If I Need You (If You Come Back To Me 5)

“Yeah,” he said, pulling the latch. He glanced back at her. She saw that his features were tight with regret. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t know how many times I can say that without sounding like a fool or a liar.”

Faith shut her eyelids and took a deep breath to restore her calm. “I’m okay, Ryan. I’m not upset.” She opened her eyes and regarded him. “You have to admit, though...this whole thing is awfully strange.”

“Strange, maybe,” he conceded, swinging his long legs onto the driveway. “Not awful, though. Far from awful.”

* * *

Later that night Faith lay in bed wide awake, her hand curved protectively over her belly, staring blankly at the ceiling. What was she going to do about Ryan’s decision to move to the area? Did she have a right to do or say anything? Didn’t he have a right to be near his own child, if he chose?

What was she going to do about him period?

Despite her anxious thoughts, her errant brain kept returning to that kiss in the car. She’d learned at Christmas that logic and kissing Ryan did not go hand in hand. For the past three months thoughts of that night would sneak up to plague her during the dark, quiet hours when she had nothing else to distract her from them. In the interim of Ryan’s absence she’d almost convinced herself that what had happened on that night was an aberration of memory. Surely Ryan’s kiss couldn’t be that wonderful, his touch that powerful.

But now he’d kissed her again, and she could no longer deny the truth.

The first part of that visit on Christmas Eve had gone reasonably well, Faith recalled. At first she’d been aware of a certain tension in the air upon seeing Ryan so unexpectedly for the first time in two years. He hadn’t been given a leave of absence to attend Jesse’s funeral, so she hadn’t seen him then. Every time she’d met with him before, it’d been within the safety of a large gathering...within the security of her marriage.

Faith hadn’t fully realized until later that evening, however, that the thick tension between them on Christmas Eve had been of the sexual variety.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have served him a glass of her spiked Christmas punch? It’d be convenient to blame what happened later that night on alcohol consumption, but Faith suspected very strongly that Ryan had been right when he’d said the experience felt unstoppable, Christmas punch or no.

She vividly recalled how stunned and pleased she’d been when he’d called that night and said he was nearby.

* * *

“This is wonderful,” Faith said when he entered the house, bringing a brief blast of cold winter air with him. “What are you doing back in Michigan?”

“I’m visiting my sister, Mari,” Ryan said, his gaze dropping over her robe-covered figure regretfully. “I’m sorry it’s so late. I should come back tomorrow.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Come with me to the kitchen. I have some punch left over. I’ll get us a cup and we’ll talk.”

“Jesse used to say your punch had more juice than an F-15.”

“The way he used to drink it, he was right,” she said, smiling as she glanced back at him.

He chuckled. “I don’t want to be any bother. I’ll stop by another time...if that’s all right,” he added cautiously.

“Of course it’s all right, but you’re not a bother now. I was only going to bed because I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“Were you here alone?” he asked when she flipped on the kitchen light. She did a double take when she saw the concerned expression on his face.

“I wasn’t alone. I went over to a friend’s house—she’s my office manager, actually.”

“Oh, yeah. Jane, right?”

She paused, stunned. “How do you know about Jane?”

He shrugged. “Jesse used to read me your letters.”

She blushed and glanced away.

“Not...not all of them, just portions,” he hurried to say. “I hope you don’t mind. Entertainment on a deployment is kind of scarce, but warmth and affection from a loved one is an even rarer commodity.”

“So you shared some of Jesse’s?” she murmured.

“Not in a weird way or anything,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable.

She laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I don’t take offense. There was nothing in my letters that couldn’t have been read on the base announcement system, anyway. I just tend to ramble on in my letters like a crazy woman.”