Page 17 of Warrior's Walk

Just over two weeks now.

I can’t stop replaying the words in my head. He knew I was here; he obviously checked on me, or at least asked Liza about me. Otherwise, how would he know I’m folding fucking paper to keep from going nuts? But had he come to see me himself? No. No, he hadn’t. The question is, is it because he couldn’t be bothered? Or was there some other reason he stayed away?

I didn’t expect that he’d lain awake thinking of me at night like I had him, but come on! Didn’t he feel like we had a special connection? I did. I mean, he saved my life. I cried tears on his shoulder while he held my fucking hand. He stayed with me long after he could’ve walked away, and I’d bet my next cup of Jell-O it hadn’t been because he felt it was his duty.

Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I imagined the connection between us because I had just lost my best friend and I was desperate to feel… something, anything. Maybe Navarro Riggs is just one of those good guys that stands above the rest, with his bleeding heart and his endless sympathy for his patients. Maybe I was just another face in the crowd.

My memory of that night is hazy. I was suffering from blinding pain in both my legs; the morphine and loss of bloodmade my brain feel soft, but some things stayed with me. His strong grip. His sweet, pungent musk—cinnamon and vanilla and oranges—likeOld Spice. A totally old-school scent, which somehow fits him perfectly. I remember the look in his dark eyes and the teasing half smirk on his rugged face as he joked with me about how the blood on my uniform brought out the color of my eyes. I have a feeling Riggs is the only man on Earth who could make a joke like that on a helicopter under gunfire in the middle of a fucking battlefield.

I thought no one ever looked sexier than he had in my memory. Sometimes it’s the small things that take up such a large part of your brain and stay with you forever. Just a look, a scent, one teasing sentence you can’t get out of your head.

That’s Riggs. He’s stuck in my head. But apparently, he forgot all about me.

Riggs breezes into my room, catching me off guard while Liza is changing my bandages.

She looks up from her task with a curl of her glossy lips. “It’s about time.”

Riggs comes closer, and his face tightens when he sees the maze of scars and stitches that cover my leg from ankle to thigh.

“Pretty, ain’t it?”

He catches my self-pitying look and snorts. “I’ve seen worse. At least you got to keep it.”

Liza fastens the soft cast around my leg and smiles at me. “All right, Marshmallow, all done. I’ll be back with your dinner tray shortly.”

He waits until she leaves before taking a seat on the edge of my bed. “Marshmallow?”

I give him my best never-fail, flirty smile. “’Cause I’m sweet and soft on the inside.”

Riggs laughs. “I bet.”

The last time he saw me—the only time, really—I was suffering from so much pain and grief, that I wasn’t myself. He never got to see the real me, the irresistible side of Rhett Butler Marsh. Riggs has no idea how much fun I can be. And although that version of me has been drowned in an ocean of grief lately, and just… numb, I can muster a trace of my former self for him.

For Riggs.

“You came,” I murmur softly.

“I told you I would.”

Fuck, he looks good. Even with the beard, I can’t get enough of looking at his face. His brown eyes are the color of aged whiskey. His jaw and chin have squared angles that make him look tough and hard. I wouldn’t say his peach lips are generous, but they’re definitely kissable, especially now that they’re framed by all that dark scruff. I’ve always been attracted to men like him, men who could clearly dominate me and kick my ass but would never because their granite exterior hides a heart of gold. I would bet anything that Riggs’s heart is gold plated. Fourteen fucking karats.

When he looks away and clears his throat, I realize I’m staring at him, and I can feel the tension becoming thicker, pushing all the air out of the room. It’s a strange feeling to feel so connected to someone, but not have any clue what to say to them. Like, I know him on a soul-deep level, but we’re total strangers. At his core, I know the kind of man that he is, but I don’t know anything about him other than his name.

I guess that’s the awkward beauty of trauma bonding with someone.

“My contract is up in five weeks, and I have no idea what I’m gonna do.”

His eyes fall back on me again. “Did you have plans to reenlist?”

Nodding, I swallow. “Me and Brian, we were gonna re-up. Four more years of Airborne. But now?—”

Riggs chuffs. “Your days of jumping out of planes are behind you, soldier. You’re going to have to think of something else to do with the rest of your life.”

Thanks for the reminder.“My heart just ain’t in it no more.” Without my best friend, without the opportunity to do the only job I’ve ever dreamed of, I just can’t think about what comes next.

He leans forward intently. “Have you thought about taking a sabbatical?”

“What do you mean?

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