Authors Note Thank you so much for all your very kind reviews, follows and favorites. They mean so much to me. A thank you to Threemagpies for her feedback for this chapter. Love from Love

The scent of the ocean in her hair

Chapter 3

She can feel the shift in the air. She can sense the change in the landscape. The colour of the sky is deeper. The light is softer and richer at the same time. That light covers the small Mexican town on the horizon in front of them in a late afternoon pastel kind of gold.

Sunset is getting closer. Charlie is happy to feel the ground under her boots again after a full day on the road on her horse. She stretches and lets out a slow, deep breath. Her muscles welcome that breath after all those hours when it was her and a saddle.

They make sure they keep out of sight when they are guiding their horses towards a line of trees on the north side of the town.

Miles stops, turns towards the both of them and then looks at Charlie and Bass, who are now standing in front of him. 'Okay... listen up.'

Miles looks at Charlie. 'No guys.' Charlie crosses her arms before her chest in an amused way. 'No beach parties...' Miles looks at Bass now, '...no booze and no whores tonight. We will leave at dawn.'

When Charlie looks at Monroe's wide eyes that are filled with disappointment, she is unable to stop the sound of her honest laughter that suddenly fills the air around them.

Monroe looks at her with a pissed off blue in his eyes. He meets her clear blue eyes. His eyes light up when he watches how that gorgeous smart ass mouth of hers curls into a smirk. 'What the hell is your problem?'

'You know... you are actually really cute when you look so disappointed, Monroe. I think those matching sad eyes are adorable.' Her eyes lock with his.

Bass is not sure to be pissed or amused now. He does know he is still staring at her and that her mouth is really fucking close. His cock knows too.

She watches how his mouth opens just a little and there is hot wave of satisfaction burning inside her stomach before Miles tells them to stop their bullshit and keep on going. When she follows Miles, her wide smile is still there.


They find a small house just outside the almost forgotten quiet town. It's hidden between slender trees and the weathered wood of the walls has seen many years. The salt of the ocean and slow steady breeze have slowly claimed the wood.

The rooms of the house are small and dark and the wooden floor creaks in protest under Miles' weight when he walks in.

Charlie forgets about their mission and the camp they will raid tomorrow and barely hears Miles being Miles when he comments on all the crap he finds inside the house. She just knows there is a new sound that reaches her, one she has never heard before. On she is registering fully now she allows herself to hear it. She turns her head towards the deep sound.

Right before they walk inside the house, Bass can sense a shift within her. He can see the exact moment she truly hears the ocean for the very first time. And fucking hell, she is beautiful, there in the last light of the day.

Bass looks at her. Golden light falls on her face, her hair brushes her cheekbones. Her eyes soften, her shoulders relax and there is something in her eyes that is so different from the though hard Charlotte he knows, that she is breaking his fucking heart.

Charlie is not sure what she hears but then she slowly realizes it is there. She slowly understands what she is hearing when the deep flowing sounds reach her. Her mind shows her pictures of the ocean, pictures she has only seen in books.

Miles walks outside. He looks at Charlie who is listening to the sound of the waves. 'God, you are a hick.' There is sarcasm in his tone.

Bass' eyes shoot annoyed thunder at his brother. He feels a stupid wave of protectiveness for her that is now flooding his blood. His voice is low and rough and filled with deep irritation that is aimed at Miles. 'Don't be such a dick.'

He knows Miles is not being a dick on purpose. But when he walks past Miles and into the house he shoots another annoyed steel look at his brother.

Charlie hears their voices in the distance when Miles follows Bass into the house. And right then and there she knows Miles can say all he wants, but she is going to see the ocean. Tonight.


She waits until Monroe and Miles are bickering about the no whores and no booze at the local bar before the raid policy before she sneaks out. Because she wants this moment all for herself.

She finds a small path with shells hidden in the sand, that connects their house to the beach. The overwhelming new sounds seduce her senses with every step she takes towards what makes her heart beat faster in a new, never felt before, way.

She kicks of her boots at the end of the short path where it flows into the sand of the beach in front of her.

And then, it is there. All of it. Blue and wide. It is blue, so blue. It's everything. In that moment, it is everything to her. The smooth breeze is filled with salt and golden warmth. It softly touches her skin.

The scent of the ocean and the shape of the waves and the endless wideness of the ocean fill her.

And for the first time in a very long time she feels alive. The ocean fills her with something else, something other than death or hurt or impossible choices. She doesn't have to be anything or anybody to anyone, here on this beach in Mexico.

She just lets the ocean air fill her lungs. She slowly sits down. Her bare feet soak up the warmth of the soft sand. The way the light plays with the colours of the water and the wind lifts up her hair, polish the raw hard edges in her heart.

And she just sits there. And there is no need to fight, no need to feel things that are too hard to feel. It is just her and the beach and the waves and how the water moves. And the light that is changing now the day is slowly moving into the night.


Miles hears Bass' boots behind him before he sees him. He can't sleep until she is back. And he knows he should be more surprised that Bass somehow knows. But somehow, these days on the road and the both of them being whatever the hell they are, make old brotherhood return. And he can't stop it. He can't explain it to Rachel. He doesn't have to explain it to Charlie, who seems to understand it.

He can't count all those late nights from hell where Bass had sat there, next to him, shoulder to shoulder, making sure he did not have to face the darkness of another long night, old demons and too much whiskey, alone.

He doesn't look up. His eyes are still resting on slender shoulders in the distance on the beach. Miles' elbows are resting on his knees and his back is leaning against one of the walls of the small house. There is a slow kind of raw sadness that fills his deep eyes.

Bass looks at his brother before he sits down next to him. And he can see the painful heartbreak for her in his brother's eyes. And what breaks them both right the hell now, is knowing how much of these days, she deserves.

Hell, she deserves all of them. She deserves days without bloodshed or running, fighting and killing. She deserves them so fucking badly. But she never seems to get them. None of them do these days.

But she doesn't even know that world they got to have. A world of pretending to be soldiers and chasing each other on long summer days, of giggling sisters and the warm arm of a father around your shoulder, and a patient mother with a strong heart and kind eyes, and girls and first cigarettes and first beers.

She doesn't even know what she could have become, how different live could have been, for her. For all of them. That thought is torturing his damn mind over and over again and swells like a painful throb in his chest.

They don't talk when they both look at the small path on their left. Her leather boots are left behind at the end of the path that she has followed from their safe house to the start of the beach. Both men watch her when she watches the ocean for the very first time in the changing light. Her hair is casually brushing her shoulders.

Neither of them are willing to admit to the other what it does to them, seeing something in Charlotte they never ever saw before until this night and that reminds them so much of the men they used to be. They don't have to.

They already know.


She never sleeps well before a fight. Her body is too ready for whatever will be next. Her mind is already filled with the feeling of her crossbow in her hands and the position of her knife against her hip.

But the ocean has softened the roughest edges of another raid and another fight that sunrise will bring to her and gave her a couple of hours of deep dreamless sleep.

When she wakes up, the reassuring sound of waves flows into the dark room. She can taste the ocean on her lips. And then, there is another reassuring but a lot more annoying sound reaching her through the wall on her right. The sound of her uncle snoring.

She tries to stubbornly tune out the sound of the low waves of snoring from Miles. But not only is she awake now, she is also thirsty.

And somewhere far away in her thoughts she knows it is past midnight and that it's another day on the road in another safe house. And that it is her birthday. But she can't think of that. She won't. She can't. So she lets the nightly sounds of the ocean outside drown that thought.

Her feet touch the wooden floor when she gets out of her bed. The moonlight breaks the dark and fills the house with grey and soft light in the darkness. She walks to Miles' bedroom and finds him passed out on a bed that is too small for him. With a grin at the sight of a tall uncle and a stupid small bed her eyes follow the necklace that is always there around his neck.

His breathing changes for a moment, but she knows that he knows it is her. Her fingers brush his shirt when she adjusts the blanket over his shoulder

Bass watches her moving a damn the blanket around his brother's shoulders from his place in the kitchen. His mind is already filled with strategies and destroying that patriot camp fifteen miles south west of their current safe house. And maybe Miles can sleep anywhere he fucking wants, he can't. Not when a fight is so damn close.

His fingers are eager and hungry, waiting for the feeling of the cool metal of his blades and gun. He is already breathing the fight that is ahead of him, and them, together with the satisfaction of blood and revenge.

Maybe he should look the hell away, but she is right fucking there in his brothers room across the hallway. She has not seen him. Yet. She is all bare feet, slender toned bare legs and in her tank and some damn fucking panties. He is silently cursing when the fabric of her tank plays with her curves and smooth skin when she adjusts the blanket over Miles' shoulders

He has to place his weight on his other feet when his cock rebels inside his damn pants. He takes another swig from Miles' emergency whiskey. His mind screams at him she is not wearing a bra when he watches how her tits move under that tank of hers when she walks outside Miles' room. As far as he is concerned, Charlotte without a fucking bra so damn close in the middle of the fucking night, is an emergency.

He lets more whiskey burn in the back of his throat, trying to sooth his cock when she walks towards the kitchen.

Her mouth is still dry and she is still thinking about water, when she realizes he is there. All of him. Leaning against the kitchen counter. He is inher way. Because the bottle of water she wants is standing right behind a wide chest and smug blue eyes. The asshole knows.

Without talking and with the feeling of his eyes on her she grabs the bottle of water from the kitchen counter that is standing behind him. She drinks from the cool water. After she removes some drops of water from her lips with the back of her hand, he offers her Miles' flask of whiskey.

She smirks at him before she accepts it and puts it to her lips. 'Couldn't help but steal his whiskey?' her voice sounds a bit raw from the lack of sleep.

'Like you have not figured out where Miles keeps his whiskey, genius.' Bass has to fight back a honest grin while he ignores how hot as fuck her voice sounds hours after midnight.

His mind flashes to images of how raw he could make her sound, after he showed her what he could to do her. He swallows and looks to the floor in front of him. But it is impossible to ignore her tonight.

She leans into the kitchen counter next to him. The wood of the cabinet behind her is pressing against the back of her legs. Knowing her bare leg is touching his jeans. But he is not moving, so she is not either. His strong, muscled upper arm brushes her breast.

This is not the first time he catches her in just her tank and panties. After almost two years on the road she is used to so much of him so close to her.

This is not the first time she can't sleep and she finds him awake as well. Brooding and thinking, his eyes staring in the distance, knowing he is with their next fight.

This is not the first time she somehow finds him next to her, sharing whiskey and with a deceptive indifference in his eyes. After a fight, after another fight from hell with Miles. When he can't sleep. When she can't sleep. When sunrise is still too far.

But tonight, there is more in this small kitchen in this small house in a sleepy Mexican town near a beach.

When she gives him Miles' flask and his hand reaches for it, his eyes meet hers when she tilts her head to look at him. She is not sure if it is the heat in his eyes or the warmth of his breath she feels on her face.

But then she realizes it doesn't matter. It is still him and so much of him. And her mouth is suddenly dry again. She lets the moment burn between the both of them.

But this is her and this is him, so she takes a step away from him. Casually thanking him for the whiskey with a smirk that feels too forced. Telling herself she needs to at least try and get some sleep.

Telling herself this lonely moment and some of Miles' whiskey she is sharing with him does not mean anything.

She almost makes it to the door when his low voice fills the kitchen and the space between them. Making her freeze and unable to move.

'Happy birthday, kid.' She doesn't look up. She can't. She feels his rough low voice inside her belly when his words echo in her head.

And when she is finally able to allow herself to meet his eyes her heart makes a small jump she can feel inside her chest and then it starts to beat with a new force. He remembers. He knows. He remembers and he has opened his stupid mouth. She should be pissed. But she can't. Because there is so much low, raw, deep honesty that radiates from his eyes and creeps into his voice.

She can't be pissed. Not when he shows her something new that rips open something inside of her. Something she knows she can't put back where it once was.

It's not about her stupid birthday. It's not just about him remembering that, although she has no clue in hell why he would know and why he would even care.

It's about that look and about those eyes of him that always seem to be there and that linger on her too long. It is the rare vulnerable gentle look in his eyes only she gets to see. He hides it well, this part of him. But somehow, with her, he changes in something he, they, should not be.

It is about the smouldering look in his eyes that makes her forget to walk back to her room.

Bass is not sure what she is going to do. But then, she fucking looks at him like she had done once before on those steps in front of that church on the night he arrived with Davis and at the end of the day where he had lost Connor and had made a choice to fight with Miles. With her.

And it is the smallest of nods, the fucking softest start of a strong honest smile with genuine open surprised gratitude in her eyes that makes it suddenly painful to breath.

She meets his eyes and doesn't look away. And he forgets all about strategies. The world out there can burn to the ground right the hell now, because when he looks at her, she doesn't look away.

When she walks to her bedroom, he can still feel that damn smile of hers and everything she did not say with words, written in her eyes, inside his damn chest like a fucking bullet wound.