Three Years Ago
Willow wrapped her arms around her waist, nails digging into the soft flesh of her skin. She watched Blake closely as he did up the laces on his boots.
He was leaving. Again. Another mission with his SEAL team. A dangerous mission to God knows where, fighting God knows who.
While she remained here on her own with Mila.
She swallowed, trying to calm the bile churning in her gut.
Her gaze flicked to the baby monitor. Mila was now two, but Willow still used the monitor for every nap and sleep. It was close to nine o’clock at night, but that didn’t mean her daughter wouldn’t wake. In fact, she’d probably wake multiple times before morning.
Mila had never been a good sleeper. She’d gotten better over the last two years, but Willow herself couldn’t remember the last time she’d had eight straight hours of rest.
Her gaze swung back to Blake. He was checking the bag at his feet.
He’d been a SEAL for just over two years now. A part of her had thought—hoped and prayed—that his deployments would be easier by now.
They weren’t. And she was starting to think they never would. That watching him walk away, knowing he might not return, would always cause her insides to knot and her skin to ice.
Anxiety tried to crawl up her throat, an emotion she’d grown intimately familiar with over the last two years.
It wasn’t just anxiety about Blake leaving. It was also a byproduct of parenting that no one had warned her about. She was beginning to think of the anxiety, of the pit in her stomach, as an unwelcome guest she couldn’t get rid of in her own body.
And every time Blake left, the anxiety grew. The hole in her gut widened to the point she was sure she’d fall apart.
It wasn’t normal. And she couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to acknowledge the fact.
Blake stood, and suddenly her hands grew clammy. Blood roared between her ears.
He waited until the last second to look at her. He sucked in a deep breath. It was the first time he’d looked at her in hours. He always avoided eye contact the nights he left. Probably because he knew what he’d find. A panic she couldn’t hide. An anxiety she couldn’t push down.
He turned to lift his bag, but before he could, her voice penetrated the silence. The first words either of them had spoken since putting Mila to bed.
“I’m struggling.”
She watched the thick muscles in his back tighten through the shirt. She hadn’t admitted that out loud before. Not in the entire two years they’d been parenting together. She’d just kept pushing through. Kept swimming, even when she felt like she was drowning.
But tonight, something inside her screamed at her to speak up. To put voice to the battle raging in her mind. The overdue acknowledgment that this couldn’t continue. “I can’t do this by myself.”
God, she felt weak admitting that. She was Mila’s mother. Other than studying part-time, taking care of her daughter was all she had to do. It shouldn’t be so hard, should it?
“I need more from you,” she whispered.
At the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t the right time to tell him. His job wasn’t like most. He couldn’t just call in sick to be with her. He had a mission to complete. But now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. Each word tore from some dark place inside her.
“Some days I can barely breathe.” Most days… “I don’t ever feel…good anymore.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled. Not the fake smile she gave for show, the one that took all her strength to muster and left her heavy and exhausted after.
No. A real smile that had little parts of her soul rising with her lips. Was she even capable of those anymore?
“I need you.”
There it was. Two years after birthing her daughter. Two years of crippling anxiety, brain fog, low self-worth, and a rocky relationship. This was her cry for help.
She wasn’t coping. Hadn’t been coping. With any of it.
And even though the words had been hard, were way overdue, and said at the complete wrong time, she felt…lighter. Because Blake knew. Her pain wasn’t only her own anymore. And Blake would help her navigate this, like he’d helped her with most other things in her life.
When he turned, his brows tugged together, and his mouth opened.
Her breath caught as she waited for his words. Words of reassurance that things would change. That she’d be okay. That this crippling pain in her chest was temporary and wouldn’t last forever. Because she needed those words like she needed oxygen to breathe. She’d told herself it would get better. Easier. But it never did. And now she was desperate.
When his lips sealed shut, she was confused. Was he trying to think of the right words? The right actions?
Then he lifted his bag, stepped forward, pressed a lingering kiss to her head—and left. The door clicked behind him.
For a moment, Willow stood there, the suffocating silence seeping into her bones, pressing down on her heart. It kind of felt like a dream. Like she was looking in on someone else’s life from above. Like her body wasn’t her own.
Then reality started to trickle back, and suddenly, the hollowness that she knew so well flooded her.
She felt empty. Lost. Like her best friend had just left her in the middle of a hurricane without a backward glance.
Maybe by kissing her, he’d been trying to reassure her. But she didn’t need his kiss. She needed words. Solutions. Someone to tell her, promise her, that the day would come when it didn’t feel like surviving was all she could do.
Somehow, she landed on the couch. Then she was lying down.
She couldn’t even cry. All she could do was stare at the oak door, feeling the emptiness spider through her limbs while letting the silence of the house drown her.
“I need you.”
Blake paused at Willow’s words. For a second, he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.
She was struggling.
Hadn’t he known that, though? Even without her words, hadn’t he suspected as much for a long time?
And yet he’d barely done a damn thing—because the truth was, between the responsibilities of being a first-time dad, a husband, and a SEAL, he was barely keeping his head above water himself.
The constant war that raged in his chest between his love for his family and the country he swore to protect tore at him.
He turned slowly and looked down at the woman he loved. The woman he’d always loved.
He opened his mouth to say something.
His head felt jumbled. He had no words to make this better. He hadn’t had words for two damn years. Anything he could say just felt…inadequate.
His stomach twisted with unease. And not just unease about what was happening here and now. The unease had been sitting in his gut like a brick all day. Hell, all week. The feeling of foreboding, like something big and soul-destroying was right around the corner, was one he couldn’t shake.
Every part of him wished he could stay. Hold her. Be with her. But the fact was, he couldn’t. It wasn’t just that he’d be court-martialed if he didn’t show up. People expected him. Needed him. His country. His team. Being even one man down meant every other man shouldered that loss, possibly paying for it with their life. They needed him to be there. To be his best.
His mouth closed. Words between them had been hard since Mila. Stilted. But the one thing that had always remained unbroken was their love…their physical connection.
So instead of giving her fragmented words that would probably be empty because he couldn’t abandon his mission, he pressed a long, slow kiss to her head. A kiss that he hoped conveyed everything he couldn’t say any other way.
