“Fuck no.” He frowned at the road, which made sense, because string theory makes everyone frown. “How did Owen know I was back? I sure as shit didn’t call him.”
I shrugged. “A bigass transport flew over the city. It wouldn’t be too tough to use a little social engineering and find out when you were headed back.”
“Probably not,” Jackson said.
He sounded as dubious as I felt. The military kept their transport schedule tight under wraps. Too many enemies had too many missiles and too few brains not to. Owen had Jackson’s name, though, and a history with him, and helpful people slipped up on information security all the time.
“Hey, what was the weirdest thing you saw working medical for the Army?” Jackson asked to change the subject.
“Oh, God. So, there was this one guy who got horny one night,” I began.
That’s how all the best Army doctor stories start. We drove home with hearts lightened by schadenfreude, as many words spoken as those that went unsaid.
* * *
Thursday, late afternoon. I’d stopped at the local German deli to buy bratwurst and potato salad for the next evening’s barbecue when my phone beeped. My phone had taken a charge from the portable battery pack! Those following Sebastian’s Phone Travesty know this event was rarer than total eclipses and lottery wins.
Surprised and a little excited (because hey, I got to check my phone ike a normal, modern, phone-having citizen of America for once), I pulled the device out of my pocket. It felt warmer to the touch than I liked. Flushed with excitement over its success? No. More likely, the battery had overtaxed itself and would explode at any moment. Despite its imminent demise, it displayed a text message.
Okay, it displayed many text messages. A couple spam messages, the monthly invitation to a guilt trip from my mother, a few stray texts from coworkers seeing if my phone happened to be working at that particular moment, but only one message from today.
Caller ID saidJoan Miller.It probably should have readShame Incarnate Because Did You Seriously Forget to Block Your Ex?All right, that wouldn’t have fit in the data field, but the sentiment remained.
The message read,“Hey, Bastian. I need to talk to you.”
I put the phone back into my pocket and willed it to lose charge again.
The man at the deli counter gestured me over to indicate he’d prepared my order and wanted to ring up my purchase. I vowed to block Joan when I got home, after I could plug my phone into a wall charger. I also vowed to tell Jackson she’d texted. He already had trust issues, and after Owen’s call had rattled him, he shouldn’t find out any other way that my ex had tried to contact me.
When I got home, though, Jackson was waiting. Naked. Stroking his cock and smirking at me as if daring me to come help.
I put the bratwurst and potato salad in the fridge. My clothes, I threw wherever. And I forgot entirely about Potato Plant Joan and her vague message.
15NO MAN LEFT BEHIND
“Sorry I’m late!”Jackson called as he strode through the front door. “I had to get measured for the fucking formal uniform for the fucking party next fucking weekend!”
Suffice it to say, Jackson wasthrilledanddelightedby the opportunity to dress up in formalwear and attend the Mail Call Mates Mixer we had on our calendar. His formal uniform didn’t fit anymore, not after a trip to Mars and back, so he had to get measured for new spiffy duds.
“Cry me a river!” I called back gleefully. I didn’t pity him. I’d had to arrange to rent a tuxedo myself, and he had mockedmewhen I whined about it, so he deserved what he got here.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. His bag hit the floor with a loudthud. “Even though you’re a dick, I have a surprise for you.”
I smirked as I came out of the kitchen, and set the food down on the table near the door. It would annoy us both if we forgot it. “Oh yeah? Is it in your pants?”
“Not this time.” This implied there would be a next time, which never failed to inspire a cock twitch in my jeans. Jackson peeled off his fatigues shirt so he could chuck it through the laundry room door. “I talked to one of the physical therapists on base. He said he’s got a free hour every week, and he’d love to work with you.”
“What?” I blinked. “I don’t know if we can afford that.”
“No charge.” Jackson stopped undressing long enough to cup my face between his hands and put a kiss on my lips. “He wants to help you until your coverage goes live. I thanked him and told him you’d be there on Wednesday afternoon.”
Damn straight I’d be there on Wednesday afternoon. Summer reigned in Colorado right now, but that meant huge barometric swings that angered my hip and back. It also meant I had months to strengthen myself before winter, when the pain shot up as the temperatures dropped down.
“I- Thank you. Seriously. That’s the best gift anyone has given me.” I reached up to stroke Jackson’s face. “I mean it. Some men bring flowers. You bring me better health.”
“I will not let you hurt. Not when I can stop it.” His hand wrapped around my head to pull me into a deep, tender kiss.
That kiss tingled from my lips to my toes. My ghillie suit of denial continued to fall apart, and I knew that soon, I wouldn’t be able to deny what I felt. This marriage wasn’t about how I could improve Jackson’s life anymore. It had evolved into how we faced the world as a team to improve each other’s lives, just as any marriage ought to. Love came standard with the vows.