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She could feel a singe in her back from the heat of Kale s stare as he watched her walk away as she
left him.
She pulled her coat closed with her hand and hurried out of the airport. The freezing air mixed
with the moist flakes that still drifted from the sky, clung to her hair and her wet eyelashes. She
wanted to curse herself as she felt the wind dry the mascara streaks to her cold cheeks. She hated
crying, and she hated that she cried in front of Kale, again. But it was as if she had broken down a
fucking dam and the waterworks wouldn t stop coming whenever she was around him. He was a
picture perfect reminder of what she didn t want, what she shouldn t want, and what she wanted
regardless of it all.
He was so different from her, her world so different from his, but they fit together like lock and
key. Two pieces that need each other to work.
She reached her car and slid inside, quickly turning the ignition and blasting the heat. She
lowered her visor and popped up the cover on the mirror. Her cheeks flushed from the cold, her eyes
red from her tears, her red lipstick smeared across her swollen lips she was a fucking mess. She
wiped her lips with her thumb in attempts to remove the smudges but all it did was give phantom
sensations of Kale s lips caressing hers. She sniffled and wiped the wetness away from under her
lashes then tried to remove the black streaks that fell from her eyes creating two long lines evidence
of her weakness.
They weren t coming off. Get a fucking grip, she told herself, before she shut the visor and
pulled out of the parking garage.
He said he wanted more. He said he wanted her, all of her. She shook her head, clearing the
words from her mind. He was gone. He was leaving and now she could get back to her normal
existence. She could write this off as a lessoned learned. Fool her once, shame on you. Fool her twice
shame on her she was a fool to think that their arrangement would actually work. Shame on her, yes,
definitely shame on her.
Chapter 13
It doesn t matter if I believe him or not, Ronnie said wiping the ink off Mic s back as she finished up
the last part of his tattoo.
It does, Angel. A man deserves to know if he is forgiven.
Who are you? Dr. Phil? He knows I forgive him, he didn t do anything wrong for me to forgive
anyway. It still doesn t change anything, she said as she rubbed the needle back and forth, as she
shaded in the tattoo.
I don t understand you. Why are you holding back?
God, he was seriously getting on her fucking nerves. You have never been with a soldier. Do
you know what it feels like to have the person you care about leave you all the time? Do you know
what it feels like to wonder what they are doing or where they are or if they are safe? The military is
a great life, sure the men are brave and their families are strong but I can t fucking do it again. I stuck
through it with Brandon because we started this journey together and because I thought he was it for
me, but I m not going to do it again. I m not interested in falling in love. I m not interested in getting
my heart broken again. Even though she was pretty sure it already was.
I blame you, ya know. I should have never let you tell me that I should sleep with him. Ronnie
pulled the tattoo gun away and wiped his back with a little more force than necessary.
Mic sucked in a breath and spoke through his teeth. Eh, you can t stay mad at me forever. You
will get over it. But you might not get over him.
There is nothing to get over, she said, trying to convince herself more than Mic.
Keep telling yourself that, Angel. Keep telling yourself that.
Almost a month had passed since Kale left and Ronnie had received a few emails from him but
that was it. She didn t know how he got her email address, but he did. They were always short and
sweet, nothing deep or disheartening. He wrote her about his days and about his men, nothing too
detailed or too personal. He would ask questions about her days, about the shop, and about her house.
He even would tease her and ask her about her yoga classes. But, they were all questions that would
remain unanswered. She never responded back. There was no point to getting tangled farther into this,
whatever this was. He was gone, and she was selling the house and moving away. A fresh start.
Ronnie was in her room giving a remembrance tattoo to an eighteen-year-old kid who just lost
his father in Afghanistan. These ones were the hardest to do. It made her think of Kale and how she
embedded the names of his friends on his back. It made her think about the look in his eyes when he
indirectly told her about them. Damn it, it made her think about him, and thinking about him was
something she was trying hard not to do.
You got some flowers, Mic said as he entered the doorway to her room and leaned against the
frame, his big beer belly sticking out like a woman nine months pregnant.
Ronnie s eyes shot up to look at Mic who was holding a small white card in his hands. More
fucking flowers? Send them home with Harold again. I know his wife loves the weekly bouquet of
roses. At least all of Brandon s apology flowers are scoring Harold some major brownie points,
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