Someone New

I

The hangar appeared in the distance, a flattened semicircle of white light that flared out, hazed at its edges and bled into the surrounding night, obscuring the stars that pinpricked the indigo sky above. The men fell silent. In the vacuum left by their voices, the engine droned, the tyres roared over the concrete and a jitter of excitement sparked in the air. The flight out had been filled with trash-talk and testosterone, posturing and bravado, but now, as the bus strained closer and closer on the final leg of their return journey from Aviano, they were boys again, shining with gratitude and hope.

That excitement didn't reach Henry though, and the fear he felt now was far greater than the fear he'd fought to hide when they'd left for Italy what felt like years, not months ago.

His wife was leaving him. Of that much he was certain. What he didn't know was why.

oOo

The shadow that sprawled across the base of the hangar dissolved into a cluster of black dots, then into the outlines of individuals—loved ones, all bobbing up onto tiptoe in an effort to catch that first glimpse of the men on the bus. The last time he'd been home on leave, Elizabeth had stood at the far edge of that crowd. An outlier. While the rest of the wives, mothers, fathers, siblings and children rushed forward the moment the bus door opened and engulfed the other men of his regiment, Elizabeth hung back and waited for him to come to her. She'd buried her hands in the pockets of her black woollen overcoat, and a cryptic smile played at the corners of her lips.

That smile should have been his warning.

He strode over to her, as quick as the fatigue that weighed down his muscles would allow, dropped his duffel bag to the ground with a heavy whump, and went to swamp her in his embrace.

But she stopped him with one hand to his chest, her fingertips spread into a star.

Before he had time to process what was happening or ask her if everything was okay, why she had stopped him, she slid her hand down to his waist, pulled him towards her, and leant in, so close that her breath fell in a hot ruffle against his cheek and the heady scent of her jasmine-laced perfume intoxicated him.

I'm not wearing any underwear, her whisper unfurled in the shell of his ear and shivered down his spine, and she slipped something into the pocket of his cammies.

With that, she was gone, sauntering her way towards the exit at the far side of the hangar, the hemline of her coat swaying with each step.

He stared after her for a long moment, his brain stuck on the brink between a stall and a free fall, and then he dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a slip of cobalt blue lace. The fabric was still warm...and damp. Evidently, planning her attack hadn't left her unaffected.

He stifled a groan. God, that woman was going to kill him.

Perhaps sensing that thought, she shot him a look over her shoulder, her eyes alight with an evil glint, and her pace quickened.

So that's how she wanted to play it?

Right then. Game on. He grabbed his bag and chased after her.

When he finally caught up with her in the parking lot and pinned her against the passenger door of her car, she squealed. He trapped her wrists at her sides and pressed himself against her, so she could feel just how unaffected he was, while he launched his own attack on her lips.

If it weren't for the security guard blinding them with a flashlight and warning them they needed to move on—Come on now, kids, no one wants to see that. There are littluns around.—he doubted they would have made it off the base.