You own my soul,

Josh

I put the Kiss on my nightstand and sat down on the edge of our bed, which he’d already made up. His clothes were on the floor near the hamper, and his Av’s beanie hung precariously on the doorknob. It looked like he could walk in at any moment.

But he wouldn’t.

Not for another nine long months.

I pulled his hoodie closer and buried my nose in the neckline, breathing in Josh’s scent. Then I laid down on his pillow and let the tears come.

I cried for love, for the pause our life was going to undergo. I cried for the choices I’d made that brought me here again, watching another man I loved going off to war. I cried because I was deathly afraid—afraid that I wasn’t strong enough, capable enough, that all my bravado was just that, and I’d crumble under the strain.

I cried because the deepest, darkest parts of me wondered if that was the last time I’d ever feel his skin under my fingertips or taste his kiss.

I cried until my eyes ached and the sobs stopped shaking my body—until exhaustion lulled me to sleep on a tear-soaked pillow.

I let myself sleep for a few hours, let it take away the misery while my body recovered.

When I woke up, I got into the shower and washed the morning off me. Then I got dressed, went downstairs, and poured a cup of coffee. I’d missed one class, but if I left now, I could catch the last two.

It was what Josh wanted, and it was what I needed.

Deployment or not, the sun still shone, the earth still turned, and I had a life to live.

It just felt a lot emptier without Josh.

Chapter Nine

JOSH

The halls of the combat support hospital in Kandahar were unusually quiet as I walked back from my flight physical. Then again, at eight a.m., the day was just getting started.

One month. I’d been in Kandahar one month, and even though it had been years since my first deployment, it somehow felt like I’d never left. In a gross, unexplainable way, it seemed like this was where I lived, and I’d simply been away for a few days.

There were some improvements, of course. Now, I slept in a concrete bunker, spoiled with my own room instead of a giant tent with fifty other guys—on a good night—which meant I had some semblance of privacy when I Skyped Ember.

It was only nine-thirty at home, and if I hurried back, I might be able to get a call in to say good night before I was due on the flight line.

Two hundred and forty more days to go.

I turned the corner, walking past the surgical wing, and managed to glance through the glass of the swinging doors. My body jolted to a stop.

My hands pushed open the door before I knew what I was doing, and my feet followed suit, walking a few steps down the hallway before stopping in front of the picture I’d glimpsed from the window.

Dr. Howard stared back at me, his face as austere as only a government photo could be.

In Memory of LTC Justin Howard.

The picture didn’t show the concern that had always radiated from his eyes, or the quick, no-nonsense advice he’d doled out like medication. It didn’t show the look on his face when he’d recognized me, or the proud nod of his head when he’d gotten me back on the ice.

It was just a photo. It wasn’t him.

But damn if it didn’t feel like he was staring back at me. What the hell would he think of everything that had gone down in the last two years? Would he have welcomed that diamond ring on Ember’s finger? Or would he have told me to leave her the fuck alone?

“I’m sorry.” I whispered so the nearby staff didn’t send me to psych. “It was impossible not to love her. Maybe a better man could have walked away and spared her this, but you and I both know I was never the better man. And yeah, you used to joke about me taking her out, but I know if you had known what would happen to you—what she’d have to endure—well, you would never have wanted me with her. I knew it, and I still couldn’t help myself. I knew we’d end up here, knew what she’d have to go through, and like a selfish fuck, I kept pushing, kept showing up. She pulled me in with nothing more than one look, and whether or not she’d chosen to be mine, I just knew that I’d always be hers. And I know you’re probably pissed, but I swear, I’m doing everything I can to make her happy.”

Everything but be there.

I quieted as a soldier came closer.

“Do you know that story?” the young PFC asked, nodding toward LTC Howard.

“Yeah, a little,” I answered softly.

“He died in this hallway. Stepped in front of a nurse so she wasn’t shot, and he was killed instead.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. I’d read every report Ember’s mom had been given. “Yeah, sounds like him.”

The kid’s eyes widened. “You knew him? He’s kind of a legend.”

My eyes drifted to the expanse of floor that ran to the operating bays as if his blood hadn’t been washed away…as if it still mingled with mine, spilled in the same hallway. But I was alive and he wasn’t for one simple reason—I’d had him.

Life was anything but fair.

“Yeah,” I answered. “I knew him. He saved my life.”

In every way possible.

Two hundred and twenty-three days to go and I was finally ready to fly missions. Funny how I’d thought that I’d be ready to go as soon as I left flight school. No. Students left Rucker at RL3, and had to make it to RL1 before they could do any flying without an instructor pilot. I’d thought those had stayed in flight school, too. Not so much.