My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I swiped it to answer when I saw Mom’s picture. “Mom?”

“Hey, honey! I’m so sorry I didn’t answer earlier. I was in my yoga class. Where are you?”

There was something about hearing her voice that crumbled my composure. “I’m at Fort Campbell. I came home a couple of days early, and now Paisley is in labor, and I’m here picking up Josh.”

“Well, that sounds like quite the homecoming for both of you,” she said. I plugged my other ear, trying to hear her better.

I looked around at all the other women in their carefully chosen outfits, their glittery signs, and perfectly done hair. “Mom, I don’t have anything for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came straight from the airport. I don’t have a sign, or my hair done, and I’ve been in the same panties since Turkey!”

A few heads snapped in my direction, and I glared them down.

“Ember.”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be. I was going to have the house perfect, and his Jeep detailed, and a big sparkly, funny sign. My makeup was going to be done, and my legs definitely shaved, and a cute outfit, too. Instead I’ve been traveling for almost sixteen hours, I don’t really know where our relationship stands, and I don’t have anything!” Oh God, I was going to be sick.

“Do you have arms?”

“What?” I damn near shouted. “Yes, I have arms.”

“Then open them. That’s all he needs.”

“Mom. It’s so much more complicated than that.”

“It’s not. December, nothing in the army is perfect. No amount of planning can make a homecoming perfect, and nothing will go as planned. He’s not going to care about any of those details you’re stressed over. He’s only going to care that you’re sitting in those bleachers ready to welcome him home. You are his perfect homecoming.”

“What if he doesn’t want me here?” Giving voice to my worst fear zapped some of my last caffeine-generated energy, and my shoulders drooped.

“He does.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because that boy—that man—he loves you in a way that a deployment doesn’t kill. I know you have a lot to discuss, and I’m not suggesting you forget the way he left, but don’t give up, either, Ember. You and I have the same taste in hardheaded men, so you hold on tight with both hands and fight like hell. And Ember…”

“Yeah?”

“Remember every single thing about this moment. There’s nothing like it.”

The crowd came to their feet with a deafening roar as the hangar doors opened. “I love you, Mom,” I yelled into the phone above the noise.

“I love you, baby. Go get your man.”

We hung up as more than two hundred soldiers marched in through both open hangar doors. The air electrified. My heart slammed against my ribs, and my head started to spin. There were too many emotions fighting for supremacy—my excitement at seeing him, my anger over the way he’d left, my confusion over where we stood—but they were all eclipsed by the stark relief of knowing he’d made it home alive. Tears stung my eyes, as if my body simply couldn’t contain my feelings and needed the outlet.

They came to a stop, and my eyes raked over the lines of soldiers as the Commanding General welcomed the troops home. I didn’t have to look far.

Josh stood at attention in the first row, faced forward. Butterflies attacked my stomach, and everything lower clenched. He was gorgeous. My soul screamed out for his as if it were an actual physical being, desperate to fly forward and get him into my arms. He looked tired and worn but accomplished—haggard but whole, yet empty all at the same time.

I kept locked on to him as the general dismissed the troops and the stands emptied in a rush to the hangar floor. Then I carefully walked down, telling my rebellious body that I couldn’t simply fling myself into his arms. He looked side to side as he walked forward, no doubt searching for Jagger, until he’d reached the bottom of the stands just before I did.

“Josh.” His name came out in a breathless whisper.

His eyes met mine, his jaw dropping slightly. “Ember?”

I took the final step, until I was on the first bleacher, just at his eye-height. “Hi.”

“How…? You’re not supposed to be back for a few more days.”

There was no regret in that tone, right? Damn it, I wanted to throw my arms around his neck. I wanted to kiss him stupid, and then smack him hard for what he’d done to me. I wanted us, complicated futures and all. “I came home early, like you, I guess.” Moron, he knows that. “Are you mad?”

“Hell no,” he said, his gaze darting to my lips.

He still wants you.

Unable to control my hand, I cupped the side of his cheek, thrilling at the scratch of his stubble against my palm. A giant sigh of relief escaped me, and my eyes slid shut. When I opened them, he was staring at me with a cross between want and trepidation. “Can I hug you? I mean, I don’t know what we’re—”

My words were muffled into his shoulder as he pulled me off the bleachers and into his arms. One of his hands wrapped around my back while the other tangled into my hair, pulling my pins loose. His scent enveloped me, and I tilted my head to nudge my nose against his neck, breathing in home. Nothing ever felt as good, as right as when he held me.