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Chapter 1
Here
She is standing in the middle of an ocean of uniforms, the scent of cigars and whiskey and smiling wives who won't let their husbands out of their sight every time they think she gets too close.
The late afternoon flows through the bar Blanchard likes to use for his parties when he is in town. The war is slowing down. The whole continent is slowly getting back on its feet.
She is here because Miles had to be here. Her first reaction when Miles had asked her to be here had been short. The no had been there together with the are you freaking kidding me in the blue of her Matheson glare.
But then he had told her about all the whiskey that would be there. And she had told herself that maybe things would not be so bad.
She was wrong.
Being General Matheson's niece means that everybody wants to have a piece of her today. Charlie is talking to a couple of high ranking officers whose names she can't remember because she doesn't give a shit about them.
Fifteen long minutes ago she became part of a circle of boring uniforms and endless lifeless conversation. She's listening to an asshole who cannot shut up about a poker game he had won last week. Miles is standing across the room and next to the bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a woman she doesn't know close.
She knows the truth. She knows his life before her will always be there. She knows a part of him is and will be that General. Two summers ago their war against the kaki threat had started. Miles had been a General again before fall had been over.
She knew Miles would be unable to walk away from this fight until it was over. She had felt the same. She had just nodded her silent approval when he stood before her on that cold autumn morning. His eyes had been filled with asking her to understand why he needed to do this. His necklace had reflected some of the early morning sun when she had watched how much her understanding him had meant to him.
But she can still see the man behind the dark eyes and the uniform he is wearing again. It is one of the reasons she fought and still fights so hard for him. And she knows her being a part of his life keeps some of his demons away. He does the same for her.
She reminds herself that there is not enough whiskey in the world to get through one of Blanchard's parties if Miles dares to ask her again. Next time she is staying at home, in her jeans and tank and with a bottle of something good to drink on her porch of the small house she is renting just outside Willoughby.
She watches how Miles grins when a brunette smiles at him. She makes a silent promise he won't be grinning after this party because she will get her revenge.
She hides her irritation under a cool smile when the guy on her left who introduced himself as John, starts talking to her. She is about to answer another question that she doesn't want to answer but the words just die before they come out.
It feels like a cold winter breeze joins her next heartbeat. Because there he is. Her body and mind, and treacherous heart, immediately recognize the wide shoulders in the crowded space around her. The deep blonde curls. The strong lines of his neck. The control and charm. The cool steel of his eyes and the uniform that makes him look even taller. He has kept the scruff, but his leather jacket is gone.
Her whole body is ready to fight and escape. There is nothing left to feel and think about but him and his tall presence so close. She is almost trembling but she refuses to give into the sensations rushing through her body. She can't allow herself a moment of weakness. Not here. Not when his eyes meets hers again after such a long time.
And she is back. Her heart and mind make her return to all those places that made them who they were, a long time ago.
She is standing in front of him on a path in the woods, close enough to take in his sweat and to see the bruises on his face, telling him he is delusional while she is looking at the changes in his eyes she does not want to see. She is hearing the faint sound of rain again, near a fireplace while she is waking up.
She can see his eyes again, looking at her from within a cage he is sitting in, the afternoon on the day she will save his life. She can smell his leather jacket. She can hear the sounds of bullets under the cover of darkness. And his eyes, always there.
She can't see Miles anymore. The voices around her are meaningless. And when she is sure her heart cannot get any heavier, John sees him and gestures for him to join their small circle.
All her heart screams is no and yes at the same time.
She can see a small shift in his jaws when he closes the distance from where he was standing to her. To them, she reminds herself. He is not here for her. The rhythm of his boots on the wooden floor is certain and in control. Admiring stares follow him while he walks across the room like he owns the damn thing.
And then she is standing in front of General Monroe again.
'Monroe, good to see you.' The rest of John's words fade because all she sees is him. The way he looks at her overpowers everything else. '...Introductions...' He starts his round of names. 'This is my wife, Susana...and you know Jim.' The seconds flow away until he reaches her. 'And this is...' John continues but Bass stops him.
'Charlotte Matheson.' His voice is too deep, too personal and too low.
Her heart aches and rebels against the way she hears her name again. Her chest fills with the sound of his voice that brings back too much.
Bass' eyes fill with steel focus when he looks straight at her. 'We've met.'
She doesn't know what pisses her off even more. The formal way he is greeting her with cool eyes and a stiff nod of his head or all the ways her heart recognizes the warmth in his eyes and voice he hides so well for the rest of the world.
'You know each other?' One of the ladies on her right wants to know, looking from John to Bass.
For one long hopeful and dangerous second Charlie thinks the other woman is talking about her, but she doesn't seem to matter now Bass has joined their group.
John eagerly answers that question. His voice is laced with proud smugness. 'Yes, once in Philadelphia. You and Matheson always managed to find the best whiskey of the whole damn continent. You still have to tell me what your secret is Monroe.'
She watches how an effortless grin appears on Bass' face. Her heart is beating faster and at the same time her lungs still scream for oxygen.
Time moves on without her and she tells herself to breathe. The men want to know if he enjoys Austin. The woman just want to know everything.
And finally, when the grip of frozen time lets her go, her mind is able to hear the voice around her again. His eyes keep on locking with hers in such an intense way that he almost won't let her go and she has to fight him, and herself and everything she sees in his eyes.
And she is standing there, in the middle of a conversation that feels so surreal she is aching for fresh air and something more solid under her feet.
The woman compete for his attention, forgetting about their husbands. But he ignores them. All of them. Bass doesn't even look at them. He just looks at her.
'Can I get you another refreshment, ma'm?' A young man with a polite smile and a tray filled with glasses of cool cider in his hand suddenly moves her attention away from Bass.
'Some whiskey would be good.' She doesn't blink when she looks straight at him and his tray of cider.
The ladies around her thinks she is joking and start to giggle. When the young man realizes she isn't, an uncomfortable smile appears on his face.
When Charlie's eyes meet Bass' eyes she notices the familiar way at which his blue eyes light up at her answer. It drags her back to more places she doesn't want to return to. Philly. An empty swimming pool.
'Right away.' The man mutters, leaving her alone with a quick nod.
'Will your husband join us tonight?' Susana asks with a polite smile when she looks at Charlie.
It is the way tension suddenly moves through Bass' jaws that gives away how much he needs to hear the answer to that question. Charlie curses at herself for noticing it.
'No husband.' She answers the personal question with a firm tone.
'And how old were you again, honey?' The voice from another woman with deep eyes in a long lush dress is filled with haughty disapproval.
'25. ' She answers her too but all she wants to do is shut this bitch up.
Lucky for her, the men in the circle decide that poker is more important and they quickly change the subject.
She almost drowns in Bass' eyes again when her eyes find his. She stops herself just in time from licking her bottom lip in a nervous gesture. She tells herself to not give in. To breathe. Just like she would do in a fight.
Standing here is raw torture. But nobody else seems to notice. He does. Of course he does.
'Ladies...' Bass nods to the women in the group before he nods shortly at the other men, ' if you will excuse me... there is some business I need to take care of.'
'You haven't changed a bit, Monroe.' John raises his drink to salute him.
One steel nod towards her is all that she gets from him before he turns his back to her. The wall of blue eyes and what once was her and him in front of her disappears.
His uniform follows the line of his wide back and chest. His curls brush the nape of his neck. And just like that, he disappears into the crowd again.
And suddenly, her heart aches with the memory of the last time she saw him. She remembers her bedroom in the shadows of another morning on its way and with him there.
She thinks about the last time they had talked and the memory of the taste of her tears on her lips haunt her. And she has to watch how he walks away from her.
Again.
Author's Note I have been planning this story for a very long time and it is such a great feeling to share this first chapter with all of you today. Your thoughts and feedback are always welcome and your reviews and messages always mean the world to me! I want to thank threemagpies for her feedback for this chapter. Love from Love