#matt eversmann

Her lids were heavy as she swiped around the touch-pad of her laptop, to other recent videos he'd sent her, videos he made sure to send at least every other day, especially when they could not talk over the phone. He made constant effort to reassure her that he missed her, that she was always on his mind, that he loved her, and that he couldn't wait to see her again. As had become normal during his absences, she gradually drifted off to the sound of his voice as he described his day to a camera, the sun barely setting in the sky outside.

🎖️

It was the clatter of metal cookware that snapped her out of a restless sleep, shooting up to sit in bed, almost no light in the room save for that of the moon, barely peeking between the gaps in the mini-blinds. She almost slipped on the hardwood floor as she clambered out of bed, dashing for the window to peer outside, breathing a hefty sigh of relief at the sight of her betrothed's truck, parked in the drive way that had been empty when she'd fallen asleep. More noise rose up from downstairs, clearly in the kitchen. She might have been annoyed at the interruption of her much needed nap if she hadn't been so elated to see him again, actually home from a work trip early for once. Stepping across the floor and back to their bed, much more calmly, she reached for her phone and, aided by it's glowing screen, finally noticed the thick bouquet of her favorite flowers, lush and fragrant, resting at the foot of the bed. Her retired Army Ranger fiancé, ever the soft-hearted romantic, never ceased to surprise her, the clattering noises coming from downstairs, included.

Her steps were near silent as she crept down the stairs, seeking out the source of the noise, squinting at the bright light of the kitchen as she reached the first floor. Standing before the piping-hot range was a very familiar figure, dressed in his typical camo pants and an olive drab tee – not exactly what he had worn during his service, but close enough without defying regulations. It had been the uniform that had snagged her attention first, after all, before his endearing personality had even had an opportunity to work its magic.

With his back to her, unaware of her wakefulness, Matt moved around the cooking area, checking the oven for the proper heat, monitoring the pot of water nearing its boiling point, fishing around in the freezer for the bag of frozen meatballs he'd picked up. Sneaking around the corner, keeping close to the wall, she listened to the clinking of metal and ceramic, and his muttered, incoherent words. It was when he shifted on his heels to seek out a bag of uncooked spaghetti that he finally noticed her, leaning against the side of the threshold that opened the cooking space up to the diminutive dining area. “Baby, I...I didn't mean to wake you,” he declared, striding quickly across the short distance between them to wrap her up in his embrace before she could utter a response. Encircled in his strong arms, his generous height towering over her, he felt like home. When she immediately wrapped her own arms about his frame, he leaned in to rest his cheek atop her crown.

“Could you sleep through all that racket?” she asked, her warm breath penetrating the soft fabric of his shirt, warming his skin beneath.

“I guess not...I just wanted to surprise you, sweetheart,” he answered, thoughts of the meal nearly forgotten until the sound of overheated water spilling over the rim of a pot met their ears.

“Oh, I'm surprised,” she confirmed, watching him shuffle around even more. Despite the bountiful skills he'd developed in his forty-six years, cooking had always eluded him, and even boiling water seemed a bit too much for Matt. No matter how many failed cooking efforts he'd made, though, he continued to try. “You didn't have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” he managed, ripping open a box of frozen, seasoned bread, and hunting for a baking pan. “You looked so exhausted, up stairs. I figured a couple dozen nine-year-olds had ran you ragged,” he continued, thinking briefly of the multitude of third graders she taught on a regular basis, dropping dry sticks of pasta into bubbling water. “Saw you'd been watching a bunch of my videos, too,” he continued, his voice becoming softer, his cheeks taking on a bit of a pink hue. “Didn't realize you kept all those.”

The young woman was quiet a few moments before speaking up, the water bringing the pasta back to life, rising dangerously close to the rim of the pan again. “Of course...I miss you so much when you leave...I don't wanna give up any more of you than I already have to.”

“I, uh...” Matt began, his brows drawing together as he watched the pot of water boil the pasta into a more edible state. “I'm gonna start lookin' for something closer to home. I hate having to leave you all the time,” he uttered, warmth rising in his cheeks, and the tiniest pricks of moisture starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. “I don't ever wanna make you...” his words fell away as the timer on the microwave sounded, and he took the opportunity to hide his face as he click off the heat on top of, and inside the stove, dragging out the crisp bread and dumping the pasta into a colander to drain all the water away.

“Matt,” the young woman mumbled as she stepped closer, reaching out to swipe a tear from his cheek, his lips pulling into a frown he could barely fight, his brows scrunching together.

“I don't want you to ever regret choosing me,” he whispered, glancing up to the ceiling, steam rising from the sink. Well over a couple of decades in the military, and Matt had never let it harden him to his own emotions. It wasn't the uniform, or his handsome features, or even the sweet smile that had solidified her 'choice' when she'd taken the initiative to propose to him, months before. It was his marshmallow-soft heart. When he heard her repeat his name, he finally glanced toward her again, wiping away more tears that threatened to burn his cheeks.

“I don't even think that's possible,” she murmured, and Matt swiveled on his feet to pull her body into his strong arms again, her chin tilting up as her fingers climbed his chest, his clavicle, rounding his neck and guiding him down to claim a salty kiss.

🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️ 🎖️

tagging : @one-of-thewalkingdead , @gissellec1 , @pinkflowerwombat , @sashimeep , @strangererotica , @the-butchers-baby , @callsign-fangirl , @hibiskooks , @jessy02 , @charliehoennam , @pinastrihaven , @amethystblackkchaos , @bleeding-heartz , @gt-rxn , @simplymurdock

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, and please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one