Page 22 of Indirect Attack
“You can say that again.”
Silence fell between us, but Michaels and I had served together for a long time. We were from similar parts of Maryland. And I knew he wasn’t going to give it up.
I sighed. “The guy dated a childhood friend of mine. The first time I met him, it didn’t turn out well. I guess you could say there’s bad blood between us.”
“The woman at the dig? Tall, slim, black hair, green eyes? The one who got between you two?”
“Yeah.” I sighed again. “We grew up together.”
Michaels watched me for a long moment. Then his eyes narrowed, and he turned his head to look forward again. “Seems like there might be more to it than just growing up together, dude.”
Even if my buddy was right, there was too much story to tell, too many questions I couldn’t answer, so I didn’t. He’d probably heard everything he needed to in my silence, anyway.
The truth was, I had been ready to strangle Greg, if not something worse. Thankfully, my sense of duty had prevailed. Jasmine being there had helped, too.
The guy was an ass, pure and simple, and I wasn’t sure what Jasmine had ever seen in him. Greg had done his best to make sure she couldn’t have me—that was clear as day now. But—maybe it was karma, or perhaps it was the fact that he was a Grade-A asshole—he didn’t have her either. And that clearly made him angry.
Despite my inner turmoil, my mouth ticked into a smile at the thought.
WITH THE DETOUR TOthe dig and the confrontation there, I had just enough time to get back to the barracks and change before leaving for Jasmine’s hotel.
Her revelation about that night, the one that had torn us apart, had bounced around my head the entire time I’d spent getting ready and getting here. I’d never known what had happened. The texts and calls—the truth—had been on my phone, of course, but I’d never read or listened to a single one. Hurt and heartbroken, I’d stuffed the device in a drawer and bought another one entirely.
I would listen to them now, of course, no matter how painful. But then I’d been too immature and too emotional to think about the simple act of hearing Jasmine’s voice, much less hearwhat she had to tell me. I’d been so sure her words would be all about how sorry she was, that she had found someone else, but she still wanted to be friends. I’d heard the same words said to my brothers and my buddies by the women who were supposed to have been waiting at home for them. But instead of love, they’d been told that being apart was too hard, and they’d found someone else. Someone who would always be there for them, not halfway around the world.
Except, from what Jasmine had told me earlier, those hadn’t been her words at all. She’d called me to tell me she’d broken up with Greg. I’d missed every single one of her messages, all because I had been too stupid and juvenile to deal with the situation like an adult. To give my best friend, the woman I couldn’t get out of my head and heart, a second chance.
To say my stomach had dropped as the full extent of the consequences of my actions had become clear would have been an understatement. I’d even felt sick for a moment, realizing Jasmine and I could have spent the past three years together if I’d done anything but run away from my problems. The reaction to the confession was swift, the burning, churning rush of emotion like a lead ball in the center of my chest. My thoughts had been so badly congested, I could barely even remember when Jasmine had gotten out of the Humvee and Michaels had gotten in.
But the past was in the past, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to change it. What I had now was a second chance, and I wasn’t going to let it pass me by. I would apologize and make sure we made up for lost time.
I glanced down at my watch—it was slightly past eight, and I wondered if I should have stayed to ensure Jasmine got back to the hotel okay. Just as the first itch of anxiety started, the elevator doors opened, and my breath caught as the woman from my dreams strode out.
She was in the same burnt red linen dress from that morning, but sandals encased her feet instead of boots, leaving plenty of long, slim leg to view. The sleeveless dress skimmed the elegant line of her body, the neckline just enough of a V to hint at smooth, curving cleavage.
But, as always, it was Jasmine’s face that captivated me, the face I longed to hold in my hands, the lips I dreamed about kissing, the hair falling in thick waves down her back I wanted desperately to run my hands through.
I would be lying if I hadn’t noticed how the eye of most of the men in the lobby followed Jasmine’s progress toward me, but I didn’t care. Her green eyes had met mine and hadn’t looked away, and the smile dancing over her lips was entirely for me.
“You look gorgeous,” I told her as she hugged me, her embrace warm and enthusiastic, with none of the awkward hesitancy from that morning. She smelled like heaven, that same body wash scent but with a very adult hint of sandalwood.
Her smile grew, her cheeks turning faint pink as she eyed me in my Service Charlies. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she said.
As we made our way to the hotel’s restaurant, the knowledge that I was with the woman who had every eye in the place was heady. But more than that, I was with Jasmine. Whatever had happened seven years ago, three years ago, even that afternoon, I was with the woman who still had my heart. Who always had.
Dinner seemed just like old times, laughing and talking as we caught each other up on our lives. Jasmine had heard my brothers had been married, although she hadn’t been able to attend their weddings thanks to the demands of her punishing graduate school schedule. And I was happy to sit back and hear about all she’d accomplished and the trials and tribulations along the way—including Greg.
“How’d you end up with that guy, anyway?” I asked, taking a swallow of my second glass of whiskey.
Mirroring me with a sip of wine, Jasmine shrugged. “Believe it or not, he can be pretty charming. At least when you first get to know him. I guess he was kind of a diversion. A placeholder. Something interesting for the moment.”
“It wasn’t ever serious?” The words came out as hesitant as I was to speak them—part of me wanted to know, but the other half didn’t.
But Jasmine’s answer put my worries to rest. “No, never,” she said with an emphatic shake of her head. “No way. I saw who he was pretty quickly. And I was never that into him. Like I said”—her eyes flicked up to mine, then back down to the ruby liquid in her glass—“he was never more than just a placeholder.”
The way she said the words and her gaze had found mine for a moment made me wonder for whom Greg had been a placeholder. But deep down, I knew who.
She’d been waiting for me, just like I’d hoped, despite the fact that idiot teenage Ben, who thought he knew how the world worked at 19, had told her not to wait, that it would only cause her pain.
