Hallowed Ground (Flight & Glory #4)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “And I’m so relieved that Jagger’s alive. He’s the other half of me, but I don’t know how to reconcile that joy with the gaping hole in my heart—knowing that I’ll never see Will again.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to be strong for Jagger and still feel like it’s okay to miss Will…like I traded one life for the other.”

  “You didn’t choose,” I whispered into her hair. “No one chose.”

  “I can’t be a blubbering mess around Jagger. He’ll think… I just can’t.”

  “You can. He’ll think that you’re pregnant, and as happy as you are to have your husband, you just lost one of your best friends—your first love. You have to feel that, too.”

  “It hurts,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” I said, knowing nothing could fill the void. “That part of feeling sucks.”

  “Jagger’s out of surgery. He’s loopy, but he’ll be okay,” I said as I walked into Josh’s room. I’d taken the time to shower, so at least I didn’t feel like a ’90s grunge star.

  “Okay, thank you. Grayson called. He made it to Kandahar. They’ll take Carter to Dover tomorrow.”

  I didn’t miss the fact that Josh called him Carter, whom he’d hated, as if he had disassociated that guy from Will, our friend. He wiggled the fingers of his right hand, sporting a new black cast that peeked out from the blue sling.

  “What time are we leaving tomorrow?” It was already afternoon. It would be good to get him home, settled.

  “I’m leaving now, if you’d like a ride,” Senator Mansfield said from the doorway. He still wore a button-down, but he’d rolled the sleeves at the elbow. “I’ve seen my son, and it’s not like he’s going to let me feed him ice chips, so my work here is done.”

  “Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’d rather stay with Josh.”

  “Ember, as much as I’d like you to stay, there’s no point,” Josh said, taking my hand in his.

  My head snapped back like he’d slapped me. “No point?”

  He shook his head. “No, babe. I’ll leave for Ramstein in the morning, and it’s a military-only flight. I’ll see you tomorrow night at home.”

  My heart deflated. “Oh.”

  “My son won’t be leaving for another few days. I pulled strings, made sure Paisley could go with Prescott”—Senator Mansfield shook his head—“Jagger, but couldn’t do the same for you. I’m sorry, I tried, but you’re not married, and my power ends at that line,” he finished with a very political smile.

  My eyes flew to Josh. I couldn’t leave him. Not now. What if he needed me? What if he wanted to talk about what happened and I wasn’t here? What if I missed the only opportunity he might give me to see what was going on behind that mask of his? “Okay, let’s get married.”

  “What?” Josh exclaimed, his eyes huge with what I refused to see as panic.

  “Marry me. It’s not like we aren’t engaged, and come on, they have chaplains. Marry me, and I can stay with you.”

  “No. Hell no. Not like this.” He squeezed my hand. “Ember, we’re getting married on the top of a fucking mountain in Colorado, surrounded by our family, not in some hospital chapel with a bunch of strangers and…Jagger’s dad. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Senator Mansfield answered.

  “We have Jagger and Paisley. That’s all the family I need. I could stay with you.”

  He shook his head, and I saw it—the look of determination he usually saved for the ice. “No. You would regret it. Ember, I don’t care about the next twenty-four hours; I care about the rest of our life.”

  “I won’t regret it,” I pushed.

  “I would.”

  He would regret marrying me? The same man who had wanted me under any circumstances our entire relationship suddenly had caveats and lines he was unwilling to cross?

  Air rushed into my lungs. This is not about you. Not about you. NOT ABOUT YOU. I repeated the mantra in my head as I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Okay, Senator. Thank you so much. I would love a ride home.”

  His eyes volleyed between mine and Josh. “I’ll meet you in the hallway.”

  I waited until the door clicked softly behind him, and then tried to emotionally solder every raw, gaping nerve that was screaming in agony around my heart. I turned to Josh. “Okay, well, I’ll see you at home?”

  “December,” he whispered. “I didn’t say that to hurt you. I would never hurt you intentionally.”

  I nodded. “Of course. I know that. I’m fine,” I lied with a smile. “Where do you fly into?”

  “Baltimore,” he answered after a pause. “Then straight into Fort Campbell.”

  “Do you want me to pick you up?” I asked, terrified of the answer.

  His shoulders sagged. “Of course.”

  “Okay. Do you still have the international cell to text me with details?” Hold yourself together. Just a couple more minutes.

  “Yeah.”

  “Perfect.” I leaned forward and kissed him lightly, unable to stop myself from lingering just a second longer, thankful that he was breathing, speaking, alive—even if he’d just pulverized my heart. “Then I’ll see you at home.” I forced a smile and backed away.

  “I love you, December. Thank you for coming all the way here.”

  Yesterday I would have told him that of course I came. He was here, where else would I be? But today was different. Today I felt separated from him in a way I never had before, and even if it was an emotional overreaction brought on by jet lag, exhaustion, and fear…well, it still fucking hurt. “Thank you for letting me.”

  I left Josh’s room and met Senator Mansfield in the hallway, who wordlessly led us to the elevator.

  Once we were wheels up, gaining altitude out of Germany, the irony struck me—I’d come to Germany twenty-four hours ago to help heal Josh, and instead he’d inadvertently broken me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Josh

  Military transports sucked. They sucked even harder when you spent eight and a half hours trying to figure out how to dig yourself out of the huge hole you’d gotten into with your fiancée.

  If she still wants to marry you, jackass.

  “What’s on your mind, LT?” Rizzo asked, leaning back next to me.

  “I’m wondering what color roses say, ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean what I said.’”

  He gave me the you-fucked-up look. “Pissed off the old lady?”

  “I may have told her I didn’t want to marry her.”

  He whistled low. “Not sure about the color, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to need to buy out all of Nashville’s florists. She give the ring back?”

  “What? No.” Not yet. “That’s not what happened. I didn’t mean ever, I meant not in the hospital chapel in some rush ceremony so she could be as uncomfortable on this flight as we are.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “I think so. Fucking painkillers.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. You blame the painkillers and she’ll forgive you. No sweat.”

  “Yeah.”

  He side-eyed me. “Unless you meant it…even subconsciously.”

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Listen, after what’s happened, I wouldn’t blame you.” He shook his head. “I’m not marrying. Not while I’m in. I’ve got three years left, and then—when I’m out—I’ll think about it.”

  “Why? Afraid you’ll change?”

  “Nawh. I couldn’t bring a woman into this. Waiting at home for us to get back, putting shit on hold, moving where the army says, that’s not the life I want for my wife, and that shit’s on the good days.”

  Ember already knew the army life. She’d been born into it. She’d accepted that cost the day she’d pinned my lieutenant bars on me. “Right.”

  “But it’s the bad shit, you know? Look at us, all torn up, stitched together but never really whole. I keep thinking about Captain Trivette’s kids, her husband. He’s a good guy, a major in the 101st, and now his whole life is just…fu
cked.”

  Fresh pain, the kind that couldn’t be numbed by the drugs, sliced me open, flayed my soul from my bones. “Yeah.”

  “More power to you. Marriage is awesome. I’m just not committing myself to a woman until I can give her the life she deserves. Home at five. No deployments.”

  “No notifications,” I added.

  “Bingo.” He snapped his fingers. “This feeling right here? The shit we’re wading through? This is the stuff that changes you. I’d be an idiot to say who I’ll be once I’m done.”

  I nodded, at a loss for words.

  “Fuck, I’m an asshole.” Rizzo dropped his head to his unbroken hand for a second before looking back up. “I’m not talking about you. You know that, right? You have a girl who put her ass on a plane to be at your bedside. You keep that one. She’ll stick through the shit. She’s a good one.”

  “Yeah, she is.” Too good for me, for this life, but then again, she always had been.

  They’d notified her, pulled her world out from under her feet. I’d sworn to be whatever she needed, and instead I’d brought them to the door…again.

  I’d make it up to her.

  As soon as I figured out how.

  “I didn’t know if you’d want me to move an air mattress downstairs,” Ember said as she held the front door open so I could crutch myself in.

  “Why?” She hadn’t shown any kind of anger or hurt since she’d picked me up at the airfield—or any emotion really—but fuck if I wasn’t sleeping next to her. I’d hash this shit out with her right now. “Are you kicking me out of our room?”

  “What?” She shut the door and twisted the lock. She’d added a deadbolt since I left. Good. I liked her safe. “No, of course not. I just thought you wouldn’t want to negotiate the stairs. I was going to sleep on the air mattress, too,” she finished quietly.

  I hobbled the final foot to the couch and collapsed, gently lifting my leg to the coffee table to keep it elevated. Home. We’d only lived here for a month before deployment, but there was no place I more associated with the feeling of home than these eighteen hundred square feet. “I’ll make it up the stairs,” I promised. “You…might have to help me shower.”

  Her smile was instant and gorgeous. “Oh, I think I can manage that.”

  “Good,” I said, opening my good arm.

  “Do you want anything? I can grab you some water, or—”

  “I want you. In my arms. Now.”

  She nodded and slid into me like a missing puzzle piece, fitting perfectly under my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home,” she whispered.

  “Me, too.”

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “I was thinking of getting you naked—”

  She scoffed. “Not what I meant. You? Army stuff? Checkups? Doctors? I mean…can you even actually get me naked?”

  “Is that a challenge?” I asked, my voice dropping.

  She shot me a raised eyebrow. “No.”

  “I have to check into the Warrior Transition Unit and get with the doctors here. And yes…I can most certainly get you naked, and I’m going to. Repeatedly.”

  Sure, it was going to be a challenge, since I felt like I’d been put back together by Frankenstein, but getting inside December was my number one priority tonight. Fuck, I was getting hard just thinking about it. I’d willingly pop more than a few stitches if it meant touching her.

  “Look.” I pointed to the window. “It’s already dark. Nine p.m. is a perfectly respectable bedtime. I say we go now.”

  “Ha!” She laughed, soothing my soul. “I thought you wanted a bath first.”

  “I said shower. Men take showers.”

  “Giant, gaping thigh wounds take baths with their legs draped outside the tub, manly or not.” She stared me down.

  “Get in with me?” I wiggled my eyebrows.

  “Oh. My. God. Joshua Walker, you’re incorrigible—and a hot mess. No, I will not get in with you.” She stood up and offered her hand. “But I will soap you up.”

  “Deal,” I answered, entirely too quickly because my blood was in my dick and my brain had checked out. All I could think was warm water and Ember’s hands all slippery. Fuck it, I wasn’t waiting. “You know, this is not the hot reunion sex I pictured,” I complained.

  “Oh no?” She leaned down to help me up. “What did you picture?”

  “Something more along the lines of this.” I grasped her wrist and pulled her down instead, careful that she landed beside me.

  “Josh!”

  Her mouth formed that perfect little O, and I pounced. I kissed her, thrusting my tongue against hers and angling to kiss her deeper. She leaned into me instantly, and the twinge of pain I felt in my chest was nothing compared to the heaven of having her breasts pressed against me. Hell, kissing her was the perfect painkiller—all-consuming and addictive as any narcotic. But kissing her wasn’t enough.

  I tugged on the bottom of her shirt, and she obliged, crossing her arms at the hem and pulling it over her head. My lips trailed across her collarbone and then her neck as my fingers traced her spine until I met the strap of her bra. I snapped my fingers over the closure, and it popped free.

  “Josh. Are you sure we should be—” She cut off her own words with a moan as my mouth closed over one perfect nipple. I flicked my tongue over the bud, and she arched, dropping her arms so her bra fell to her lap. I sucked, and her fingernails bit into my scalp.

  “Very sure,” I said, blowing across it lightly before laving it again.

  Her hips rolled, and I would have grinned, but I was too turned on. I gave the same attention to her other breast, and her whimpers grew into outright moans. She came up on her knees and kissed me, her hands firm on the sides of my face. Every muscle in my body tightened in arousal, the kind that sent stabs of need straight to my stomach.

  I grasped her ass and kissed her with every ounce of skill I had, willing her to forget why this could be a bad idea—willing her to lose the self-control that had abandoned me the minute we walked in the door. She melted, pressed up against my side. God, she was perfect in my arms, liquid fire as her mouth made love to mine in a way I couldn’t wait to do with my entire body.

  My hand slipped into the waistband of her shorts, past the string—fuck, yes—of her thong, to cup her exquisite ass. A moan tumbled past my lips. “God, baby,” I groaned, running my hand around her toned, soft waist, and fumbling with the button. No time for this shit. “You’re going to have to help me.”

  She pulled away, her lips swollen, eyes glazed and half open in want. It was my favorite look on her, and my dick jumped in agreement. “Josh…” The battle between what she desperately wanted and what she thought was best for me warred on her face, clear as day.

  “I need you,” I begged shamelessly. “More than anything, December. Let me love you.”

  Her breath was shaky as she stood like a goddess between my outstretched legs, all soft curves and lithe limbs. Holy shit, you actually get to touch her. This perfect specimen of woman is yours. Mine. Forever. My thoughts ceased when she locked eyes with me and wiggled her hips, bringing her shorts down her thighs with her thumbs. I held her gaze as long as I could, falling into that sea of blue like I did every time she looked at me. But then her hands drifted back up, her thumbs hooking in to the straps of her very small, very pink thong, and my eyes went to them.

  My mouth watered, which was going to turn into drool if I didn’t shut it. “Off.” My voice dropped impossibly low.

  A smile ghosted her lips as she teased one strap, then the other, until I was ready to bite her panties off with my fucking teeth. I’d never felt this urgent with her before, this impatient. “December,” I growled. “Now.”

  She raised an eyebrow at my tone. “Where’s that famous patience, Walker?”

  “On the floor with your fucking shorts.” The need raging through me wasn’t polite. No, it was primal, and if I’d been capable of carrying her over my shoulder, I would have by now. Damn it,
just knowing I couldn’t was infuriating. “Baby,” I warned.

  She dropped her panties, leaving herself gorgeously bare. Then she placed one knee between my thighs, rubbing right against me, and I lost it. Gripping her hip, I sat up on the couch, and urged her backward until the backs of her knees hit the coffee table. “Sit,” I ordered.

  Ember hesitated just a second before she did as I asked. Her breathing picked up, making her breasts rise and fall at my eye level, but I didn’t break her gaze. Ignoring the stab of pain in my thigh, I lowered myself to the floor, sliding my legs under the coffee table until my face was directly between her outstretched thighs. Fuck this sling; I wanted both of my arms around her, filling my hands with every lush curve. I wrapped my good arm around her and pulled her forward until she balanced at the edge of the coffee table.

  “Josh,” she whispered my name.

  She’d be screaming it soon.

  I might not have been able to sweep her up the stairs, but I could make her come so hard that she’d forget I was injured, that I’d been gone three months, that I was her living nightmare, because she was my wildest dream.

  I held her apart with my fingers and set my mouth on her, tasting, licking, sucking, working her over with my lips and tongue until her hips bucked. The only sounds were her stuttered breaths, gasps, and full-out moans. One of her hands braced her weight against the table while the other held me against her.

  She tasted even sweeter than I’d remembered.

  I lost myself in her body—her every reaction—from the tightening of her thighs to the slight pitch variances in her whimpers when she threw her head back in surrender. In that moment, I forgot everything and existed for one reason: to please December.

  Her breathing quickened, her muscles tensed, and her cries sounded higher and higher as she spiraled closer. With one finger I knew I could make her come. It would be easy, but I let her hover, loving the desperation of her hips rocking against my face, her pleas for more.

  “Josh…” She started chanting my name, then screamed it as I pressed on her clit with my thumb, stabbing my tongue inside her. She flew apart. I pressed on her again, lightly, as she came back down, and her body jolted again. She was so fucking beautiful to watch come undone.