Chapter 2
Eight hours and a flight from hell later, Trent left his duffle bag in the operations office before walking down the halls of the Reaper Brigade headquarters. It was late summer in Fort Hood, Texas and it was mid to high nineties every day.
It had been a hot summer. The heat, Trent could deal with. He’d been in Kuwait when the temperature had hit one hundred and thirty-two. Ninety was a cold front.
But it was the cold from the office at the end of the hall he feared.
He was glad he’d been called back to Fort Hood. He’d let his mind drift the entire flight home. What would happen if he walked into Laura’s office? He hadn’t gotten through to her before he’d gotten on the plane home. She didn’t know he was here.
It gave him a little more time to figure out what to say. How to ask for a chance. Maybe not to be the father of the year but maybe for a chance just to be a dad. If he could figure that out.
He rubbed his thumb over the smooth edge of his wedding band. Laura was an entirely different challenge.
He’d hurt her. Badly. And he had no idea how to fix it.
Maybe he could start with asking her if he could sleep on the couch. Because if he stayed at Fort Hood for more than a few weeks, he was going to have to find a more permanent place to stay than crashing at Shane and Jen’s. The thought of asking Laura if he could come home sent a cold sweat prickling over his skin.
The likelihood of her allowing him through the front door for more than a short visit with the kids was snuggled up between slim and none. He had a better chance of hitting an IED and blowing the hell out of his truck in the middle of Highway 190 in Killeen than he had of getting her to agree to that.
Not that he blamed her.
At least she let him see the kids. And even that was a challenge. He didn’t know how to be a father to the two small kids who’d morphed from babies to mindless banshees with needs and wants and an uncanny ability to strike all the right nerves and detonate his patience.
No matter how much he wished things were different, when it came to his family, he’d been a failure—and he was determined to fix things. No matter how much he wanted to be a bigger man and let his wife go, he simply could not bring himself to sign the papers that left him cold and empty. He’d tried. And each time, he’d put them away, choosing to wait just one more day.
Hoping that someday, he’d find the right words to explain to Laura why he’d had to go. To put the ragged emptiness into some form she could understand. He’d never wanted her to see that part of him, the dead part that walked and talked but felt nothing. He was alive. He should have been grateful.
Instead, the emptiness had swallowed everything, leaving him hollow. Until the only thing that felt right was the war.
He didn’t want her to know that side of it. Never wanted her to see him for what he was—a burned out warrior who was only good at one thing. God but he didn’t want her to know what
he’d become.
He glanced at his watch. Right on time for the brilliant end to his career. Shoving aside the worries from home, he walked through the headquarters that had been his sanctuary from the tribulations of real life.
The headquarters was largely empty as most of the rear detachment staff had already left for the day. Apparently, the staff were taking the new post commander’s directive about being out of the office by five p.m. seriously and since they were the “lucky” ones who’d escaped the National Training Center, they were apparently skipping out of real work, too. That wouldn’t last, though. About a week would go by before they all realized they couldn’t get anything done when everyone left that early. He turned into a conference room and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.
Major Patrick MacLean looked up from his laptop screen and nodded at the chair next to him at the conference room table, motioning for Trent to take a seat. Trent sat and waited silently for Patrick to finish writing an e-mail.
Trent had known Patrick for years, since they’d both been lieutenants on another brigade staff a lifetime ago. His friend’s dark blue eyes were lined with stress and strain. Patrick often said that being an Army lawyer was slowly but surely sucking the life out of him. He only saw the bad parts of the Army. He never got to see the Soldier of the Year, except when said Soldier of the Year was being charged with something terrible, like aggravated assault or misuse of his government travel card.
Because there was nothing worse than misuse of the government travel card. He’d seen men killed, subordinates abused, but the fastest way to end a career was to get caught defrauding the government. He pushed his glasses up on the top of his head. He wasn’t sure what that said about the organization he’d sacrificed everything for, but it didn’t leave a good feeling in the pit of his guts.
Trent wished he was being charged with simple misconduct—simple fraud where he could be sent on his way and avoid the lengthy investigation. Instead, the allegations against him seemed like a cruel twist on reality—and a complex, year-long investigation to boot.
“How was your flight?” Patrick asked as he closed the lid of his laptop.
“Terrible. We sat on the jetway for two hours before we took off.” Trent sucked in a hard breath through his nose, pushing down the riot of emotions churning inside him. “What’s so important that I had to be yanked off the training mission three days early?” Not that Trent was complaining. But it was fear that filled the emptiness inside him now.
Fear that Laura had really gotten over him and let him go when he’d finally gotten his head out of his ass.
Fear that he’d truly lost everything.
Patrick rocked back in his chair. “First off, you should be at home, spending time with your family instead of volunteering for training mission after training mission, but we’ll get to that in a minute.”
Trent sighed. “I know.”
Patrick lifted a single brow and started to say something. Then he snapped his mouth closed, opened a file, and slid the contents toward Trent. “We’re getting ready to start the Article 32 hearing.”
“That’s the one where they decide if there’s enough evidence to go to trial, right?”
“Got it in one. The prosecution at division wants a guilty plea, but I didn’t accept it.” Patrick slid a second manila folder across the desk. “You’re in a world of shit, Trent, but we’ve got a good chance at beating this thing.”
Trent snorted and shook his head quietly. “What makes you say that?”
“The witnesses against you are crap, for starters. Your former lieutenant Randall has very limited credibility, no matter who his daddy is, especially since he married his subordinate.”
“Speak English?”
“Your lieutenant says you harassed one of your soldiers. That soldier is corroborating his story but since they got married, it looks like they’re just backing up each other’s stories instead of independently testifying to true events.”
Trent frowned. “So the fact that my lieutenant was sleeping with one of his subordinates ruins his credibility?”
“More or less.” Patrick sighed. “Ready for the heavy lifting? I need to go over what you’re being charged with.”
Trent braced himself. Then nodded once.
“I’ll read through the specific violations of the Uniform Code of Military Justice first. We can go into the specifics of each charge after that.” He flipped over the first sheet. “In that, on or about Fifteen October 2007, you were derelict in your duties to wit—”
Patrick’s voice faded as the memory reached up and took hold, sucking him down into a swirling vortex.
“Sir, I don’t understand.”
“You’re under investigation, Trent.” Colonel Richter, the brigade commander himself, had broken the news to Trent. He was a man Trent had admired since they’d first rolled into combat together, six years prior. A man he looked up to.
“Am I being relieved, sir?”
“I’m sorry, son.”
A man who was relieving him from command. Taking the responsibility, the honor of being a company commander away from him.
“Sir?”
“You’re missing sensitive items that no one can account for. Your company funds have come up short on their audit. You’ve lost control of your officers and your soldiers. And your parts clerk Adorno has made an allegation of inappropriate conduct against you.” Colonel Richter shook his head slowly.
“Adorno, sir? I rarely even see her. She works in the motorpool.
“She was recently pulled up to the company ops?” Colonel Richter asked.
“Yes because she was having problems in the motorpool.”
“And she worked long hours, alone in the company ops with just you.”
Trent closed his eyes, seeing how neatly the trap had been sprung around him. He’d never even looked at that soldier funny and yet, simply because he had been alone with her, the allegations were enough. “Sir—. ”
“I can’t leave you in the job. I’ve lost faith in your ability to command.”
“Sir, this is all bullshit. I accept responsibility for the missing items but you can’t take me out of command in the middle of the fight. With Garrison and Carponti being wounded, I’ve lost two key leaders in my company. Give me time to build the new team. Please, sir. Don’t do this.”
Colonel Richter held up one hand. “I’ve made my decision. You’re restricted from any unsecure communications while the investigation is ongoing. Do not attempt to contact Adorno. Do not attempt to contact Lieutenant Randall. Let the investigation run its course.”
Panic. Fear. Humiliation.
All of it rose up again now, circling like vultures over the kill as Patrick finished listing the charges against him. He’d waited months for the investigation to be complete.
He’d done what he was told. He hadn’t called anyone—not even his wife. He’d let the investigation run its course. But he’d had no idea that in doing so, he’d nailed the coffin of his marriage shut. The letter had come from Laura a few weeks later, ripping out his soul and smashing it into the dusty, dried up desert earth. He’d lost everything in ninety-seven days.
“Are you listening to me?” Patrick asked.
Trent looked up. “Yeah. Sorry. What?”
“I said the only thing they have that has any legs is the inappropriate conduct allegation. Everything else, I’ve already got enough to rip their case to shreds.”
Trent flipped through the documents Patrick handed him. “If the case against me is so flimsy, why are they going to all of this effort? What’s the point?”
“You want my honest opinion?”
Patrick leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face. His blue eyes were sharp and weary. “You’re the sacrificial lamb.”
“Meaning what?” Trent pushed his glasses to the top of his head.
“Lieutenant Randall is one very well-connected lieutenant. His father is connected to every powerful four-star general officer in the Army. If you take the fall for this, Randall gets to continue the family name.”
The bitterness roared back and this time, it brought its friends, anger and hatred. Oh, but he hated that selfish, lying bastard lieutenant. Trent had been working round the clock to try and keep his boys safe, and Randall? Randall had been getting blowjobs in the motorpool from Adorno instead of doing his fucking job.
And yet, Adorno had accused Trent of inappropriate conduct when nothing, nothing, even remotely close to inappropriate had happened. Oh the irony; it galled.
“Lieutenant Randall stole weapons and traded them for cash. That was his crime and his alone. Your crime was your failure as a commander to be aware of your subordinate’s actions,” Patrick said quietly. “The accusations against you are very serious. And unless we can prove that Randall and his wife are lying—that you didn’t know about what he was doing, and weren’t a part of it—he’s intent on taking you down to lessen his punishment. He pleas down his punishment to testify against you. As the commander, you’re a bigger fish.”
“So then the inappropriate conduct allegations against me are just icing on the cake?”
“It’s an attack on your character. Do you have any proof that Randall and Adorno were already involved during the deployment?”
“Sure. I’ve got YouTube videos of him and Adorno doing the nasty in a Porta Pottie.” He swore viciously and tossed his glasses on the table. “Of course not.”
“YouTube videos would probably help. At this point, a grainy cell phone photo might do the trick.”
“I don’t see how we can fix this,” Trent muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“You should have more faith in me than that.”
“Yeah, well, my faith is in short supply these days.”
Trent scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. From the moment his commander
had called him into the office and told him he was being investigated for dereliction of duty, maltreatment of subordinates, sexual misconduct, and a litany of other really bad things that Trent would have never dreamed of, let alone done, his faith in the very military he’d devoted his life to at the expense of all others had been shaken to the core.
The endless deployments, the constant strain to be everything a leader was supposed to be to his men, seemed somehow empty. Futile.
Pointless.
Patrick leaned forward, his mouth set in a grim line. He slid a business card across the table. “I have a plan.”
Trent pushed his glasses on and read the card. “Captain Emily Lindberg. Licensed Clinical Psychiatrist.” He looked up at Patrick. “What the hell is this?”
“Tomorrow, you’re going to call Emily and schedule an appointment. She’s expecting your call.”
Trent tossed the card onto the table. It floated a bit before it settled next to the folder. “For what?” The words stuck in his throat, dry and harsh as the desert against his skin.
“You didn’t hear the part about the wronged hero to your stressed-out villain? I need a doc—an Army doc—to give you a clean bill of health before we go to this Article 32 hearing. No unexplained anger. No urge to kick puppies. None of that.”
Trent folded his arms across his chest. “So I got a little stressed as a commander. Someone told me once if you’re swimming as fast as you can and you’re barely keeping your head above water, you’re probably contributing to the organization.”
Patrick shook his head slowly. “Not in this case. We need to show that you were busy commanding your formation and your lieutenant took advantage of that busyness. Not your poor stress management techniques.”
Trent frowned. “What exactly are you getting at?”
“Nothing more than what I’ve said.” Patrick looked away, suddenly fascinated by the folders in front of him. “Call her. This needs to happen sooner rather than later.”
Trent said nothing for a long moment. He bounced one leg, wrestling with the hundred thousand questions that burned inside him. “So what about the other allegations?” he finally asked.
Patrick scrubbed both hands over his face before releasing a harsh breath. “Here’s how you have to handle this…you’re not going to like it, but hear me out.” He paused before speaking again. “I’m going to need you to play nice with your wife.”
Trent went utterly still. “What do you mean, play nice?” he whispered. The emotions inside him twisted and swirled violently.
“I need you to pretend like you two aren’t getting divorced. That you love each other. That you can’t live without her.”
Trent shoved away from the table and pushed to his feet. He stared at the photos in the glass case behind him of the last deployment. “I can’t put Laura in this position,” he said after a moment. “I won’t.” He paused. “It won’t work anyway. Everyone knows she’s taken off her wedding rings.”
“The officers on the board will be from this brigade but that doesn’t mean we can’t make this a believable lie. It’s them we have to convince. No one else.”
Trent rubbed the scar over his heart. It ached where he touched it. A dense fire that fucking hurt. If he asked her to do this, he would destroy any chance he had of winning her back. But goddamn it, he couldn’t win her back if he went to jail.
“Listen to me. When this whole nightmare first reared its head, you told me you didn’t want to drag her through a court-martial, right?”
Trent turned back to face him and nodded, unease twisting in his belly.
“The only way to keep this from going to court-martial is to stop it at the Article 32 level—before it gets to court. We don’t do that by attacking Randall and Adorno. We do that by showing the officers on the board that you’re a good soldier, a good officer, and a good husband and father. That you wouldn’t dream of cheating on your wife. That is how we beat this.”
Trent shook his head slowly, holding his breath until his lungs felt like they’d burst. “Patrick, I’ve known you a long time, and you’ve never suggested anything half as fucked up as this.”
Patrick scrubbed one hand over his mouth. “I know. And I hate that I’m asking you to do it. But if you don’t want to watch someone else raising your kids because you’re in jail, you and Laura need to start looking like a happy husband and wife. And every single officer sitting in that Article 32 hearing needs to believe that it’s true.”
There was no way he could ask Laura to do this. He’d lost her ages ago, when the rumors about the missing weapons and Adorno had spiraled out of control. When she’d lost faith in him—in them. Not that he blamed her. But goddamn it, that didn’t make it hurt any less. She’d ripped his soul out with those papers. There was too much distance between them now for him to ask her for something like this.
But that wasn’t the real reason. He didn’t want to do this to her. It would hurt her all over again and he’d done enough of that. There had to be another way.
“You need to figure out another plan,” Trent said, keeping his voice low. “I won’t ask her to lie for me. I won’t risk her future. She’s been through enough.”
“Laura’s job as the family readiness liaison is not at risk here. Believe me, she’s valued here. They pretty much got down on their knees and begged her to stay when she tried to quit last year.”
“That’s not the issue,” Trent said quietly. Please don’t ask me to do this to my wife.
Patrick looked at him, his blue eyes filled with sympathy at Trent’s unspoken plea. “I know what I’m asking you, Trent.”
“Then you know why I won’t do it.” He pushed his glasses down and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Find another way to keep me out of jail. I won’t use Laura like that.”
* * *
For a training holiday, the office was ridiculously busy. Normally on training holidays, the only people in the office were her and the commander. Sometimes the sergeant major. There certainly wasn’t the constant stream of soldiers and spouses that she’d already seen this morning. They were looking for information on when their family members were due back from NTC. Laura knew that and she was doing the best she could pushing out the information that she had as soon as she had it.
Apparently, that wasn’t good enough. If one more eighteen-year-old spouse stomped into her office, Laura was liable to lose her furry little mind. Just because the Internet existed did not mean communication was either instantaneous or flawless. But you couldn’t tell some people that.
Laura clenched her pencil in both hands and pasted on a calm smile. Maybe if she held it long enough, it would bleed over into her mood and she wouldn’t feel as stabby as she felt right then.
Not damn likely. She loved her job as the brigade’s family readiness liaison, but sometimes, it took everything she had. Some spouses were more trying than others but it was her job to keep the family readiness group running smoothly no matter whom the current leadership was. Some days she felt like she made a difference; other days it was absolutely exhausting. But she had a purpose. And she loved it.
Except for moments like this.
When the woman who had accused her husband of inappropriate conduct sat across from her and pretended like it was just another meeting. Like Laura didn’t know who the young soldier was.
Laura wanted to break something. To scream and rail at the insanity of the world that would have this young woman sitting across from her. Instead, she smiled. Her expression could have cracked glass.
“PFC Adorno, I can’t give you the phone number and I’m not calling the brigade commander over your husband’s cat.”
“Do you know who my husband works for?”
With that single sentence, Laura’s patience inched closer to snapping. She forced her smile wider.
“PFC Adorno, I don’t really give a flying leap if your husband is on the brigade commander’s personal security detail. A cat having kittens is not a reason to call the brigade commander while they are in the maneuver box at the National Training Center.”
One would think that after all this time, years into the war, families and spouses especially would understand how things worked.
PFC Adorno, however, turned a deep shade of pink beneath her too-thick foundation. Laura had half a mind to ask her if her makeup was in accordance with regulation but she managed to keep that comment to herself. Barely. She was supposed to be the mature adult here.
As a soldier, PFC Adorno should know how these things worked. And yet, there she was, sitting in Laura’s office, asking about a phone call to her husband because of kittens.
“I’m calling the inspector general. I’ll have your job.”
Laura didn’t even blink. She reached into the stack of cards on her desk and handed it to PFC Adorno. “Here’s the number. Please spell my name correctly.”
She’d been threatened with the IG one too many times to let this latest addition to the roster upset her too much. Half the time, the threats were empty anyway. And? The IG didn’t have any authority over her. She was a civilian.
PFC Adorno looked like her head was about to explode. She sucked in an outraged breath, then stalked out of Laura’s office.
The air was instantly clearer and Laura inhaled a deep breath. Did that soldier honestly think Laura didn’t know who she was? Or did she not realize that Laura was her former commander’s wife? Dear God in heaven, Laura needed to rail and scream at the heavens.
Instead, she released a deep sigh and tossed the pencil on her desk. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as say, stabbing something violently and repeatedly, but then again, the Army as an employer tended to frown on fits of violence. Didn’t look good on the performance review.
She rubbed her eyes and wished—not for the first time—that she’d slept better. But she’d gotten used to the fatigue that hunted her, keeping her awake at night and rising with her in the morning.
The stress in her life was not work-related.
She was the family readiness group liaison for Death Dealer battalion, a job she’d taken before her marriage had gone to hell and before she’d gotten run down by life, the war, and everything else.
She covered her face with her palms and just breathed. She was so goddamned tired. The mistakes she’d made haunted her, reminding her that her current predicament was as much her fault as it was her husband’s. She should have been stronger. Should have been able to wait for him until he came home.
She shouldn’t have let the war break her.
She glanced at the picture on her desk, the picture of the lie she’d lived for far too long. Her husband, holding their daughter, their son between them. A smile on his face, love in her eyes.
Yes, once she’d been part of a happy family. At least, that’s what she’d told herself. But the lies and the war had wormed their way into the marriage and destroyed her faith in the man she’d pledged to wait for. She didn’t know why she left the picture on her desk when she’d taken her rings off. It wasn’t like people didn’t know.
But something about that picture made her unable to put it away.
She closed her eyes, wishing she could forget the way he looked. Wishing she could forget the way he’d made her laugh and feel, once upon a time. He was out at NTC now, too, but not as someone who would be deploying. The Army wouldn’t let him leave Fort Hood, at least, not until the charges against him were fully investigated.
And since the investigation had been ongoing for the last six months, she was starting to wonder if it was ever going to be finished. Her family—her life—was in limbo.
Her heart? Her heart didn’t matter anymore. She’d given up trying to piece it back together. Trent had broken her one too many times.
Running off to war, leaving her alone.
Lying to her about the most important things.
She breathed deeply and focused on three p.m., when she could head out to pick up the kids at Shane and Jen’s. She loved Jen, she really did, but especially on days like today when Hayley, Laura’s babysitter, called in “sick” when she was clearly anything but, so she could spend stolen time with her new husband. Laura would have preferred that Hayley be honest about it, but she couldn’t really blame her. She’d just gotten married and even though Laura’s newlywed days were a distant memory, she could still remember all the hope and promise of that first year.
“Whoever pissed you off, it’s not the keyboard’s fault.”
Laura looked up as Patrick walked in and sat down. “Hey. How’s Natalie?”
“She’s good. Getting bigger and bossier every day.” Natalie and Ethan were in school together. Natalie wasn’t technically Patrick’s daughter but she was in every way that mattered. Patrick and her mom were in an on again-off again disaster of a relationship but Sammy had continued to let Patrick be active in Natalie’s life.
Patrick was a good man. Sammy didn’t know what she was giving up.
Or maybe she did. Sometimes, being a good man simply wasn’t enough to keep a relationship together.
“So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” she asked, minimizing her e-mail to be able to focus.
“Don’t throw me out of the office,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “But I need to talk to you about Trent’s case.”
Laura leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest, and started counting to ten. Thousand.
“I know you’re having a hard time with him.”
Laura sucked on her top lip for a moment before answering. “I wouldn’t necessarily call filing for divorce a hard time.”
“And that’s what I need to talk to you about.”
“Patrick…”
“Just hear me out, okay?”
She ground her teeth but after a moment, nodded.
“Listen, there’s no case against Trent. It’s weak, at best. With the Article 32 about to start, we have a good chance of getting it stopped here before it goes to court-martial. But I need to plant doubt that the allegations against him are true.” He met her gaze. “I need you to do that.” Laura chewed on her bottom lip, playing his words over and over in her head, not understanding what he was asking of her. “What do you mean, you need to plant doubt?”
“The primary witness against your husband, PFC Adorno—”
“Oh, we’ve met,” Laura said dryly.
Patrick’s smile was humorless. “Yes, well, that’s part of the prosecution’s problem. She’s alleging that Trent was inappropriate but the problem is that she and Lieutenant Randall were caught in their shenanigans downrange.”
Laura frowned. “So you think this is a ploy to get herself out of trouble?”
“Her and her husband. If they were working together to steal the missing weapons systems, then what better way to get out of trouble than to make this stuff up against Trent? Takes the focus off her and her husband completely.” Patrick leaned forward, tapping his index finger on the desk. “If I can cast Trent as a sympathetic family man who would never do anything like what she’s alleging, this case is all but dismissed. I’m not attacking her. All I have to do is make Trent look better than the story she’s telling and we’ve got a win.”
“And you need me to paint on a happy face and be the loving wife.”
Patrick shook his head. “No, I need you to be one half of a loving couple. And I need you to do it publicly where everyone can see it—in the PX, in the chow hall, everywhere. I need the officers on this board to believe exactly what I’ll be telling them on the day of the hearing.”
She looked down at her empty ring finger, rubbing the bare skin beneath the bandage absently. “Everyone knows that we’re having problems, Patrick.”
“Then make sure everyone knows you’ve fixed them.” He leaned back. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it was our best shot at getting this whole thing thrown out.”
She looked up at him. “Why didn’t Trent ask me to do this?”
Patrick swallowed and looked away. “He refused to drag you into this,” he said quietly. “For what it’s worth, I don’t in a million years believe the allegations against Trent. I don’t think he would ever, ever be unfaithful to you and I don’t think he would ever abuse a subordinate like that.”
Laura pressed her lips together in a flat line. “You’re wrong, Patrick. He’s been cheating on me for years. It was just with the Army instead of another woman.”
“Laura—”
“Let me think about it,” she said quickly. “I won’t say no out of hand but I can’t make this decision on a whim.”
Patrick leaned across the desk, gripping her hand. “I know this is hard for you, Laura. I know what I’m asking you to do.”
She said nothing for a long moment and he gave her a sympathetic but firm smile. “Give it some thought, okay?”
When she was alone, she sat there, staring at the picture of her family. Wondering how she was going to bring him back into the kids’ lives and then rip him out again. What Patrick was asking wasn’t fair. He had no idea what this was going to do to her family.
She glanced at the photo on her desk as she typed furiously, trying to get ahead of the flood of e-mails in her inbox.
There was a quiet rap on her office door. “I’m not here,” she said quickly, looking up.
Her fingers froze on the keyboard. Her heart stopped in her chest.
Trent stood in the doorway. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. His glasses hid the darkness of his eyes. There was a streak of dirt on his cheek. An assault pack hung limply from his left hand.
A thousand emotions ripped through her all at once, rioting for supremacy as she drank in the sight of her husband.
Ex-husband, she reminded herself. Or, at least, he was supposed to be.
She wished that this were a normal homecoming. One where she would rush across the small space and crash into him. His arms would come around her and she would inhale the strong spicy scent of his skin. Feel the heat of his touch. Savor that first, wild kiss.
Instead, she had this. This empty chasm between them, echoing with loneliness.
And she had no idea how to cross it.
★★★ ONE CLICK TODAY! ★★★