I wasn't expecting to talk now. After my confession from earlier tonight, my defenses were weakened, and I was still feeling a bit raw. Yet, there was no way I could deny her request. Even if it meant my discomfort or her seeing the dark images that resided in my mind. The fact that she'd come back with me to Haywood said that despite my fears, she at least loved me enough to hear me out. That meant I needed to start talking.

I crossed to the bed and eased in beside her. The feeling of rightness which settled over me was only tempered by the knowledge that I would need to be more open and honest with her than I'd ever been. Talking about my feelings wasn't something I'd been good at, but I'd gotten better since moving to Miami.

Though I must admit, confiding in my psychiatrist is different than having an honest and open conversation with the love of my life. My psychiatrist wasn't capable of breaking my heart.

"I'm not sure where to start," I finally said after realizing she was waiting for me to begin.

She reached over, covered my hand with hers, and gave a squeeze. "How about you start where we stopped earlier? You re-signed your contract and went back in the wind."

"Right." I sighed. "Okay. Well…the mission my handler sent me on had a completion timeframe of three to six months. It was deep undercover, and the chances of getting killed were high." I stopped talking as I considered that angle. I'd been prepared to die on that mission. I'm always prepared for the possibility of death when on a mission. What I realized much later, was that I'd almost been eager to meet my end.

Steph squeezed my hand, pulling me back to the present. "Go on."

Without thinking, I let go of her hand and then shifted to lay my head in her lap. It would be easier to talk if I didn't have to see her face. She didn't form a protest and instead shifted to make it easier for me to get comfortable. Choosing to face away from her, I settled my focus on the far wall as I organized my thoughts.

"I have to admit that after what I did to you, I was ready to meet my end," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Taking on another mission, especially one as risky as they gave me, should have achieved that task." Damn, that admission was hard to make.

"Thank God that didn't happen," she said as she ran her fingers through my hair, brushing it away from my face.

"Thank Tank, Babe," I said. "He found out what I did, and he and Lester went to DC, found my handler, and ripped him a new one. Then they went above his head to General McGrath."

"Why?"

"We're not supposed to go out on back-to-back missions like that," I said as I shifted to drape an arm over her leg. "The fact that I demanded to leave immediately should have been a big red flag to my handler that I wasn't in a good frame of mind. Instead, he re-signed me without any mental health assessment. He sent me out without giving me proper downtime first."

The fingers she'd been threading through my hair stopped moving. "What an opportunistic asshole." The heat in her voice drifted over me, wrapping me in an invisible blanket of love. "I really want to kick his ass."

I smiled at her declaration. It wasn't lost on me that even after everything I'd put her through, she was quick to come to my defense. "I think the US military would have an issue with a civilian assaulting one of their people, Babe."

She snorted at my reply. "Well, I hope your handler lost his job, was strung up, or received whatever severe punishment the Army doles out."

"Oh, he did," I replied. "They demoted his rank and forced him to retire. Then with General McGrath's permission, Tank assembled an extraction team and came after me while Lester stayed behind to run Rangeman."

"Remind me to give Tank a big hug and kiss the next time I see him."

Tank would blush like a schoolgirl if Steph adorned him with any kind of praise. I smirked. "I'll do that."

Her fingers resumed their ministrations through my hair, helping to keep me relaxed. "How long did it take Tank to find you?"

"A little over a month," I replied. I'd been antsy and unable to settle the entire mission. Several times I'd argued with my second about directions and strategy. Looking back, I can now see how blinded and single-minded I'd been. If Tank had been any later, he probably would have been returning with not just my body but the bodies of my entire team. That thought caused a shiver to ripple through me that I hoped Steph didn't notice. I didn't want to have to share that information with her.

"So, what happened after he found you and brought you home?"

Thankful that she either didn't notice or was choosing to ignore my reaction, I focused on answering her next question. "I spent two weeks in DC with an Army psychiatrist, who deemed me well enough to go home but no longer fit to run missions." I fought back the cringe that wanted to follow those words. Even now, it's still hard for me to accept that I couldn't keep my emotions under control and instead tripped over the edge of sanity and fell into the abyss. Even if it was temporary, it was enough to ruin what I'd built.

"I'm sure that was hard for you to hear."

I focused on the tall dresser across the room as I considered her statement. "I'm not sure hard is the right word. Being a Ranger was everything, and being the best of the best was the only acceptable outcome. To know I'll no longer hold that title was crushing. Being a Ranger was my life, Babe. It was what I knew. To lose both it and you was almost more than I could handle."

"You'll always be the best of the best, Carlos," she replied. "You have tons of medals and camp records which prove that. Plus, even if you are retired now, you will always be a Ranger."

Of course, she was right, but that didn't change how I felt about the situation. In my eyes, I'd failed, and I don't deal well with failure.

"So, what happened when you got back to Trenton?"

I wanted to applaud her for being so determined to keep the conversation moving forward. It used to be the other way around, with me prodding her to continue talking.

"I had hoped that maybe I'd get a chance to try and repair our relationship. Then Lester told me you took a job with the FBI and moved to DC."

I'd experienced so many emotions when Lester broke the news. I'd been heartbroken that she was gone, happy that she wasn't with the cop, and proud as hell of her for taking such a big leap. In my mind DC was manageable. It was only about three hours from Trenton, and I could always look into opening another Rangeman branch there. With all our government contacts we'd have plenty of civilian work. That thought was ground into dust the moment Lester handed me her letter.

"He gave me your letter." A sharp pain sliced across my chest as memories of reading her letter skittered through my mind. I'd read that damn letter so much that the paper was now tattered and torn, and every word was seared into my brain.

"After that, I'm ashamed to admit I fell off the ledge a second time. I spent a solid month drinking myself into oblivion every day."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I was trying to numb the pain of losing you," I replied.

She sighed deeply. "I'm only one person, Carlos. You still had your family, your friends, and your business to focus on. It might have taken some time, but eventually, you would have gotten over me."

She had no idea just how wrong she was. "You don't get over your soulmate, Babe."

"So, is that when you decided to move to Miami?"

Interesting how she chose not to acknowledge my soulmate's comment. Did she not feel the same way about me? For a moment, that thought dominated my brain. Then I remembered she'd asked another question. I'd need to circle back to my comment later.

I nodded, and in turn, rubbed my cheek against the stretchy material of her yoga pants. Oh, how I desperately wanted to feel the warmth of her soft skin instead. "Tank decided I needed a change of scenery." The ugly truth was, I needed to try and get my head on straight, and I couldn't do that if I stayed in Trenton. "There were too many memories of you here."

"That's partly why I left," she confessed. "Too many memories of you here. Plus, without you, if I'd stayed, mom would have continued her meddling ways of trying to set me up with every eligible bachelor in the burg, or worse yet, Joe."

The guilt I've lived with for the last two years surfaced again. I slowly shifted in her lap so I could look up at her. "I'm so sorry, Stephanie."

"You're not the only one that's sorry, Carlos," she replied as she looked down at me. Even as she spoke, she continued lacing her fingers through my hair. The gesture was calming and intimate, and made me feel loved. "I knew something wasn't right with you when you returned, but I chose to be spoiled and pouty about your demands instead of going after you and identifying the problem. Maybe if I had, we could have avoided all this heartache."

I snagged her free hand with mine and brought it to my lips as I stared at her. Never did I think I'd ever be in this position. "You had a right to be upset, Babe. I made unreasonable demands on you."

Several silent minutes passed while she continued to play with my hair with her other hand as we stared at each other. "Can I ask you another question?" she asked.

"Anything, Babe."

"If I didn't write that letter telling you to stay away, would you have come after me in DC?"

It was a valid question that needed an answer, but the truth would be painful. "I don't know," I finally said, and even in the dim light of the room, I could see the hurt in her eyes.

When she didn't say anything, the need to explain drove me to continue. I wasn't going to tell her, but if we had any shot of being together, she needed the entire truth. "I didn't voluntarily leave Trenton, Steph. The core team decided I needed to go to Miami. With Bobby's help, Tank hauled my sedated ass onto the Rangeman jet. When I woke up, we were touching down in Florida."

I held her hand up and began inspecting her fingers as I forged ahead with my confession. Saying I was embarrassed didn't begin to cover how I felt about the situation. The words needed to be said, but that didn't mean I wasn't struggling with getting them out. "I'd been beyond livid when I realized what the guys did, but Tank refused to budge. He drove me to my Miami house and locked us inside. I turned out that he'd recruited Silvio and Ghost's help. The three of them helped me get sober. Then Tank brought in Doctor Mansfield."

I cut my attention from her fingers to her face. "The psychiatrist I keep on retainer for Rangeman Miami."

She nodded but didn't say anything.

"Anyway, those first few weeks were torture. Not having you in my life had created such a gaping hole in me all I did was hurt. It took me working with Doctor Mansfield for close to six months before I felt more like my old self. Don't get me wrong, the pain didn't go away. I just learned to deal with it. I also knew I should abide by your wishes and let you go."

"It's funny," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Everytime someone knocked on my apartment door, I expected it to be you. Every time my cell phone rang, I hoped it was you. When I finally realized you really weren't coming after me, I grew bitter and angry with you."

She leaned her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes. "I know it wasn't fair of me, considering I was the one who told you to stay away."

"Even so, you deserved better than a broken soldier with a damaged soul, Steph. You deserved to be happy, and from what Lester said, you appeared that way in DC. So, as desperately as I wanted to come after you, I don't think I would have."

The moment her first tear appeared, I felt like a piece of shit all over again. Just as I knew it would, my answer was honest, but it had also hurt her.

"I wasn't happy," she finally said as she opened her eyes and looked down at me. "I thought moving would make my life better. In many ways, it did. I was finally free of Joe, my mother, and the burg gossip, but I also felt so alone."

The sadness in her tone tore at me. "You still had the guys, Babe, and I realize you didn't know it, but you still had me. All you had to do was pick up the phone, and I would have come."

She tried to smile, but the sadness remained in her eyes. "I knew I had the guys, but I thought you were finally done with me and moved on."

"Never," I replied. "Speaking of moving on, I'm kinda surprised that you didn't start dating again."

She shrugged. "Once I realized you weren't coming for me, I tried. A couple of my new friends set me up on blind dates, and I went out once with a guy from work. None of them made it past the first night or first base."

"Why?" I asked, then the air stalled in my lungs with the intensity of her gaze as she replied.

"They weren't you."