“It wasn’t,” he protested immediately. “I liked it. I- Well. Maybe I watched it a few times, too.”
That protest gave me hope. “I’m glad someone liked it. I thought I sounded like an idiot.”
“You sounded like anything but an idiot.”
“You sure the oxygen in your ship was high enough? Because you liking it could have been hypoxia,” I said with a smirk.
That earned me a bark of a laugh. “Could be. Could be I’m still feeling it, because I’m listening to you try to bring me around.”
“Let’s hear it for hypoxia, then,” I said. “Seriously, Jackson, I get what you’re saying. The whole thing startled me, too. At least talk to the director of Mail Call Mates with me. Hear the explanation. Don’t write us off yet, all right? I honestly believe in this match and if you’d give it that much of a chance, I think you would, too.”
Sharp green eyes stared at me. I saw the stubbornness in that gaze, and it put up one hell of a front. But it couldn’t hide the hope, or that vigilant guard he kept on his heart.
He wanted this. He wanted to believe it would work.
I held my sad, bent posterboard sign at chest level. “Welcome home, Jackson. I’m Sebastian Hendrick. You can call me Bastian, if you want. Please, come hear what the nice lady has to say. I’ve spent four days hoping you’d let me be your husband.”
And Jackson Sadler’s resolve crumbled.
“Good to meet you, Bastian,” he said, and ventured that tiny smile I’d already fallen for. “Let’s go talk to the nice lady and clear this up for good.”
Victory. A small one, but a victory all the same.
6THANK GOD FOR CAR RIDES
Thank God for car rides.Stick two people with a mountain of words to say in an enclosed space with nothing else to do. You either get awkward, awful silence, which says plenty in its own way, or you get to the heart of the matter.
He didn’t say much as we walked off the airfield toward the Jeeps that would take us to the parking lot, and I didn’t push him. I knew how I had felt on my own emotional roller coaster as I’d seen the notification of a match, found out it I’d come up dicks, then discovered I wanted what I’d drawn. That poor man had found out he had a matchwhile he flew back from freaking Mars,stuck on a one-way cruise to meet the stranger he would marry, andthen,he had heard that oops! Your mate expected a woman! This is fine!
He couldn’t even catch a later flight to process, or correspond, or even have a well-deserved tantrum. No, he was stuck on that emotional roller coaster, doing fast heartbreak loops and hairpin angst turns on a ride he couldn’t get off. And just when he’d accepted the tough decision to decline his match (a match I assumed he’d told others about, which meant he’d have to explain that painful choice over and over again), the optimistic jerk he’d written off showed up with a lame sign and a hopeful smile and asked him for a chance.
Silence seemed like the least I could give him. He’d just come back to his homeworld after a long deployment on a hostile planet one hundred ninety-six million miles away from the soil of his birth. When he stepped off the ship, tired and dirty and ready to unwind, he was ambushed right in the feels. I could keep my mouth shut a while.
Even though he didn’t want to talk to me, he had plenty to say. He spent most of the short transport ride with his thumbs on his phone screen. A newer model of phone, military grade and powerful enough to tap into the network the interplanetary military crew had managed to string together. It also probably held charge for more than two hours at a time, and its screen didn’t look like it had been used as a hockey puck at any point in its life. I was jealous of that.
As he typed, expressions played across his face like a silent picture show. A broad, happy smile. A broader smile still. The smallest of head shakes, followed by intent typing. Breath huffed out in a suggestion of a chuckle, with a wry smile and more intent typing. The furrow of his brow and flattened lips. A thoughtful expression, one that looked unsure and torn.
Our arrival at the parking lot saved him from having to solve his internal dilemma. We hopped out and headed across the pavement toward the oxidized green Subaru on the other side of the lot.
He glanced sidelong at me. “What, you figure I’d need to stretch my legs after all that flying?”
I’d parked my ancient Outback practicallyinthe outback, since the competition for a parking spot had looked more like a battle royale for territory than a simple exercise in vehicle placement. “Nah, I just didn’t want to wrinkle my shirt in a death match between me and some soldier’s grandma. Truth is? I’m not sure I would have come out on top of that one.”
The car beeped as I hit the remote fob to unlock the doors. Jackson chuckled as I opened the back so I could put his smaller satchel in. He’d let me carry that one after a bit of cajoling, while he took the larger one himself. That big duffel rocked my car when it hit the cargo area floor.
“It’s sturdier than it looks,” I assured him.
“It would have to be,” he muttered. Then he shook his head when I offered him the keys. “You go ahead. Your car. I’ll ride shotgun.”
“I didn’t know if you’d prefer to drive,” I said, and moved around to the driver’s door. “Some people do.”
He opened the passenger door. “Yeah. I usually do, but texting and driving is dumb as shit.”
“True, that.” I slid in and closed the door.
“Besides, it’s your car. I don’t want to fuck up your seat position.” I heard the implication.I don’t want to fuck up your seat position because we probably aren’t staying together.He ducked into the car and turned around to check on the position of our cargo.
That was when he spotted my cane. I saw his gaze catch on the matte black wood and linger too long. He turned back around and raised his eyebrow at me.