Page 12 of Hold On Through The Pain

Heat filled her as she ate her last forkful of eggs, watching as he attacked his final pancake.

“Would you like any?” he asked. “The pancakes are great.”

“No, I’m not that hungry.”

“They are delicious.”

It had been a long time since she’d had a pancake. He cut the disk in half and placed half on her plate, waving his fork as he spoke. “Eat up.”

She didn’t want to disappoint him, so she took a few bites, but her eggs and bacon had filled her up. The pancakes tasted of heaven, sending shoots of pleasure through her. He was right—they were perfect. Too bad she was full.

After breakfast, they headed into downtown and parked at one of the garages close to the historic market. Though it was early, crowds filled the area. A cruise ship had docked in port, and people were wandering around looking lost. The scent of the salty sea filled the area and mixed with body odor from the crush of people. Striker didn’t seem bothered by the crowds as they strolled through the market stalls. Talking to Striker was honestly the most fun she’d had in ages. They made their way to the Battery, stopping along the way so he could read some of the plaques about historical events.

She stood off to the side, reading a little bit, justnot all the words. “I never really paid much attention to these markers.”

His eyes flicked to her, and the smile he shot her made her insides twist. “The city has a lot of history.”

She took his hand, leading him over to a bench in the shade. “Growing up here, it’s weird. I mean I’ve done the school trips, heard the speeches, but living here, you hear people screaming about honor and patriotism, but it’s all crap. They don’t live it. It’s ruined when you see how they treat each other. It’s a beautiful city with a damaged soul.”

Striker wove his fingers with hers as they looked out at the rolling waves where the ocean met the Ashley River. She’d always loved this place with the wild water meeting the river. It was like two forces clashing together that were more similar than different. Like the Civil War—like all wars she guessed. And like life. She was far more similar to her father, but he made life hard. It wasn’t like he was some alien being.

“I know people like that,” Striker said as he squeezed her hand.

She turned to look at him. Explaining the feeling that passed between them would be impossible, but her heart expanded, and her mind buzzed.

He licked his lips, and his eyes grew sad. “For me, giving people a chance no matter who theyseem to be on the outside is more important. I don’t like judging based on outward things, but I know it’s almost impossible. I try hard. Being in the military, you have to always suspect others when you’re out there. It’s weird. I never thought….”

“What?”

He leaned in and brushed his lips over her forehead before he stood. What had he been about to say? Was it important or just an observation on life with the Army?

They wove their way through the area, looking at the beautiful houses on King Street and Legare Street. They stopped for a moment and stared up at the church on Broad. The houses were old but well built, surviving the storms the ocean tossed at them. She would never live in a house like this, but it wasn’t about dreaming she had a life here; it was about having something substantial, something she could be proud of.

Striker draped his arm over her shoulder, and she glanced up. The look in his eyes took her breath away. Whatever was growing between them would ruin her for another. No question, if she had time with this man, they would build something special.

They walked side by side until the walkway grew too thin and the people too many. They walked all the way up to the first Citadel location, then almost to the market to eat at her favoritebarbecue place. She ate until she didn’t think she could move again. Striker consumed so much food she worried how he’d fit into his jeans. He didn’t appear worried or uncomfortable though.

Once they were done, they headed over to Waterfront Park near where the truck was parked, and people-watched, discussing everything from their hometowns to school—he’d been raised in Dallas, Texas—to what they wanted out of life. Stability and a good person to share the ups and downs with seemed to be something they both wanted.

Then Striker said he planned to stay with the Army. Silence sat heavy between them. The plans had gone from general to more specific. His eyebrows were bunched with lines, making him look older or at least more worried. What was he thinking? Their gazes met, revealing the passion deep inside his soul. A pulse of energy passed between them.

“I have nine days of leave; I guess I have seven days left since I have to drive home the last day. I’d like to spend the time with you.”

The end came out almost in a whisper, and she leaned in, her heart fluttering at the suggestion. Heat raced from her heart up to her neck to her face. Had he really asked her to spend the week with him? What did that mean?

“I kind of have school on the weekdays.”

His lips quirked up like her proclamation didn’t change how he felt. “Okay, how long is school?”

“I have to be there from eight to almost five most days.”

His fingers twisted with hers, and he pulled her hand to his lap. “I can work out and study. There are a couple of things I want to learn so I can advance my career, so you being in school is perfect.”

A twinge of guilt hit her. She didn’t want to ruin his vacation. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you waste your week.”

His lips curved up as he lifted their entwined hands, kissing her fingers. With hooded eyes, his smoldering gaze hit her. The force of his desire slammed into her. “Shannon, I don’t think any time spent with you would be a waste.”

He closed the distance and brushed his lips against her like a soft touch, barely skimming the surface but pulling deep at her soul. When he sat up, lust heated his gaze. She wasn’t surprised when he stood and pulled her to standing. He didn’t say much on his way to his truck. Instead, the sizzle of desire spoke for him.

---