Survivor (First to Fight #2)(3)
I follow her sleek bobbing ponytail through the house, noting the open window in the living room. “You couldn’t use your key?” I ask, tucking my hands in my pockets to stifle the need to run my hands over her hair and tug it back to force her to look at me.
“I don’t have one,” she says, tugging the front door open. “I gave it to Mom the day I left.”
The casual reminder of that day is like a right hook and the effect is just as potent. My head nearly jerks back before I can check the movement and for a couple seconds, I’m disoriented. My jaw tics, then I bite out, “If you have anything else you need to get, call me first next time instead of breaking in. We’re both adults. The least you can do is act like one.”
She flutters her lashes at me. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Will you be in town for the funeral?” I ask, more for her brothers’ sake than any curiosity of my own, not that I’d admit to it if I were. “Donnie and Rafe would love to see you.”
Her eyes dim and lower to study the worn rug at our feet before she glances back up, schooling her features. “I don’t think I will, I have to get back to work.”
I blow out a heavy breath and laugh, though it’s hollow. “Really, Sof? How can you be so heartless? Your mom is dead. Your brothers are orphans. They need their sister right now. What the hell happened to you? What happened to the girl I used to know?”
She takes a step closer, bringing us toe to toe. She’s a good foot shorter than me, but she looks me dead in the eye and says, “My brothers are better off without me and you are, too. I’ve got everything I need, so don’t worry about any other nighttime excursions. I’ll be back in Hampton by tomorrow morning.”
“The funeral is the day after tomorrow,” I tell her retreating back. “In case you’d like to pay your respects.”
She pauses on the top step, turns, and surprises us both by saying, “It was good to see you, Jack.” Then she disappears into the night.
I lean against the porch railing, gripping it with both hands, and hang my head. I knew her mother’s death would draw her back to Nassau. I’d spent the past week on tenterhooks waiting for her sleek little coupe to blow through town like she did when my sister’s son was kidnapped a year ago.
But just because I was expecting it, doesn’t mean I was prepared for it.
The coupe revs in the distance and I see her twin red brake lights shining through breaks in the trees as she drives away.
Seems like the only thing I’m good at when it comes to her is watching her leave.
Past
I SHOULD BE excited. A part of me is, I can’t deny that. But the other, more dominant part is worrying that he’ll see the deception on my face. That he’ll know I’ve been holding something back.
I spent extra time getting ready to combat my nerves. I’m wearing a dress—something that’s rare for me but that I know he loves. It’s white and flutters around me in a way that draws eyes to my tan legs made even shapelier by the platform wedges I’ve managed not to trip in. Yet. I even styled my hair into more manageable curls and took time to put on my makeup. I want everything to be perfect, even if the ball of nerves in my stomach mars the whole reunion for me.
His parents wait in the little concession area with his sister, and my best friend, Livvie, feeding money into the vending machines as they wait for his plane to arrive. We’ve all been here for an hour, having arrived early to make sure we didn’t miss him. Livvie teased me the entire way to the airport.
While they eat bad candy and chug sodas, I stand by the security check, peering past the bobbing heads of the new arrivals. I chew one blush-painted fingernail and shift from foot to foot trying to get a better vantage point.
The arrivals board flickers and finally shows that his plane has landed. The butterflies in my stomach morph into big, fat hopping frogs. We weren’t able to write any letters after his last because he was too busy and I got caught up preparing for a visit to Tulane, just in case. I can barely admit to myself that it’s because I don’t want to put the pen to paper and make my future a reality for fear of what it will mean for us.
An eternity later, Jack’s family joins me at the gate as people start filtering through, carry-ons dragging drunkenly behind them. I spot his now buzzed head over the top of the crowd and I can’t help the grin that breaks out. I get to my tippy toes and wave to get his attention.
He looks up from weaving around a couple of ladies in front of him and his eyes automatically land on me. I see him pause there for a second and his body jolts in recognition, then a matching grin graces his face, his dimple peeking out.
Hesitation gone, for the most part, I squeeze through the crowd of people, his family on my heels, and throw myself into his arms. He wraps his arms around me, lifting me off of my feet as he spins me around in a circle.
We come to a stop and he squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe, but I don’t care. He stands there, just holding me, and I don’t ever want to let him go. Those months he was gone were unbearable.
When he does finally loosen his arms, it hits me that this is what it will be like when he leaves for his first duty station and I go off to college. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of miles will separate us. Our entire relationship will be comprised of letters like those I have stowed in my closet. Quick trips we can steal in between our schedules. Spending more days apart than with each other.