Page 56 of Issued

“Fine.” Taya scrambles to her feet. “And for crying out loud, answer your phone.”

She bends over to snatch up the blanket and winces.

Her arm is still bothering her and I lunge forward to help when my phone flops onto the grass. Before I can reach for it, she grabs it.

She taps at the screen, her face scrunching tight and turning red. “Tell me what?”

My head flinches back slightly.

She holds the phone out to me. “Bear wants to know if you told me yet.”

No, no, no.

I reach for the phone, but it dings, and she pulls it back, tapping at the screen again.

Her face twists into a scowl, her eyes shooting up to meet mine. There’s a slight tremble in her chin. “When were you going to tell me you got cleared?”

“I planned on telling you after we ate.”

Taya hurls the phone at me and makes a beeline for the trail. I snatch my phone from the ground and tap the screen. Fucking Bear. Why can’t he just keep his mouth shut? With a snarl, I race down the path. My feet pound on the loose dirt until I make it to the bikes. “Taya, wait.”

Taya pulls her helmet on, then spins toward me. “I’m your wife and this is the second time I’m the last to know what is going on. That’s not right. I shouldn’t be finding out what is happening in your life, especially when it affects me as well, from other people.”

I clench my jaw. She’s not wrong, damn it, but also, where does she get off giving me shit about hiding things? “Just like I shouldn’t have to wait weeks to find out about how you really broke your damn arm! And what about that scrapbook in your closet, Taya? Is it right that you keep something that’s obviously so important to you hidden away?”

She flinches, and something flickers across her face. Guilt? Sorrow? I can’t tell, but I feel like an ass. She’s still hiding things from me but, Christ, it’s not like I’ve been completely on the up and up with her, either. Clearly we both have more work to do. I shove my hand into my hair and sigh. “Look, why don’t we both take a deep breath and—”

The revving of her engine drowns out the rest of my sentence, and with a squeal of her tires, she’s headed back toward the main road.

Fuck.

I kick the dirt, sending a slew of pebbles flying. And her words, goddammit, her words ripped my heart in two. Besides the deployments and the stress that comes with the risk that one day I might not come home, Taya will have to deal with the fact she won’t be privy to a lot about my life in the military, information my teammates will know.

I grind my molars and snatch my own helmet from my bike. I’m not leaving the military and that one decision could very well upend everything Taya and I have built this far. Christ, when will I ever learn that my life is meant to be lived alone?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Taya

The dishwasher doorslams shut with a resoundingthunk. Jim’s been gone for a week, one full week, and the house is so empty without him. Regret sits awkwardly in my chest, putting pressure on tender places inside of me. I readjust my shoulders to ease the ache, but it doesn’t help. If only we’d had a chance to talk before he left.

Why did I let my anger get the best of me and take off on my bike like that? We’re married. We’re supposed to work things out. But no, I’d bailed, and being the stubborn ass that I am, came home hours later only to find a note on the kitchen counter my husband, saying that he got put on a training assignment and would be gone.

If only I could talk to him for a few minutes and apologize. But no. Radio silence so far. Which leaves me with far too much time to beat myself up over the things I said back at the park... and didn’t say.

My cell phone rings and I curl my hand around the device, praying Marge isn’t about to cancel her plan to stop by briefly before picking up her youngest daughter. I really could use a friendly, yet stern, shoulder to lean on. I accept the call without bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Taya?”

I close my eyes and squeeze the phone. Oh, thank God. Jim’s voice is nirvana to my ears. “Jim? Is everything okay?’

“All’s good. How about you?”

“Great, I’m doing great!” I cringe. I sound like I’m fifteen, and I doubt I’m fooling anyone with my forced cheerfulness. This is stupid. I need to start being honest. “Look, it’s been tough, but also, I really am okay. I have work and Marge and Inara... it’s just...”

“It’s just...” Jim prods.

Oh, screw it. “I miss you and I hate the way we left things.”

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