every feeling she’d ever had for him had been magnified a hundredfold, and she turned her face against him, tears slipping down her temples. He was everything to her. Everything. And she was grateful for this reprise. So grateful. She wanted to tell him what was in her heart, but she knew it would only make things that much worse.
They had already said their piece. Tristan had made his decision and it was final. He wouldn’t allow her to wait around for him when he wasn’t sure he would ever be available to her either physically or emotionally. He wasn’t going to let her even have hope that down the road he might change his mind.
He was going back into combat, and it terrified her that she would never know how he was doing.
He said he had to get it all straight, assimilate all that he had learned, all that Amber had made him think about.
Amber caught the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his damp hair, emotion upon emotion piling up in her. It was as if they were fused together by desperation, by their individual sorrow, by all the things they couldn’t say, had already said, and it was too much.
Far too much. And it got worse when she realized his face was wet against hers.
Not this warrior. Not her hero, her anchor. Not that kind of anguish. Clenching her jaw to contain the awful pressure in her chest, Amber shifted her hold, trying to completely enfold him, trying to tell him without words that she would do anything to keep him safe.
“It’s okay, baby,” she said softly, wiping at his cheeks with her thumbs. “It’s okay.”
Shifting his hold, Tristan caught her by the face, then softly—so very softly—kissed her, his mouth warm and moist and unbearably gentle. Amber was blindsided by his gentleness, this man who had been all kinds of grumpy when she’d first met him. So closed down.
As he deepened the kiss, tightening his hold on her, they needed no more words. Just actions. They moved together, against each other, taking and giving, holding and letting go.
In the morning when she woke, he was gone, the scent of him lingering on the linens as she buried her nose into the pillow next to her head.
Heartsick, she got up, dressed and took her luggage downstairs. It was over. She knew it was over. The shower was going when she passed the bathroom.
Chris was in the kitchen with Vin and they were discussing sports.
Tristan was at the table, looking disreputable with his unshaven jaw and his disheveled coal-black hair. So it was Beau who was in the shower. For a moment, Tristan drank her in, then Vin said, “Morning! Tristan was telling us you make some mean pancakes. Think you could whip us up a batch?” He gave her the disarming Vin smile that had won him his fiancée, Sky.
Chris leaned back into the counter and eyed her. “Sia makes mean pancakes, too. Rafael loves them. I’ll have to see how they measure up.”
“Rafael is his adorable little boy,” Amber said, giving Tristan a soft look, one he returned.
“There’s soon to be another little adorable in the house. Sia’s pregnant again.”
“Chris, that’s great.” Amber hugged him and he tightened his hold on her. Vin encompassed them both.
“Group hug!” he said, making her laugh. God, she loved these guys.
Tristan smiled and said, “Ah, Agent Vargas, now you’ve done it. Amber loves a challenge.”
She sure did, but she’d somehow fallen short with Tristan and she couldn’t help it. It rankled and created a tiny bit of heat in her. Lifting her chin and rolling up her sleeves, she headed for the stove.
“No one beats me at pancakes,” Amber said. Her cell rang and Tristan reached for it, then his eyes narrowed. He picked it up and answered it.
“Listen, pal, stop calling Amber.” She could hear Pete’s puzzled voice on the other end of the line. “Who am I? I’m the guy that thinks Amber is the most beautiful, toughest goddamn woman on this planet. You. Blew. It. Don’t call her again. She is so not interested.” He calmly disconnected the call and set the phone down on the table.
Beau started to clap, Vin grinned like a fool, and Chris laughed outright.
Afterward, full from one of her best batches, even Chris had to agree they were better than Sia’s, but he swore them all to secrecy, she rose. Amber reached out and tucked a folded piece of paper