Page 19 of Operator
Even though I know that man ain’t me, I don’t stop her when she turns to me and lifts a hand to my cheek. My eyes close against her touch for a second and then I turn to her, offering a grin I hope she doesn’t read too much into.
“Just promise me,” she demands.
“Gwen, c’mon.” I try to move away, but she scoots closer on the bench seat until we’re hip to hip. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it already is.”
It was hard enough imagining leaving her, hard enough knowing I’d have to break her heart along the way. I could make her all the promises in the world, but none of them would matter when I told her I’d be coming back…just not to her.
“I’m not. You’re the one who won’t say a few simple words. But fine. I’ll say them instead.”
I swallow hard. This is even worse than straight lying to her face. So much worse. Shaking my head, I try to push her away. “Stop being stupid. We should get going before Bunny sends out a search party.”
“She’s not expecting us back for dinner for a few more hours. Just sit still,” she insists, when I try to scoot away from her questing lips. I manage to do as she asks, but my whole body is vibrating—but not from the fire building beneath my skin at her touch. “I promise to write you whenever I can. You’re going to get so many emails you won’t have time to read them all while you’re gone.”
“Gwen—”
Her lips skim over the rise of my cheekbones. “I promise to take lots of pictures, so it feels like you’re with me wherever I go. Your dad got me a trip to Florida for the summer. For some reason, he thinks I should be applying to jobs all over after graduation instead of staying in Sweet Creek. Did you put that idea in his head?” She doesn’t give me time enough to answer, with her lips coasting over mine, stealing my breath, my protests, my pitiful as fuck excuses.
I had put the idea in his head. He loves Gwen almost as much as he loves Ian—and that’s saying something. He’d buy her the world if he could, probably because he never had any daughters of his own and has sort of adopted her as his. Hell, my whole family wishes she were a part of it.
Myself included some days.
But most of all, Ian wishes he could make her his. Which is another reason why this can’t continue. If he ever found out we were together, my tender-hearted brother would probably murder me.
Some days, I wished I’d never met her.
Life would be a whole hell of a lot simpler if I hadn’t.
Before I can answer her, she says, “Of course you did. You don’t even have to say anything. You try to act like you’re this big bad Marine, but I know you, Callum. I know beneath that tough exterior, you’re a softy at heart. A teddy bear. I promise to remind you as often as I can that’s who you are. When you have tough days, I’ll remind you of the guy I fell for.”
Damn if my heart doesn’t sink to my stomach. My mouth goes dry. I can almost taste the desert on my tongue. We hadn’t talked feelings, and I’d kept it that way for a reason. Feelings don’t have a place in my line of work. She knows that.
No—I can’t blame her. This is all on me.
“I promise to be here when you get back.”
She doesn’t back away when my hands fist at her hips. I hate myself for wanting what she’s promising. I hate the ever-present ache for her that gnaws at my gut. I hate that I want her and can’t let myself have her. All it would take is surrender. Giving in.
But surrender would ruin us both and I’d rather she hate me now, then give herself to me completely and well and truly hate me later. I’ve already taken too much. Too much, yet not enough. I had to give her a little part of me—the only problem was I had to take a piece of her, too.
I’d seen it too many times to count. To other guys on my team, to guys throughout my career. The life we live isn’t an easy one for us, and I have no doubt it takes its toll on the people we love. The women most of all—there’s no denying that. Left at home pulling all the weight, carrying all the worry, keeping it all together and gluing us back when we come home broken. They take on the burden of family, home, and hero and nine times out of ten, they’re left shells of their former selves, sucked dry of everything that made them vital and strong in the first place.
I didn’t—I don’t—want that life for Gwen. I never did. I’d tried my damndest to keep her away for the longest time, but I’m only human and goddamn did I want her with every fiber of my being. One summer, I told myself at the time. One summer would be enough to get her out of my system. Then she’d go back to school, I’d deploy again and that would be that. Ian would never have to know.
But I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.
I should have known a short time with her would never be enough.
I’d always want more.
I’d want it all—everything she could give.
I’d take and take until she didn’t have anything left.
That’s why leaving her heartbroken is better than promising her things I know I can fulfill. I’d promise I’ll come back, but I can’t promise she’ll be happy when I do.
And that’s all that matters.
That’s she’s happy.
