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

by Nikki Ash

  “No, it’s not that,” he says, cutting me off. “These last few weeks, since I came home…” He sets his phone down to give me his attention, and a horrible foreboding feeling comes over me. Maybe it’s the way he’s staring at me with such serious eyes, or the way his tone is lacking all emotion, but something tells me whatever he’s about to say is something I’m not going to like.

  “What?” I push. “The last few weeks, what?”

  “We’ve been in this bubble… I knew you didn’t want to talk about what happened in Afghanistan…” He twists his body, so he’s completely facing me.

  “Well, of course I didn’t want to,” I admit. “You almost died. Who the hell wants to talk about that?” I cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to somehow protect myself.

  “But now we have to,” he says solemnly. “I used some of my leave I’ve accumulated to spend time with you and RJ when I got back, but next week I go back.”

  My heart stills. “Go back where?” I ask slowly.

  “To work. I’m active military.” He moves to grab my hand, but I back up before he can. “Micaela…”

  His eyes lock with mine, silently begging me to understand. And I do… I knew this. I might’ve ignored it, swept it all under a rug, but deep down I knew Ryan returning home wasn’t the end of his military duties. I don’t know enough about the military or his situation to know how he was able to come home and be with us for as long as he has been, and at the time I didn’t want to know. I still don’t. Ignorance is bliss, and all that jazz.

  But now, as I watch our perfect little bubble explode, exposing us to the reality of our situation, it hits me: I’m engaged to a man in the military. A man who spends more time gone than at home.

  He’s going to leave us.

  Go back to Afghanistan…

  Or worse.

  And while he’s doing that, I’ll be doing what? Staying home and praying for him to return safely? My thoughts go back to the letter in my purse, the one I folded up and pushed to the bottom, in an effort to remain in our comfy bubble. Only that bubble burst anyway. Because you can’t hide from reality. And the reality is, Ryan’s life, his dreams, his world is the military. Which leads me to ask myself the question: why am I not chasing my own dreams?

  “I can’t do this.” I stand, knocking into the coffee table.

  He stands as well, his eyes widening in fear. “You can’t do what?”

  I walk around the table and he meets me on the other side. “Micaela, please. Listen to me. My job in the military isn’t what you’re thinking. I’m not risking my life. I work a regular nine to five job. I go in around seven for PT, which is pretty much working out. After I shower, I report to work. Then, at the end of the day, I come home. I even have off weekends.”

  “But you’re still active, so at any time they can make you go overseas. You can be put in a situation like in Afghanistan where you’re risking your life… where there’s a chance you can die.”

  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and I know I have my answer.

  My heart, that felt like it was finally healing, is now being shattered all over again, and I’m not sure if it will be possible for it to ever be put back together again.

  I glance down at my ring, and Ryan steps toward me, snatching my hand. “No, don’t do this,” he commands. He takes my chin between his fingers and tilts my face to look at him. “Please don’t fucking do this.”

  “I have to,” I choke out, peeling my hand out of his. I remove the ring from my finger and place it into his palm, closing his fingers around it. “When we were at the beach house, you told me to follow my dreams.”

  I go to my purse and grab the letter from the University. “My dreams are in San Diego. I pushed them aside while we were living in our bubble, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t give up my dreams, so I can watch as you risk your life while you follow yours.”

  I hand him the letter, but I don’t wait for him to read it. Instead, I go to my room to pack a bag, then go to RJ’s room to pack him one. I know I’m being a coward and running, but I can’t stay here, knowing we can’t be together.

  “Don’t do this,” he begs, joining me in RJ’s room. “We can figure it out together.” His voice is gruff, filled with emotion, and I’m afraid to look at him. If he’s crying, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  “Figure what out?” I shove RJ’s clothes into the luggage. “I’ve always wanted to live on the beach, study the ocean and marine life. Your job is here, working for the military. Going overseas and risking your life.”

  “Where are you going?” he asks, grabbing my bicep to stop me.

  “To my parents’.”

  Ryan entwines his fingers in my hair and tilts my face up to look at him. “This isn’t over. I’m letting you go for now because I don’t want to fight with you, especially not in front of our son. But we’re going to figure this out. I’m not letting either of you go.”

  He crushes his mouth to mine. He doesn’t use his tongue, but his lips linger on mine, like he’s needing to drink me in, get his fill because there’s a chance it might be the last time we ever kiss. The thought devastates me.

  “This isn’t over,” he murmurs against my lips. “We’re not over.”

  Micaela

  “We can go with you,” Mom offers, as I pack a small bag for RJ and me. I’ve been staying with them for a few days, and I’ve spent most of the time crying. But not anymore. I meant what I said to Ryan. I have dreams, a future, and I need to follow it. He’s the reason why I have them. He helped me heal last year, and when I returned home, I applied to San Diego and Scripps, determined to keep taking one step in front of the other. And I can’t push my future and dreams aside, so I can stay here in Vegas while he keeps following his dreams. I need to be near the beach to do what I want. Vegas has no beach, no ocean.

  But it does have Ryan…

  No, not going there. I’ve already lost one husband. I’m not about to lose another.

  “And I appreciate it,” I tell her, zipping the bag up. “But this is something I need to do on my own. I’ll be the one moving to San Diego.”

  She sighs in acceptance. “Okay, fine, but we’re only a phone call and a plane ride away.” I’m planning to drive there once I have everything figured out, since I’ll need my vehicle, but since this is just a quick trip to meet with the admissions office and take a look at the apartments near campus, we’re flying there.

  “I know, and I love you for that.” I kiss her cheek and smile wide, trying like hell to remain strong and not cry again.

  She frowns, knowing me too well. “You know, Ryan—”

  “Nope, can’t go there,” I say, lifting RJ from his crib. My parents setting up a nursery for when RJ comes over worked in my favor when I ran the other night. They already had everything here, so I only had to take my stuff. I’m assuming Ryan’s back at work this week, like he mentioned. I’ve taken a few walks around the neighborhood and his truck wasn’t there. He’s texted a few times asking how I’m doing and asking to see pictures of RJ, but he hasn’t brought us up. I guess he’s accepted we can’t be together, which is probably for the best—even if there’s a small—okay, large—part of me that was hoping he would at least try. Which is unfair of me to want, when I know in order for both of us to follow our dreams we can’t be together. Eventually, we’re going to have to sit down and figure out how to co-parent, since we’ll be living close to five hours away from each other, but right now, I can’t do it. I just need to take one step at a time, and at the moment, that step is going to San Diego to figure out my school and living situation.

  Several hours later, RJ and I are on the campus of the University of San Diego. Since my appointment with admissions and my advisor aren’t until later, I’m meeting with a leasing agent to discuss off-campus housing. She’s going to show me the two-bedroom apartment they have available. Since my scholarship covers living expenses, I’ll be able to live right off-campus in their approved
apartments. They also have daycare on campus. I’m not thrilled about RJ going to daycare at only eight months old, but from what I’ve been told, it’s small and clean, and the caregivers are college students majoring in early education.

  I find the leasing office, and roll RJ’s stroller inside. “You must be Micaela,” an older, gray-haired woman says, standing from behind her desk. “I’m Sonia. We spoke on the phone.”

  I step around the stroller and shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “The apartment we have available is on the first floor, so you won’t have any stairs to climb with your little guy,” she says. “It’s not far from the office, so we can walk there if you’re up for it.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She’s right, the apartment is only a block away from the office. When we enter the apartment, the first thing I smell is chemicals. It must’ve been cleaned since the pervious tenants moved out.

  “Take a look around and let me know if you have any questions,” she says, stepping to the side so I can check out the place.

  The foyer is small, and the living room is just off it to the right. The walls are all stark white and empty, unlike the cream-colored walls at home. I can paint them, though, and add pictures. I try to imagine recreating the walls of candid photos I did at the house, but when I picture it, my heart drops into my stomach. Would I include pictures of Ryan? Just because we can’t be together, doesn’t mean he isn’t RJ’s dad… But would it be weird to have pictures of him on my wall? What if I meet someone?

  The thought causes my heart to pick up speed, and before I know what’s happening, I’m standing in the middle of the living room, damn near hyperventilating.

  Calm down, Micaela. You made this decision because it’s for the best. It might hurt right now, but in the long run…

  I suck in a sharp breath, but it’s hard to get air into my lungs. I push the stroller out of the living room, hoping it will help calm my nerves to leave the room. But when I enter the master bedroom, my freak out only worsens, as I try to imagine having to buy all new furniture… having to sleep in my bed without Ryan.

  I poke my head into the bathroom. It’s simple and clean. But all I can think about is when Ryan and I made love in the shower. The way he organizes my toiletries around the sink. How he wrote an actual note on the mirror to remind himself to throw his clothes in the hamper.

  I glance in what would be RJ’s room and visualize where his crib and changing table will go. The rocking chair in the corner—where Ryan has spent every night reading to him before bed.

  Oh my God, he won’t be able to read to him.

  I choke back a sob and take a deep breath. It won’t matter if he reads to him every night, because when he dies during a deployment, he won’t be alive to read to him anyway.

  But what about all the days he’s not away? All the moments he’ll miss…

  I head to the kitchen, and a flashback of me burning dinner and then Ryan making love to me on the table hits me straight in my chest.

  I can’t do this…I can’t live without him. Even if it means there’s a chance I lose him…

  I need him. I love him. He’s my world, my future. What’s the point of any of this without him there by my side?

  I pull my cell phone out of my purse and dial his number. It rings several times before it goes to voicemail.

  “Ryan, it’s me,” I say through a sob. “I-I need you. I’m so sorry for leaving, but I’m standing here in this apartment in San Diego and I miss you and I need you. RJ needs you. I can’t do this without you. I’ll change my major. I’ll—”

  “No, you won’t,” a deep voice says from behind me. I whip around and find Ryan standing where the dining room table is supposed to go. He’s dressed casually in a blue T-shirt and jeans. His head is shaved, and he has light stubble along his jawline. All I want is to run into his arms, so he can hold me.

  “I was just leaving you a message,” I say dumbly, hitting end on the call and dropping the phone back into my purse.

  “I know, I heard you,” he says, stepping toward me. “I went by to see you this morning, to talk to you, and your mom said you left.”

  “And you flew here that fast?”

  “Drove,” he corrects. “I couldn’t let you do this. I told you I wouldn’t let us end and I meant it. I just needed a few days to figure everything out. I didn’t want to say anything without knowing the facts.”

  “What facts?” I ask, confused.

  “I’m leaving the military.” He presses his palm to my cheek. “You said you can’t give up your dreams while I follow mine, but what you don’t understand is that my dreams, they all revolve around you and our son. Your dreams are mine. The military was my way to escape. It gave me purpose, stability. But when I’m with you, I feel all of that and more. I feel centered. Complete. My heart is so damn full.”

  “But you love the military.”

  “No.” He frames my face with his other hand. “I love you and RJ. I love our life together. I’m out. I signed my release papers. My contract was up for renewal when I returned, but I didn’t sign it.”

  He’s out.

  No more risking his life.

  No more leaving to go overseas.

  “What will you do?”

  He chuckles. “I have an engineering degree and a bank account with more money than most dream of. I’m sure I can figure it out. Until then, I was thinking I could follow in my dad’s footsteps and be a stay-at-home dad for a little while, while you follow your dreams.”

  “I was coming back,” I say. “My voicemail…”

  “I know, I heard, and I love you even more for that. That you would be willing to give up your dreams to be with me is the most selfless thing anyone has done for me, besides my parents adopting me. But that’s not what I want for you…for us. You deserve to finish school and create a future for yourself. And I want nothing more than to be here with you while you do it.”

  “What do you think?” Sonia asks, making her presence known. I completely forgot about her being in here.

  “We’re going to have to pass,” Ryan says politely. “There’s been a change of plans.”

  “There has?” I ask.

  “Yeah, we have all summer to find a home where we can place roots.”

  “A home,” I mimic. The sound of that word brings fresh tears to my eyes.

  A home here in San Diego, with Ryan and RJ.

  “I was thinking on the beach,” he says. “I don’t know about you, but the beach is kind of special to me.” He winks, and heat warms my insides.

  “The beach sounds perfect.”

  “Good.” He takes my hand in his and slides my engagement ring back onto my finger. “No more taking this off. You’re mine, and I’m yours. We’re in this together…forever.”

  Ryan

  Fourteen Months Later

  “Daddy, I help!” RJ insists, grabbing a handful of strawberries and dropping them onto the waffle I’ve just placed on the center of the plate.

  “You’re a big help,” I tell him. “Can you do the blueberries too?”

  “Yes!” He digs into the container and pulls out several blueberries, releasing them on top of the strawberries.

  “I have some too?” he asks, already plucking a couple off the plate and into his mouth. “Mmm…” His bright blue eyes light up. “Foot cream next!”

  I laugh, handing him the bottle of whipped cream. “Whipped cream,” I correct.

  He ignores me, pressing the top. The whipped cream shoots out, all over the waffle, plate, and counter, making him giggle in excitement.

  “Perfect,” I tell him, pouring the coffee and mixing in some milk and sugar.

  “To Mommy!” he exclaims, jumping off the stool and onto the floor.

  He grabs the flowers we picked up at the store, while I grab the tray and place the plate, mug, and silverware on it.

  “Mommy!” he yells, when we enter the room. “Happy ‘Versary!”

&n
bsp; Micaela groans, and her eyelids flutter open and closed a few times, adjusting to the light. “What?” she asks, sitting up and wiping the sleep from her eyes.

  “Happy ‘Versary!” RJ repeats, thrusting the flowers at her.

  “Happy Anniversary,” I say, placing the tray on her lap. I give her a quick kiss, and she grins happily.

  “Happy Anniversary,” she says back.

  “I made dat.” RJ points to the waffle filled with fruit and whipped cream.

  “You did?” Micaela asks, lifting him up and placing him next to her before I can stop her.

  “Babe, be careful,” I say, knowing she’s not going to listen.

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m pregnant, not disabled.”

  The day we found out she was pregnant, I started doing my research, reading every book I could get my hands on about pregnancy. Most of which scared the shit out of me. Since she’s only a couple months pregnant, we haven’t told anyone yet. I read you can miscarry early on, and it’s best not to tell anyone until you’re in the second trimester. I know. I know. I’m being overprotective. But in my defense, I wasn’t around for the first pregnancy, so while this is nothing new to her, it’s all new to me. And it’s scary as fuck.

  We weren’t supposed to get pregnant. Micaela thought we should wait until she was done with her degree and she still has a year to go, but fate had other plans, and even though she was on birth control, several pregnancy tests and a blood test later, and we found out she was pregnant. And we couldn’t be happier.

  “This is delicious,” she says through a moan, taking a bite of her waffle, then giving RJ a bite.

  “Delicious,” he agrees with a wide, whipped cream covered grin. Of course, his word comes out as de-ish-is, but it’s adorable the way he tries to copy everything we say. He’s a tiny little sponge, absorbing everything around him.

  “I also got you a little something.” I hand her the small wrapped gift.