"I know those. Those are Recon wings. Kenny has the same…" she stopped, heart clenching as she read it. Kenny had the traditional "Mother" in the center of his. Marc had "Angie Forever".
Their eyes met, locked, and memories swirled between them, old and powerful.
"You'll love me forever?" the girl asked softly, terrified to trust.
The boy met her eyes as his hips pushed between her long legs. "Just that long. Not a second more."
She smiled, leaned into his thrust as he kissed her.
Marc turned away with a heavy heart. That moment had been a very long time ago, but right now it felt like yesterday. He had to fight with himself not to go to her, not to tell her how he felt, or that he had come back for her. It had been too late then, and it was too late now.
The big Timber wolf stretched, yawning widely before following his master, and Angela watched Marc's big shoulders as he lit the stove. Her name on his tanned hip flashed through her mind, and she slammed her eyes shut as she lay back down. She was sure it had been done when he was fresh into the Corps and still pissed at his mother for putting him there. If their love had meant so much, he would have come back for her, right? He hadn't, and in the years that had gone by, he'd changed.
The boy she'd loved had been her willing slave on most things, her ally and best friend. This new man was closed off, very adept at keeping to himself, and she missed their closeness, hated the circumstances preventing them from having it back. "It's for the best," her fear whispered. "What if friendship wasn't enough?" Angie gave the old dream only a brief glance before shoving it back behind the doors. Kenny would never let her go. The question didn't matter.
Relieved when her even breathing told him that she'd gone back to sleep, Marc was certain any of the things he might have said would only have caused more tension. They were mostly avoiding the old wounds, concentrating on working out an efficient travel routine. In that way at least, he knew he had pleased her.
They'd made 127 miles in the week since leaving the wounded brothers behind, compared to her 120 in nine days alone, and took turns at the cooking and cleanup. She had expected to do all the work despite the agreement, and it bothered Marc to see her staring, wondering if she could still trust him, or if he was up to something. She was jumpy, always looking over her shoulder or reaching for the comfort of her gun. She never asked if they were safe, wouldn't have believed him anyway, he guessed, and he had begun doing things to make her feel better, like walking the perimeter often and always using the motion alarms. Marc was determined to show her that he could keep her alive, that she could count on him.