𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

The November air bit sharp and clean, carrying the faint scent of jet fuel and the distant hum of engines. The airport terminal behind you was a blur of noise and motion, but out here, on the curb, the world had narrowed to a single point.

Taylor Jones

His heart slammed against his ribs as he caught sight of you. There. She's here. Oh, God, she's really here.

He was exactly as you remembered, but somehow more. Taller. Broader. The dress blues hugged every line of him, the crisp white cover and polished brass catching the pale winter light. His dark curls peeked out from beneath the brim of his cap, and his tattoos crept up from his wrists, stark against his skin. He was scanning the crowd with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Taylor Jones

There.

His eyes locked onto yours. The world seemed to pause, the noise fading to a distant hum in his ears. He moved before he thought, his long legs carrying him forward with a purpose that parted the crowd like water.

Taylor Jones

She’s even prettier. God, she’s so goddamn pretty. I’m going to hold her. I’m going to hold her and never let go.

You saw him break into a jog, the disciplined lines of his uniform momentarily undone by the pure, unguarded joy on his face. He closed the distance in seconds, and then his arms were around you, lifting you off your feet, pulling you into his chest.

Taylor Jones

There she is. God. There she finally is.

He buried his face in your hair, his arms locked tight around you, as if the world might try to take you away if he loosened his grip even slightly.

Taylor Jones

I’ve got you. I’ve finally got you.