Chapter Text
The sun had just started to kiss the line of the horizon, the sky a wash of cotton candy pinks, oranges and red, the blues overhead beginning to deepen. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the tension of the day starting to wear on you. The café had been slammed all day, a line had started even before you had gotten to work to open the shop; and the stream of people hadn’t eased at all. The weather had started to turn to cooler temperatures, autumn creeping in closer each day.
You’re so tired your work keys are heavier than normal, and all you can think of is putting one foot in front of the other. You had the next three days off, and the temptation to not return was stronger than ever. Between managers that didn’t seem to understand that their employees needed to eat and get more than three hours of sleep before returning to work, and customers who had little to no patience with anything other than what they wanted. You’re so focused on simply walking that you walked past your car, and the person leaning against it.
“That’s a long walk home, sweetheart.” The drawl knocked you out of your thoughts and you backtracked. Jake “Hangman” Seresin leaned against the driver’s side of your car. Aviator shades on, standard brown uniform neatly pressed, immaculate and so simple but it took your breath away. Not that you’d say it aloud. “Long day?” He held out his hand for your keys.
“I don’t think I’ve sat down for more than twenty minutes total, and that includes the times I hid in the bathroom.” You followed him around your car, getting into the passenger seat tucking yourself in before he closed the door.
He slipped in behind the steering wheel, “Yeah, Mona said that you left before dawn this morning, and I haven’t heard from you in a couple days.”
“Where’s your car?” You ask when he eases into traffic.
“Your place, Mona dropped me off. I promised her that I would make sure you eat and get a little bit of time to yourself.”
You hid your smile behind a yawn. Mona and Hangman could barely stand to be in the room for more than five minutes together. Your roommate had let her opinions about the cocky aviator known early on, and he had a fair share of complaints about her.
However, when it was just the two of you, he had confessed that Mona was the only other person he trusted to look out for you. You and Jake had grown up together, your fathers serving in the same company. He had followed in their footsteps, and you had gone into academia, and instead pursued literary degrees—which were essential for foodservice.
Somehow you ended up together drawn together by some magnetic fate. He had been stationed at Lemoore Naval station, and you had ended a nasty relationship and moved back down to California. You had literally run into him on the street and spent hours catching up.
“Can I be blunt?”
“Would you be you if you weren’t?” You turned to look at him. His profile in sharp relief in the setting sun, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”
“There’s no coffee in the world good enough to break your back over.”
“Considering your caffeine addiction, that’s a loaded statement.”
His jaw twitched, and when the car was stopped at a red light, the shades came down, and he looked at you. “Don’t bullshit me, we both know you’ll never win.”
“Jake, it’s a job. When I left Portland, I had a bag and like six hundred bucks in my account. I needed something to pad my account and get my feet back under me. I need a few more months and then I can start looking for teaching jobs.”
The car idles for a few moments, and you can see the tightness in his throat when he swallows. “I wish you had told me that you needed help.”
“Jake, we’ve talked about this.” You look out the window, avoiding his gaze.
“I’ve tried to get you to talk about it. You’ve brushed me off.”
“Because I’m not ready to talk about it.”
He nods tersely. “I understand that. But come on, I told you about the time I thought I had the clap. We promised that there wouldn’t be any secrets.”
“Jake, you telling me about your burning penis is not the same as me talking about a bad relationship.” You shake your head, “We were kids and as adults there’s some things that we need to back burner until we’re able to talk about them.”
The car behind you honks, and he snaps his attention to the road. “Fine, know that I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it.”
The shades are put back in place and the invisible wall slides back into place. Hangman is driving your car, and the purr of the engine reflects that. Sharp turns, just barely pushing the legality of the road. He’s fast and in charge and there’s something about him like this that makes you wet. He pulls into the parking lot of a diner, “I’m sorry.”
Two words that always made your heart twist when he says them. “I know.” You reach out, patting his thigh. “It’s just difficult Jake. I mean, our whole lives you’ve been the golden boy. I really fucked up in Portland, and I can’t even find the words to explain,”
His hand slides over yours, fingers interlocking. His hand is warm, calloused, and dwarfs yours completely. His thumb rubs over the back of your hand, before he brings it up, lips barely grazing your knuckles. Warmth blooms through you, a jolt of pleasure going straight to your center. You’ve thought about him like this, kept it buried for years because there are lines that you simply don’t cross. But to have his mouth on your skin sent those thoughts spiraling back into your brain, burning through you like the first shot of vodka.
“It’s not your fault.” His voice is so soft that you’re straining to hear his words. He releases his hold on you and gets out of the car. The heat from his touch is still burning into your hand and you startle when he opens your door. “Come on, I don’t want Mona bitching at me that I didn’t feed you.”
You’re halfway through a second beer, a loaded plate of nachos between you. Jake is telling you a story of a training run, demonstrating the aerial acrobatics using sugar packets and sound effects. His smile is easy and brilliant, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he laughs after telling a bad joke. The waitress drops by your table, taking your order and dropping a fresh round of drinks at your table. His smile fades momentarily when his phone rings, and he glances at the caller i.d. He slides out of the booth, walking toward the door, and you catch the tail end of “This is Seresin.”
By the time he comes back the waitress had removed the plate of nachos and brought your entrees. He’s calm, steady, focused. “Everything okay?”
He nods, taking up his water glass, taking a drink. You notice his hand trembles slightly when he puts it down. “I got called up.”
You put your fork down, leaning closer to him. “Where?”
“North Island.” He says. “I got recalled to Top Gun.” He rubs at his face, exhaling. “This is incredible.” He chuckles and looks at you. “I’m up for a run that can’t be talked about over the phone.”
“Jake,” You breathe, his exhilaration contagious and you’re smiling as well. “Congratulations. I’m proud of you. This is incredible for your career.”
“I’m a given to fly it; I just want to know who they’re saddling me with.”
“If they’re calling you back, the caliber of the other pilots will be just as good.” You raise your beer in his direction and take a sip. “I’ll eagerly wait to hear all the details I can.”
He's quiet for a few moments, leaning back in the booth. The table shifts slightly, and you realize he’s bouncing his leg. Jake Seresin was outright giddy. “Come with me.”
You choke on a mouthful of potatoes before swallowing hard. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ve been talking about quitting for a while now. Mona said she’d help you out because that café is God awful. I’ve got more money than I can spend in a lifetime. You’ve always been there for me, and I know you’ve been there for Mona. Let us take care of you.”
You open your mouth to protest, and he continues.
“Come with me to North Island. Training is a few weeks, and you can give yourself some time to breathe. Stare out at the ocean, write, work on your resume if you want to. But you need to get out of here darlin.”
“You’ve been talking to Mona without me?”
“We’ll talk about the near apocalyptic issues at hand once you agree to come with me. It’s a six-hour drive from here to North Island.” He taps the table with his fingers. “Please, for something like this I need Lucky.”
The old nickname brought your attention to his face. He was serious, and it took a few moments for you to realize that your inhibitions had gone running out the door when he had come back after the phone call. “When do we leave?”
*********
The highway stretched out impossibly long. Hangman had shown up at your apartment somewhere between ‘oh god no’, and ‘no one should be awake let alone chipper at this hour’. He had wordlessly handed you a coffee, picked up your suitcase, stowing it in the trunk before getting you settled in the passenger seat, blanket tucked in around you; after Mona had released you from a hug. You had managed to sleep for a couple hours, but the siren call of road trips called to you.
“Can we get something to eat?” You asked. Jake was humming off key to the song on the radio. He smiled, reaching over, and patted your thigh.
“Should we stick with tradition, or just set ourselves loose in a gas station and suffer the consequences later?”
“Pancakes, or Doritos, skittles and jolt cola?” You pretend to think about it. “Throw in some beef jerky and you’ve got a deal.”
“I see your ability to eat trash hasn’t diminished.”
“Seresin, rule one of road trips is to have snacks that look like a five-year-old selected them.”
“As you wish,” He took the next exit and pulled into a gas station. “Did you want to drive?”
“You’re trusting me with your baby?” You take the offered keys. “No take backs.” You grin at him when he hesitates. You shove the keys into your pocket and head into the convenience store. Snacks acquired, you get into the driver’s seat, waiting for Jake to get into the car. He gets in, reclining the seat, arms crossed over his chest.
“Wake me up when we’re half an hour out?” His eyes were already closed, voice heavy with sleep.
“Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, “Too excited.” He shifts slightly, with a little grunt. “You manage to calm me down. S’why you’re my Lucky.” His southern accent is thick enough to walk on when he’s this tired. The edges of his face relax head tipping back to rest fully on the headrest. He drops off almost immediately, his breathing slow and even.
You find yourself singing along with the playlist he had put together. The drive was easy, the winding California roads pleasant enough—the ocean on one side towns flashing by on the other. GPS put you on the road into the town that had cropped up around the base. It felt like home, like all other military communities and part of you liked that you were here with Jake. Just the two of you. You glance over at him and he’s still asleep, body relaxed and peaceful. You come to a stop in front of a sprawling rambler with a wraparound porch.
“Jake.”
He stirs slightly before those brilliant green eyes blink open.
“Already?” He rubs the back of his neck, and the gravel in his voice makes your toes curl. He says your name with that rough voice, and it takes a couple seconds for you to find your own words.
“Yeah, sorry I let you sleep a little longer than you wanted. Figured you’d need it.”
He nods, scratching at his stomach. The hem of his t-shirt raises and there’s a sliver of tanned muscled skin. There’s a reason why you had to take breaks from being in proximity with Jake. Those boundaries that you had imposed on yourself shattered faster and faster each time you connected. “Talked to a buddy of mine, I’d sell someone’s left nut before I get stuck in the barracks, so he loaned me this place. There’s plenty of space for the both of us. Two beds and everything.”
“You’d end up on the couch if there was only one bed.”
“You’d banish the best pilot you know to the couch?”
“Between you and a mattress? Absolutely.”
“We could share.”
That rough voice and those words were entirely unfair. Your heart skipped a beat, and you flexed your fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter. That patch of stomach was still visible, and his grin was easy and so goddamn warm. “You snored the entire time I was driving. I’d never be able to sleep.”
“I may snore, but you talk in your sleep.” He’s opened the car door. “Let’s get the stuff inside, and then I need to go report.”
The house is indeed large enough for the two of you, and it doesn’t take long for you to put your belongings away. You can hear the shower going, and Jake’s off-key singing. The man loved music, couldn’t carry at tune if someone handed one to him in a bucket. You find yourself in the large sunny kitchen. Coffee located, the pot percolating as you manage to scrape together a breakfast from what’s in the freezer. You pour black coffee into a travel mug and wrap the hot breakfast burrito in a paper towel.
Jake breezes into the kitchen, dressed once more in his khakis, face clean shaven, his aftershave permeating your senses. You hand him the coffee and breakfast to go, and he grins, stepping closer to you. He’s warm and hair still damp, begging to be brushed back. He holds his breakfast in one hand, the other landing on your hip. You feel his fingers slide into your pocket, pulling the car keys from your jeans. There’s heat in his eyes and you can’t help yourself when your gaze follows the path of his tongue on his lower lip.
“Wish me luck?” His voice is soft.
“You don’t need luck. You have me.” The response is so natural that it comes without thinking.
“That’s my girl.” He winks. “I’ll probably be home late; I want to figure out who else has been called up.”
“I’m sure I’ll find something to entertain myself.”
“You should sleep and do absolutely nothing.” He's still so close, and it’s hard to keep any sort of sense to your thoughts.
“Be good, will you?”
“I always am,” he said with a wink. “I always am.”
****************
The next two weeks were spent on the beach, sun soaked, and ocean kissed. Jake occasionally intersected with your day-to-day. Training kept him on the base long hours, and when he did manage to stumble back to the house, he would fall asleep where he sat. You had him a text message one Friday that you were heading out the bar, and first round would be your treat if he joined you.
The Hard Deck was alive with energy, already crowded. You made your way through the press of people, finding a stool at the bar and ordering a beer. The energy is contagious, and you find yourself falling into a friendly conversation with a group of people next to you. Even without having a line of sight of the door, you know, somehow, that Jake has entered the bar. You look around one of the support beams to see him enter with a group of aviators all in their khakis.
“Hangman!” You nearly shout to be heard over the noise of the bar. He turns toward you and grins, leaning over to say something to a tall man with a moustache. They make their way over, subtly edging the others out of the way to join you at the bar. Introductions are made, Phoenix lighting up when Jake introduces you.
“So, you’re his lucky charm.” She leans against the bar, head tipped toward you. Jake and Bob had gone to secure a pool table, competitive barbs flying between the two of them, Rooster chiming in occasionally. “He’s talked about you a lot, when we run into each other on base.” She pauses. “You’re exactly like I imagined.”
“Please don’t believe anything that comes out of his mouth when he’s in uniform” You roll your eyes when she snorts. “Hangman exaggerates.” Something tugs at your mind with Phoenix’s statement.
“Yeah, but there’s truth behind those stories.” She taps her beer bottle against yours and nods. “Do you play pool?”
“I can.” You take a drink. “What are you thinking?” She’s got a mischievous grin, and her attention is now on Bob and Hangman who are setting up the table.
“You good enough to hustle and take their cash?”
“I like the way you think.” You take another drink of your beer, putting the bottle on the bar. “Split the pot?”
You and Phoenix win two rounds before Bob catches on. He shakes his head but continues to play. It’s easy and fun, the jokes and playful jabs flying back and forth. There’s no weight on your shoulders, and for the first time in a long time, you can feel that your smile is genuine. You catch Jake’s eye as he’s lining up a shot across the table and smile at him. His arm jerks, scratching the table with the cue.
Rooster lifts the cue from Jake’s hands. “I was wondering how long you would let them hustle you.” He tosses the cue to Bob and heads over to the piano.
“You cheated.” Jake has his around your waist, holding you close to him. His voice purrs against your ear, and it’s taking everything you have not to tip your head just right to feel his lips against yours. Maybe it’s the cheap beer, maybe it’s the lightness in your chest, or maybe it’s the smell of his cologne and the sweetness of the hard candy he’s got tucked into his cheek.
You can hear Rooster rattling the keys of the piano, anticipation palpable in the bar. “I played to my strengths.” He chuckles, and your heart thumps painfully in your chest when his lips brush your temple. “I need some air.”
“Come on,” He takes your hand, weaving through the crowd, and out the side door. Cool ocean air hits you, so does the quiet. You can hear Rooster’s piano playing, and his raspy baritone crooning an old love song.
“I wanted to thank you.” Your hands are in your back pockets as you look out at the ocean. Jake’s at your back, and you can feel the weight of his gaze. “I needed a reset, and I couldn’t see that for myself. You’ve always had my back, and I should have trusted the process.”
He clears his throat, and you look over your shoulder at him. He smiles, and it’s the smile that only you get to see. The one that is so simply Jake. The way his eyes crinkle and dimples on full display. He rubs the back of his neck, “I’ve always got you darlin. Don’t forget that.” He reaches for you again, and you let him pull you closer. One of his hands at the small of your back, the other holding yours.
“Slow dancing?” It comes out far breathier than you intended, unable to meet his eyes.
He doesn’t say anything in response, adding pressure to your back, pulling you flush against him. He’s humming along with the faint strains of music. The only other thing you can hear over your pounding heartbeat is the sound of his boots on the sandy deck. He’s magnetic, overwhelming your senses, your skin screaming out for more of his touch, wanting to know exactly how good his hands would feel sliding under the hem of your shirt and up your back.
You take a chance, rising up on your toes, one arm looping around his neck pulling him down to you. His lips land against yours. The sound that comes from low in his throat goes straight through you. He takes control of the kiss, tongue slipping past your lips, claiming your mouth. Every nerve explodes with electricity and all you can do is hold on as he kisses you again, and again. His hair is mussed, your fingers tangling in it, his hand sliding slowly up your back under your shirt. He’s swallowing your moans, whispering your name against your mouth. He’s breathing heavy, forehead resting against yours, drinking you in.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” You laugh nervously. His hand is so hot and heavy against your back, and you can taste him on your lips still. There’s a smear of your lipstick against his skin, and when you try to wipe it off, he catches your hand kissing your palm.
“Let’s go.” He tips his head toward the parking lot. “We’ve got early morning runs scheduled.” Disappointment must have flickered across your face, because he’s backed you against the railing of the deck, penning you in with his body. He leans in, “If I didn’t have to be up at the crack of dawn, I’d spend all night finding out just how many ways I can make you moan.”
“You think I’m an easy lay, Seresin?”
He growls and it goes straight through you. His hand drops between you, skimming down your stomach, along your hip, dipping between your legs, cupping the heat radiating from your core, rubbing you through your jeans. “Darlin, I know you’re already so fucking wet for me, and the only thing I’ve got on my mind is making that sweet pussy mine.” He winks, pulling away. “I’m going to go say goodnight. See you back at the house.”
You take the long way home, on the back roads through town, the ac blasting, and all the windows rolled down attempting to quench the heat burning you up. When you get home the front porchlight is on, the house dark. You trip over Jake’s boots when you come through the front door. It’s quiet, the door to his bedroom closed. There’s a moment where you consider crawling into bed with him, but the training is ever present in the space between you. It’s an incredible opportunity, and you wouldn’t want to distract him.
**********
Something shifts with the death of Admiral Kazansky.
Jake and the others were constantly in the air, tensions spilling over onto the ground at times. There weren’t any more sing-alongs at the Hard Deck, just poisoned words over the pool table and posturing. Hoping to hear from Jake, since you hadn’t had a chance to catch up with him in a few days you make your way to the bar. He’s not there yet, so you pull your phone from your pocket with one hand, a beer in your other. You look up when another group comes in, hoping that there’s a familiar face among them. Maverick, dressed in his whites approaches the bar, leaning over to whisper something in Penny’s ear. You see the subtle shift of emotions on her face, and she’s stepping out from behind the bar and leaving with Maverick.
You place a twenty on the bar, your half empty beer bottle on top of it, car keys in hand as you head for the exit. Tunnel vision takes over and you try to unlock the car, but Hangman is leaning against the door. You look up at him, heart in your throat. He’s looking past you, hands shoved in his pockets.
“I’m an alternate.” His voice cracks. “Fucking sidelined, I am the only one with confirmed combat kills and I’m sidelined.” He swallows, the tightness on his face leaving him cold and distant.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” Your heart is shattering for him.
His jaw clenches, eyes flickering toward you, then skyward. “We leave tomorrow.”
You close the distance, sliding your arms through his, hugging him tightly. “What do you need?”
He hasn’t moved to return the hug, his cheek resting on the top of your head. “You. I need my Lucky.” You step back, tugging on his arm until he produces his hand. You lead him down the beach, weaving between the dunes, the beach grass whispering in the breeze. You scramble up a slight rise, Jake hot on your heels. You sit on the edge of the bluff, and Jake sits next to you.
“An alternate huh?”
He nods, the click of his lighter and the acrid smell of paper catching light. He exhales blowing blue grey smoke into the air. He had picked the habit up in basic, and while deployed. For the most part he didn’t smoke unless he was dealing with emotional distress. “If something goes wrong, I’m backing them up.”
“They trust you to have their six.”
He nods. “Still fucking stings.” He scrubs at his eyes, before he’s laying back in the sand. “Phoenix and Bob are flying; Payback and Fanboy are the other dual. Mav’s taking point, and Rooster is his wing.” Another long drag, “if the shit hits the fan, I’m in the air.”
You lay back as well, the sand cool against your body. He shifts you slightly, your head resting on his chest. His fingers trace along your shoulder. “There’s no one better than you to be at their backs. You’ll make sure they get home.”
Jake laughs and it’s an empty, hollow sound. “Darlin, if they send me…”
“Then trust that they won’t.” You interrupt him. “Trust them. And if you’re sent, you tear shit up.” You pause, “You tear shit up, and you come home to me.”
“You want to talk about you and me before I go?” He offers you the cigarette and you wave it off.
“No, we’ll talk about that when you come home.” You say. “I’m still confused as to who owns my pussy.”
He laughs again, and there’s a bit more of Jake in the sound. “Point made. Don’t be surprised if I try to have you on the tarmac.”
“Pervert.”
“A man like me, and a woman like you? Why not show you off?”
“Because I dated an asshole who did a number on me?”
His hold tightens slightly. “We’ll talk when I get home.”
You’re quiet while he finishes his smoke. “I learned how to not be treated in a relationship.” You close your eyes, his heartbeat steady under your ear. “I have some things to unlearn, and I know I know that you’ll be there. You’re always there. And I’m sorry I didn’t reach out; I was scared and embarrassed…”
He kisses the top of your head. “You don’t have to darlin’. There’s also no chance for me to make it to Portland to kick his teeth in and be back here before I report for duty.”
“When do you report?”
“Five.”
“No, not enough time.” You sit up, looking down at him. He’s watching you as if you’re the only thing in the world. “You wanna make out?”
He laughs, reaching for you again. “Come here.”
Taking that as an invitation, you straddle him, hands resting on his chest to steady yourself. He grins up at you, hips rocking up under you. “Behave.” You nip his jaw before kissing him. His hands settle on your hips, fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt, his thumbs tracing small circles on your skin.
You get lost in the taste of him. Kisses along the line of his neck, sucking lightly on the pulse point that flutters under your lips. His hands skim up your torso, cupping your breasts. You pull away from him long enough to twist your shirt off, and you can’t help but grin at the groan that he lets escape. Inspired by his reaction, you reach behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra, shrugging out of the fabric.
His gaze is heavy, lingering, drinking you in. Jake sits up, settling you in his lap. He whispers your name, lifting your chin to look at you properly. The raw emotion in his eyes is overwhelming, and you move to cover yourself. His hands are gentle at your wrists, closing the distance between you with another kiss. Slow, easy, saying everything neither of you had the words for. He holds you close, his head tucked into the crook of your neck.
You’re not sure how long you sat there wrapped up together, the sound of waves and his heartbeat calming your nerves. “You good?”
“I am good darlin, I’m very good.” He lifts his head from your shoulder, blinking a little. His grin is a little sleepy and crooked. “If we go back now, I can get a couple hours sleep before I go.” He reaches for your shirt, helping you put it on. Your bra dangles from his fingertips and he winks. “I could keep this with me.”
“Yeah, wear it instead of your helmet.” You get to your feet, extending a hand to him.
“I think it would inspire fear.” He kisses your cheek. “There’s nothing that strikes terror in men’s hearts than simple plain white cotton.”
You shove him and he at least has the decency to pretend to be thrown off balance. He drives back to the house, hands tight on the steering wheel, sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine off. The street is dark, quiet.
“Jake?”
His jaw tightens and he nods. “Yeah,” He removes the keys and gets out, coming around to your side. He opens the door, holding his hand out to you. He kisses your knuckles, fingers interlocking with yours.
You’re lead back to his room, and you sit on the edge of the bed as he changes. He’s all hard angles and muscles, a few pale scars standing out in sharp relief against tanned skin. He’s down to boxers and a fresh t-shirt, standing in front of you, and for the first time since knowing him, he looks small. You reach for him, pulling him between your legs, arms around his waist. The cotton shirt under your cheek is soft from many wears, and it smells like home.
“Stay with me?” His voice is so soft, hesitant. “Please.”
“Yeah.” You look up at him, and he’s watching you through heavily lidded eyes.
He leans back, lifting the hem of your shirt, removing it. He helps you into another one of his old Navy T-shirts. A slight tug and you’re pulled to your feet. His gaze drops, fingers ghosting down your sides, unbuttoning your jeans. The denim is eased down slowly, and he drops to his knees, helping you step out of them. Calloused fingers graze your calves, along the inside of your thighs, up over your hips. He kisses your stomach before getting to his feet.
“We should sleep.” Hangman’s throat tightens as he swallows hard.
You pull back the covers, sprawling out in his bed on your back. “Come here.” You pat your chest, and he snickers. He crawls in next to you, resting his head on your chest, curling against your body. Your hands find his hair, fingers combing through it. He’s warm, his weight comforting. His shoulders are still tense, and you take a deep breath.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally locked myself in the pantry? I was stuck in there for three hours before Mona realized I was missing.” He snickered and shook his head. By the time you’re halfway through your story, his breathing had evened out a soft snore escaping occasionally.
The alarm goes off at 0345, and he lifts his head, blinking sleep away. He rolls off you, shuffling off to the bathroom. You hear the shower start, and you haul yourself out of bed. You start the coffee pot, wide yawns threatening to split your head in half. There’s a light knock on the front door, and you startle, glancing at the clock; 0415. You look through the peephole to see Rooster on the front porch, rubbing at his face.
“Coffee?” You ask when you open the door.
He nods, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
You head back to the kitchen, Rooster following behind you. “Hangman’s up, I think he’s almost ready.”
“I’m early.” The man’s voice was deep and rough. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“I think he dozed. He was pretty restless.”
Rooster arches an eyebrow, accepting the coffee mug. “I’m surprised you’re awake.”
“I normally drop him off when he deploys. It’s a habit not to sleep before he reports.”
“Didn’t mean to step on your toes.” Rooster says, hands wrapped around the mug, inhaling deeply. “I’m staying down the street, figured it would be easier to go in together.”
“One of your better ideas, Bradshaw.” Hangman enters the kitchen, plucking the offered coffee mug from your hand. “I see I’m not going to be the only one sleeping on the hop.”
“Phoenix was texting me all night. We all know how much rides on how we fly.”
“Did you want me to drive you in? I can go put pants on.” You say. Neither of them looks like they should drive.
“I mean you could take us in like that darlin’, but I may have to have some issues with some people.”
Rooster snorted and took a long drink of his coffee. “I’m staying out of this.”
Hangman shakes his head, “We’ll be okay.” He looks toward Rooster, “Bradshaw, give us a minute, will you? I’ll be right out.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” Rooster pats your shoulder as he leaves.
“Listen,” Jake says when the front door closes. “I’ll see you in a couple days.” He’s looking just past you. He rubs the back of his neck. “When I get back, we’ll talk.”
“Just a couple days,” Your smile trembles. “I mean the only reason I’ll know you’re gone is because there’s more breathing room with your ego not taking over everything.”
He snorts, “It’s not ego, if you’re the best. And darlin’, I’m the best.”
“I know you are.” You lean in and kiss his cheek. “Be safe, Jake.”
Jake fiddles with the chain around his neck, lifting his dog tags from under his uniform. He brings them to his mouth, before placing the chain around your neck. He tucks the tags under the collar of the shirt, the cool metal unexpectedly heavy between your breasts. “I’ve got another set in my flight bag, but I’m coming back for these alright. You hold onto them when you miss me.” He hugs you so tight that the words on the tip of your tongue are extinguished simply because you can’t breathe.
He pulls away and turns to go, the weight of the world already on his broad shoulders. It’s not until you hear the engine of a beat-up Bronco that you allow yourself to sink to the kitchen floor and cry.