Rough Edge (The Edge #1)(2)

Painfully. Tenderly. Thoroughly. Our separation stretched the bond between us to a thin, translucent strand, but did not break it.

Caden’s eyes had the color and layered depth of the Iraqi sky.

When I missed him, I looked up. When I wrapped his T-shirt around my neck, my dreams of the blue sky lost their nightmarish edge, and the bond became a little less taut.

Jenn and I flew to New York in our uniforms. She remained on active duty and had a job waiting at the VA Hospital in Newark. I had a husband and no job.

“You want to put on some makeup or something?” she asked.

“Why? You afraid they’re all looking at me?”

The crew had moved us to first class. I craned my neck to see a jowly businessman sleeping with his mouth open. A mid-level rap star with cornrows and a name I couldn’t recall was reading a book to his daughter, and two middle-aged women chatted in the row across. No one was giving my lashes the side-eye.

“Hell, no. But maybe you want to look nice for your husband?” She rooted around a quilted pink bag and found a black stick. “Here. Lip gloss.”

“It’s only going to wind up on his dick.”

She burst out laughing and replaced the lip gloss with mascara. “Here. Doll it up just a little. You’re a civilian now.”

I took the mascara, and she handed me a compact with a mirror. I flipped it open and looked at myself in circular sections.

I was a civilian now.

I had no idea how to be that.



* * *



As the only girl in a military family, enlisting wasn’t encouraged. It wasn’t unexpected either. It made them proud. And disappointed. And worried. A mixed bag of emotions that probably had nothing to do with either parent and everything with how I felt at every time I wondered what they thought.

I would have stayed in the army my entire life, but Caden happened, and he saw the army as his duty to the country. A debt to pay, not a way of life.

At the gate, a little girl of about six ran up and gave Jenn and me flowers. “Thank you for your service,” she said.

This wasn’t uncommon. I’d learned people were in awe of my career choice and the risks it involved.

I kneeled and took the flowers. “Thank you for the flowers. And thank you for appreciating us. That means a lot.”

Suddenly shy, she curtsied and ran away to her mother, who waved at me. I gave her a thumbs-up.

“Is it wrong to wish she was a single, six foot-tall black man with a nice bank account?” Jenn asked quietly, sniffing the flowers.

“Her mother might be a little surprised.”

Jenn chuckled and pointed at the sign above. “Baggage claim, this way.”

We didn’t get two steps before I saw Caden waiting for me. He had flowers tied with stars and stripes printed on the ribbon, a grey suit, and smile that told me he saw me the way I saw him—with a certain amount of surprise at the easy familiarity, and another bit of gratitude at the fulfilled expectations. It was as if we were seeing each other for the first time, and coming back to something very familiar.

I dropped my bag and ran into his arms. We clung to each other, connected in a kiss that held nothing back. Cocooned, shielded by love and commitment, the airport terminal fell behind the wall of our attention to the kiss.

He jerked me away with a sucking sound and a drawn breath, but kept his nose astride mine. “Welcome to New York, Major.”

That was when I heard the applause.

“Are we making a spectacle of ourselves?” I let my body relax away from his.

“I fucking love you so much, I don’t even care.”

I looked at the people surrounding us. I was in camo and he had a flag ribbon on the flowers. We were indeed making a spectacle of ourselves.

Jenn dropped my bag at my feet. “That was so sweet I almost clapped.”

Caden took it before I could. “Thank you for not.”

The crowd dispersed, and we headed out of baggage claim without further incident.



* * *



“What do you want to see first?” Caden asked after we dropped Jenn off at her parents’ brownstone in Fort Greene. His wrist was draped over the steering wheel of his Mercedes. The band of his expensive watch caught glints of the sun. The seats were soft black leather. There was no dust or sand on the carpets, and none of the upholstery was torn.

“The inside of my eyelids.”

“Come on, Major. Push on.” He squeezed my knee and kissed me at the red light. “You’ll sleep when you’re dead.”

I put my hand over his, and he stroked my thumb. “Were your eyes always this blue?”

“Probably.”

They looked bluer against the New York sky, which was fluffed with late summer clouds. I sat back and looked out the window. Maybe tomorrow I’d see the color I’d fall through.

“What are my choices?” I asked.

“The house, your new office, or any restaurant in the city.”

That was more choices than I was used to, and none involved getting sand in the crack of my ass or telling a man it was okay to kill people.

“Can we eat in?”

“Yep.”

The seams in the bridge’s surface went puh-puh-puh under the tires and the web of cables holding it up blurred in my peripheral vision. Manhattan stretched ahead of me like a dense construction of grey bricks. I didn’t know where people fit into such compactness.