I lean up and kiss him quickly. “What’s my punishment, Lance Corporal?”

He groans from deep in his throat, dipping his head. “Aren’t you sore?”

“A little,” I admit.

“Need me to kiss it better?”

I nod.

He smirks.

Then his phone goes off.

Dave: What are you doing, handsome?

Dylan: Gettingxmoney and ducking bitches.

He throws his phone across the room.

Then he kisses me better.

So much better.

Thirty-Eight

Dylan

I can’t tell you how many times I tried to remember her exactly the way she is; sleeping peacefully on her stomach, her hair a mess, her mouth parted, her breaths even.

So many nights I’d try to picture it.

And my memories didn’t do her justice.

The second I saw her yesterday sitting on a chair, the flames of twenty-one candles lighting her beautiful face, eyes closed and her entire body tense with the strength of her wish, something in me switched. I’m not exactly sure what it was or how to describe it, but somehow, saving the world didn’t seem as important as saving her.

I lean down and press my lips to her temple. “I’m going to take Bacon for a walk,” I whisper.

She mumbles something incoherent. Then a second later, she sits up, fully alert. “I thought you were a dream,” she says through a smile.

“No dream, baby.”

She stands quickly and moves to the bathroom. “Twelve days and counting. Give me five. I’m not missing out on a second with you.”

We take Bacon for a walk to Dad’s house. We have breakfast with Eric and Dad and catch up on everything that’s been going on since I’ve been gone. Not a lot has happened, apart from Eric taking over my old room again and Sydney moving in. I guess that last one’s kind of a big deal. Apparently Sydney had been living with her ex (awkward), which was something Eric wasn’t too happy with. They argued for a long time about it. In fact, it was the only thing they argued about. Eric wasn’t willing to leave Dad so he asked her to move in. Eric says she’s been slowly making the house a little homey. You know, besides the two recliners and frozen dinners. Her and Dad get a long well. They always have. And I’m glad Eric thought to stay with him because honestly, Riley wasn’t the only reason I chose to stay so close to home. I’d hate to think what his life would become if we were both far away.

Bacon sits at the table. Literally at the table. He’d come with Riley to visit often and now they have a baby’s high chair all set up for him. His favorite food? Bacon.

“Doesn’t that make him a cannibal?” I ask.

Eric laughs. “It’s not like he’s a pig eating pig, D.”

“Oh yeah.”

Riley smiles up at me on the walk back home. “Have I mentioned that I’m happy you’re home?”

“A few times.”

She squeezes my hand tighter. “It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“It is, babe. I’m just glad you’re not shacked up with some other guy.”

“Shut up,” she says, her head throwing back with her laugh.

“Seriously, Ry. Were you tempted?”

“Not for a second.”

“Anyone try?”

Her face falls, her nose scrunched a little.

I stop walking and turn to her, eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Dylan, it’s so not important.”

I know it’s not, but watching her squirm and seeing the blush form on her cheeks is fun. Regardless of how I felt when I left her, the time away had given me perspective. I trust her with our love. I trust her with my life. It won’t stop me from acting like a dick just for shits and giggles though. I dip my head, looking into her eyes. “Riley. Name and address?”

She looks away, her cheeks getting redder. Fuck, she’s cute. “He’s just that student vet who volunteers at the shelter. You met him yesterday. Bryce…”

I keep a straight face, feigning an anger that doesn’t exist. “He asked you out?”

She nods.

“And what did you say?”

“I said I was yours, Dylan.”

I suppress my smile at her words. “And he left it alone?”

She nods again, her throat bobbing with her swallow. She’s so nervous. So cute. “Swear he never brought it up again.”

“And you still see him?”

“He’s a volunteer, D.”

“Right.”

She grabs her phone from the pocket of her sweatshirt and starts typing away.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sending him a text to warn him.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. That he’s probably going to wake up one day with a dildo glued to his ear.”

I can’t help but laugh. She puts the phone away and a second later, my phone chimes with a text from her—his name and address.

“He asked Heidi out at my party.”

“He did?”

I nod. “And I like Heidi and I like him, so just don’t do anything permanent, okay?” She leans up and kisses me once, and when her feet find the ground I just stare at her. At her perfect smile, her perfect messy hair, her perfect eyes, her perfect everything.

“You’re being very understanding,” I tell her. “And very forgiving of my future actions.”

She shrugs. “It’s because I know you, flaws and all, and I’m madly in love with you anyway.”

We spend the rest of the day at home while I take in everything new about the place since I’d left. She’d chosen a color for the kitchen cabinets and had unscrewed, unhinged, cleaned, sanded and painted them all on her own thanks to something called Pinterest. I’d heard Cam talk about it in the past so I asked her what it was.

Guys.

This is really important.

If you ever read this… Never, under any circumstance, and I mean ever, ask your girl to show you her Pinterest. Ever.

Six hours later, my eyes are bleeding. Not literally. But come on. There are only so many different techniques a throw can be thrown on a bed before it just looks like a fucking piece of fabric thrown on a shitty fucking bed.

I wonder if she ever thought that about cars.

“So you’re into all this stuff now?” I ask, shutting the laptop screen to aide my bleeding eyes.

We turn to each other from our seats at the kitchen table. She shrugs. “Not really. I just do it when I’m bored. I thought you were into it!”

“What?”

“Yeah. You were asking all these questions and telling me to google stuff,” she says.

“I was just trying to sound interested, Ry. Like you did with my car stuff.”

“What?” she says.

“Huh?”

“Did we just waste…” she looks at the clock on the wall. “… six hours!”

I laugh. “I was trying to be nice!”

She stands quickly and stomps her foot. “You know what we could’ve been doing in those six hours?”

I get up, grab our mugs off the table and put them in the new dishwasher. “What would you rather be doing?” I ask, leaning back on the counter and facing her.