A Lover's Lament(73)

“I don’t want to know what was running through your head.”

“Hell no, you don’t.” My head falls back against the cabinet as relief sinks in, seeping its way through my body.

“I’m sorry, Katie.”

I’m not sure what he’s apologizing for, but the way his words come out makes it sound like everything. “You’re forgiven.” A smile spreads across my face because, in my heart, I know that he really is forgiven … for everything. Before, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to forgive Devin for the way he walked away from me, but that seems so insignificant right now compared to everything else that has happened. “No more apologies, okay? From now on, you and me, we keep moving forward.”

“I like the sound of that,” he says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. Heat radiates through my chest, and I reach for the spot that’s been aching the past several days, only to find it gone.

The phone line gets scratchy and I hear several other voices before Devin speaks again. “Katie, I hate to do this, but I’ve gotta go. We’re getting ready to leave, but I promise that I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“You promise? No matter what time, you promise you’ll call?”

“I promise,” he says, laughing.

“Good. Because if I don’t hear from you soon, you’re in serious trouble.”

“I find that incredibly intriguing, Miss Devora. What would be my form of punishment?” he says suggestively.

“Hah!” I bark out, a huge grin splitting my face. “Of course you would turn that into something dirty.”

“You didn’t answer my question. What’s my form of—?”

“Goodbye, Devin.” I sigh, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.

“Bye, Katie.”





“If It Means a Lot to You”—A Day To Remember

I’M SHEDDING MY EQUIPMENT BESIDE my cot, just after mission, when Tavares bursts through the entrance of our tent, his frantic movements catching our attention. His eyes lock on mine and when I see the look of pity on his face, my blood runs cold. I know he’s here for me… but why?

In three long strides, he’s standing before me. His mouth opens and closes several times as though he has something to say, but he just doesn’t know how to get it out.

“What’s up, man?” I ask, dropping my body armor to the ground and unbuttoning my uniform top.

He remains silent and looks over to Navas, who is holding a Hot Rod magazine but has his eyes locked on Tavares, waiting for him to speak as well.

“Dude, Tavares, what the f*ck is up?”

“We need you over at HQ …” His eyes flit around my face and his voice trails off. I can tell he wants to say more, but can’t.

Now I’m annoyed.

“Who is we, Tavares?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.

“Captain Kendricks,” he says before turning on his heel.

“No,” I snap. He looks over his shoulder, and the determination must be written all over my face because he spins around to face me. “Tell me what’s up.”

“I’m not really sure. Kendricks didn’t mention anything.” I don’t believe him, but I won’t try and press him for more. I’ve known Tavares long enough to understand he says what he wants to and nothing more. If there is one thing in this life I’ve mastered, it’s the ability to read people.

I follow Tavares to headquarters and the short walk is awkwardly quiet. He leads me inside to Captain Kendricks’s small office. Tapping on the door, he’s met with a deep grunt from the other side. Then he opens the door, motions for me step into the office and closes the door behind me. I take a seat, having absolutely no idea what’s going on, but my mind runs through a hundred different scenarios. Not one of them is good.

Kendricks continues to shuffle through papers without acknowledging my presence. He finds what he’s looking for and finally looks up. He has the same look of pity Tavares had, only his seemed forced, most likely out of habit. His conversations with the men below him are business, and only business.

“Well, Clay, I have some bad news.” He pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. I’m immediately grateful that he tells it like it is; I respect a man that can do that. “We got a Red Cross message tonight, and … well”—he clears his throat but keeps his eyes on mine—“your mother died two days ago.” He stops, presumably to let me process what he’s just said. My mind is numb as I fight to comprehend his words. “There’s not a lot of information there,” he says, handing me a stack of papers, “but there’s a number to call, and of course, we will have to get you on a plane out of here as soon as possible.” I grab the paper from his hand and notice that mine is trembling. My hand never f*cking trembles.

My mother is … dead. Gone. A rush of breath pushes through my lips and I close my eyes, only instead of thinking of Josephine, my thoughts travel to Katie.

Will I get to see her? Will she come to Pennsylvania to see me?

I should feel bad that this is where my thoughts are going, but I don’t. Not after the hell my mother put me through.

“A plane, Sir?” I know what he’s saying, but in this moment, my mind isn’t here.