Battle Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 3)

As he watches me walk down his front path, he calls out, “You’re okay for a princess.”

I turn and smile. “And you’re okay for a mouthy teen.”

On the drive home, I take hold of Winter’s hand and snuggle against him, feeling all kinds of I don’t know what. All I know for sure is that for the first time in a very long time, I’m not as sad as I have been.

34

Birdie

* * *

“I miss you,” I say to Winter over the phone late one night a week after he left for Brisbane.

“I miss you, too, angel.” The exhaustion in his voice makes me wanna end the call so he can sleep, but the selfish part of me wants just a little bit longer with him. We talk every night, but some calls are less than five minutes long due to him being strapped for time.

“Have you seen the boys?” Max’s kids.

“Not yet. I’m gonna try to get over tomorrow and spend some time with them. How was work today?”

“Good. You’ll be proud of me; I left at three this afternoon.”

The line turns silent before he comes back to me. “Sorry, I have to go.”

My disappointment is heavy, but I keep it on the inside. “Okay. I hope everything is okay.” I’m fucking petrified it’s not.

“Yeah, it will be. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Maybe in the morning if I can swing it.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” With that, he’s gone, and I try to push the fear I have for him away. I remind myself that Winter was a trained SAS member, that he survived Afghanistan, and that he’s the most sensible man I know. He won’t put himself in the kind of danger he can’t survive.

Find something to do.

Take your mind off everything for a bit.

Didn’t you wanna learn how to crochet?

Jesus, where do you come up with this stuff? Crocheting?

I pad out to the kitchen to grab a drink, running through the things I could do to free my mind of worry. On the way, I pass the room that was going to be the nursery and I stop outside.

The door’s shut.

It has been since the day we removed the cot and everything else in there.

My hand goes to the door handle.

My heart beats faster.

I open the door and step inside.

The walls are white; the room is empty.

It’s uninhabited.

Unused.

Bare.