“I know.” He settled his chin on the top of my head. “Nine months, babe. Then I’ll come home, we’ll get married, and our life will start.”

I nodded, fear choking the words in my throat.

He leaned back, tilted my chin, and kissed me. Our lips clung as though they couldn’t bear the thought of being apart, either. “Nine months,” I whispered against his mouth.

“You got it.”

“I love you.”

He rested his forehead against mine. “I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

I nodded, like his words could keep him here…keep him alive. “Okay.” We broke apart, and he turned me to the Jeep door. “Call me from the first step?”

“Of course. Text me whenever you want. I won’t get it in the air, but I’ll check as soon as we land.”

“Okay.” Stop saying okay. None of this is okay. There was no choice here. I couldn’t ask him to stay. I had to be okay, whatever the hell that really meant.

“See you soon,” he said with a half smile that was adorable, even if fake.

“See you soon,” I echoed.

As he turned to walk back toward the hangar, everything in me slowed, stilled. My heart stuttered; my breath froze in my lungs.

What if this was it? What if that was our last kiss? Our last I love you’s? What if the next time I held him in my arms, it would be through the cool wood exterior of an unwelcoming box? What if he never came home?

What if this was Dad all over again?

I sucked in air with a desperate gulp, and his name was a cry on my lips. “Josh!”

He turned, his arms already open as I raced into them.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts to breathe when you’re not here. I know I’m not supposed to say this. I know I’m supposed to be strong, and unbreakable, but I’m so damn scared.” My voice broke on the last word, tears clogging my throat and my eyes. They started to fall, soaking tiny wet spots into his uniform.

“I know, baby. I know.” His chest shook as he took in a breath.

I pulled back enough to look at his face, gorgeous even in the minimal streetlight. “I don’t care how you come home. I don’t care what parts of you are broken, or bleeding, or…anything, just as long as you come home. As long as your heart is beating, I will want you, do you understand me? I don’t care what happens there as long as you come home. Please? You have to, because I’ve built my world around you, our future, and I don’t know if I could survive losing you, Josh. And I know that’s selfish, and unfair, but I need you!” My voice rose with every word until I could barely make them out.

“Shh,” he whispered before he kissed me. Our mouths met in a final fury of love and fear all mixed with longing and the salt of our tears.

“December, I swear—I will come home to you. There’s no force on this earth that could keep me from you, do you understand that?”

“Promise me,” I begged, hating myself even as it slipped out of my mouth. I was asking the impossible, for him to tell the future, for him to give his word on something he could never guarantee.

He searched my eyes, time slipping by so quickly I was sure the world was on fast-forward while we stood still. “I promise I will do whatever it takes to come home to you.” He sealed his promise with a last kiss and let me go slowly.

My arms fell from around his neck, and he stepped back, the distance between us already more than the twelve physical inches.

“You and me?” he asked softly.

“Against the world,” I promised with a smile, my voice shaking.

A nod and a smile later, he left me standing next to his Jeep.

I climbed up into the driver’s seat and pulled the door closed. Unable to reach the pedals, I scooted his seat closer. Then I adjusted the mirrors. Just like that, I’d slipped into the driver’s seat of our future, and I was responsible for taking care of it until he could make it home.

I held myself together, sniffing back the snot that tried to drip down my nose from unshed tears. This wasn’t glamorous, or movie-worthy. There was no waving the handkerchief or kissing through the bus window one last time as I stoically sent him off.

This was unedited pain and gut-wrenching fear in its rawest form. It wasn’t even the thought of knowing it would be nine months until I could hold him again. Hell, that was the best-case scenario.

It was the true, paralyzing fear that I’d never get that chance again. Had I said everything right? Kissed him long enough? Showed him how much I loved him?

Music. That would help. I turned on Josh’s radio, and immediately shut if off. Elton John’s “Rocket Man” was definitely not what I needed to hear right now.

I rode home in complete silence, the only noise the hum of the engine and the tires on the highway. It was almost five-thirty by the time I pulled into our driveway and set the parking brake. My hands fumbled with the key, but I got the door open.

I stumbled up the steps to our bedroom, where I saw a single white sheet of paper on my pillow with a Hershey’s Kiss.

Dear December,

I’m so sorry you’ll be sleeping here alone for the next nine months. I’m so sorry that I can’t kiss you when you need it, or hold you when you sleep. But know that the miles that separate us are only in distance, never heart. When I lay my head down, no matter how far away I am, I’m always there with you. Love like ours can stretch across the entire universe, so a few thousand miles is the least of our worries.