He sighs. I think he’s going to reassure me that planes are safe and chances are high he’ll return to Charleston perfectly fine. “There’s a list. Of people who get notified—if something happens. I added you to it when I left for this deployment. If anything ever does happen, someone will let you know.”

Tears start to slide down my cheeks. I swipe at them angrily. I’ve watched lots of people lose loved ones. Husbands. Wives. Children. Grandparents. Friends. It always hurts. Some hit harder than others, but I always keep my emotions under control. Except around Gray, I can’t seem to keep a damn thing contained.

“Okay.”

His thumbs brush my cheeks, catching the tears that are still falling. “Evie.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just hated the idea of you waiting for me to call if I couldn’t. And not knowing why.”

“Yep. Great. Thanks.” I hiccup.

He stares at me.

I blink rapidly, trying to keep more tears at bay. “It’s getting close to noon. You’d better go.” The other airman he flew back with is supposed to be picking him up.

He nods. “Right.” Then, he steps forward.

This is it. I pull in a deep breath as I feel his lips brush my hair.

“Bye, Evie.”

“Bye,” I whisper.

“No one else has ever measured up for me either.” He pulls back, face sober and serious. “Just for the record.”

He turns and walks out. And then he’s just…gone. Again. For another month, at least.

I make it to his room before I collapse, curling on my side and shoving my face against a pillow to muffle my sobs. They rack my body like the tremors of an earthquake. It takes a long time for me to become aware of anything else. A male voice is talking somewhere, but I can’t summon it in me to care about who it is or what he’s saying.

It’s not the voice I want to hear. The one saying, “No one else has ever measured up for me either,” over and over in my head.

I hate him a little for saying that to me.

More time passes before I hear a voice that cuts through some of the pain and confusion. “Evie.”

I raise my head from the wet pillow to meet Noah’s gaze. He’s standing in the open doorway.

“Fuck,” he swears. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“No. He didn’t do anything.”