Kael stared at me, our eyes touching in some odd sort of agreement. He was a soldier who didn’t allow intimacy into his life, and I was a messy twenty-year-old who hardly knew what intimacy meant, with a promise to never date a soldier. Problem solved. Not that there was a problem to begin with, but now I knew that I could truly tell this stranger anything, since he would always be that: a stranger.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Elodie was asleep on the couch, her small body sprawled out at awkward angles. I sat my purse down on the floor, kicked my shoes off, and covered her with her favorite blanket. Her grandmother had made it for her when she was a kid. The stitching was really worn now, almost threadbare, but she slept with it every day. Her grandma had passed a few years back; Elodie cried every time she talked about her.

I wondered if she missed her family. She was literally on the other side of the globe from them and pregnant, with a husband away at war. She didn’t talk much about missing the life she had before becoming an Army wife. She didn’t mention her parents much, but I got the impression they weren’t keen on her running away to the U.S. with a young soldier she’d met on the internet.

I couldn’t say I blamed them. Elodie moved a little when I turned off the TV.

“Did you want to watch that?” I asked Kael. He was so quiet I forgot he was even here. I also forgot that he would be sleeping over at my house. He was holding the pie I’d brought back for Elodie that I had neglected to bring in from the car.

“No, it’s cool. Where should I put this?” he asked, looking down at his full hands.

Oh, this man of many words.

I continued, “Um, the fridge is fine.”

He walked through my house, boots off but full uniform still on.

“Do you need clothes to sleep in?” I asked. We were both in the kitchen now.

“I’ll get the rest of my stuff tomorrow.”

“I have some of my brother’s clothes here if you need something—”

“I’m fine. I’ve slept in this many times.” He pulled at the tan camouflage jacket.

Kael and I were only feet apart. His dark eyes were focused on me. I waited, thinking he had something to say, but no words came. Just those eyes reading my face. I was so tired that I barely had the strength to hide it. I felt like crying as he stared at me, though I had no idea why. The kitchen felt so small and I felt so weak; the pressure of being around my dad and Estelle for hours after a long day at work had worn me out.