How She Came Home

Chapter Seventeen

Giving up on sleep, Becca slipped out of bed and left Freen to sleep as she made her way downstairs to brew coffee. Filling a mug, she carried it all the way up to her office and took a seat behind her desk. 

She didn't even attempt to do any work, just idly spun her chair as she stared out of the arched windows, watching the sunrise over the city. 

Exhaustion made her eyes gritty and heavy, her whole body aching, but Becca knew that sleep would elude her for the rest of the day as her mind reeled from last night.

Sipping her bitter coffee as the knot in her stomach made her feel nauseous, Becca brooded over things, trying to convince herself that Freen would be fine, that it would just be a few months spent reporting on patrols and political strife before she was shipped back home and her active duty was up. 

Things would be normal then - they'd never have to be parted again. But that was a big if , because as many times as she told herself that Freen was safe as a reporter, she knew it was a lie. 

That if was enough to sow seeds of doubt and worry and make her chest ache from the constricted feeling of panic as she breathed shallowly.

Half of the morning had been lost to the harrowing thoughts that consumed her, her coffee growing cold as she sipped it, numb to her surroundings as her eyes stared blankly ahead and the lines of light crept across the room. 

It was nearly midday when Freen's footsteps thudded up the stairs and her blonde head appeared from the staircase, her eyes widening over the edge of the floor before she hurried up the last few steps.

"Oh, there you are. I didn't know where you'd gone."

"I didn't want to wake you," Becca murmured, looking down at the gritty dregs of coffee as she flicked her thumb against the glazed ceramic, the sound dully ringing out as a wretched look clouded her face.

With a faint sigh, Freen crossed over to the desk and leant against it, folding her arms over her chest as she assessed Becca's appearance, seeming unsatisfied with what she saw there. 

"You look tired."

Reaching out, Freen caressed her cheek, a flicker of concern in her brown eyes as Becca glanced up and gave her a sad smile. The circles beneath her eyes made Freen's stomach clench with guilt and Becca raked a hand through her hair.

"I couldn't sleep properly. For obvious reasons."

"Yeah," Freen heavily sighed as her mouth thinned.

Uncurling herself from her ball, Becca set her bare feet on the wooden floor and climbed to her feet. "Come on, let's make breakfast."

Freen followed her down three flights of stairs and into the kitchen, wide shafts of warm sunlight sweeping in as the sweltering July sunshine baked the city outside. 

It was mercifully cool inside the house but Becca still pulled open the double doors to listen to the birdsong and the rustling leaves of the trees shading her terrace. Rinsing out her mug, she set fresh coffee on to brew and pulled open the fridge door.

"What do you want to eat?"

"What do you want to eat?" Freen chuckled, coming up behind Becca and wrapping her arms around her waist as she kissed the side of her neck.

Trying not to sound too bitter as she replied, Becca grimaced. 

"No, it's fine. I'll make breakfast; I'll have to go back to relying on my housekeeper for the pity meals she leaves behind if I don't learn now."

Freen's grip loosened as she pulled back, her voice a whisper as a wince marred her gentle face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," Becca quietly scoffed, a flicker of frustration burning within her as she concentrated her anger on the military. "It's not your fault; they shouldn't be allowed to- to just tell you you're being promoted and then ship you off. You should have a say in it. You should get longer than a month ."