Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(70)

He gave me a look. “Of course I do. But I suck at writing, as we’ve established. You could write something for me. Since you’re already writing letters, and all.”

Yes, I could. But for me. Not you.

It was wrong and stupid, but I needed to write to Autumn. I needed her, any way I could.

“Drop her a line for me,” Connor said. “News and weather. Tell her I’m thinking about her and I miss her.” He grinned and chucked my arm. “But make it pretty. No harm in that, right?”

“No harm,” I muttered.

Connor beamed, chucked my shoulder again, and headed back to the table.

“All right, boys, what’d I miss? You cheating, Mendez?”

I retrieved a pen and notebook from my footlocker and lay on my back on my bunk. Since email and cell phones weren’t allowed, we had to resort to pen and paper. Which was how I did all my writing anyway. A flow of thoughts and words into the ink and onto the page felt natural to me. Like breathing.

But this is wrong…

I should’ve told Connor to write his own letters. The last time I’d spoken to Autumn on the phone, pretending to be Connor, was months ago when she was in Nebraska, and I’d felt like shit for deceiving her. It was wrong and risky, but I missed her too much. The disgust I’d felt was distant compared to the hunger that gnawed at my insides now. I was starving. No matter how hard I tried to resist, the machine of Boot Camp was hollowing me out. Its job was to strip men down, turn them into war drones who could do the job that needed to be done. To kill if necessary.

Staying connected to Autumn was like holding onto a piece of myself. I needed to indulge in her now; gorge myself on my helpless, hopeless feelings for her, and hate myself for it later.

I’m in love with her.

The truth was bold and stark on the blank page of my heart.

I put my pen to paper and began to write.





Autumn



Fort Jackson

South Carolina

Feb 19th



Autumn,



We are seven weeks in and the physical pain of PT is imbedded in our muscle memory. Sarge’s insults are the music by which we march. Softness. Warmth. Beauty. They’re mirages in the distance, where you are. There is nothing of you here, but what I create in my mind and memory, and that is harder to endure than any physical pain. Not holding you hurts my hands more than having my palms scraped raw on the ropes. Not hearing your voice cuts deeper than any insult. Boot Camp has stripped me down to the bone, where what I feel for you is stark and naked, and the distance between us is longer than the last mile on the last run of the day.

And it hurts so bad.



“Auts,” Ruby said, loudly.

I blinked and looked up from the letter in my hand. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, let’s go to Yancy’s. I need to get out of this apartment. Dress up a little. Drink a lot.”

She’d broken up with Hayes over the Christmas break, while I was in Nebraska visiting my family.

I glanced at the mound of work on my table, ignored in favor of Connor’s latest letter. I’d read it ten times, just like the others. He held nothing back and my eyes—and heart—couldn’t keep from drinking the words in, over and over.

“Give me five minutes,” I told Ruby, my gaze sliding back to the page.

I feel invincible when I think about you. Bottomless. The more you take of my heart, the more I have to give.

“Good lord, woman, I can see the stars in your eyes from here,” Ruby said. “What, is that another letter from Connor?”

“Yes, his tenth.”

“Actual snail mail. I can’t remember the last time I got a real letter.”

“It feels more intimate and personal,” I said. “He was so distracted and stressed about going to Boot Camp but now…”

My gaze was drawn back to the words.

These letters are only placeholders until I see you. A game of words, but I know we’ll suffer if we play it too long…

“He was probably nervous about Basic Training,” Ruby said. “I saw Full Metal Jacket. They’re being called pansy-asses a hundred times a day and being worked to the bone.” Ruby shook her head. “On the plus side, he’s going to come back ripped.”

I smiled a little and set the letter down. “It’s deployment that scares me.”

“Try not to worry. They could be sent anywhere. My friend’s cousin was just deployed. War’s in Syria. They sent him to Japan. And they’re staying together. That’s something.”

“That’s Senator Drake pulling strings.”

Ruby patted my hand. “It’s something.”

I nodded but with every one of Connor’s beautiful letters, I felt my heart linking tighter to his, which made the thought of deployment—anywhere—harder and harder to take…

Ruby reached for her coat. “Come on, let’s get out. I need a stiff one.” She winked. “And a strong drink too.”





At Yancy’s, Ruby ordered a cranberry vodka for herself and a pear cider for me. We set up at a small table near the pool tables and dart boards. Guys were playing at both. None of them were from Connor’s circle of friends. “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron played on the sound system.