Soldier On (20 page)

“I’ve worked out some. PT requires it.”

“PT?”

“Physical Training. It’s just three days a week. It’s this list of events that I need to complete in order to pass the Army’s Physical Fitness Test. There’s a minimum score on each event, so that’s why I run every day.”

“Oh. What are the events?”

She actually sounds interested. Maybe she just doesn’t know what else to say. Or maybe she’s stalling. I’d spent so much time avoiding the subject with her I find that I’m actually excited to talk about it.

“Push-ups, sit-ups, and the two mile run.”

“I bet you’re fast, with all the running you do.”

“It’s actually my best event.”

She nods. The desire to touch her is making me a little crazy, but I’m not a complete idiot. Instead, I reach for the container and rip off the lid.

“Steph, do you want a cook—?”

“Why is this so awkward?”

Sighing heavily, I replace the lid and set the cookies on the end table.

“I mean, we’ve never been
awkward
,” she says softly. “We were easy. Comfortable. We never ran out of things to say or talk about. Everything with you was just . . .”

“Effortless.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s awkward now because I made it awkward. I kept something very important from you. Something I should have told you from the very beginning, and I didn’t. I still don’t know how. Before you, the Army was all that mattered to me, and I talked about it constantly. The fact that I never mentioned it to you still blows my mind. But then you told me you could never date a soldier, and I knew right then that I had to keep my mouth shut. For a little while, anyway. That’s why I volunteered to be your roommate. Yes, I needed a place to stay, but I really just wanted to spend more time with you so I could prove that I was . . . a good guy, I guess.”

“Brandon, you didn’t have to prove that to me. I knew you were a good guy the night I sprained my ankle and you basically carried me home.”

“But it wasn’t enough. If I had told you I was a soldier, the exact same thing would have happened then that’s happening now. You would have hated me.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t hate you, Brandon. This would be so much easier if I did.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just wait for her to continue.

“You were not in my plans,” Steph says softly. “As my mom and Tessa pointed out so many times today, I had a very distinct idea of what this year would involve. School. Work. Graduation. My only goal was to get my degree and find a teaching job. Falling in love with you was not on my list of things to do.”

“And falling in love with a soldier is pretty much your worst nightmare.”

“Pretty much.”

She bows her head and sniffles softly. Unable to keep my hands to myself a minute longer, I slide closer and kiss her shoulder. Her cheek. Her temple. Like always, she smells like peaches and cream, and she melts against me.

“I’m sorry, Steph. I’m sorry.”

Her tears fall quietly, and I feel like the biggest asshole in the world, because I made her cry. She’s crying because I love her, and because she loves me, and the last thing she wants to do is love me.

“Tell me what to do,” I whisper against her hair.

She takes a deep, steadying breath and turns her head toward me.

“Tell me why you want to be a soldier.”

Such a simple request. Too bad the answer is so freaking complicated. It’s impossible to explain why I want to be a soldier without telling her about my dad’s condition.
Will this be just one more secret I’ve kept from her? Another lie to add to my mile-long list?

“You know my dad served in Vietnam.”

She nods.

“The military was his life. Even after he retired, he made no secret that he expected me to follow in his footsteps. My sister was daddy’s little girl, and she had him wrapped around her finger. It wasn’t as easy for me to please my father. I knew becoming a soldier would make him proud, so joining the service was always the plan. I didn’t care, because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. But as I got older, I started messing with computers. I loved taking them apart and putting them back together. By the time I was fifteen, I had built my first PC with just scraps and parts. It was during my senior year of high school that I told Dad I wanted to major in computer engineering. He was fine with it, because he knew, just like I did, that I could join ROTC. I would graduate with my engineering degree
and
as an officer in the Army. Plus, my tuition would be covered. It was the perfect solution. Or, I thought it was.”

Steph reaches for my hand. “What’s changed?”

“I want to make my family proud, and I still want to be a soldier, but doing it forever no longer appeals to me. It never did, to be honest. As you’ve probably noticed, I have a problem with making snap decisions without really considering the long-term consequences.”

Steph laces her fingers with mine. “So joining ROTC is iron-clad? There’s no getting out of it?”

“Not for me. I received an ROTC scholarship, and that requires a four-year commitment. I wouldn’t want to get out of it, anyway. I will finish what I started. I owe that much to my father. Especially now.” I swallow down the emotion that threatens to bubble up from my throat. “About three years ago, Dad was diagnosed with early Alzheimer’s. He started misplacing his keys. He lost interest in fishing—something he always loved to do. Just little things that we blamed on stubbornness and old age. We had no idea . . .”

“Oh, Brandon. I didn’t know.”

Of course she didn’t. How could she?

“When I was home for Christmas, all he talked about was how proud he was of me. That he couldn’t wait to watch me graduate as a second lieutenant in May. My father can’t remember the day of the week, but he remembers that his only son is joining the military.” I take a deep breath and look into her tear-filled eyes. “So you see, even if I could get out of my commitment, I wouldn’t. Not even for you. And that’s hard for me to admit, because there’s pretty much nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Steph places her palm against my cheek. “You made a promise to your father. You should honor it.”

With those words, relief courses through me.

She understands. She really understands.

“You are an amazing man, and I am so in love with you.”

“I love you, too. You said I wasn’t in your plans. I wasn’t expecting you, either. Joining the Army was easy because there was nothing holding me here. Nothing to make me second-guess my decision. I’ve done nothing but agonize over it since you told me how you felt. My sister said the best thing I could do for both our sakes was forget you exist, but by that time, I was already crazy about you. I knew I’d have to tell you eventually. I was just trying to figure out a way that didn’t end with you hating my guts for the rest of my life.”

Steph takes a deep breath and snuggles close to my side.

“Brandon, what happens after graduation?”

“I’ll have a few weeks leave before reporting to Fort Gordon, Georgia for AIT. Signal Corps Training. It’s twelve weeks.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know. I could be sent to another base to manage their network systems. Or, I could be sent out with my unit on specific missions. The possibilities are endless. I won’t know until close to graduation from AIT.”

She nods and bows her head.

With a sigh, I kiss her temple. “Please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m just very, very afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?”

I watch her face as she carefully chooses her words. “I have to be honest. I . . . don’t know that I can do this. I know I should try. I should be a grown-up, follow my heart, and ignore my fears. But anytime I think about doing that, all I see is my mother. The widow. The woman who lost her husband before she was legally old enough to drink away her sorrows. I love you, and I’m going to keep falling in love with you.”

“I love you, too, Steph—”

“But you’re leaving. Soldiers leave, and sometimes, they don’t come back.”

Her voice breaks, and I hold her tighter against me. I don’t say anything. What can I say?
I’ll always come home?
Those words would be a complete insult to the memory of her father. I can’t make her any promises. Not one. And it makes me sick to my stomach.

“You don’t know where you’ll be. We’ve made no real commitment to each other, and maybe we never will. Maybe you don’t even want to—”

“I want to.”

She sighs and wipes her cheek. “I don’t know if I can, and I don’t want to make you a promise I can’t keep. I just . . . I need some time. I need to think.”

It’s not a
no
. It’s not a
never
. It’s a chance. A possibility.

“I can do that, Steph. I can give you time.”

“Thank you.” She smiles at me before looking out the window at the darkening sky. “I should probably go.”

I place another kiss along her temple before she slips out of my arms. We stand, and I follow her to the door. As she zips her jacket, I consider kissing her. But I realize that sweet temple kisses are probably okay. Really kissing her is probably not an option right now.

“Thank you for the cookies.”

“You’re welcome. Happy Valentine’s Day, Brandon.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Steph steps out into the hallway. I’m just about to close the door when she turns back around.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asks.

My pulse quickens.
Is she serious?

Steph fidgets with her jacket sleeve. “I mean, I know I told you to get out, but you still need a place to stay, and I still need a roommate. I’m sure Tessa and Xavier told you to stay as long as you like, but I really think you should come home. That is, if you want to.”

The need to kiss her nearly suffocates me now, but I know it’s out of the question. And that’s okay. Because I have a chance, and it’s more than I could have ever hoped for.

I smile. “I would love to come home.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Stephanie

For the next few days, Brandon is true to his word and gives me space. There are no stolen kisses or tender touches. No sweet text messages or sappy voice mails. Most mornings, he’s out the door before I wake up and in bed by the time I get home from class or the library.

But we’ll see each other today, because today is Women’s Lit.

Thanks to the stupid torrential downpour that began just as I was leaving the apartment, I’m running late. By the time I reach the lecture hall, there’s only one seat left, and of course, it’s in the back row, right next to Brandon.

This should be sufficiently awkward.

I sit down in the seat next to him, but his eyes are glued to his phone. Even when the teacher begins her lecture, he doesn’t look up. She starts handing out last week’s tests, and I nudge his shoulder. Brandon looks up and blinks rapidly before his eyes finally focus on me.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper.

He sighs heavily. “I was just reading an e-mail from my sister.”

“Oh. Is something wrong?”

“Dad’s not doing so well. Christian wants me to come home for spring break.”

“You planned to, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but she never
asks
me to come home. She’s always trying to get me to go to the beach or something. You know, normal spring break stuff. But I always go home. The fact that she’s asking is probably not a good sign. I need to call her.”

As class continues, I notice Brandon’s knee jumping. Desperate to calm him down, I reach over and place my hand on his leg. It’s probably inappropriate, considering our current situation, but I can’t stand to see him so nervous.

After a few minutes, his leg stills. I hear him take a deep breath before placing his hand over mine, which is where it remains until the teacher dismisses us.