The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

unwelcome, impossible thoughts. There was nothing for him without Scarlett. She was the reason he ran a little faster when they scrambled to intercept a bombing raid. She was the reason he pushed the newer pilots harder. She was the reason he’d stay no matter how many letters his parents sent, telling him they were proud of him in the same line that they begged for him to come home. He didn’t need to swear loyalty to the king—he’d sworn it to Scarlett, and she was his to protect.

“Come on.” He took her hand and led her inside, but instead of carrying her to their bedroom and making love to her as he’d planned for every minute of his drive, he took her to the living room, where he put Billie Holiday on the record player. “Dance with me, Scarlett.”

Her lips lifted, but it was too sad to be called a smile. She slid into his arms and laid her head against his chest as they swayed in small circles, steering clear of the coffee table.

This right here was where he lived. Everything else he did was to get him back safely for more of this—more of her. Living apart was a special kind of torture; knowing she was only an hour away, but he couldn’t get to her, caused too many sleepless nights. He missed the feel of her skin against his in the morning, missed the scent of her hair when she’d fall asleep on his chest. He missed talking about their days, planning their future, kissing their way through yet another burned dinner. He missed everything about her.

“I have news for you,” he said softly, brushing his lips over her temple.

“Hmm?” She lifted her head, apprehension filling her eyes.

“We’re being reposted.” He tried to keep a straight face, but his lips didn’t obey.

“Already?” Her brow puckered and her lips flattened. “I don’t—”

“Ask me where.” Now he was grinning—so much for keeping it a surprise.

“Where?”

He lifted his brows.

“Jameson,” she chastised. “Don’t tease me. Whe—” She inhaled sharply, then narrowed her eyes. “You tell me right this very minute, because if you get my hopes up just to squash them like a bug, you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.”

“No, I won’t,” he said with a smile. “You like me too much for that.”

“Not at this moment I don’t.”

“Fine, then you like what I do to your body too much for that,” he teased, his gaze heating.

She arched a brow.

“Here,” he finally said as the song wrapped up. “We’re being reposted here. In a couple weeks we’ll be in the same bed every night.” He raised his hand to her cheek. “We’ll be back to burning breakfasts and racing each other for the shower.”

A grin spread across her beautiful face, and his chest tightened. Just like that, she turned an absolute shit day into something truly exceptional.

“I was asked to train to be a teller,” she admitted quietly, as if someone could hear them. Joy flashed across her eyes. “It could mean I’d make Section Leader before the year is out.”

“I’m proud of you.” Now he was the one grinning.

“And I’m proud of you. Aren’t we the pair?” She rose and brushed her mouth over his. “Now what were you saying about what you could do to my body?”

He had her upstairs before the next song started.

…

Scarlett stumbled into the kitchen the next morning to find Jameson at the stove, frying up breakfast. Her stomach flipped at the smell, then somersaulted.

“You okay?” Constance asked from the corner, where she was opening a jar of jam.

Right, they were supposed to talk about training this morning. She’d forgotten, which added another reason to be annoyed at herself.

“Fine,” Scarlett lied, trying to swallow the nausea. “I didn’t see you there. I’m so sorry I completely abandoned you last night.”

Constance smiled, glancing between Scarlett and Jameson. “No need to explain. Just happy it all worked out.” The light flickered from her eyes as she brought the jam to the table.

“What can I do to help?” Scarlett asked, putting her hand between Jameson’s shoulder blades.

“Nothing, honey—” His brow lowered. “You look a little green.”

“I’m fine,” she said slowly, hoping they’d leave it be. Had she hoped the nerves would settle now that Jameson was due to be reposted here? Yes. Apparently her body hadn’t gotten the memo.

Constance studied her carefully. “Do you want to chat later?”

“Of course not. I’m glad you’re here.”

Constance nodded, but there was an odd, firm set to her mouth. She looked…somehow older this morning.

Jameson brought the fried sausages and potatoes to the table while Scarlett sliced a loaf of bread. They tucked in, and Scarlett nearly sighed with relief as her stomach settled.

“Would you two like some privacy?” Jameson asked from his side of the square table, his gaze bouncing between the sisters.

“No,” Constance answered, setting her fork on a half-empty plate. It wasn’t like her to leave half her breakfast, but she hadn’t exactly been normal the last two months. “You should hear this, too.”

“What is it?” A weight settled on Scarlett’s chest. Whatever her sister was about to say, it wasn’t good.

“It would be a waste for me to take the teller training,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be allowed to keep my commission.”

Scarlett paled. There were very few reasons a woman would be forced to resign her commission. “What? Why?”

Constance fumbled her hands in her lap for a moment, then lifted her left hand to reveal a sparkling emerald ring. “Because I’ll be married.”

Scarlett’s fork fell from her hand, clattering against the plate.

Jameson, to his credit, didn’t move a muscle.

“Married?” Scarlett ignored the ring and locked eyes with her sister.

“Yes,” Constance said, as though Scarlett had asked if she wanted more coffee. “Married. And my fiancé isn’t exactly supportive of my role here, so I doubt I’ll be encouraged to keep it once we’re wed.” There was no emotion in her voice. No excitement. Nothing.

Scarlett’s mouth opened and shut twice. “I don’t understand.”

“I