Page 47 of Always You

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “What are friends for, right? Let me know if you need anything else,” Alex offered as he started to head back to the door.

I didn't want him to leave, and I scrambled to stand, my back sore and my leg aching, but desperate to stop him from going.

“Alex, what happened?” I asked, catching him as his hand reached for the door handle.

His shoulders slumped.

He paused and turned to face me, and his eyes were bright with emotion. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with his words, a rarity for someone who always seemed so composed. “I can't really say,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “Some days are just harder than others.”

Before he could object, I stepped closer and hugged him. Initially surprised, he tensed momentarily but then relaxed intothe embrace. I could feel his unsteady and uneven breath as he exhaled slowly. We stood in silence, the world narrowing to just the two of us in that small, enclosed space.

As the moment lingered, a new impulse seized me. Pulling back, I looked into his eyes, noticing the vulnerability and weariness. Without thinking, I cradled his face, my thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. Then, almost instinctively, we drew closer and kissed. A surge of unexpected intensity washed over me; everything funneled into this one kiss.

The kiss deepened, and his hands rested on my waist, tugging me closer, anchoring me to him as if he were afraid I might slip away.

The sensations overwhelmed me—the softness of his lips, the faint stubble of his jaw grazing my skin, and the way his sigh mingled with mine. This was coming home—a raw need and a connection neither of us could deny any longer.

Emotions swirled between us, and beneath that, a simmering tide of affection and care rose to the surface.

The world around us seemed to dissolve, leaving nothing but the space we occupied. The hallway sounds, distant voices, and mundane noises of daily life at Guardian Hall faded into a hazy background hum. It was just us, here and now, the urgency of our kiss forging something new and undeniable.

A sense of rightness filled the hollow spaces within me. After all the paths we'd taken, we were meant to find our way to this point and to each other.

The crackle of the radio in Alex's pocket shattered the moment. Marcus’s voice, checking in, jolted us back to reality.

Alex stepped back, his eyes wide. The earlier vulnerability was replaced by a look of sudden realization and perhaps regret. “I—I have to go,” he stammered, fumbling for the radio. “I need to talk to Marcus.”

I nodded, unable to find suitable words for the moment. “I know,” I said, watching as he quickly composed himself and hurried out of the room.

I expected him to leave then, but he grasped my hand, and I laced our fingers. Something snapped inside me as all the broken pieces of my heart began to shift and touch as if they wanted to close and heal.

“Can I come back… after…?” he asked.

I glanced back at the kittens in their box. “We'll be waiting.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Alex

I knewMarcus wouldn't have left Tyler, and now it was my job as the resident psychologist to talk to Tyler about what had happened. Finding them both was easy. They were in Tyler's room, sitting on the floor, their backs resting against the side of the bed, and they were close, not touching, but the proximity of Marcus’s little finger to Tyler's spoke volumes about the silent support being offered. Marcus glanced up as I entered, his eyes bright with emotion. He got to his feet and nodded at me with a strained smile.

“He might open up more with you,” he whispered before leaving the room. The door clicked behind him, leaving Tyler and me in a bubble of silence.

I took a deep breath and careful steps to sit where Marcus had been, maintaining a respectful distance to give Tyler space, yet close enough to engage.

“Hey,” I began, keeping my voice even and gentle. “Are you okay if I sit here?”

Tyler side-eyed me, then scrubbed at his eyes. “Shit,” he muttered.

“I’m not here to push you, just to understand and help if I can.”

Tyler's gaze flickered toward me, guarded and uncertain. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Was I really going to jump? I… I don't know. It felt like the only way to stop the noise.”

“What kind of noise?” I probed, encouraging him to elaborate while showing that I was there to listen, not to judge.

“It's like… like memories, constant and loud. Every sound, every movement takes me back there,” Tyler explained, his eyes distant as if reliving the moments he described. “I was in a market there, and suddenly there was chaos—screaming, and then, silence. So much silence.”

“The market,” I echoed, piecing his words with what I knew about his service history. “That was your last deployment before you came home?”

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