Abby rewarded him with her sweet smile, the one that made her eyes sparkle and his heart turn over. He leaned down for a kiss, deepening it just to make sure she had no doubt who she belonged to. And who belonged to her.
When he pulled back, her eyes were so full of tears they hung on her lashes, waiting to fall.
“Hey. That wasn’t supposed to make you sad.”
“Matt, I…”
Whatever it was inside her stopped her from saying the words. He didn’t need the words. “Don’t cry, baby.”
She shook her head that she wasn’t and pressed her lips tight. And the sight of her trying so hard not to ripped into him sharper than tears. He knew she was afraid. Knew what she was afraid of.
“Abby, look at me. I’m coming back. Do you think I could walk away from this? That I won’t be running back to you as fast as I can? I can’t promis—”
“I don’t want promises. Please.” She held his face in her small hands. “No promises.”
He hated leaving her, hated everything about not being wherever she was. His lips lingered against hers and eased into more. They made love slowly, tenderly, then he held her in his arms, waiting to close his eyes until she was asleep.
Chapter 27
Abby’s mind had been full of Matt all day, all week, missing his voice, trying to picture where he was, what he was doing. As soon as the kids were in bed, she went for her phone.
Matt said he loved her and, God help her, she believed him. Not only did she hear the words, she felt them. She’d almost told him she loved him when he’d left the last time, but it was like her head censured her heart every time the words tried to bubble out.
She rolled the words around in her head, hoping when the time came they would flow. The more she let herself think it, the better it sounded. Not once, other than to her children, had she said those three words and not had the person leave, so maybe her mind had a point. It did seem somewhat cause and effect. Or maybe they’d always been on the verge of leaving.
Earlier that day her cell had shown several missed calls from Matt. She’d listened to two messages in between running the sports practice/dance route, and then…dead phone. No surprise. If she needed it, it was lost. If she had it, it wasn’t charged.
She grabbed her phone off the charger and went to the couch, anxious to hear his voice.
He’d sounded funny. First, he was on his way back and he’d call her ASAP. Then, a call but no message. Then, the last message: He really needed to talk to her. She’d sensed some stress the last time he’d been here. Work? Her?
Her own emotions were all over the place, but she knew one thing for sure. She wanted to be with him more than she wanted to be without him, even if it scared her to death. If there was anyone she was willing to take a risk for, it was Matt.
—
“Hey, McKinney,” Chappers yelled, stopping Matt in the base parking lot. “You going to Digger’s tonight?”
The guys in his platoon were going to get a drink. He wasn’t going to miss it. “I’ll be there.”
He walked to his truck, gear bag thrown over his back. He’d been going nonstop since he’d left Abby, and he’d missed Halloween, which sucked. She’d texted him a picture of the kids in their costumes: Jack, a skeleton; Annie, an orange and black candy corn witch; Charlie, a cowboy; and Gracie, a cowgirl.
He should have been there, not only because he loved that holiday but because he hated the idea of them walking around in the dark. He imagined the kids had gone in four different directions, and Abby had probably carried Charlie half the time when she shouldn’t be carrying anything.
He couldn’t go on like this. Didn’t want to.
Maybe he could take leave until after the baby was born. Or maybe…maybe he could find the strength to walk away. For Abby. He was in too deep to pull back, though it sucked he was coming around to this today of all days.
Head pounding, Matt started his truck, eager for a shower and a beer. He wanted to toast his dead friend, and he wanted to talk to the woman he loved.
Damn it. He froze, fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel. It was loyalty to those two people, so completely at odds, that was making it so fucking hard.
By the time he got to the bar, he was in a hell of a mood. He’d called Abby three times. No answer, as usual. Never in his life had he wanted a woman to call him so badly. He needed to talk on the phone like a girl.
Was it too much to ask that she reach out to him? And tonight of all nights he would’ve liked to hear her voice—two years to the day since his best friend had died in his arms.
He needed a drink. Or several.
Digger’s was primarily a man’s bar: alcohol, pool, darts. Tonight there was an overload of perfume and hairspray in the air as Matt made his way past a group of women to the bar. It was only the second time the team had met up to drink on this occasion, not counting after the funeral. They’d made a pact on that first night that it wouldn’t be a cry fest.