Strangers In The Night

Brooklyn Heights, New York
June 14th, 1943

“Girls where ya going?” Sergeant James Barnes called after the two young women who were making an unplanned run for it.

The streets of Brooklyn were a buzz; a fresh shipment of American soldiers were being shipped overseas in less than twenty-four hours. The crowd, which consisted of those soldiers and their loved ones packed the downtown core to the brim as far as the eye could see. An array of American flags hung patriotically from buildings surrounding the main hub of the Stark Expo, a blatant reminder of what was occurring on the other side of the Atlantic.

Stark Industries had chosen this night to make a spectacle advertising their technology of the future. It wasn’t until Bucky left Steve at the recruitment center and the trio headed towards the jazz bar a couple of blocks over that he would become aware of just how much pull Stark had with the dames. Somewhere amongst the crowd dispersing from Howard Stark’s presentation, the girls got word of an after-party at Stark Headquarters in Manhattan.

For some reason, the dames found a millionaire playboy more enticing than a blue-eyed, sweet-talking light-footed Sergeant who was about to deploy for duty at the crack of dawn. Bonnie pulled eagerly on Connie’s arm before the brunette could explain, Connie, frowned apologetically as she was pulled further from earshot.

“Sorry, Bucky! It’s Howard Stark!” Connie replied as her blonde counterpart pushed through the bustling Brooklyn sidewalk. “Be safe over there!” She called and blew a kiss his way.
Within minutes the pair had managed to flag down a vacant taxicab and were off to rub elbows with millionaire playboy Howard Stark.
Bucky stood in the middle of the sidewalk flabbergasted at his luck, not only had the dames ditched him but so had Steve. It was his last night of liberty and he was determined to make it a momentous one, even if seemed as though things were not going his way.

With his hands stuffed into his pockets, the soldier began passing through the lingering crowd to an emptier, quieter hub of downtown Brooklyn. Bucky strolled along Portland Ave, passing the deli his mother always picked up ingredients for Sunday dinners. A smile crossed his face as he recalled past family dinners where Steve was always the 8th additional family member. Bucky had made his mother promise that she would continue to have Steve over for Sunday family dinners despite his imminent deployment.

If the predictions he had read in the paper were correct, experts were estimating the war to last at least another three excruciating years. The death toll had already exceeded that of world war one and currently holds the title for the deadliest war in history.

During the training in New Jersey, Bucky and the 107th infantry came face to face with the long and tortuous road ahead of them. Each soldier aware of the enemy that lurked amongst the dilapidated ruins of German villages and behind the endless rolling hills of the French countryside.

And though New York City would soon be but a memory, it was those Bucky was leaving behind that caused his heart to ache.

Rebecca, his last living relative and Steve, the best friend who’d become a brother he never had. He’d miss the many nights he spent saving Steve from having his ass handed to him, only for them to end up back at the apartment; Steve, with ice on his black eye and sipping scotch together as Bucky assured Steve, he almost had the guy.

Europe was going to be a whole different world.

Bucky knew that if he were to come home, he would never be the same person that he was now. War and destruction changed men, and from his experience, it was not for the better. The latest statistics showed that 220 American soldiers were dying per day in Europe. Rebecca had shown him those numbers in the New York times paper to change his mind and flee to Canada with her, so he didn’t have to serve, and she could sleep at night knowing her brother was safe.

The numbers were disturbingly plentiful, he could admit that. The thought of 220 families losing a loved one each day was heartbreaking, But Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was a man of his word. He enlisted with not only the intent to fight for his country but to fight for countries who could not defend themselves.

Bucky hadn’t heard the clicking of heels against the pavement in front of him, nor did he see the merlot fabric that danced around lean legs. The soldier’s solid frame collided with that of a much smaller one, it wasn’t enough to knock him over, but the soldier was caught off guard and stumbled backward. His counterpart, however, was not as lucky.

Bucky noticed her lose her footing, albeit he had a strong inkling it was in large part due to her impractical footwear, but he was not about to offer his inner commentary regarding her fashion choice.
In one swift movement, he managed to catch the feminine waist and pulled her delicate frame towards his body in hopes of saving the damsel in distress from falling onto the rough sidewalk. Her body was soft and warm pressed against him and the intoxicating scent of jasmine with a hint of rose awakened his senses.

“Kučkin sin.” The woman gasped; her hands desperately gripped his biceps harder than he expected to come from a dame. Her frightened expression softened when her eyes settled on the unknown man in uniform, impressed by his dexterity and embarrassed by her foreign curse. “Apologies, soldier.”

Bucky picked up on the Eastern European heritage in her accent as he released her from his safe embrace, the warmth he had felt before, left as soon as she backed away. Her fingers immediately found her chocolate-colored waves and corrected any that had shifted out of place during their intimate collision.

Bucky stood there as he took in the lovely creature before him, her milky white skin a stark contrast to the wine-colored dress that hugged her figure in all the right places. A black shawl hung delicately across her shoulders with her chocolate hair cascading in thick waves down to her breasts, the left side pinned back allowing him to see the tempting skin of her neck.

Her lips drenched in vibrant red color stretched into a wistful smile and sparkling emerald eyes lined in black ink examined his uniform thoughtfully. She reminded him of a Hollywood starlet like he should be sitting in the old theater three blocks over watching her on the big screen like Vivien Leigh. A chill gust of wind caused goosebumps to break out across the woman’s semi-exposed shoulders; the brunette modestly adjusted her shawl to cover herself.

“I’m sorry I was not looking where I was going.” She apologized tentatively; afraid she had caused an inconvenience for him; he was a man in uniform and looked as though he had important places to be.

“I’m sorry, doll. I’m just having trouble breathing.” Bucky placed a hand upon his chest, feigning a pained expression on his face. Bucky fought the urge to smile as he recalled Steve attempting the same pick-up line only months earlier, only to have an asthma attack in the process and woman in question had to call out for medical aid.

“Are you all right?”

Her waves shifted as she tilted her head with her question, and visually examined him. Her red-painted fingers touched his forearm; concern crossed her beautifully made-up face.

“I’ll be fine, beautiful. Looking at you just took my breath away.” Bucky flashed one of his infamous heartbreaking smiles, the same one that had enticed many other dames in times past. A demure half-smile crossed her lips and her eyes slipped down to her feet in order to hide the rouge that spread like wildfire along her cheeks.

“Thank you,” She chuckled nervously; her eyes darted up quickly to steal a glance at the handsome soldier then back to the small black clutch in her hands. “I should be on my way…” She motioned behind him, but before her hand could rest back at her side, Bucky caught it with his own.

“It was my pleasure,” He breathed softly, amazed at how soft her skin was. “don’t let me keep you, doll.” Bucky moved out of her way; her alluring fragrance lingered as she edged from his reach and sashayed past him.

“My apologies again, soldier.” The pretty dame apologized before she flashed a sweet smile his way, and the reckless urge to follow her seemed damn near impossible to ignore.

Bucky’s eyes followed the direction the dame in red-headed and noticed she had been referring to a hole in the wall at the end of the block called Lenox Lounge as her destination. She reached the door and looked over her left shoulder, Bucky smiled at her as she was ushered inside by the stoic doorman. He pondered for a moment, unsure if he should stop in to have a drink or leave it be and find another spot to drop in.

He watched couples filter into and out of the lounge for a few minutes before he decided what his plan of attack would be. Bucky quickened his step and followed behind a couple who looked to be on their first date. He flashed a weak smile at the man who oversaw the comers and goers of the lounge, the man acknowledged him and opened the door.

Smoke billowed out of the doorway and when he stepped inside, the scent of cigarettes bitingly prominent in the air, and the sweltering humidity a vast difference from the breezy street.

Bucky removed his hat as he shouldered his way through the busy lounge, numerous patrons danced to the big bands swing influenced music and threw back cocktails. Bucky scoured the packed lounge to no avail. He was about to give up on his search for the woman in red when he spotted her coming out of a hallway just next to the countertop bar. She made her way along the lengthy tabletop and chose a spot near the end, the barback’s attention was on her almost instantly as he placed a drink in front of her. She cast him a grateful smile as they began conversing.

He was tall, not much older than Bucky’s woman in red but the five o’clock shadow that covered his jaw gave him a couple of years on the unnamed woman. Bucky sauntered over to the bar, careful not to approach too closely in fear of startling the woman, but also close enough for her to notice his presence.

Bucky secured a seat two stools over from the brunette, and out of his peripheral, he caught the dame leaning towards the barback and placed a kiss to his stubbled cheek. The pair began speaking in a language that was foreign to the soldier, and he started to feel foolish for following the dame inside when she was seemingly already attached to another man.

He needed a drink. The band ceased for a moment, the loud chatter and clinking of glasses became clearer as did Bucky’s consuming thoughts.

“Can I get something for you, pal?” The barback that had just been speaking a foreign tongue with the brunette was now standing in front of Bucky with a white hand towel slung over his shoulder.

Bucky sensed a similar accent in the barback’s voice as the woman.

“Old fashioned,” Bucky ordered the first thing that came to mind and the barback nodded, his dark slicked-back hair not moving an inch in the process.

“Got your orders?” The barback asked while he prepared the sugar, bourbon, bitters and orange peel in a short tumbler glass.

Bucky nodded his head and placed his hat down on the bar before making eye contact with the man.

“Shipping out tomorrow morning.” Bucky flashed a superficial grin to hide the fear he managed to submerge deep down. He figured people would prefer to meet a soldier who was at ease and confident in going to combat for their country, not one who was scared out of their mind.

“Cheers. Good luck over there.” The barback acknowledged Bucky’s sacrifice and handed the soldier his drink. “The first ones on the house.” He finished with a nod before heading to the other end of the bar to help a dire-looking redhead who seemed to be out of her cocktail.

Bucky watched the barback retreat to aide the redhead and noticed a slight limp to the man’s right leg. The disability was undoubtedly the reason the barback was in the small smoky lounge and not in the merciless trenches of Europe fighting for the Allied Forces like Bucky would soon be.

“Pardon my intrusion, soldier.” The brunette dame commented twirling the cup that held her gin and tonic. She shifted her dubious gaze to Bucky. “But shouldn’t you be enjoying your last night of freedom instead of following me around?”

A cheeky grin roused its way onto her lips and a wicked fire flickered in her emerald eyes. She permeated trouble. Bucky had known that the moment he laid eyes on her, but he couldn’t deter himself now. She brought her drink to her lips, the evidence of red lipstick left behind on the rim.

Bucky’s mouth cracked into a sly smirk.

“Who says I’m not, doll?” He challenged and languidly ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Also,” He paused a moment to clear his throat. Her attention focused solely on him.

“I prefer the term intense research of an individual, not following. Makes me sound lovesick and darlin’ I don’t even know your name.”

The brunette remained silent, engaged by the charisma of the man in uniform. She admired the strength of his chiseled jaw and the heavenly blue of his eyes. She didn’t even want to think of how many women before her had been lost in them. Her torrid gaze lingered for a moment on his mouth then to his uniform. She inhaled a shallow breath then polished off the remainder of her drink.

“Pietro,” Her tongue rolled the R in the barbacks name. “two more of what he’s having.”

Pietro nodded and poured two more cocktails then placed them in front of her. Pietro looked between the two of them warily. The slow melodious saxophone of the big band started up again, and the velvety smooth voice of the frontman sent an air of serenity through the lounge.

“Do you know him, Wanda?” Pietro spoke sharply in their foreign tongue. His eyes searched Bucky’s face as if it would tell him something about the soldiers’ intentions.

Bucky didn’t have to know their mother tongue to see that the barback’s body language showed signs of concern towards the beauty in red. Bucky had been in his current position far more times than he could probably count on both hands; his charm always seemed to get him in trouble. Tonight, of course, it hadn’t been any different.

“No,” Wanda answered curtly and peeked over at the confused soldier with the striking blue eyes. “but I would like to.” Her engaging smile shifted from her wary barback brother to the unassuming soldier.

“Be careful little one,” Pietro muttered in English then passed a stern look to Bucky as he continued serving other thirsty patrons.

“Pietro thinks your trouble,” She speculated but Bucky sensed no real conviction behind her statement. The ardent amusement that shot through her green eyes gave him the confidence to continue with the lighthearted banter. The soldier

“And what do you think, doll?” His gaze fixated on the bewitching woman to his left. She looks away for a moment and he hears the sweetest giggle escape from her.

“I think he may be right.” She playfully scolded, locking her eyes with his as if challenging him to convince her otherwise. Bucky chuckled at her accuracy.

“It’s my middle name. How did you know?” He delivered the statement so nonchalantly that she almost imagined it to be true. Bucky swirled the alcohol in his glass.

“See, trouble.” She stated in a singsong voice and caught Pietro at the other end of the bar watching them as he was in-between serving customers.

“What I want to know is…if I’m trouble, then why don’t you seem put off by it?” He challenged boldly, choosing to ignore the stare down he received from the barback who still held an unknown connection to the woman in red.

The question he posed caused Wanda to shift under his febrile gaze. She pondered a moment; her jaw tightened as her fingers tangled themselves in her dark waves, a nervous tick she had adopted as a young girl.

“And who says I’m not?” The brunette challenged, her voice faltered for a New York minute, but she recovered quickly and presented Bucky a charming half-smile.

“Because the only thing your eyes haven't told me tonight is your name.” Bucky boasted cheekily before he took the final swig of his old fashioned, basking in the burning sensation that tickled his throat.

She grinned at his bravado, the solider was charming, and he knew it. She had to admit that out of all the men she had come across in her short lifetime; he was bar-none one of the most handsome. It was, indeed, a troublesome combination.

“I’d also like to respectfully state for the record that you tumbled into me after which I saved you from falling. So, you’re welcome.” Bucky winked and flashed a boastful yet sexy smirk that made all the dames weak in the knees.

The woman before him was enthralling, she played along with his mischievous wit, and he was thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. Dames like her were few and a far between, she wasn’t falling at his feet nor was she attempting to play schoolish games.

“Wanda Maximoff.” She stated smoothly and turned her body to face him fully. Her index finger ghosted along the rim of her glass; meanwhile, her green eyes remained on the soldier in front of her. The hint of a smile formed on Wanda’s all too tempting mouth.

“Sorry about my brother, he’s a little protective.” She shared with a tilt of her head; Bucky’s eyes traveled towards the barback who filled pitchers of an amber lager. The weight felt like it had been lifted off him, knowing that the barback and Wanda were not romantically linked.
“Sergeant James Barnes.” He cordially offered her his right hand to which she accepted firmly. Bucky twisted her hand gently, and his eyes pierced heatedly into hers as his lips feathered the back of her hand for the second time that night. “My friends call me Bucky.”

Unbeknownst to Bucky or Wanda, a gent on the dancefloor happened to swing his dame a little too enthusiastically which caused her and the gent to topple into the unsuspecting soldier’s back. Bucky’s body was forcibly pushed to invade Wanda’s personal space. However, his right hand shot out to catch the edge of the bar and break his fall so as not to crush her.

It hadn’t been until Bucky had caught himself, did he realize how much closer he was to the exquisite dame. His face mere inches from the exposed skin of her neck, the scent of her intoxicating him yet again. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, and his heart quickened in pace. Out of his peripheral, Bucky could’ve sworn he saw her breath hitch at his proximity.

Wanda froze, the soldier’s breath was hot on her neck, and it sent exhilarating chills down her spine. Her hands we pressed delicately on Bucky’s firm uniformed chest, she had a thundering urge to grab the uniform’s collar and bring him even closer. She peered to her left, and the soldier was so close that she inhaled the spicy scent of his aftershave on his freshly shaved jawline.

Wanda could not recall the last time a man had been this close to her and propelled the feeling of desire that had pooled in her stomach. She could hear the blood surging through her body, and he wasn’t even touching her.

“I happily take the blame for this one, doll.” Wanda saw the wicked smirk on his face when he pulled himself back to standing position. His fingers brushed the exposed skin of her knee.

She released a breath softly, her fingers reached out to untuck his tie from under his blazer. His blue eyes questioned her actions, but he said nothing. She turned on her stool quickly and finished her drink in two large gulps before patting her lips delicately with the small bar napkin.

“Dance?” She raised a brow at the soldier and grabbed his hand to drag him to the dancefloor before had the chance to reply.

Wanda pulled the soldier over to the first open space she could find and settled one hand in his and the other rested on his triceps. His steady hand rested at her waist as he led her into fluent and effortless swing style footsteps. Every so often he spun her around, her perfectly coiffed waves fell a little more with each one, but she didn’t care. When his heavy knit blazer became too much, he escaped to remove it and delivered two more drinks for them. A permanent grin etched on both of their faces.

A handful of songs and drinks later, Wanda felt as if the bar had suddenly spiked in temperature. Loose pieces of hair stuck sickeningly to her forehead, and a light ache brewed in her temples. She could hear her blood thundering through her veins. Wanda stumbled on her own feet, but Bucky was there, yet again, to prevent her from falling disastrously to the ground.

“You all right, doll?” He asked and placed a hand on the warm skin of her cheek. Wanda could hear the concern and wanted to tell him she was fine, but she felt as though her body struck a fever. One hand gripped the front of his button-up shirt, and the other came to rest securely on his shoulder.

Bucky led her back to their seats; her clutch and shawl were placed neatly next to his hat and blazer that sat on the bar top. Wanda shuffled onto the stool and pressed her back against the bar.

Before she needed to ask, Bucky placed a large cup of water in her hands. Wanda flashed a gracious smile before she chugged it back. Her mother would be turning in her grave at her daughter’s unladylike behavior in front of such a handsome soldier.

“You’re not too pickled are ya?” The soldier brushed some of her hair out of her face, the pad of his thumb skimmed the apple of her cheek. Wanda answered him with a slight shake of her head, the dryness in her mouth satiated for the moment.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Wanda pondered aloud.

She surprised even herself at the brash comment. Albeit Wanda had never been much of a drinker, she did know her limit, and if she continued any longer, she would undoubtedly make a fool of herself. Bucky’s lips curved into a sympathetic half-smile at her expense, the hand that had been previously on her face found its place on her lap, he laced his fingers with hers.

“I’m all yours, doll.” He professed; his thumb feathered the skin on the back of her hand. Wanda bit her bottom lip to hide the smile that would surely give away the elation churning inside her.

Wanda informed Pietro of her departure but neglected to acknowledge the look of reluctance her brother sent her when he realized she was leaving with the soldier. Bucky noticed the exchange between the siblings but chose not to let it discourage him from enjoying the remainder of the night.

Wanda led the soldier outside, the cold air washed over her heated skin. She took him around the side of the building, passing several groups of partygoers still roaming the streets. Afraid she might lose him amongst the parade of fellow New Yorkers, Wanda absentmindedly slipped her hand into his.

As the friction of his calloused palm glided against hers, Wanda once again surprised herself. She had never been the type to grab a man’s hand, nor had she been one to invite a man she had recently met to leave with her. Unsure of what perception the soldier following her was receiving, she contemplated releasing it and offer an apology.

Almost as if he had read her mind, Bucky intertwined his fingers with hers and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Wanda tilted her head to look at him just in time to catch a bashful smile on his lips.

Wanda led the soldier to a heavy wooden door that was labeled at the top of the frame as a fire escape, she pulled a set of keys from her clutch.

“You know, it might look bad getting arrested for trespassing the night before I ship out, doll.” He commented sardonically, he trusted that Wanda knew where she was leading them.

“I would never lead you into trouble, Sergeant Barnes,” Wanda assured as she twisted the key in the lock and the large door moved to allow them entry. Bucky caught the hint of sarcasm as he followed her inside. They descended four and a half flights of stairs until she brought him a door that he guessed used to be white but years of erosion turned it yellow.

ultimately brought them to several flights of stairs

found herself thankful for lack of lighting as a surge of warmth rushed to her cheeks. brought him to a sturdy door and then up a poorly lit stairwell.

The pair shuffled through a spacious hallway; Wanda directed Bucky towards a much shorter stairwell that led to the roof. Wanda ushered him up before she disappeared into the apartment that was adjacent to the stairwell. Bucky did as instructed and let himself onto the rooftop,

When they reached the top of the stairwell, Bucky opened the door for Wanda, her lithe body slipping teasingly past his own. Her doe-eyed expression as she looked at him made it clear that she had no idea the arousing effect she was having on the soldier. It took everything in him not grab her hips and bring her dangerously close. Without hesitation, his lips would find the heated yet sensitive spot on her neck that he knew would cause a delicate moan baring his name to escape her lips.

“James?”

Bucky is torn from his utopia as he realizes Wanda is no longer in front of him.

His eyes traveled to the corner of the roof where Wanda was, the panoramic sights of the Brooklyn skyline and bridge in the distance. The blanket she had brought with her spread across a portion of the roof with both glasses placed on a small side table tucked into the corner. Wanda had since slid off her shoes and claimed one side of the blanket. She sat with her long legs outstretched in front of her and her arms behind her holding herself upright.

An effervescent smile beamed at him from where he stood, and the wind caused her already messy waves to dance mindlessly around her face.

“James are you all right?” she questioned, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his icy gaze.

Bucky smiled and sauntered over to join the enchanting dame.

“Yeah, just taking in the beauty.” He shared in reference to Wanda herself, but she kept it to herself if she had understood the intent.

He claimed the spot next to her, his hand brushed against her bare arm before he rests his forearms on top of his bent knees. Wanda’s eyes dart up to the star-speckled sky, something that had been a comfort for herself and Pietro back in Sokovia and continued to be so in their New York life.

“Its beautiful isn’t it? Back home in Sokovia, you can see stars for miles.” She said, eyes still locked on the sky.

Bucky perked up at the mention of her mother country. His curiosity had been piqued ever since he noticed the accent.

Out of his peripheral, Bucky noticed Wanda scoot herself further down the blanket and eased herself into a laying position. Her fingers intertwined and came to rest on her stomach, a content smile stretched out across her lips. Bucky decided to join her, he shifted closer and laid down next to her, his hands intertwining and coming to rest at the back of his head as support.

“What are we looking at?” He broke the comfortable silence, peering up at the sky. A sigh escaped the woman to his left and then her arm is pointed towards the starlit heavens.

“My mother taught Pietro and me all about the constellations when we were young. She’d take us on the roof of our apartment building and show us a new constellation every week until we had found all the ones in the guide. Our favorite was the Gemini, naturally.” She muses

Memories of nights spent with her mother and Pietro on the rooftop while her father worked his two jobs were still very vivid in her mind. She would show them each constellation several times until one Christmas the twins were gifted with 1931 Edition of The Hieroglyphics of the Heavens and every evening that followed was spent searching the Sokovian sky.

Even if it was only her and Pietro and their mother had to work the night shift, he spent hours flipping through the pages seeing who could find the most constellations. Wanda was convinced that Pietro spent hours studying the book before bed because he’d always find what they were looking for within seconds.

“My mother always said the fascinating thing is we all look up at the same stars and see such different things.” Wanda grinned at the words her mother shared with her.

The woman who gave the Maximoff twins life had been far more brilliant than the country of Sokovia allowed her to be. Women had limited rights back in Sokovia, the jobs that were available were few and far between. Wanda from a young age recalled her mother working long strenuous hours in which as a woman made a mere half of what Mr. Maximoff made at one of his two jobs.

“Is your mother here in New York too?” Bucky questioned. Wanda was not only beautiful but intellectual as well and he could tell that much of that derived from the matriarch of the Maximoff’s.

Wanda’s breath hitched in her throat at the painful reminder that she and Pietro were alone. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her jaw tightened, she could see the explosion as if it were yesterday. Sokovia was not known to be a peaceful country, nor was it a wealthy one. It had been a period of war in 1937 between Sokovia and Russia, the Russians wanted to take control of the impoverished country and with little to no military to protect itself, it had been quite easy.

Her parents had been the unfortunate victims of a bombing a block over from their apartment building while the couple was on their way home to meet their children for dinner. Wanda remembered cooking paprikash that afternoon and listening to one of her mothers’ records as she prepared the meal and set the table. She had been placing the last set of cutleries on the table when the building shook, and her stomach felt as though it dropped to her feet.

On instinct, she ran to the nearest window which was in their small living room. Black smoke billowed half a block over from their building. Before she knew it, Pietro was at her side, and the pair rushed down to the street, to help any of those who were injured. The last thing Wanda or her brother expected to find were her mother’s purse and fathers briefcase speckled in blood.

Nothing had been the same since that horrible day.

“Sokovia was a war-torn country…” Wanda began, she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and felt the tears burning the corners of her eyes. “On their way home there was a bomb—” Her voice cracked, and tears slipped from her eyes.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Wanda. I can’t even imagine…” He trailed off, unsure of how to comfort the woman next to him. He turned and reached for her chin. He gently forced her glistening green eyes to meet his, her attempt to smile through the sadness and insisting she was okay, wasn’t convincing him.