“What?” I blinked myself free of my thoughts. “Oh no, Jackson, this is exquisite. Not just that you found a copy, but it’s the only one I haven’t read yet!” I flipped the cover and, sure enough, there was the publication date: 1919.

He flashed a smile. “I knew you were on a Virginia Woolf kick and checked your shelves. I figured it was a fitting present since you finish therapy in what…three more sessions?”

“Two,” I said softly. My grief had been at a nine—mostly because I refused to use my ten—when we’d begun, and last week’s session it had rated a three.

Three. It hadn’t even seemed possible when we’d started. And sure, I still had my triggers, but Dr. Circe said there was a chance those might never go away. There were some things that simply couldn’t be fixed, but they sure could be avoided.

“Well, now you have the last Virginia Woolf book to read as your reward.”

I carefully wrapped the book and put it back in the box to protect it. “You are incredible, Jackson. Thank you.” I kissed him.

“You might not think so in a few minutes, so I’ll take it.”

My brow furrowed. “Why?”

He shifted his attention to the box. “How are you going to read it in the box?”

I blinked. “I’m not. I’m going to buy one of those airtight display cases and protect it like the piece of art it is.”

His gaze whipped back to mine. “What’s the point of having it if you don’t read it?”

“What’s the point of having a first edition, priceless book if you don’t protect it?” I countered with a grin.

“You are an astounding woman, and I love you.” He shook his head, and the atmosphere in the room shifted as he took a deep breath. When his eyes met mine, there was a plea in them that I didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. “There’s no easy way to say this. I have to take a trip.”

“Okay?” I sat on the nearest stool and faced him so our knees touched. “Are we talking a few days or a week?”

“A few months.”

The world tilted on its axis. “I don’t understand.”

He leaned toward me and took my hand. “Hastings’s leg isn’t going to heal in time. He isn’t cleared to go. He’s livid, but there’s nothing he can do.”

“Go where?” My pulse skittered, and nausea threatened to bring my lunch back up.

“It’s basically a three-month vacation, when you think about it. Just a rotation.” His voice was level and calm, but his eyes weren’t.

“Jackson,” I warned. “Half answers are bullshit.”

He flinched. “You’re right. Okay. I have to deploy with the unit.”