France, Beaulieu-sur-Argonne, April 1944

  Emmett rolled off Adele’s sweat-slicked body with a groan, collapsing onto the bed beside her. They both laughed breathlessly, the sound a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion. The room was warm, the small space filled with the scent of intimacy and faint traces of Adele’s lavender soap.

  He reached for the cigarette pack on the bedside table, pulling a single one free and balancing it between his fingers. Just as he struck a match to light it, Adele snatched the cigarette away with a playful swipe.

  “You will not smoke in my bed,” she scolded, her French accent cutting through her English with melodic sharpness. Her eyes sparkled, though her tone was stern.

  Emmett let out a snort, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a lopsided grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and tossing the match onto the small table. “You’re lucky I like you.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled, clearly amused. Emmett sat up slowly, grunting as he stretched his arms. It had been over a month since he’d taken a bullet to the gut, and while he was feeling infinitely better, the dull ache in his scar still lingered. His fingers brushed over the rough patch of skin, a stark reminder of how close he’d come to checking out for good.

  Leaning back onto the comfortable bed, he sighed. “Damn fine mattress you’ve got here,” he muttered.

  Adele, already climbing out of bed, glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, is it the mattress you enjoy? Not the company?”

  Emmett smirked, his eyes dropping to her bare backside as she moved toward the washbasin. “The company’s alright too,” he quipped, earning himself a scoff.

  She poured water into the basin and began cleaning herself, her movements unhurried. Emmett couldn’t help but watch her for a moment, appreciating her graceful confidence. Eventually, with a groan, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and started hunting for his clothes.

  As she slipped on her undergarments, Adele cast a sly smile in his direction. “You know, I still can’t believe I’m bedding such a dreadful man.”

  Emmett walked over to her, leaning in to kiss her neck. “You don’t mean that,” he murmured against her skin.

  “Oh, but I do,” she replied, her voice dripping with playful disdain. “You’re a horrible, dreadful, smelly man.”

  He pulled back, grinning. “Come on now, you’ve been making me bathe more often,” he countered. “Remember?”

  She laughed, the sound light and teasing. “At the threat of the rolling pin, yes. Otherwise, you would still stink like a barn.”

  He walked over to her, planting a kiss against the curve of her neck. She swatted at him halfheartedly, grinning despite herself. “Admit it,” he murmured against her skin. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

  Her laughter softened, and she turned to face him, adjusting his collar with an almost tender gesture. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Before he could respond, she turned away, pulling on a blouse and tying the sash of her dress. Emmett made his way to the small window, leaning on the sill as he gazed outside. The quiet village square stretched before him, with a few locals wandering between shops and homes. His eyes caught on a familiar figure: Julien, loitering near a group of Resistance fighters. The boy was gesturing animatedly, no doubt pestering them with questions about their missions.

  “You should probably let your brother know it’s safe to come back inside now,” Emmett remarked, a grin tugging at his lips.

  Adele shook her head as she tied her hair back with a ribbon. “He is probably quite content annoying your friends. Begging them to take him along.”

  Emmett chuckled, his breath fogging the glass. “The kid’s got some real spirit.”

  “That spirit will get him killed,” she said, her tone sharpening with worry. “He is much too young for that kind of nonsense.”

  Emmett nodded, turning to lean his back against the wall. “Truth is, I think anyone is too young for that kind of nonsense,” he admitted. “But I’ll make sure he doesn’t try and stow away when we head out.”

  “Good.” She crossed the room and gently touched his arm. “Thank you.”

  He offered her a faint smile and began pulling on his boots, wincing at the effort. The action drew Adele’s gaze, and she studied him for a moment. “You’re still in pain, aren’t you?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

  “I’ve had worse,” he replied with a shrug, though his voice lacked its usual bravado. He looked out the window again, his gaze distant. “It’ll be time for me to head out soon. Henri’s probably running out of creative ways to call me lazy.”

  He looked at the men interacting with Julien. One of the men tousling the boys hair and saying something. The boy looked annoyed and swiped at the man.

  Adele hesitated, her hands clasped in front of her. “You’re well enough now?”

  “Well enough.”

  She nodded slowly, stepping closer. “You’ll be coming back, though?”

  Emmett turned to face her, his smile softening. “I will,” he promised. “I just don’t know when.”

  She leaned into him, her head resting lightly against his chest. “I’ll miss you,” she murmured.

  His hand came up to brush her hair back gently. “That almost sounds like you like me,” he teased, his voice low.

  She pulled back, fixing him with a mock-serious look. “Of course not,” she said, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “I’ll miss your gruff comments, that’s all.”

  “Oh?”

  She nodded, her eyes sparkling with humor. “And your constant cursing. Julien has learned so many new swears in English, thanks to you.”

  Emmett threw his head back with a laugh. “Yeah, I probably ought to be more careful with what I say.”

  “You should,” she agreed. “Half the village cannot decide if they find you inspiring or abrasive.”

  He grinned, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Probably a little of both.”

  She shook her head, laughing softly. “Go on, then. Before I decide to keep you here for good.”

  “Tempting,” he replied, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. With one last look, he turned and headed out the door.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The late afternoon sun hung low over the village, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Emmett grunted in discomfort as he hefted a particularly heavy box of supplies, his muscles straining under the weight. Sweat trickled down his brow, but he ignored it, focused on the task at hand.

  “Good to have your miserable hide back,” a voice called out behind him.

  Emmett turned to see Luc grinning. The man clapped him on the shoulder, his tone teasing. “Without you around, everyone’s been too damn happy. Too enthusiastic. It’s unsettling.”

  Snorting, Emmett tossed a smaller bag toward Luc, who caught it with a grunt. “Well, I’m back, so you can all go back to being miserable,” Emmett shot back, his voice dry as ever. He motioned toward the truck. “Now quit flapping your gums and load up.”

  Luc gave an exaggerated mock salute, smirking as he hopped into the back of the truck. The other fighters chuckled at the exchange, their camaraderie filling the air with a sense of ease, despite the looming danger of their next mission.

  Henri approached, his grin as wide as the horizon. “It is good having you back, mon ami,” he said warmly, extending a hand.

  Emmett took it, the handshake firm and genuine. Henri leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping. “You know, our luck seems to have improved while you were gone. Maybe you’re like Jonah, eh? A bad omen cast to the sea.”

  “Is that so?” Emmett replied with a snort, shaking his head as he scanned the village. His eyes landed on Adele and her brother, standing near the square. He motioned toward them with a nod of his head. “I’ll be right back.”

  Henri waved him off, muttering something about Emmett being hopelessly predictable.

  Emmett shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he strolled over to Adele. She stood with her arms crossed, talking quietly with her brother, Julien, who looked up as Emmett approached.

  “Well,” Emmett said, his voice gruff but softer than usual. “I’m heading out.”

  Adele nodded, her expression calm but her eyes betraying a flicker of concern. “You had better be safe,” she said, her tone firm. “Last time you left, you came back with a bullet in you.”

  Emmett held up his hands in mock surrender. “Won’t happen again,” he promised, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips hinted at his skepticism.

  He turned to Julien, looking the boy up and down. “You keep an eye on your sister while I’m gone, alright?” Emmett said, extending a hand.

  Julien puffed out his chest and took the offered handshake with a serious nod. “I will,” the boy replied, his voice full of conviction.

  Emmett smiled faintly, giving Julien’s hand a firm shake before releasing it. He looked back at Adele, his gaze lingering. “You take care of yourself too,” he said quietly.

  Adele’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I will,” she said, motioning toward the truck. “Now hurry and be off. I already know you’re terrible at goodbyes.”

  Emmett smirked, inclining his head. “Safe travels to you too, ma’am,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat before turning back toward the truck.

  As he walked away, Henri’s voice carried across the square. “Hey, Emmett! Why the hell didn’t you kiss her? It’ll be bad luck, you know.”

  Emmett rolled his eyes, about to shoot back a retort when hurried footsteps sounded behind him. Before he could turn fully, Adele practically crashed into him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a meaningful, heated kiss.

  The fighters in the back of the truck erupted into cheers and whistles, their laughter ringing out. Henri clapped enthusiastically, yelling, “Now that’s more like it!”

  Adele pulled away, her hands still gripping the lapels of Emmett’s jacket. Her eyes locked onto his, fierce and unwavering. “You better come back alive,” she said firmly, her voice thick with emotion. “Or I’ll summon your spirit just to beat it with a rolling pin.”

  Emmett grinned, his expression softening. “I’ll be back,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Promise.”

  She held onto him for a moment longer before nodding, releasing him with a final smile. Turning away, she walked back toward Julien, her posture as composed as ever despite the flush in her cheeks.

  Emmett turned back to the truck, his gaze hardening as he met the wide-eyed stares of the fighters in the back. Let out a low whistle. “I think I’m in love too,” he quipped, earning a round of snickers.

  “Keep it up, and I’ll knock every one of your teeth out,” Emmett growled, pulling himself into the cab with a groan.

  Henri was already in the driver’s seat, grinning from ear to ear. “Well, I’ll be damned. She actually likes you.”

  “Shut up and drive,” Emmett muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

  Henri pulled a hip flask from his jacket, offering it to Emmett. He accepted it gratefully, taking a long swig before passing it back. Henri leaned out the window, letting out an enthusiastic cowboy whoop that startled a flock of birds from a nearby tree.

  Emmett burst into laughter, shaking his head. “You’re a damn fool, Henri.”

  Henri grinned, gesturing toward the window. “Go on, mon ami. Let’s hear yours. For good luck!”

  “Hell no,” Emmett shot back, crossing his arms.

  Henri groaned dramatically. “Come on! We need all the luck we can get!”

  When the fighters in the back began chanting, “Do it! Do it!” Emmett let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Fine,” he muttered, leaning out the window.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a loud, spirited whoop that echoed through the village, startling a dog into barking. The fighters cheered and joined in, their voices carrying into the fading light.

  As the truck rumbled away from the square, Emmett glanced back at the village, catching a final glimpse of Adele and Julien watching them go. He adjusted his seat, lighting a cigarette with a faint smile as Henri drove them toward their next mission.

  London, January 1945

  The warmth of the dream slipped away, dissolving like mist in the cold morning air. Emmett’s breath hitched as he jolted awake, a sharp gasp ripping from his throat. His eye snapped open, the remnants of sleep still clinging to the edges of his mind. The golden light of Beaulieu-sur-Argonne, the sound of Adele’s voice, the scent of her hair. They vanished in an instant, leaving him with nothing but the dim, grey reality of the present.

  His heart pounded against his ribs as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the faded cracks above him tracing shapes he didn’t care to decipher. His body felt heavy, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him like a lead blanket. He exhaled a long, slow breath before groaning and turning onto his side, rubbing a hand over his face.

  Pain flared across the left side the moment his fingers brushed against it, and he flinched. His skin was still raw, still healing. The reminder made his stomach churn.

  He pushed himself up with a grunt, swinging his legs over the side of the cot. The wooden slats groaned beneath his weight, the cheap mattress creaking loud enough, it could’ve woken a graveyard.

  The sound of a pained groan drew his attention. Across from him, a man shifted restlessly in his sleep. Emmett’s gaze flicked toward him. The poor bastard was wrapped in blood-stained bandages, his leg gone below the knee. His face was gaunt, his brow slick with sweat, fevered mutterings slipping past his cracked lips.

  He dragged a hand down his face again and forced himself to his feet, ignoring the stiffness in his legs as he made his way toward the washbasin in the corner of the room. A cracked mirror hung above it, its edges worn and dusted with age. He barely glanced at it before leaning over the basin, splashing cold water onto his face. The shock jolted his senses, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the ghosts that clung to him like a second skin.

  Slowly, reluctantly, his gaze lifted to the mirror.

  The man staring back at him was a stranger.

  The left side of his face was ruined, deep scars running like claw marks from his left socket to his jaw. The skin was still pink, still angry from healing. The hollow where his eye had once been, was nothing but a dark void. An empty, haunting absence that sent a chill crawling up his spine.

  He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more, the gaping hole in his face or the coldness in his remaining eye.

  He reached for the eyepatch on the small table beside the basin, his fingers brushing over the worn leather before slipping it into place. The moment the socket was covered, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

  Still ugly. But at least he didn’t have to look at it anymore.

  Emmett sat back down heavily onto his cot, rubbing the back of his neck as he checked his watch. 4:32 AM. Too damn early, but he knew better than to try sleeping again.

  The room around him was still, save for the occasional cough, the faint murmurs of injured soldiers caught in their own nightmares. The air smelled of antiseptic and sickness, of bandages and sweat. Too much death had passed through here. Too many broken men waiting to be sent home, or worse.

  He needed to get the hell out of here.

  His mind drifted to something he’d overheard the night before. The Crown and Anchor. Some officer’s club, nothing too fancy, but a place with strong drink and an occasional card game. It sounded like exactly what he needed. Something to drown out the silence.

  With a grunt, he pushed himself up again, reaching for his shirt and coat. The cold air bit at his skin as he pulled them on, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness. His fingers lingered at the buttons of his coat before he sighed and reached for his cigarettes instead.

  One last glance around the room.

  The fevered man across from him let out another groan, shifting restlessly in his cot. Others lay still, their breathing soft but labored. Emmett exhaled, the weight in his chest pressing heavier.

  Too damn depressing.

  Tucking his cigarettes into his pocket, he strode toward the door, his boots scuffing against the worn wooden floor. The city was waiting outside, cold and unforgiving. And for now, that was exactly what he needed.