Page 54 of Issued

The open backroad is a familiar streak of gray beneath the tires of my bike. The ocean on my left adds a slight chill to the air. It’s been a while since I took my GXSR 750 for a ride, but what better way to celebrate the doctor’s report coming in today clearing me for duty. No more meds, no more worrying about being left behind as the rest of my team is sent off. Plus, with Taya speeding along at my side, I honestly can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

I downshift, another curve coming up. Of course, Taya speeds up. Not much, but enough to make me tense in preparation for a fall. I forced her to tell me the origin of the rest of her scars. Most are the result of a fall from her bike. So, I set a few ground rules after announcing our plans for the day. The biggest one was no wheelies. And what was the first thing she did the moment we pulled out of the driveway?

Popped a fucking wheelie.

My little daredevil.

The woman is too flippant when it comes to her own safety, and the more I witness it for myself, the higher my blood pressure rises. The search and rescue factor makes things worse. I’m proud of my wife. But things happen and having her dangling over a mountain unsettles me. Mountain bikers, hikers and tourists are all thick in this part of the country. If she’s called in, she could get hurt again. Even die. Bile rises in the back of my throat.

What if something happens to her when I get deployed again? Maybe I should have brought it up in our counseling session earlier today. Will it destroy what we have... the way it did in the past? I smack my lips together, my mouth dry, and my stomach flops in an unfriendly way as my stupid brain fires off a million other unhelpful thoughts.

Speaking of deployment. I have some news I need to share with her. I’m just not sure how to broach the subject. Maybe I’m wrong to wait and tell her after we spend this day together?

I shake my head to chase away my doubt and race to catch up with her. She’s going too fast again. I don’t think she can help herself, which worries me. Taya turns in her seat long enough to wave wildly back at me, and I grin. Her daredevil streak will age me early, but without it, she wouldn’t be Taya.

I signal for Taya to let me take lead and take the next turn. The mountain road allows us to put on a burst of speed, and Taya whoops as she takes off. Her excitement is contagious, and the engine purrs beneath me as I match her pace. I pull even with her at a dip in the road, and she shoots me the bird. Returning the favor, I slip past her, and we race the rest of the way to Lake Lawson.

The lot that we pull into is so small that most of the people who visit have no idea that it exists. We’re able to park our bikes in the shade, and I grab Taya’s hand as we make our way along the trail to the heart of the park.

We find refuge at the base of a large oak tree heavy with Spanish moss a couple of meters away from the water. Taya smiles wide as she takes in the view of the lake, a few strands of her hair blowing in a gentle breeze. God himself couldn’t have created a better scene for a proposal. Although, knowing Taya, she’d probably prefer a skydiving proposal.

My feet stall, frozen in place, while my cheeks radiate enough heat you could fry eggs on them. Why am I thinking about marriage proposals, of all things?

Except, now that the idea is in my head, I can’t seem to make it go away. What if I did propose to Taya? Offered to marry her of my own free will this time? A true commitment, not one with an expiration date built in?

Rolling the idea over in my mind, I meander over to Taya. Thankfully, I’m soon caught up in picnic prep, which pushes any lingering proposal ideas from my mind. At least for the moment. I pull a blanket from my pack, and once we lay it out, I place the containers of food I prepared that morning on top of it, hoping I’m no longer blushing. We spend the next ten minutes or so eating in an easy silence and watching the water lap the shore. Taya pauses suddenly, a portion of sliced fruit halfway to her mouth. Cocking her head to one side, she studies me with a partially bitten strawberry dripping juice down her wrist.

“I’ve never seen you smile so much.” She licks the juice away.

Shit.

I’ve been grinning like a moron. I scowl instead, trying to chase it away.

Taya laughs and hits me on the arm. “That doesn’t mean stop, you dummy. I like seeing you smile.”

“Sorry.” I reach out and squeeze her hand where it rests on the blanket. “I’m not used to compliments.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re serious?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.” Finishing off the strawberry, she points her fork at me in accusation. “You’re practically perfect.”

“Perfect?” My eyebrow quirks up. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Hell, no.” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And just so we’re clear, by ‘perfect,’ I meant you’re a hottie with an attitude problem.”

I throw back my head and laugh, and Taya flushes. “Hottie. That’s new. Bear’s gonna lose his shit.”

“Oh, come on. I doubt you’ve been around for thirty-six years without one of your many admirers telling you how attractive you are.”

“You’d be surprised. Those ‘admirers’ didn’t care about how I looked or who I am. It wasn’t me they were attracted to but the uniform. I liked keeping it that way.”

“Past tense?”

Taya’s made it impossible to settle for the vapid women who once occupied my bed. The pain in my chest is proof she’s cracked whatever walls may have kept her out. I’m unwilling, or perhaps unable, to build more. If she decides to leave the program—leave me—after the year is up, I’ll be truly alone. “Definitely. What about you?”

She glances away and picks at the remaining fruit in the plastic cup. “Not really. I’ve kept things casual, for the most part.”

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