Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Briar
I’m in bed, trying to sleep, hating how empty it feels.
Hating this entire week and how empty my life feels.
Making excuses to Frankie and pretending to be sick so I can work from home, thus avoiding Atlas and his far too keen sense of knowing when something’s wrong. Putting off a planned shopping expedition with Willow and Aspen for baby clothes for Jade.
Because I can barely keep it together knowing that history is repeating itself, but I know I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell doing it while surrounded by adorable baby clothes.
I sigh and roll to my side, closing my eyes and trying to tamp down on the misery.
Instead, it just grows because I think about the lie I told to explain his absence—Colt needing to go to D.C. for a debrief.
I don’t like lying to my family and I already kept too much from them over the years about Colt and Frankie and me, but we might not find a way forward together after this and I won’t do anything to harm his relationships.
I sigh again, flop over to my other side.
Lies. Broken promises. Heartbreak. And…worry.
I’ve been worrying myself into that sick.
Worrying he’ll get hurt.
Worrying he won’t make it back alive.
Worrying his friend will die and him leaving will be for naught.
Worrying what I’ll tell the guys and Frankie if he doesn’t come back.
“Enough,” I hiss, rolling to my back and staring up at the dark ceiling. Sleep isn’t going to come. I should just grab my laptop, get up, and do something productive instead of continuing to chastise myself.
I push up, flick on the light, and don’t reach for my laptop.
Productive isn’t going to happen.
Instead, I open the drawer and reach for the TV remote.
Only, instead of my fingers closing around the remote, they bump into a bundle of papers.
No.
A bundle of letters.
Colt’s letters.
So many of them, he wrote to me.
And I haven’t been able to bring myself to open them, to read them.
Because he left.
Because it hurts too much.
Because I need to slam the steel door on those thoughts in my mind—if I don’t, I won’t be able to function—
Like I’ve been functioning so well?
Existing like a half zombie.
Hiding from my family.
So here in the quiet darkness of night, I rip off the Band-Aid.
I pull out the bundle.
And I open the first letter.
…God, Briar. I’ve never felt like this before.
As though I’ve left half of myself behind.
Honestly, it’s fucking with my head, baby.
The only time I can keep things together is when I write to you, but since being a soldier is the only thing I know how to be, I have to suck it up and ignore the fact that I feel like a lovesick puppy and focus.
I miss you, baby.
-C
P.S. Be prepared to get a lot more letters…since it’s the only time I can get my shit together and all.
I laugh and it’s watery.
That’s so Colt…and it’s sad. We’ve talked about his future, about him finding his place in the family, about figuring out his next steps. But did he—or more concernedly—does he think that all he is, is a soldier?
Because he needs to know that he’s so much more than just a soldier.
He needs to know—
A sob bubbles up in my chest.
Then I open the next letter.
…I dreamed about you last night. It was so real that I could have sworn you were right here next to me when I woke up.
Then I realized I was in the twin bed with the shitty mattress and government issued blankets and my single pathetic pillow (they really don’t want us getting soft with brick-like pillows and scratchy blankets).
..and fuck, baby, I so wanted to be home. To be beside you.
I can’t wait to dream about you again tonight, baby.
-C
He dreamed about me. He thought about me so much he had trouble focusing.
He wanted to be home.
…today was a fucked-up day. One of the guys I’ve been training with got careless.
And then things got bad. Seriously fucking bad.
We’re lucky no one died, in all honesty, and now I’m left wondering why I’m doing this.
I could be home with you and the guys, building the life we planned together that weekend.
I just…if I was home what would I be doing?
Like really doing? What difference would I be making?
At least if I’m here, I know we’re doing real work that is going to make a difference.
It’s direct. It’s hands on. It’s…fuck, but it’s all I know how to do.
And I need to do something to prove to the guys, to you, to Dash that I’m worthy of being in their lives. In your life, baby.
I promise you that I’ll prove it.
I promise you that I’ll be home as soon as I can.
-C
He needs to prove that he’s worthy?
Does he still think that?
My lungs hitch, and tears start sliding down my cheeks.
And I can’t stop.
I tear open letter after letter.
…training was really shitty today, but I made it through, so I’m a step closer to ready for my first mission. I’m so fucking exhausted, though, that I’m thinking about nothing except your smile. And how once the mission’s done, I’ll finally get to see it somewhere that’s not just my dreams…
…I dreamed about you last night again. About the way you got so mad at Dash for sneaking the cookies you were baking. I have a confession. I stole them too…
…I think I’m going insane. I swore I caught a hint of your perfume today. I ended up following the agent who was wearing it and she sprayed some on a piece of paper for me. I sniffed it like an addict. And now it’s tucked under my pillow…
…I’m getting ready to fly out, baby. So, this may be my last letter for a while. But know that I’ll be thinking about you every spare second and I’ll be dreaming about you every night. I’m going to make this go as quickly as possible so I can get home to you…
And that’s the last one.
The last letter.
Some many of them, so many thoughts about me and hopes for the future and wishes for things to be different.
And—
Being a soldier is the only thing I know how to be.
At least if I’m here, I know we’re doing real work that’s going to make a difference.
It’s…fuck, but it’s all I know how to do.
Perfume on a pillow. Dreaming about me. Stealing my cookies. Thinking about my smile and our time together.
It’s all laid out there in black and white—why he felt like he had to leave, him thinking that doing that work is the only way he brings value.
And…
My sob is so strong it actually hurts.
Because I hate that he thinks that and I hate…that I was so scared of being left again of being hurt I pushed him away instead of stopping and realizing that the man I love is one who takes care of people, who’s strong and determined to right the world’s wrongs.
If I can’t accept that about him then how can I truly say I do love him?
He’s taken me as I come.
He’s loved all the parts of me.
How can I not do the same for him?
But how can I accept that him being the man he is may mean that he’ll leave us again and again and again?
I don’t know.
I just…know I have to figure out a way.
I’m still no closer to an answer when Sunday dinner rolls around the next day.
I’m just gritting my teeth and forcing myself to believe I will find a way.
Banks is on the road, so he won’t be here. But everyone else will be, including Lily, who’s jetted over from a tour stop in Mexico.
I need to tell them what’s happening.
Ask them to help me deal.
Because I’m done hiding from my family.
And I won’t allow myself to push Colt away, even though I’m scared.
Now, if he would just make it home safe and sound so I could tell him that in person…
My eyes burn, but I just blink rapidly and put the roast into the oven, turn my focus to the mashed sweet potatoes and the salad I’m making to accompany it.
“Briar!” Dash calls. “We’re here.”
“And by we,” Lily shouts, “he means all of us are about to invade.”
I turn to see the all of us she’s talking about and feel my lungs get tight as I see Frankie and Royal and Jade (they were on favorite aunt and uncle babysitting duties since I was “sick” the last two nights—a good thing considering my Sob Fest the previous evening).
Atlas and Lily are on their heels, Atlas carrying Maisie in her car seat.
Aspen and Willow are side by side, Dash trailing them, the diaper bag over his shoulder.
God, I love them.
Dash frowns. “Where’s Colt?”
I exhale, prepare to tell them everything. “He’s gone.”
Dash’s eyes flash and he opens his mouth, but it’s not his voice I hear saying, “No, baby, I’m right here.”