And yet I wanted her with me, where I could keep my promise to take care of her until she was able to take care of herself.
And what if that’s never? What if she’s never normal again?
My gaze roamed over her sleep-soft face. Her bottom lip drooped a little, pulling her mouth into a heart shape, and her eyelashes were fans against the dark circles under her eyes. A little worry line had made a crease between her eyebrows, making her seem older than the twenty years I knew her to be.
Then I’ll spend the next few centuries buying her soft pretzels and magazines and combing her hair.My chest swelled with fierce pain.Healed or not, normal or not, Iwantto be burdened by her.
“Sir?”
I swung my head to see two airport security people standing a few feet behind us. The woman was on the smallish side with a sympathetic face. The man had retired Marine stamped all over him, from his high-and-tight gray hair to his squared shoulders.
“Is she okay?” The woman’s eyes were fixed on Monkey. “Do you need medical assistance?”
“She’s not okay, but we don’t need anything.” I got to my feet slowly to show the Marine I was no threat. “She had a panic attack. They always exhaust her.”
“Panic attack?” The woman moved closer. “Is she a crime victim?”
Some humans were quick to catch lies, so I tried to stick as close as possible to the truth when dealing with them. The Marine especially looked sharp, and I didn’t need him poking his nose too deep into our business.
“You may not believe it, but she’s a soldier.” I didn’t have to fake the pride in my voice. “Her unit was in an active combat zone and ran into an ambush. She survived three weeks in enemy hands before being rescued.”
The Marine took the story in stride, but the woman’s eyes went wide.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” she wanted to know.
“We’re fine, but thank you. After she rests for a few minutes, we’ll get moving again.”
That seemed to satisfy her, and she turned to leave.
The Marine fixed his gaze on me, and instinct made me stand at attention.
“You Recon?” His voice was two-packs-a-day gruff. “You look like Recon.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“As you were.” He waved one gnarled hand. “I’m retired.”
“Sir, once a Marine, always a Marine, sir!”
He narrowed his eyes for a second, then one corner of his mouth pulled up.
“Ooh-rah,” he murmured. “Good luck, son. Dismissed.”
“Sir, thank you, sir.”
He exhaled a chuckle out of his nose, then followed after the woman.
I felt a tug on my pant leg. Looking down, I saw Monkey was awake and her face full of questions.
“They were checking on us.” I was embarrassed that she’d caught me acting like that. “And it made the old man feel good to have someone treat him like a gunnery sergeant again.”
She nodded, then reached for the magazine I’d laid on the floor and started thumbing through it.
Is she dismissing me, too?
But she stopped after a few seconds, folded back a few pages, and handed it to me. I took it to indulge her—and saw a picture of Reginald Hubler looking back at me. I skimmed the article about his presidential bid, but it was a small inset photo that made me do a double-take. Hubler wore casual summer clothes and stood next to an unsmiling woman with long dark hair and sunglasses. Green fields edged with trees filled the background.
“South of Buffalo, NY, lies Reginald Hubler’s family estate,” I read the caption aloud, “where Emily Hubler makes her primary residence when not traveling with her husband.”
