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Chapter 24

TWENTY-FOUR

Nick

Dear Charlie,

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe because saying things out loud feels impossible. Maybe because putting the words down means I don’t have to face what happens after you hear them. Or maybe it’s just because the space between us is quieter than I know how to handle.

I kissed you. God help me, I kissed you, and it was the most alive I’ve felt in years. For one perfect moment, nothing hurt. Not my leg, not my heart, not the constant voice in my head telling me I don’t deserve you. For that one moment, I let myself believe it was okay to want this. To want you.

But it’s not okay. And I think we both know that.

You’re barely out of something that shattered you. I saw it in your eyes yesterday, the weight you’re carrying, even when you smiled at me. You think you’re good at hiding it, but I see it, Charlie. And you don’t need me to add to that weight. I’m not what you need right now. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m what I need right now. All I know is that I wanted to kiss you, so I did. And now I can’t stop thinking about what it would mean to kiss you again.

But that’s why I’m writing this, I think. Because I know the truth, even if I don’t want to admit it. The truth is, you deserve more than what’s left of me. You deserve the kind of man who doesn’t spend his nights wishing he’d died instead of his friends. The kind of man who doesn’t wake up every morning trying to outrun ghosts that never seem to get tired. You deserve someone whole, Charlie. Someone who can give you a life without all the shadows I carry.

And I know you’ll argue. I know you’ll say it’s not my call to make, that you get to decide what you need. But here’s the thing…

I’ve already let you down. More than once.

I let you down when you came to the hospital, and I couldn’t let you in.

I let you down when I shut you out and allowed you to believe it was your fault.

I don’t think I could survive letting you down again.

So I’ll say now what I should have said then. You are the best thing to ever happen to me, Charlie Cooper. You are light, and fire, and everything good in this world. And that’s exactly why I need to keep my distance. Because I won’t be the one who dims that light. I can’t be.

I hope you find what you’re looking for. I hope you find the kind of love you deserve—the kind that’s safe, but not boring. Quiet, but not small. I hope you find someone who gives you everything you need and then some.

And I hope you forgive me for knowing I’m not that man.

Always,

Nick

I pull to a stop in front of Micah’s house, cutting the engine as nerves twist in my gut. Before I can even step out of the truck, the front door flies open, and Nell bolts down the steps, her blonde hair streaming behind her, her exuberant smile lighting up her whole face.

She practically launches herself at me, her small arms wrapping around my waist like a vine. “Uncle Nick! I’m so excited! Thank you so, so much for saying yes!”

I chuckle, ruffling her hair as I hug her back. There’s something about Nell that makes her impossible to resist. Even when I was second-guessing this whole idea, I couldn’t say no. “I’m happy to help,” I say. “But you might’ve had better luck interviewing your dad. He’s the real hero, running into burning buildings every day. I haven’t been a Marine for a while.”

The words twist in my gut. Once a Marine, always a Marine, they say, and I felt the truth of it in my bones from day one. But I don’t see a Marine when I look at myself these days. I see someone who’s drifting. A shell of what I used to be.

Nell’s enthusiasm doesn’t waver. “I already did a project on Daddy last year. This year, I wanted to interview someone…” She pauses, looking up at me with earnest eyes. “Someone inspiring. And that’s you.”

The words catch me off guard. Inspiring? Me? That doesn’t track. But Nell’s sincerity doesn’t leave much room for doubt, and the thought tugs at something deep in my chest.

“Did your mom put you up to this?” I tease, crouching to her level to get a better read on her.

Nell gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like I’ve accused her of treason. “Cross my heart, Uncle Nick! This was all my idea.”

Her over-the-top reaction pulls a laugh out of me. She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the house, chattering about her project, her soccer team, and the outrageous injustice of her bedtime. The second we step inside, the smell of fresh-baked cookies mingles with the faintest hint of baby lotion, and the sound of Jeremiah’s squeals fills the air.

Micah and Ivy are on the floor with him, cheering as he toddles around on unsteady legs. Micah grins up at me, while Ivy waves. Jeremiah wobbles my way, grinning as I kneel to catch him. His tiny hands grab my face, his giggles pure sunshine. Kids, man. They’re dangerous like that.

“This is really good of you, Nick,” Ivy says softly as she stands, brushing stray flour from her shirt. There’s warmth in her tone, but no pity. She knows how hard this might be, but she’s too kind to say it outright.

Micah claps me on the shoulder. “Apparently, good ol’ Dad isn’t cool enough anymore,” he says, mock-wounded.

Nell rolls her eyes—a gesture that feels a few years too old for her. “You’ll always be the best dad, Daddy. But Uncle Nick is… well, Uncle Nick. And everyone deserves a turn.”

Micah and Ivy laugh, and Nell grabs my hand, pulling me upstairs with more force than her small frame should allow. We step into her room, and I’m immediately struck by how her it is—superhero posters, soccer trophies, and books piled on a desk. No princesses or glitter in sight.

“You can sit on my bed,” she says, pointing to the comic book-themed quilt. “Unless you want the chair, but it’s kinda small.”

“The bed’s perfect.” I sit, and Nell takes her spot at the desk, opening her school-issued laptop like she’s about to interview a world leader.

“Okay,” she begins, fingers poised over the keyboard. “What was it like being a Marine? Did you get to drive tanks or shoot bad guys? Like, superhero stuff?”

I laugh. “No tanks for me, but I got to ride in one once. And, yeah, I shot guns. But superheroes? No capes, no superpowers. I didn’t save the world or anything.”

She tilts her head, clearly unimpressed by my humility. “You didn’t need a cape. You saved lives. That’s a fact.”

Her unwavering confidence in me stirs something I don’t want to examine too closely. “Thanks, kiddo,” I say, my voice softer than I intended.

She dives into more questions—fun ones. The pranks we pulled, the nicknames we gave each other, the places I got to see. I tell her about the time a buddy and I got locked inside a supply room, and we had to MacGyver our way out. I tell her about eating MREs for weeks straight, and how much I missed real food.

Then, Nell’s expression turns serious. “What did you miss the most when you were away?”

The question catches me off guard. For a second, the words won’t come. “Family,” I finally say, though the truth is heavier than that. I missed Charlie, too. Missed her more than I ever let myself admit. She was my constant thought, my anchor. Every letter, every call, every memory was like a lifeline.

“And that’s what I missed when I was home, too,” I add, my voice quieter now. “There’s a real sense of brotherhood in the military. You know how you can always count on your mom and dad to have your back? That’s how I felt about my friends. When I was with them, I missed you guys. When I was home, I missed them.”

Nell types quickly, her brow furrowed. “What about when you stopped being a Marine? Was that hard?”

I nod, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. It still is. When I was in the Marines, everything had a purpose. Now, well…” I trail off, trying to find the right comparison. “You know how every day you go to school, and you have to do your homework, even though it’s boring and you don’t know why you need to know all that math?”

Nell’s eyes widen in understanding. “Every day, Uncle Nick. Every day.”

“Yeah,” I say with a soft chuckle. “Well, that’s kind of how I feel now. When I was a Marine, I had a reason for everything I did. Now, it just feels like I’m doing a lot of math homework and I don’t know why.”

For a long moment, I stare at her as she types, my mind drifting to the man I used to be. Before the accident. Before I lost my team. Before I lost her . I think about Charlie, about the words I never said, the apology that feels too little, too late. And I wonder if I’ve been lying to myself all along. If pushing her away wasn’t about protecting her, but protecting me from what it might mean to really let her in.

Nell’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You’re still a Marine, you know. Even if you don’t wear the uniform anymore.”

The conviction in her voice stuns me. I want to argue, but I can’t. Not when she says it like a fact, as unshakable as gravity.

“Thanks, kiddo,” I murmur.

Charlie’s words from the other day flit through my mind.

You’ve spent your whole life helping people. Your family. Your friends. Your country. I loved you, Nick. And in your weakest moment, I wanted to be there for you, but you wouldn’t let me.

Was I wrong to protect her from the man I’ve become?

The thought sits uncomfortably on my shoulder until Nell asks, “What was the scariest thing you ever did?”

The question sends a rush of memories through me. I see flashes of the accident—the truck twisted into a heap of metal, the fire, the screams. The unbearable pain. My ears ringing from the explosion, my body pinned in agony. And then, those endless days behind enemy lines—the ones that blur together in my mind, fractured and incomplete. Thinking of Charlie was the only thing that got me through it. I promised myself I wouldn’t let another day pass without showing her how I really felt.

A promise I broke almost as soon as I came home.

I thought I was saving her by keeping my distance.

Maybe I had it wrong…

What if in pushing her away, I pushed away the one thing that could have gotten me through?

I close my eyes and rub my forehead, counting my breaths.

Breathe, Nick. Just breathe.

“The accident,” I finally say, my voice hoarse. “The accident was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through.”

Nell places her small hand on my knee, and it’s a gesture far too wise for someone her age. Somehow, it grounds me. She doesn’t push for more, sensing the weight of the moment. Instead, she moves on, her voice soft and gentle.

“What would you tell people who feel sad or scared?”

I take a breath, letting her question hang in the air. What would I tell people? The truth is, I still don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring it out myself. But for her... for Nell... I try.

“We all need something to hold on to. Something that drives us. Something that stops making life feel tedious and unending and makes you understand how short our time here really is. How fragile it can be.” My eyes scan the room, but they’re not looking at anything. They’re following a memory. Chasing after the whisper of something lost.

“Anyway,” I say, then clear my throat, reminding myself that I’m talking to a little kid. “If you want to make it through the toughest times, through the darkest hours, you need that thing. You need to know what it is and hold tight to it and let it be the reminder of why you can’t give up… Because let me tell you, without something like that to cling to, you may never find your way back.”

Nell’s eyes are locked on mine, wide and thoughtful. “Like family?”

I nod, feeling my throat tighten. “Yeah. Like family,” I say, as Charlie’s smiling face flashes through my mind.

Nell types furiously, her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth. She reads what she’s written, then gives a nod of approval. When she looks back at me, her eyes light up.

Her gaze sharpens. “One more question,” she says. “And it’s the most important.”

“Shoot.”

“Will you coach my soccer team? We need someone awesome. And you’re, like, the best. ”

Her hopeful smile slays me. I sigh dramatically, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly the ‘rah-rah’ kind of guy.”

“Who needs ‘rah-rah’?” she counters. “We just need wins.”

I shake my head, laughing. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But no promises.”

Nell exclaims in excitement, tossing her arms around me. I hug her back, her joy a small spark in the darkness I’ve been carrying. Maybe Nell’s right. Maybe I still have something to offer.

And maybe, if I can figure out who the hell I’m supposed to be now, I won’t let everyone down again.