If Rowan had her way, I’m sure she’d rather contend with only the physical aspect of our relationship instead of dwell on the emotional connection between us. She would welcome that, I think. For me, it’s not only about the physical aspect, though being inside of her is beyond amazing. Actually, words can’t adequately describe it. But sex with her, is…more. I don’t think I’m a pussy for recognizing that. Rowan is different, and I’ve been with enough women to confirm what I knew at seventeen.

We belong together. What we have is real, and nothing can change that—not war or distance or even time apart.

She makes a noise in her throat. “Why do you have to go and say stupid things like that?” she grumbles.

I smile at her disgruntled admission. “Because you need to hear it.”

“No, I don’t. I’m perfectly fine not hearing anything you have to say.”

Not going to work, baby. I’m staying right here in this swing with you. “What was college like?” I ask her, and she twists a little to look up at me with wide eyes.

“I didn’t go to a four-year university,” she says slowly, like she can’t quite wrap her head around the change in conversation. But this is how it has to be. Keeping her on her toes so that she doesn’t know what’s coming next is how I have to deal with her. “I went to community college while I worked for Miss Myrtle.”

“I’m aware of that, but was it fun?” I ask, pressing for more. I know very little of what she did once she graduated. The tidbits of information my grandmother gave me weren’t enough. “I’d like to think it was fun for you.” I have to. I don’t want to think of her sitting around and being depressed.

“Fun and me didn’t exactly go together too often—well, once I got partying out of my system,” she says dryly. “I had a lot of responsibilities after my first year of classes.”

“Marines weren’t exactly a cakewalk, either, but when it comes time to have fun”—I whistle—“those men know how to throw down. It’s insane how much my battle buddy can drink the night before we have PT—physical training—and not puke his guts up.”

“What happened to all those scholarships you had to go to UNC Charlotte?” She sits up and turns to me, pulling one leg up and wrapping her arm around it.

“They were rescinded.”

She winces. “I never thought about that happening. Guess that’s another strike against me…and Jase.”

“Rowan,” I begin with a thick exhale. “You are not at fault. Neither is Jase.”

“But—”

“No more blaming yourself.”

Lips twisting a little, she looks away. “Then blame yourself. Whatever.”

“And no more using blame as a wall between us. I’ll knock it flat on its ass if you do.”

She jerks her head around. “Oooh, the big, bad Marine can hit things.”

“Jesus, Rowan. Give me thirty minutes of the real you.”

“I am.” She smirks. “You can’t handle the real me.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me, which is why I’m going to keep calling your bullshit.” I grab her chin. “This tough-ass bitch act doesn’t work with me. Be the strong woman you are—the take-no-prisoners chick—at work. Bust their balls for not doing what they’re supposed to, but for me…if I wanted to fuck my drill sergeant, I’d date him instead of you.”

Her face turns red with anger, and she jerks out of my grip. “We’re not dating.”

I give her a pointed look. “Anyone else you’re spending nights with?”

“Screwing me doesn’t mean you have exclusive rights to my time.”

The caveman inside of me rears its ugly head. “The hell it doesn’t.” I stand up. Too much anger is eating at me to think straight. I said I wouldn’t let her provoke me, yet here I am yelling at her. “I think it’s best if I go back to Jacksonville.”

Her face goes from red to white, but she quickly recovers. “Do what you need to. I have Piper for company.”

But not other men. “I won’t be back for a while,” I say evenly.

“Working in an auto shop too hard for you? Bless your heart,” she coos at me.

“No, I have to go back to my real job.”

“What about me teaching you how to run the business?”

“Like you care about doing that. That would require you to grow the hell up and talk to me like an adult. For what it’s worth, I’d planned on selling the business to you—that is, if you want it, or will you be too damn stubborn to buy it from me?” I shake my head and walk down the steps, heading to my truck.

I hear her running after me. “So you’re leaving for good. Again.”

“No.” I round on her, taking a calculated risk with my next words. “I’m giving you what you want. If you want me here, then say so, right now, and I’ll come home every weekend.”

For the first time in both our lives, I render Rowan speechless. She’s actually incapable of saying anything. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she snaps it shut.

“I’ve already packed my stuff up and it’s in my truck,” I tell her.

She crosses her arms and looks away. “Good for you.”

“If you want to talk, then you know how to get ahold of me,” I remind her.

“That’ll be a cold day in hell,” she bites out.

Without another word, I turn and walk away, hoping like hell that this risk will pay off in the end.

—

True to her word, Rowan doesn’t contact me at all. I stay busy most of the workweek. It’s not hard when you live near base and always have something to do and someone to do stuff with.

I get to live off base due to my rank, but I still like to hang out with buddies. But the ones I’m gravitating to these days are the ones who’ve settled down into family life. Which is why I’m on base playing Call of Duty on Friday night with my friend Brian instead of barhopping.

“Dawson is trying to sweeten the pot to get me to reenlist.” I hand my potential marching orders, the ones the Marines are dangling in front of me like a carrot, to Brian. “I’m not budging. I’ve already made civilian arrangements. Like college in Charlotte.” I’d already applied for next fall and was awaiting their response.

“I hear you. Put that GI Bill to use before it goes to waste,” he says, looking over my packet. “Kaneohe Bay? Shit man. I’m jealous.” He sets it down between us on the couch. “I was offered my choice of Bum Fuck One and Bum Fuck Two, America.”

“Told you to put your least favorite first.” I press the buttons on the controller in a series of combinations that should boost my avatar’s health and ammo. “This is their latest. Before that, I got offered Ramstein.”

“Who the hell are you blowing?”

“You should know. I believe you call her Mom.”

Brian punches me in the arm. “Punk ass.”

“More nachos,” Brian’s wife, Jill, announces as she joins us. She sets the platter on the table in front of us. “Anything else, great warriors?”

Brian’s arm snakes out and grabs Jill around the waist, pulling her into his lap. He’s extra careful with her, though, because she’s pregnant. “Yeah, you can help me beat O’Connor’s ass. He keeps turning down my dream assignments—Hawaii. Germany.”

With a laugh, Jill takes the control and lets Brian eat. She kills me in less than a minute.

“My secret weapon,” Brian brags as they high-five. “She’s a gamer girl.”

“That’s gamer woman.”

“I’m out.” I place the controller beside me and dig into the snack. “God, if you weren’t married, Jill, I’d take you back to my place right this second.”

She raises her eyebrows at me.

“Yeah, I’ll finish the nachos first.”

“Good boy. That’s what I like to hear,” she says. “I’m going to bed. You two play as long as you like.” She leans down to give her husband a kiss. “But not too long.”

“Get a room,” I joke.

Brian kisses his wife again, his hands cupping her face like she’s the most precious woman in existence. “I’ll be up in a while. Gotta let Seth recover from the beatdown you gave him.”

She giggles and he helps her to her feet. “ ’Night, Seth.”