Page 163 of Severed Heart

“Stop it, Soldier,” I scold gently before looking back to my nephew. For a brief second, I see a glimpse of the boy who waved me off at Celine’s feet the day before I left France.

“Au revoir, Tatie!”

“Au revoir, Ézéchiel.”

“I will come to you. We will talk soon, okay?”

Ezekiel gives me a slow nod, utterly perplexed by what’s transpired. Just after, Tyler ushers me out of the house and into the cab of his truck.

“I saw Alain,” I confess in a rush as Tyler turns the ignition, and I look over to see him eagerly searching me. “I saw him clearly.That night. I saw him coming toward me,” I start to shake again. “I saw his rage. I saw my death in his eyes.”

Tyler swallows and nods. “I’ll call Mom and have her meet us at the house,” he whispers before palming my hip and sliding me flush to him in the seat. “Hold onto me, General, and don’t let go.”

Face planted to his chest and inhaling his comforting smell, I don’t let go the whole ride back to the orchard.

Chapter Forty-Three

DELPHINE

THE BIRDS SINGtheir morning songs through the open windows as I unbox the last pillow, adding it to the set on the couch before glancing around the house with pride. Not only have I pried open my wallet recently, but I’ve also spent a fortune decorating. Never in my dreams did I think of myself as a decorator of any sort. But as I look around at the furnishings that Charlie—Barrett’s girlfriend—helped me to carefully choose, I can’t help but feel excited. Even with her four-year-old son, Elijah, constantly attached to her hip, we set the house up in record time.

Just five weeks in, and it’s done. The house itself and the view it provides from every single room is one I could only summon in my wildest dreams. A view that has had me smiling every day since Tyler and I had camped on the front lawn the night he gifted it to me. I had awoken the next morning living in my future, and the view of the land was only outdone by my soldier’s breathtaking smile. It was all I could do to keep from confessing my feelings for him as the sun rose. Instead, I tasked myself to make this a real home for us both with every imaginable comfort.

The house—built at the bottom of a valley—gives spectacular views of the surrounding hills and much of the orchard. Though it is small, and the bedrooms are tiny, it suits us perfectly, housing Tyler and me very comfortably.

The kitchen Tyler designed is a dream for me. It mirrors one of the nineteen-fifties, with the fridge and stove reminiscent of the era, both colored light blue. The dark aqua couch I chose and tan chairs are perfect with the designer pops of red throw pillows and other décor, keeping the look old-fashioned with modern comfort. My bedroom—which is the largest of the three—Tyler painted a dark navy blue. With it, I chose gold and solid white accents.

For our beds, I chose only the finest linens so that we feel like we are sleeping on clouds every night. It’s only in these recent weeks that I’ve felt the dire need to combine our clouds. At night, I stare into the open door across the hall and into his bedroom, where he sleeps in nothing but black boxer briefs—many nights atop his sheets. On those nights, I ache for him, tossing and turning while trying so hard not to remember the looks he gave me the night he fucked me to within an inch of my life. Continually gazing at my gorgeous soldier in hopes that just once, he would open his eyes and that those eyes would host the long-lost fire they once held for me.

It’s when Tyler’s tractor nears and cuts abruptly that I thrum with anticipation, rushing to open the cabinet I recently lined with red pinstriped paper to grab him a glass. Setting it on the counter, a light breeze streams in through the kitchen window, the fleeting summer heat intermixed with a hint of autumn, which is fast approaching, flitting over my face.

Seconds later, my soldier appears on the porch through the storm door, shirtless and covered in a sheen of sweat, dressed in nothing but his light camouflage pants and Marine boots. When the door opens, his dog tags catch a glint of sun as he greets me with the pop of his dimple. I can’t help but feel the flush of desire that follows as I drink in every drop of his skin, which has darkened from his long days in the sun and efforts to cultivate the grounds surrounding the property. A feat he’s worked at tirelessly when not running endless errands for Ezekiel. Ezekiel who now seems to be purposefully running Tyler into the ground as punishment. One I have been closed-lipped about so far.

Though it pains me that the punishment time for Dom and Sean starts today, Ezekiel’s hurt and anger are evident in his adamance to carry it out. Like Tyler, I’ve resigned myself to let them resolve this on their own without interference. Instead, I spend my time repairing myself and pouring my efforts into my new life so I can be capable of helping my nephews if needed at some point in the future.

Tyler stalks in as I pour his favorite drink—heavily sweetened iced tea—and thrust it toward him as he meets me in the kitchen.

“It looks fucking awesome in here, General,” he says, scouring the living room and kitchen as he takes the glass.

“Thank you. I think I am close to done,” I say, hands on my hips. “Not much to do, now.”

“Plenty to do.” He winks before drinking his tea in long gulps. I fill his glass again as I soak him in from head to foot. “I think I might have tackled a majority of the grass—”

“Soldier, will you want to fuck girls here in this house?” I blurt the question that has been heavy on my mind in the weeks since we moved in.

Tyler’s mouth parts slightly before he lets out a long whistle, staring at the ice in his tea. “Well, this is not a conversation I thought we’d be having at eight in the morning.” He shakes his head. “Leave it to you, General Brash.”

“It’s a fair question.” I shrug, not feeling any part of the gesture as dread settles low in my belly. “You are man.” I swallow. “A very good-looking man, who must want to have . . .” I wave my hand so that he gets my insinuation.

“Have what?” He quirks a brow in challenge.

“Oh, stop, Soldier ...pussy,” I deliver bluntly, which earns me the wicked curl of his mouth. He takes another long drink before he runs his tongue along his bottom lip, and my eyes follow.

“What’s got you thinking aboutmy need for pussy, Delphine?”

“I am curious. Can’t I be curious?” I lie. “You are living here. I expect you will want to bring girls here at some point. Should we do a rule or something?”

“I’m pretty boring these days.” He again grins into his glass before sipping it. “And considering I just escaped a fucking frat house that included a built-in soundtrack of apornoformonths, I’m not really into the freaky roommate thing or becoming one just yet. So, should we establish a rule for if you want to go out hunting somedick?” His words carry an edge that’s hard to identify. “I guess if you get lucky ... make sure to leave a sock on the door,” he chuckles.