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That made me laugh. When he laughed with me, an ice cold spot in my chest warmed, just a little. "He told me you're a good man." I wasn't sure why I said it. Mark didn't need my father's seal of approval.
He surprised me, though, because he kind of froze for a second, then relaxed. "He really said that?"
"He really said that."
Mark didn't say anything. His fingers traced a pattern up and down my arm. Maybe it shouldn't be a surprise that what my father thought of him mattered to Mark. After all, I was very close to my father, very much like him.
Softly, I said, "I think you're a good man, too."
That time, all his muscles relaxed and suddenly it was just Mark, holding me on a rainy night in our own place.
"I'm going to wait for you," he said, as if he hadn't said it before. "And you're damned well coming back from this one, too."
I'd always wanted him not to wait. What did it mean that his telling me he was going to this time made a warmth flare up inside me?
But I was still going. Even now the assignment was being put together. Even now kids were ODing and dying. I was going. I had to go. But this time I knew that I'd come back. We'd work it out.
Somehow.
