My Kind of Love: a Military Romance (Finding Love Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  I frame his face with my hands. “Thank you.” I place a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll sign whatever you want to give you that peace of mind, but please know all I want is for the father of my son to come home.”

  “I will,” he says. “I prom—”

  “Don’t.” I cut him off. “Don’t make promises you know you damn well may not be able to keep.”

  He takes a deep breath, and I can tell he wants to argue, but instead he says, “All right, how about we go downstairs and I’ll show you your new SUV? I drove it over here.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We spend the rest of the day celebrating Christmas with our family. We have dinner at my grandparents’ house, where Ryan’s family joins us.

  The days following are spent making as many memories as possible. Every picture I take, I print and add to his photo album. Every morning I text Ryan with a different excuse to come over. We never discuss him leaving, or what will happen once he does. We just simply enjoy each other and our son.

  Unfortunately, like anything good in life, it all eventually has to come to an end. And that’s proven the day after New Year’s, when I wake up and realize Ryan leaves in twenty-four hours.

  Ryan

  You don’t realize how quickly vacation can pass by until you’re at the end of it, wishing it would go on forever. It’s been two weeks since I found out I was going to be a dad. Since I became a dad. In those two weeks, RJ has gained a pound and a half. His eyes stay open for longer periods of time. And when he’s hungry, he definitely makes it known. Those two weeks have been spent with Micaela and me hanging out every day. We eat, watch television, go for walks, all while spending time with our son. It would seem like doing that shit would be boring, but it’s not. It’s fucking perfect and there’s no other way I could imagine spending my days. These past fourteen days have been the best of my life. It’s like we’ve created the most perfect bubble. One I wish we could live in for the rest of our lives.

  Unfortunately, that comfy little bubble I’m loving the hell out of living in is burst wide open with a single text from Micaela: Come over and wear your military uniform.

  And with those seven words, I’m forced back into reality. A reality where I realize I’m leaving tomorrow. I only had fourteen days, and all I want is more…

  Micaela

  Ryan walks through the door wearing his military uniform. I don’t know what it’s called officially, but it’s a camouflage button-down jacket with matching pants. There are patches on both arms, but I don’t know what any of it means, and combat-looking boots finish the ensemble.

  I was worried when I texted him to come over wearing his military uniform, he would ask me why, but he didn’t. And that’s good because I wouldn’t have been able to explain it through text. Even now, I dread what we have to do, but we only have less than twenty-four hours until he leaves, so it’s now or never.

  “Where’s RJ?” he asks, looking around for our son. “And why am I wearing these? I don’t leave until tomorrow.”

  “He’s in my mom’s room with her. She felt it would be best.”

  “Why?” He glances at me, his eyes filled with worry and confusion. “What’s wrong?”

  “Other than you leaving…” I force out a laugh. “Nothing. We need to make a couple videos.”

  “Videos?”

  “Yeah, one for RJ to watch while you’re away, and…” I swallow thickly, trying not to lose it. “One if you don’t make it back.”

  Ryan’s eyes widen in shock, his face contorting into an angry glare. “The fuck?” He steps closer to me. “I’m not making a video in case I die.”

  “Okay, so you’ll just die and not have any final words for your son, who is only a baby and will never have any recollection of ever having met you, aside from the pictures I’ve taken. He’ll have nothing from you. Not your voice, or your words, nothing.”

  He stares at me for several seconds, his breathing heavy, before he nods once in understanding. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Okay.”

  We go outside on the back porch where it’s bright and quiet. I set up the tripod with my phone and explain all he has to do is press play and then pause for each one. “Do that for each video, and I’ll be able to show him the one while you’re gone without mistakenly showing the second. I’ll save them as separate files.”

  “Wait.” He grabs my wrist as I walk away. “You’re not staying?”

  “I think it would be best if you do it alone. As if it’s just a conversation between you and him.”

  Ryan nods and I go inside. A few minutes later, I peek outside to check on him and find him on the floor with his face in his hands. I rush out, unsure what happened, and find him sobbing.

  “Ryan,” I breathe, sinking down in front of him. “What happened?”

  “I can’t do it,” he chokes out, refusing to look at me.

  “I know it’s going to be hard, but it will be worth it when I can show—”

  “Not that,” he mutters. “I can’t leave.” He glances up at me, his eyes red-rimmed. “I can’t do this.” His chest is rising and falling quickly. “I’m going to miss everything. His doctor appointments. When he smiles and laughs. He’s not even going to fucking know who I am!” he booms.

  My heart cracks wide-open, but I take several breaths to stay calm. Ryan needs me to be strong right now. He’s been so strong for me—at the beach house, when I was giving birth to RJ—now it’s my turn to be strong for him. “Do you know why I asked you to wear your military uniform?”

  He shakes his head as tears of pain run down his cheeks.

  “Because I want to make sure RJ knows that his daddy is a hero, and that’s what this outfit symbolizes.”

  “I would rather just be his dad,” he admits softly. “And your husband.”

  He pulls me into his lap and nuzzles his face into my neck. I don’t know what to say to make him feel better, so I don’t say a word, just letting him cry it out.

  Eventually, he calms down and lifts his face to look at me. His cheeks are tear-stained and his eyes are swollen and puffy. He’s no longer crying, but his chin is trembling.

  “I hate this,” I tell him. “But you have to go, and God forbid something does happen, RJ will have something from you.”

  Ryan nods in agreement. “All right.” He scrubs his hands over his stubbled jaw. “I’ll do it.”

  About twenty minutes later, Ryan comes inside and hands me my phone, asking to see RJ. His face is splotchy, telling me he cried some more, but he’s more composed. I call my mom out and she hands RJ over to Ryan with a sympathetic smile. “For what it’s worth,” she says. “We’re all so proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” he says, snuggling his son to his chest and inhaling his scent. “But all I want is to get through these next four months and then get back home, so I can start my life.”

  His words bring tears to my eyes as I remember not even a year ago when we were at the beach house and he told me the military was his life.

  We spend the rest of the day together. Ryan downloads texting and video chatting software to my phone that I can use to contact him when he’s back overseas. Apparently he upgraded his phone to an international plan, and the base he’s staying on has service. It’s shitty, but it’s enough we’ll be able to talk. He also gives me his email so I can send him pictures of RJ. Of course he adds that I should also include pictures of myself.

  Instead of him going home, he spends the night with his body wrapped around mine. He wakes up for every one of RJ’s feedings and insists on being the one to change his diaper and burp him.

  The morning comes too soon and he wakes me up when it’s still dark out. “Baby, I have to go,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Wake up so I can say goodbye.”

  “Wait.” I shoot up. “You’re leaving… like now?”

  “I have to be at the airport at five a.m.”

  “We’re going with you.” I throw off my blanket and stand.

  “No,
you’re not,” he says, shaking his head. “If you go, I’ll never get on that fucking plane.”

  “Ryan, please,” I beg. “We have to see you off.”

  “That’s why I woke you up. But I don’t want to wake RJ up. He’s sleeping and will be cranky.” He swallows thickly, glancing at our sleeping baby, who has no idea his daddy is about to leave and won’t be coming home for several months.

  “I have to go home and get my stuff,” he says. “I’ll text you before the plane takes off, but it may be several days before I can communicate.”

  When my eyes bug out, already freaking out, he explains, “I have to turn my phone off for security. I’ll fly into Nova Scotia, then get on a plane to Germany, and from there, I’ll take another plane to Kyrgyzstan.”

  “That’s a lot of flying,” I say dumbly. “You have to do all that just to come home for two weeks?”

  “Yeah.” He runs his knuckles down my cheek. “Four months is going to feel like forever.”

  “Probably,” I agree with a half-smile, “but we’ll get through it.”

  He leans over and kisses my forehead, the tip of my nose, and then the corner of my mouth. “I know how you feel about promises, so I won’t make any. But I will tell you that I’ll be counting down the days, hours, fucking seconds, until I’m back here with you guys.”

  He gives our son a soft kiss to his forehead and, closing his eyes, breathes in deeply as if he’s trying to memorize his scent. When his eyes open, they meet mine. He gives me a sad smile that has my heart breaking in two, as he takes my face in his hands. “I love you, Micaela,” he murmurs against my lips.

  And then with one last soul-crushing kiss, he disappears.

  Micaela

  Four Months Later

  Ryan: Send me a pic of RJ

  Me:

  Ryan: He’s in his pajamas from this morning. I want a current one.

  Me: Can’t… He’s not with me right now.

  Ryan: :(

  Me: Don’t give me that. It’s been a long day. He was up all night, and I’m exhausted. I’m relaxing in the bath.

  Ryan: The bath? As in… you’re naked? I’ll just take a picture of you then.

  Me: Ha ha ha

  Ryan: Who’s laughing?

  Me:

  Ryan: Fucking sexy feet

  Ryan: I’m hard.

  I crack up laughing and text him back.

  Me: You must be really desperate to be turned on by feet.

  Ryan: Every part of you turns me on.

  Me: Should I send you a picture of my nose next? How about my knees? I’ve been told I have some sexy knees.

  Ryan: You already know I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.

  I smile at his last text, knowing he’s serious. The last four months have been rough for him. He’s missing RJ—and me—like crazy, and he makes it a point to tell me that every day. Thankfully, with technology, we’re able to text every day, as well as send pictures back and forth. We’ve even video chatted a few times, but the service isn’t good and it breaks up. When he’s out doing whatever he does—he’s very vague on the details and I don’t push—it can be several hours before he replies, but we haven’t gone more than twelve hours without communicating.

  At first, the texting was a little formal—kind of awkward. I was worried every day that he wouldn’t respond and I would get a call similar to the one I got with Ian—and I would get that call, because he added me to his next-of-kin paperwork, so if anything does happen, I will be the first to know. Because of that, I tried to keep my distance. But when your only form of communication is texting, you have no choice but to eventually warm up to it. And since you’re hidden behind a screen it’s easy to say things you normally wouldn’t say to someone’s face. Late night chats have turned personal—although we steer clear of anything regarding the future, keeping it about our past and present.

  And, along the way, those conversations have taken a flirty turn. Knowing he’s stuck in the desert with nobody but other soldiers, I tend to give in, giving him whatever he asks for. He never crosses the line, but we’ve definitely toed it plenty of times. Even though we haven’t discussed being together, since he knows I can’t handle that conversation until he’s back on U.S. soil, he’s mentioned on several occasions he has no desire to be with anyone else but me. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear it, until he said it. I’ve heard too many stories of soldiers being lonely while on a deployment and seeking comfort in someone over there.

  Ryan: You there?

  Me: Yeah, tell me again how many days until you’re home.

  Ryan: Eight days, fourteen hours, twenty-five minutes, and thirty-six seconds.

  There’s no way he could really know to the second how long it will be until he’s home, but he always includes it all when he answers me.

  Me: I can’t wait.

  Ryan: Me too. You said you were up all night with RJ. Is he okay?

  Me: Yeah, I think he’s going through a growth spurt so he’s waking up a little more often to eat.

  Ryan: I miss him so damn much.

  Me: We watched your video today. When you come home, he’ll know who you are.

  After shaving my legs, I drain the tub and get out. After getting dressed, I head downstairs to find my sister and RJ. I’m so thankful to have my family. It’s not that I couldn’t handle taking care of RJ myself, but it’s nice to have people I can count on. Family who can watch him while I take a bath or go to the doctor. People to help me feel like I’m not doing this alone while Ryan is overseas.

  The second I step into the living room, RJ spots me, his face lighting up. He’s lying on the floor, smacking the keys to the toy piano he loves. As I walk closer, his arms and legs flail, excited to see me. There’s nothing in the world better than seeing the way he lights up when I walk into the room.

  “Did you have a good bath?” Liza asks, looking up from her homework.

  “I did. Thank you.” I pick up RJ and nuzzle my face into his neck. He giggles at my touch and my heart soars.

  “A delivery came for you,” Liza says, pointing to the box on the table. I don’t need to ask who it’s from since I already know. It’s from Ryan—just like all the others.

  I pick it up and RJ swats at it like it’s his piano. Not wanting to open it in front of anyone, I excuse myself to my room, thanking Liza again for keeping an eye on RJ.

  Once I’m in my room, I set RJ down next to me. He continues to bat at the package as I unwrap it. When I get it open, I find the most gorgeous hand-crafted bracelet. It’s not identical to the necklace Ryan bought me when we were on Balboa Island, but it complements it perfectly. As I clasp the bracelet on my wrist, my thoughts go back to the last few times I received packages.

  “Micaela, you have a package,” Mom yells up to me.

  I run downstairs, thinking it’s her way of surprising me, since today is my birthday. When I get to the living room, she’s holding a small box that’s wrapped with multicolored, shiny wrapping paper with balloons all over it.

  I grin, taking it from her. “What is it?” I ask, shaking the box. It’s kind of heavy.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “A young man dropped it off.”

  “It’s not from you?”

  “Nope.”

  I tear the paper off the box and open it, finding an expensive-looking camera and a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Taped to the inside of the box is a note.

  Happy Birthday to my favorite baby-mama,

  The big 2-1, huh? I imagine you won’t be going out since you’ll more than likely be home with our little guy. But you can’t turn 21 and not have a legal drink, so I included a bottle of Jack. It better be the only man you’re celebrating with… I also included a camera. The guy at the store said it’s the best. I know your phone takes sufficient pictures, but this one will take professional quality. While I’m gone, take tons of pictures, please. Of RJ, of yo
u, of everything you guys do and experience. I want to feel like I was there with you. I look forward to seeing them all when I get home and adding them to my photo album.

  I hope you have a wonderful birthday. Give RJ a kiss from me.

  Xo Ryan

  Since Ryan had already been in Afghanistan for a week, I knew he had to have planned this before he left. It was so sweet and completely unexpected. I thanked him and did as he asked, using the camera to take pictures of RJ and myself. Every few weeks, I get them printed so they’ll be ready to put into his photo album once he returns.

  To say I was shocked when the next month rolled around and another box showed up at our door would be an understatement.

  “Another one?” Dad asks, checking out the box I’m carrying inside. It was dropped off by the same teenage boy who dropped off the last one—according to Mom.

  “I asked him if there was more, but he just smiled and walked away.”

  I take the box upstairs and close my door. I don’t think there’ll be anything intimate in it, but it is Valentine’s Day, so you never know.

  I open the box and sift through the pink tissue paper. When I pull out a vibrator, I nearly choke on my laughter. Next, is a framed photo of Ryan shirtless, his entire muscular upper body on display. He’s smirking in the photo, exposing his dimples. The same dimples our son has, now that he’s starting to smile.