Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
LIVVY
My heart raced as I stared at the unfinished letter in my hand. Trepidation had started when I’d seen the unfamiliar handwriting. Cold fear had followed when I’d seen Byron’s partial letter. I’d been shaking so hard, it had taken me a few minutes to be able to realize I was on my knees, longer to be able to actually read the second note that had come with Byron’s.
Dear Livvy,
My name is Carlos, and I’m friends with Byron. A few days ago, we came under fire and while I can’t give you details, Byron was injured in the firefight and airlifted out of here to Germany. In the process of packing up his things to ship, I came across this letter and decided to mail it to you along with an explanation. He’s alive but not coming back here. That’s all I know. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.
Sincerely,
Carlos Sanchez, SSG
PS: Thanks for sending the cookies. They were great! I know they were for Johnson, but we all enjoyed them. Much appreciated.
God! What now?
I knew that the military would forward his mail. That’s how he’d gotten all of my letters to date. I hated that I didn’t know the extent of his injuries or what they even were. Would he recover? If I wrote him, would he even be able to read the letter?
I knew I had to contact him, no matter what, just so he knew I cared and that I knew what had occurred.
Dear Byron,
Your friend Carlos sent me the letter you were writing and told me you were injured. Didn’t I tell you to stay safe? Seriously, I’m so sorry you were hurt and I’m praying for your recovery.
I love you. I hope that someday I can tell you that in person.
I’m putting my phone number below along with my address, since I figure you don’t have it handy. I hope that even though you’ll no longer be deployed, that you’ll contact me. If nothing else, I need to know you’re okay.
All my love,
Livvy
* * * *
The end of the semester and the holiday break came and went. I sent Byron a Christmas card, but didn’t hear from him. I kept faith that he was alive and well, and though my heart was breaking, I wrote off the pen pal assignment and drawing so close to Byron as a learning experience.
What I’d learned, I wasn’t sure.
That I wanted love? That I could grow a bond with someone even though I’d never actually met him? That falling in love kind of sucked?
With no other choice, I focused on my classes, my student teaching and my job. I was inches from my degree and moving home to start my career—though I had zero intention of moving in again with my parents and the five brothers who still lived at home.
Still, even as I put all my energy into moving forward, my thoughts drifted to Byron over and over. As I lay in my bed at night, my mind free from busyness, I wondered how he was doing. If he was recovering.
I’d probably never know.
As Valentine’s Day approached, my desolation only seemed to get worse no matter how I tried to snap out of it. I wasn’t depressed, I just felt as if a huge chunk had been ripped out of me. Having “love” shoved in my face from all around me didn’t help.
It was only some letters, I tried to tell myself. But it wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t.
I was actually relieved when mid-February came and went. Now I could settle into finishing the semester and forgetting about love and all that crap.
Friday night, I was settled on my couch, a textbook on my lap and An Officer and a Gentleman on my TV—because apparently, I was a masochist. Just this one time, I promised myself. I actually wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to watch it again without wondering about Byron.
Just as the Air Force class was getting ready to graduate from their basic training, my cell rang. I paused the movie, not wanting to see Richard Gere carry Debra Winger into the sunset anyway. I glanced at the notification, seeing it was a number I didn’t know. I was in the mood to have it out with someone trying to scam me over my non-existent car warranty, so I decided to answer.
“Livvy?” the person asked after I said hello.
“Yes, this is.” Not Olivia. Livvy. This man with a smooth as velvet voice knew me. My heart sped up a little.
“God, your voice is prettier than I thought.”
My breath caught.
“Byron?” I whispered tentatively.
“Yeah, babe. It’s me. The military can find a flea in the desert but can’t manage to find a soldier to deliver his gear or his mail. I just got everything this morning. So your friends… They didn’t get you to go out on any dates, did they?”
He hadn’t reached out to me because he couldn’t…
“No! They’re not my friends and—”
“And you’re already taken,” he cut in firmly. Warmth flowed through me, the same warmth I felt whenever I read his letters, especially where he wrote all my love.
“Am I?”
“Yeah, you are. And that being said, I’d like to take you out to a Valentine’s dinner…even though I’m a week late.”
“You’re just in time. And yes. Always yes.”
“Good. Wear that outfit you wanted me to see. I want to see what I was missing out on, ‘cause I’m definitely not going to miss out on it anymore, I promise you that, Liv. I’m at the airport. I’ll be there in an hour, babe.”
“Okay.” Was that breathy voice me? I couldn’t believe I was about to see him.
“And Liv?”
“Yes?”
“I love you, too.” He hung up before I could say anything, and I raced to my closet to start getting ready.
When the knock came on my door, I wasn’t prepared. Physically, I was dressed, with my makeup and hair done. But emotionally, everything in me was a whirl of conflicting emotions. Anticipation at seeing him, worry that we might not hit it off, joy that he was okay and he was here…
I swung open the door, and we stood there transfixed and staring at each other. He looked a hundred times more handsome in real life than he had in that picture. His expressive eyes, that I could now tell were blue, seemed to look right into me. His brown hair was still short, though longer than it had been in the photo, and he had to be nearly a foot taller than me. He was still tanned, and…
I had no idea who moved first, maybe we both moved at the same time.
“So beautiful,” he murmured as he pulled me into his arms, and I burst into tears. Damn it! I was crying now?
My hands cupped the back of his neck, the short, soft hair tickling my palms, as he lowered his mouth to mine. I gasped when his lips brushed mine and his tongue slipped right in while he gathered me flush to him. We kissed fervently, each bent on devouring each other and getting as close as we possibly could. I needed to touch him, to reassure myself that he was really here.
“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he muttered against my lips long moments later.
He was perfect. I never wanted to let go.
I said the only thing I could. “Welcome home, Byron.”