“Aspen, wait…” From Brandon on the floor.
“I have nothing more to say,” Aspen says.
“You heard the lady,” I say gruffly.
“But… I just want to know you’re okay. I want to know…”
“You want to know what?” Charity says, indignantly.
“I’m sorry,” Brandon says. “I love her. I’ve always loved her.”
Charity’s jaw drops.
My jaw drops.
Aspen’s jaw drops.
And something else consumes me. Like a thousand knives poking into me all at once.
I want to pummel the man on the floor. Pummel him into the dirt. Because no way is he going to take this woman.
“Aspen…” From Brandon again.
“I’m sorry, Brandon. I need to leave.”
Charity rises. “Apparently I need to leave as well.”
“No, Charity…” Again from Brandon.
“I’m sorry, Brandon. I always felt like you weren’t giving me a hundred percent. Now I know why. You’ve been pining away for your first love.”
“I thought she was dead.”
“I am dead,” Aspen says. “The person you knew, Brandon—she’s dead.”
“No. Please…”
“Let’s go, Buck,” Aspen says. “You were right. I should’ve called him.”
I’m not going to say I told her so. But honestly, I don’t think either of us expected that this man would still be in love with Aspen.
I mean, come on, he’s got this gorgeous piece of woman in pink.
But as beautiful as she is—and she is beautiful—she’s nothing compared to Aspen.
Aspen, whose eyes can look into a person’s soul. Whose lips are like the finest silk.
And whose pussy gloves my cock like no one else’s.
I’m jealous already. This man has probably felt Aspen’s pussy, has probably tasted it. Something I haven’t done.
Something I’m going to do.
“We’re out of here,” I say.
“Aspen, no! Please!”
I lead her out the door and close it behind us. Then I meet her gaze. “Are you okay?”
“No, Buck. I’m so far from okay.” She falls into my arms.
I pick her up and carry her to the car like a child.
“You’ll be okay,” I tell her, once she’s securely in the car. “I give you my word, as a man of honor. I will make sure you’re okay.”
We drive back to the hotel in silence. She was going to see her parents today, but already I can tell she’s not up to that. Once we’re back in her room, I sit next to her on the bed.
“Tell me,” I say.
“I had no idea, Buck.”
“I know. Believe me, I would’ve thought he moved on by now.”
“Apparently he thought he did. And now… Poor Charity.”
“She’ll be fine. He doesn’t deserve her anyway, if he was in love with someone else all this time.”
“It’s strange,” she says. “All this time, and I got over him. I mean, I didn’t really have a choice. I was thrown into horror, and my emotions became a hindrance.”
God, I get what she’s saying. I so get it.
“I never imagined he still loved me all this time.”
Who couldn’t love Aspen? I can see Brandon’s dilemma. I see it very clearly.
“Buck?”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
I’m not sure I have an answer. I had a serious girlfriend in high school—Cadence Pacetti—but I never said ‘I love you’ to her. We had a lot of sex, and we were the sweethearts of our high school class. I was going to get that D-1 scholarship, and we were going to—
But I didn’t get the scholarship.
And then I joined the Navy.
I left Cadence behind in tears, and I moved on from her. From everyone.
And I fucked a lot of women—here and abroad. I mean, seriously… A lot of fucking women. Light-skinned, dark-skinned, slim, curvy, and everything in between.
Some I liked more than others.
Some I never saw again.
But only one did I love.
Her name was Amira. She was an Iraqi refugee, and I was just about to look into bringing her home with me when my tour was over—
When she was blown up by a suicide bomber.
I hadn’t even told her I loved her.
And I did. Or I thought I did.
I couldn’t mourn her. I didn’t have time. A week after Amira died, I found myself in that foxhole with Ghost.
You can’t have emotions in war. And yeah, we weren’t technically at war, but it was a freaking war zone.
After Amira and after Ghost?
I turned my freaking emotions off.
It wasn’t worth it.
“Are you going to answer me?” Aspen asks.
“I’m not sure how to.”
“It’s an easy question, Buck.”
I shake my head, let out a soft scoff. “It’s far from an easy question, baby.”
“Yeah, I get it. It’s not easy for me either.”
“Are you saying you never loved Brandon?”
“I loved him. At that time, I would have sworn up-and-down that I loved him. Looking back though? I don’t know.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. There was a woman. In Iraq. Her name was…Amira.”
“And you loved her?”
“I did, I think. But I never told her.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
Except I do know. I didn’t tell her because I was afraid. I was afraid of the feelings, and I was afraid of losing her. But I lost her anyway, and I wish she had gone to her grave knowing I loved her.