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Rose

As I watched him sleep, Warren opened his eyes, perhaps sensing me watching him.

He smiled and patted the mattress. “Come rest,” he said.

I laid down beside him in my pajamas.

“You’re a bit overdressed,” he teased, putting his hand on my stomach.

“We need to talk,” I said seriously.

He rolled over, propping himself up with his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“That man you were talking about earlier?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He just called me.”

Warren blinked. “What? How?”

“He saw my article online after I posted it an hour or so ago. It didn’t take him long to find me.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be afternoon over there right now. Early evening, maybe.”

“He said you got some of the names wrong and that he can get the feds off your back by proving our innocence.”

“But I’m not innocent. I already told you I was involved.”

“Yeah, but he said he could help us. We have to go see him.”

“Whoa, hold on a minute. That’s crazy. We don’t know this guy or even what information he supposedly has for us. Sounds like a trap to me.”

“I didn’t trust him before, and it blew up in my face. I don’t want to make the same mistake again, Warren.”

He sat up. I placed my hand on his back, wanting to make love to him in that moment and make all of our worries fade away.

“Let’s do this then,” he said. “I can pay for us to fly there in the next few days. It’s not going to be easy.”

I sat up, my arm draped around his back. “Believe me, I remember my last trip to Afghanistan. This might be our only chance to clear your name.”

“If your story keeps spreading, I’ll have to do something. All eyes will be on me. We’ll have to make sure they’re seeing the full story.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

He stood up and walked over to my laptop. “Buying tickets to Afghanistan while naked. This is new for me,” he said.

I laughed and got out of bed. Exhaustion still racked my body, but something felt unfinished. My story would tarnish his reputation, but knowing that he still agreed to let me use his name—to me, that said love more than words alone ever could.

“There,” he said, spinning around. “We have two coach tickets leaving tonight at six p.m.”

“Shit,” I muttered.

“Exactly.”

“Should I stay up and sleep on the long flight or crash now?”

He shrugged. “It’s your call.”