Full Measures (32 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Yarros

BOOK: Full Measures
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He rested it on the bed, opening it with a
click
. “I have to say, I never thought I’d get you in here again, but if I did, I never imagined it would be like this.”

I concentrated on the movement of his fingers and the play of muscles up his arm. “Could you put on a shirt? It’s a little distracting.” My voice sounded breathless, even to me, but I couldn’t slow my pulse, not with him standing three inches from me.

He laughed, which didn’t help my state; it only turned me on. “Could you put on some pants? Those mile-long legs of yours have me thinking about the way you loved to wrap them around my waist.”

I sputtered, and he grinned, pulling out the records from his file and handing them to me. “You’re going to find out some day, it may as well be my doing.”

I scanned the top. “You were hurt in July, two years ago?”

“Yeah, I was stupid and gave the Guard the only hard copy I had. Then when they updated their computers, they lost mine from Afghanistan. I needed them for the docs here to clear me to play for UCCS. Your dad was deployed, and I knew that hospital would have a copy somewhere. I was just lucky your dad knew where to look.”

“Same hospital, right, but why would he know where they were?” There was something right there, but I couldn’t put it together.

“Right. Same hospital. They did emergency surgery there before Landstuhl.” I felt his gaze boring into me.

I shook my head, waving the papers. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Look at the date.”

“July sixth.”

“What were you doing that summer?”

I thought back. “Um, I had just graduated high school, and Mom took me up after the Fourth of July to go to the Boulder campus because I’d decided to go to college with Riley.” Instead of Vanderbilt, where I’d wanted to apply; just another concession I made for our plan. “Mom took me . . .” Understanding dawned.

“Because your dad was deployed,” he finished.

Chills ran from my scalp down my arms.

“Look at the record, December. You know that handwriting.” His voice was gentle.

I flipped back to the start, for the attending physician. Dr. J. A. Howard.

There was no panic, no sense of betrayal, or anger, just the feeling that something had come full circle, complete. “He was your doctor.”

“He saved my life.” Josh sat on his bed and looked through his walls, lost somewhere else. “We were clearing a building when I went down. I’d only been in Theater for a month. One grazed my arm.” He pointed to the scar in his tattoo, the one I’d traced the night of the Snow Bash. “One went through my thigh and hit my femoral artery. They wheeled me into the CaSH, bleeding all over the place, and I knew I was going to die. Medics couldn’t get the artery clamped fast enough. Your dad got right down in my face and told me I was going home. He would make sure I was going home.” He looked back up to me, and I sank into those eyes. “After I woke up from surgery, that’s when he started talking to me and realized who I was. He’d seen me play when he’d taken you to a game.”

“Freshman year,” I whispered, remembering how unembarrassed I was to be there with my dad. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He reached out and took my hand. I tried to ignore the jolt that went through me at having his skin touching mine again. “You were so mad that he was ever in Afghanistan. I couldn’t tell you that if he hadn’t been there, I’d be dead. I didn’t want you to see me as the reason, your dad as the price of my life.”

“Is that how you feel?” I stepped closer, cupping his face as he looked up at me. I’d missed touching him so very much.

“Sometimes. But I’m not the only one he saved, Ember. There are countless others. He was an amazing surgeon. I wanted to tell you about it; I just couldn’t watch you walk away. You pushed me away for so long because you didn’t want to think of our relationship starting when he died. How could I tell you that he’s the reason I’m here?”

A wary apprehension stole through me. “Is that why you spent so much time with me? Being my whatever? Was all of this for my dad, to pay him back?” My heart seized in my chest, waiting to hear his answer. I needed everything to be real between us. I wasn’t sure I could handle being a pity case. “Were we real to you? I mean, you went right back to being . . . you.”

Pain lanced through his eyes before he masked it. “I have wanted you since I was eighteen.” He nodded his head toward the picture of us. “I wasn’t good enough for you back then. Hell, I’m not good enough for you now. You’re everything I’m not allowed to want, because of the things I’ve done, and the things I’ll potentially do. I had no right to love you, but I couldn’t help myself. Your dad had nothing to do with any of that.”

He pulled me into his lap, and I relaxed, powerless against him, because I wanted to be there, to steal whatever contact I could with him.

“When I saw you that day in the grocery store, you were even more beautiful than I remembered. It had been five years, and that girl who’d infatuated me grew up to be stunning and strong. I thanked fate, bowed down, and kissed her feet for bringing you my way. But when I heard you say your dad had died, I knew why I was there, in that store after a random drive.”

“Because you owed my dad for saving you, so you saved me.” As close as we were, my whisper was all we needed. “The funny thing is that I’m not even sure I care. You brought so much into my life, Josh. You broke me free of everything that held me back, and showed me what it was to be loved, really loved. If any part of that had anything to do with Dad, then it’s just something else I’m thankful to him for.”

“December, don’t you understand? I didn’t take care of you because I owe your dad; I went after you
in spite
of what I owe your dad. Me staying away from you for these last months? Not beating down your door at two in the morning when it’s killing me that we’re only separated by six inches of wall?
That
is what I owe your dad, staying away. I know you don’t want this lifestyle I’m about to lead. I know that regardless of what he thought, I’m not everything you need. But I also know there’s no one on this earth who can love you as well as I can, and I wish it was enough.”

My fingers stroked down his cheek, memorizing the feel of his skin, the rough scrape of his day-old scruff against me. My thumb grazed across his lips, the only concession I’d allow myself when it came to his mouth. “It’s not about love, Josh. It’s about fear, and it doesn’t matter how much I love you, or how desperately I want to be with you. I can’t live in fear of a doorbell. I won’t ever open a door to that again. I barely made it through losing Dad, and I know that was because you held me up. I wouldn’t survive losing you; it would crush my very soul and leave me to where I’d be dead, too, only I’d still have a heartbeat.” My lower lip trembled, and I lost myself to his eyes, the dark swirling depths and gold flecks that made him Josh. “You are an amazing man. Never say that you’re not good enough, because you are better than any of this.” I pointed to the door, where the girls waited for him. “Better than any of
them
. My fear doesn’t make you any less perfect. It makes me a self-preservationist. You—God, what I would do for you.”

“You still love me.”

“With every piece of my soul. Love isn’t strong enough for what I feel for you, Josh Walker. A few months and your headboard could never change that.”

“My headboard?”

Embarrassment heated my cheeks to match my hair, no doubt. “The night you won division?” He still looked confused. “Your headboard bangs against your wall, my wall.”

His eyes widened, and he had the nerve to smile that heart-stopping grin. “I wasn’t here that night. After the game, I only wanted to be with you, and I couldn’t, so I drove ten hours to my mom’s. That wasn’t me. The only woman I’ve ever taken to this bed is you. I’d rather burn it than sleep here with anyone else. God, I haven’t touched another girl in that way since we were together. You can’t replace perfection.”

The weight that held me down since that night lifted. I smiled, using his words against him. “You still love me.”

“Every fucking second I breathe. I will love you the rest of my life, December Howard, whether or not you’re around to witness it. You may think you’re weak, but you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known.” He dug his fingers through my pulled-up hair and brought me down to his mouth.

Before I lost all sanity, I pulled back. “I can’t. Loving you is so easy, and when you touch me, I lose everything about myself in you. I can’t be what you need.”

His eyes widened, taking on a desperate sheen, and his fingers tightened on my skin. “December, you mean more to me than this, my career, this uniform. I owe four years, and I can’t get out of that, but I’ll resign. Just four years and I’ll come back for you.”

God, yes! The carefree girl inside me wanted to grasp for it, to claim him as my own. I could do four years of waiting, especially if it was for Josh. But four years wasn’t enough for him, not really. “I would never be responsible for you turning your back on this. You said you were going career, and I won’t ever be the one who holds you down.”

The tears that welled in his eyes, and the one that slipped down his face, were nearly my undoing. “How can we love each other this much and not make it? Why does a love like ours hurt us both so badly?”

I brushed his tear away and checked my own. “Maybe love this exquisite, this powerful isn’t meant to last forever. Maybe we’re meant to burn so brightly for each other right now to light whatever path we’re heading down, but there’s no sustaining a fire like this.”

He brought my hand over his heart, where the fire in his tattoo began. “I’ll carry it with me, Ember. You.” He tapped my hand against the flames. “Here. Always. It’s you, fire and ice; everything I know that’s December.” He took a shaking breath. “Will you come next Thursday? For my commissioning?”

I shook my head. “Dad’s company comes home that day, and I promised Mom I’d go.”

He nodded, disappointment etched in the sad curve of his mouth, the diminished sheen of his eyes. “Maybe it’s better this way. I leave for Officer Basic Course two days later. I guess this is a cleaner cut, right? So why the fuck does it feel like I’m being ripped in two?”

“Because I am, too.” I smiled as best as I could, knowing I had to go, knowing if I stayed one more moment I’d give in and pay for it down the road. “I guess if you put us together, we’d make a whole person.”

His grip tightened almost painfully in my hair. It felt desperate, frantic, the need that clawed through me to be with him, to stay here forever. But if he had this much of me now, how much would he have in three years? Seven? The day they came to tell me he was gone? I wouldn’t survive it. No. At least now I would live, even if it was halfhearted bullshit, and I’d settle for a love ten percent of this.

“At least we had this. Most people don’t get to experience real love, and we did. You’re not going to be a regret, Joshua Walker. You’re my biggest blessing.” I slipped off his lap and bent forward, pressing my lips to his incredible, inked skin where the flames and ice met. I pulled back far too soon, and way too late, leaving a piece of my soul embedded in that tattoo, as close to his heart as I could get.

I would never get over Josh Walker.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Welcome Home Center on Fort Carson could have lit the world for the amount of energy emanating from the families there. Palpable excitement hung in the air. The smiles of children waving American flags astonished me with sheer beauty. This is what joy looked like.

I’d never come to a homecoming ceremony before. Mom had always gone alone, needing that time with Dad, and we’d waited at home, baking god-awful cookies that Dad would devour and claim were the best he’d ever had. It was our tradition.

I shifted in my seat on the bleachers, pulling my sundress down to cover more of my thighs. The wood was slowly putting my butt to sleep. I played with the clasp of the purse in my lap, knowing full well what was inside, knowing the time had come for this envelope. Well, almost.

A little girl, about a year old, toddled up the bleachers, holding her mom’s hand, and sat two rows down. Her tutu was red, white, and blue, matching the obnoxiously wonderful bow in her hair. Her mother fussed with her shirt, and then began tapping her foot, releasing nervous energy.

I knew that feeling, what it meant to wait, knowing everything was about to be okay. The minute he walked through that door, life would stop being a half-existence and would start in earnest again. Despite what I was here for, I smiled, taking in some of that woman’s joy.

Mom made her way around the bleachers, caught my eye, and started up. She was dressed in a simple green sheath, clothed in class and dignity.

She smiled as she took her seat next to me, patting me on the knee. “I saw Sam come in, too. You look beautiful today, Ember.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

We were both drawn to the noise and presence of the room, unable to look away from the joyous anticipation of the families waiting. Five more minutes.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

I nodded, and the words slipped out before I could stop them. “Mom, I’m sorry I was mad at you. I shouldn’t have been. If Josh ever . . . If he . . . I don’t know if I could go on living, let alone function, and he’s not even mine. Dad and you, that was over twenty years, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you lost him.”

She pulled me against her shoulder and leaned her head against mine. “You had every right to be angry with me. And for the record, it was you. You, Gus, April, that’s what held me here. You’re what made it worth it.”

“I love him so much, Mom. I don’t know how to get past this.”

“Then don’t.” She pulled back, propping my chin up with her fingers. “If you love that boy, you don’t get past him. Love is precious, Ember, and it doesn’t come around very often. What you feel for Josh? It might never come again. Could you live your life knowing you’d let it slip away?”

“I can’t stand by and watch him die. I can’t.” I shook my head, my lips pursing to fight back the swell of emotions. “I can’t start this in fear of where it ends.”

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