We found two seats near the fire, and I took off my gloves and unbuttoned my coat. Dean draped his heavy gray coat over a chair near us and then undid fastenings at the bottom of his uniform top that allowed him to sit.
“Speaking of normal . . .” I nodded toward his uniform. “I have to admit, I think some of your cadet uniforms look like torture devices. Especially around the neck.”
Dean chuckled. “It takes some getting used to, but now I don’t even think of it. You get up, shower, and put on whatever the uniform of the day is. Although I’ll admit that white over gray—our summer uniforms—are a hell of a lot more comfortable.” He shrugged. “But it’s fine. Just part of the whole experience.”
“I guess so.” I stretched my feet toward the fireplace. “You said you were homesick when you were a plebe. Was it hard to be away from your family? I mean, I remember being a freshman in college, but I had the freedom to go home whenever I wanted or to call my parents at any time. Plebes can’t do that, can they?”
“It’s a lot more restrictive than a civilian school,” Dean agreed. “More relaxed than it used to be, though, when plebes weren’t even allowed to go home for the holidays.” He stared down at the floor, his face pensive. “As for being homesick . . . I missed my mom at first, but I was never sorry to be away from Pebbleton. It was—well, you’ve been there. You know what those towns are like. There’s no real future for anyone who doesn’t get out. I spent most of my time and energy in high school figuring out a way to escape, to have something more in my life, so in some ways, being here without the option to leave was a dream come true.”
I nodded. “I can understand that. I didn’t grow up in a town like that, but I lived near enough of them to see what it might be like.” Settling back in the comfortable chair, I ventured to ask another question. “What is your family like?”
Dean growled out a bark of laughter that didn’t contain any humor. “Not like yours.”
“I figured that,” I admitted. “And you don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want. But since I’m carrying fifty percent of your DNA—” I patted my small bump. “It might be a good idea to know a little something about your history.”
“Right.” Dean nodded slowly. “Okay, well . . . my mom is pretty great. Or at least, she tries to be. She’s the only one who ever supported my goals. She was excited for me when I was admitted to West Point and got my appointment. Nowadays, she almost feels like a stranger, and I guess that’s because I’ve changed so much. That’s what she tells me, anyway. She and my friend Lori—” He glanced at me. “She’s the one who dragged me to the party that fateful night. Mom and Lori are always begging me to spend more time at home. But when I’m there, I’m not myself, you know? I have to . . . make myself smaller to fit there while I visit. I hate that. I’m not asking them to change, but I wish they’d accept me for who I am now.”
“Ah.” I could understand that to a point. “So I bet that means you don’t spend much time at home anymore.”
“Not if I can avoid it.”
“Gotcha.” I was quiet for a beat. “Do you have any brothers or sisters? And are you close to your dad?”
Dean heaved a breath through his nose. “I have a half-brother who’s eight years older than me. My father was divorced when he married Mom. They had me, but I guess it was kind of a difficult pregnancy, and she was advised not to have more kids. My father used to work at the same factory where my mom still has a job, but he got hurt years ago and has been on disability ever since. That means that he spends every day at the bar, bitching about the government, women, and anything else that he sees as ruining his life.” His lip curled. “Because he refuses to see that all of his problems come from one place—himself.”
I ventured one hand out to touch the backs of Dean’s fingers. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
He smiled at me, and his face lost its dark, edgy expression. “The one positive that came out of my father’s choices was that I knew for sure that I didn’t want to end up there. My half-brother is heading down the same road, and I made up my mind to do anything I could not to join them. West Point saved my life.”
Hearing him talk about his family, I could see all the more clearly why Dean was reluctant to allow anything or anyone to derail his military career. It also made me more cognizant of what it must have taken to offer to tell the truth and risk it all—for me. For our baby.
I curled my fingers around his and gave a subtle squeeze, mindful of the PDA rule. “I’m glad you got out.”
“Thanks. Me, too.” Dean flipped over his hand so that my fingers rested in his warm palm, and for a moment, he gripped my hand tightly. Tingles sizzled up my arm and shot into all the sensitive spots of my body, making me want to draw even closer to him, to touch him, to . . .
With a quick intake of breath, I slipped my hand away. Maybe it was empathy for Dean and what he’d shared, maybe it was those infamous pregnancy hormones that were said to make the second trimester so much fun, but I couldn’t risk falling into lust with him. Not the way things were now.
A brief flicker of disappointment crossed his face, but it was gone before I could say anything to explain myself.
Dean coughed and shifted, angling his body toward me. “Okay, so now that I’ve bared my soul with that depressing story, can I ask you a few questions?”
I spread my arms. “Sure. I’m an open book.”
“Great.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest between us. “Your father said you’d talked to your friends, and they upset you. What happened?”
I wrinkled my nose. “It was pretty ugly. And yeah, I was upset—but I think they are, too. This was just . . .” I thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to express what I wanted to say. “Violet and Cindy are my friends from college. They’re the ones who took me with them to the party in Pebbleton.”
“Okay.” Dean nodded. “I kind of figured that.”
“Right.” I traced a design on the chair’s upholstery with the tip of one finger. “The house where we, um, where you and I were together that night, that’s their house. They started renting it together in senior year, after I left for Europe. I spent that week last summer with them because I felt like we were growing apart—and I was right. They made it clear that they resented me a little for going away, and they thought that I was looking down on them for making the choices they had.”
Dean’s brows drew together. “That’s really complicated.”
“I know,” I sighed. “Girl stuff. Anyway, the morning after the party, they hounded me to tell them who had driven me home, and I refused. I didn’t tell them anything about you, and I sure as hell didn’t tell them that you’d left me right before they got back home.”
“I appreciate you looking out for my reputation.” Dean winked at me, and I smiled, shaking my head.
“I think I told you that when I found out I was pregnant, I called Vi and Cindy and kind of poked around to ask them if they remembered you. But they didn’t, so I didn’t press the issue. But once I’d told my parents, I knew I had to let my friends know what was going on. They were making plans for us to meet in New York around the holidays, and they wanted me to think about coming down for another visit . . . so I couldn’tnottell them. I thought they’d be—you know,friends. Supportive. Loyal.”
