Julia stacked the empty brown candy papers and thought of Zach's joking offer of Little Debbie cakes from his desk drawer. The man definitely hid his snacks and secrets better than the girls. He filed everything away in his office, submerging himself in work, tackling the world's troubles as a line of defense against acknowledging his own.
Zach took the needs of so many on those broad shoulders without anyone to take care of his. She wanted to build a real home for him, one where fathers didn't hurt their sons and wives didn't walk out.
He deserved all that and more. He deserved to have someone fight for him. And she wanted to be that someone.
Zach had insisted his actions counted more than words, and if so, then that man loved her. Even if the stubborn guy didn't know how to put the label on his feelings. Yet.
Julia crumpled the candy wrappers. She'd insisted she was stronger and that she loved him. Time for her to prove it by doing exactly what Zach had said. Show him. She would love him enough to put aside her pride and stay.
Shelby scooped up two more chocolates and stood. "Guess I'll try to catch some sleep."
Julia touched Shelby's arm lightly as she passed and counted yet another blessing in the form of this woman-child dispenser of chocolate, hairstyles and wisdom. '"Night, hon."
"G'night."
Julia watched her stepdaughter cross the kitchen and realized more than one Dawson needed reassurance. "Shelby?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you watch Patrick for me for a couple of hours once your dad gets back?"
Shelby blinked fast before shrugging as if it was no big deal when they both knew otherwise. "Sure. No problem."
"Thanks, hon." Julia smiled, knowing full well she couldn't say goodbye to these children any more than she could their father.
Shelby snapped her fingers and Aggie came trotting from under the table to follow her.
The Woodworkers Kick Ash shirt blared a reminder Julia desperately needed.
What had she been thinking, demanding some silly words? She'd felt more love in one day with Zach than Lance had given her in six years of marriage.
She didn't intend to throw that away.
Whatever wounds Zach still harbored that kept him from voicing those words, she would heal with time. Starting tonight. She would sit on their front porch until her toes froze off if need be waiting for him. Never again would Zach come home to an empty house.
The seasoned commander might have fought a few battles in his time, but he hadn't seen anything like the siege she planned to wage to win his heart.
* * *
Zach roared around the corner. Only two blocks left until, home. And he wasn't any closer to easing the frustration churning inside him than when he'd lost control and stormed out. His bike hadn't offered its usual escape—release, relief from the mess he'd made of his life. At least the time away had given him one answer. He wasn't giving up. Sure, he'd hoped for something more from Julia, but that didn't mean he would roll over and quit. First thing Monday morning, he would park himself in the Wing Commander's office and request a year's deferment of his Air War College slot.
Yeah, it pinched to risk losing out on a career opportunity he'd worked his ass off for, but the regret didn't come close to what he would feel if he lost Julia. He would stomp around on her roof for the next twelve months cleaning leaves out of her gutters until she caved, if that's what it would take to persuade her.
Zach slowed the motorcycle around the last corner, heading home. And tried like hell not to think of how damned empty that house would be without her and Patrick.
He turned into the driveway, the single beam of his bike sweeping across the yard.
Revealing Julia. Moonbeams and the porch light glinted off her blond curls.
Zach braced himself. He'd been ready for a confrontation in the morning. He wasn't sure he wanted to finish this conversation tonight, not when they were both still so raw from the flight line, their time in his office, and his damned careless words about his father.
Then Zach looked at her. Really looked.
Julia wore his leather flight jacket, a motorcycle helmet perched on her knee, her invitation for a ride clear.
Zach exhaled a long gust of relief. As far as signs went, hers carried a cargo hold full of hope.
He'd told himself it didn't matter if he had to fight for her a while longer. He would wait.