn’t hear much after his call with the commander. “You put your discharge paperwork in?”

I don’t want to hope. I wrestle with allowing that small piece of me to gather any strength because I’ve been disappointed too many times. He can’t get out of the navy. It would give me no more excuses as to why this will never work. He’ll ruin everything.

But then . . . he’d be out.

“I did. Do you want to know why?” Please don’t say me. “Because I don’t want it anymore. I want to get a job where I don’t worry about bombs and stray bullets. I want to start a life where I can have a family, a wife, and kids.”

This is too much. “Quinn . . . you say this now because I’m not falling all over you, but how will you feel in a few months? What about when you have this family and you miss the action?”

“Do you think Jackson, Mark, Ben, or any of those don’t see action?”

I get up and take a few steps back. Nothing is going to be any different. He’ll work for Cole Security . . . in Virginia Beach or freaking California. I’ll still be here in New York with a baby and broken dreams of the life he painted.

That hope I thought I could smother down didn’t stay there. If it had, I wouldn’t feel like I got punched in the face again.

“No, I mean, I’m sure they do . . . clearly, they do, I mean one was shot the other abducted, so yeah . . . Cole Securities is a great work environment.”

He studies me and then gets to his feet. “You don’t seem at all happy.”

“Why would it matter how I seem?”

Quinn steps closer. “Because I’m doing this for you . . . for us.”

“By getting out of the navy and living in Virginia Beach?”

“By doing what you asked me. You said you wanted me to stop deploying. You said you wanted to start living a life with a man who wasn’t always leaving.”

I nod and clench my teeth. “I did. But things have changed, Quinn. I’ve changed, and my life is changing. You need to call your commanding officer back and tell him you changed your mind . . . just like you did six months ago.”

He groans and throws his hands up. “I’m trying here. I’m trying to do exactly what you want me to do so that I can show you how serious I am. I know you said we’re over, what about the other day? What about the night I opened up after we had sex? I thought, oh, I don’t know, that maybe there was a shot. If there wasn’t, why would you even let me in a little? Why? Do you want to break my heart? Is that it? Do you want to toy with me? Is this some game?”

There are no winners here. There are just two people who can’t seem to find their places. It’s sad and awful. The pain of losing him was bad enough the first go around, yet here I am, enduring some form of it again.

I need to tell him. I should open my mouth and tell him that I’m pregnant. However, when I move, that’s not what comes out. “No, it’s not a game.”

“Then why give me any fucking hope if there wasn’t a chance you’d ever forgive me?”

“I wanted one last good time together!” I scream and then cover my mouth.

“What?” He takes a step closer.

My feet move backward, but there is no space because he’s moving toward me. “Please, stop.”

“No. Explain.”

“Listen, what I said is not what you think, Quinn. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts sometimes. It’s too hard to see you, touch you, or be near you and not have you. I thought that if we could have fun together, if we could maybe just become friends, then it would be so much easier for us to move on. Not that I think we’ll ever be out of each other’s lives—” I start to tell him. Here’s my opening, but he speaks first.

“And have you . . . moved on?” His voice is a mix of fury and fear.

Answering this is almost too much because it will do nothing but make those fractures into canyons. I forgive him. It wasn’t his fault completely, it was mine too, so there’s nothing to forgive. But moving on? That’s something else. I have to move on because he will never be the man I want him to be, and it’s unfair to think he should be. While he made promises he didn’t keep, I allowed myself to believe that I could change him, so I held on a bit longer.

It wasn’t right of me to think that way.

And if I give him what he thinks he wants, he will only end up resenting me.

“I’m going to have a baby.”

“Yes, I know this. You’ve told me a million times. What I’m asking is if you’ve moved on from me? Can you see yourself loving someone else?”