Letters.
“Oh, my God!” I jump in my seat, scaring the couple as I furiously thumb my phone to open the Facebook app. There sits a message in my inbox from Christopher Briggs.
A tiny amount of relief escapes my lips as I open it.
Scottie,
I want you to know outright that I have been the laughing stock of my entire fucking team the last few days because of you. “Help me, help you?” Yeah, thanks for that. I’m pretty sure I’ve never known embarrassment quite like this. Just know that I’m watching your movie now, and I love it as much as you thought I would. But that’s not why I’m writing.
Bullshit aside, I can’t stop thinking about the way I left things the last time we spoke. Apart from losing you, it’s what lays heaviest on my heart.
I’m so sorry.
There will never be a time in my life where I don’t want to hear your voice or see your face.
I don’t regret a single thing that happened between us, not a second. Trust me, I hold them closer to my heart than I have a right to because they were stolen.
All too often I’m reminded just how short life is, and because of you, I’ll die both soldier and thief. I can live with that because I’d steal more time for you, if I could. I’d steal far more than the glimpse life allowed me.
Letting you go rips me apart daily. I’d be lying if I said I was succeeding. I’m a soldier through and through. It’s not in my nature to give up. You taught me how to love, and I don’t think this heart is ever going to let me quit you.
There are only two things in life I’m sure of: my love of this country and my love for you, only one can I do anything about.
So, I’m back here, doing what I do best, fighting for you while giving you the space you need to mend your family and live the life you chose. I had no right to demand anything of you, but I hope you know it was my selfish pride lashing out. I love you. I live for you. But I know I have to start living for me.
I need to know my life means something. To feel the adrenaline rush through my veins—a rush I’ve only felt out here and when I held you in my arms.
Scottie, you are without a doubt the love of my life, and I want nothing more than for you to have everything your heart desires. Unfortunately, we both know that can’t be. You were forced to choose, and you chose your family. I could never fault you for that. I understand, even though it hurts.
Consequently, I don’t get to make a choice. My country wins by default. But if I’d had the chance to choose, it would have been you.
For as long as I live, it will always be you.
Forever yours,
Briggs
Chapter Seventy
Katy
I miss my connection due to weather and am forced to wait until morning to fly out. The entire trip is agony, and the car ride to the hospital has me crying hysterically. The cab driver doesn’t speak any English, but I can see his concern as he constantly glances back at me. I do my best to keep my composure, but images of Chris flash through my brain like an old projector.
His boot landing in the sand in front of me before our eyes met for the first time.
His devilish smirk when he banged his gloves together before declaring war on my heart.
Our shared smile over that poker table, the brush of his finger against my hair as he was drug past me in the bunker. The look in his eyes the first time he said my name. Our goodbye at the airport. The moon dancing off his skin when he made love to me.
“Can’t you see I’m still fighting for you?”
“Fight, Chris,” I sob into my hands. “Please keep fighting,” I beg from the back of the car as I shatter in our memories.
I relive every minute until the brakes squeak at the entrance. It takes an agonizing hour and twenty minutes to get cleared before I’m rushing down the halls of a place that’s still all too familiar.
Fear of every kind paralyzes me as I pause a few rooms away from his door, too afraid to take a step further. The void calls me, and I bat it away. I need to be present.
He’s mere feet away, and I’m too terrified to know what reality I’m going to have to live with.
Chris’s words from the plane the day we parted wash over me, elevating my panic.
“There’s a reason we were thrown into that bunker together. I have to believe that. You were destined to be a part of my life. You’ve changed me. I need you to know that. For you to know how incredible you really are. In another lifetime, I know we’d have been perfect together.”
“Please, God, I don’t want to wait for him in the next life. I need him in this one.”
Taking a deep breath, I exhale it all in a gasp when I hear the rumble of a familiar drawl.
“Full house, ladies, and I’ll tell you now, the key to executing a good body shot is the use of a little tongue.”
What. The. Fuck.
Mixed emotions race through me as I freeze where I stand, sure I’m imagining that voice.
“You know, Ingrid, a little more ingenuity with your next shot, you could be the front-runner in my dreams tonight.”
Jealousy surges through me as I poke my head into his room and breathe a sigh of relief. A few much older female nurses throw their heads back with a laugh as my heart bursts with gratitude.
Briggs’s smirk turns into a weak smile as the ladies toss back their paper cups with the hooch he just poured them from a Listerine bottle I’m certain he had smuggled in. I stand at the door and attempt to calm my heart. He’s shirtless, with a large amount of padding taped to his chest next to his right arm. His grin lights up the room as he shuffles the deck. He doesn’t have much in the way of color, and I can tell he’s struggling a bit to entertain, but that’s his way. He’s always been the center of attention, his gravity pulling everyone within radius straight to him. It’s the way he stole my heart.
“I’ll give you ladies a wild card this round, but if you lose this hand”—his dimple pops—“you strip.”
These women have to be in their late fifties, and he’s got every single one of them giggling like teenage girls. I cough out a sob at the door, and his eyes shoot straight to me.
“You son of a bitch,” I sob out with relief as I cover my forehead with my hand and crumble where I stand. His eyes widen, and disbelief mars his features briefly before he schools them.
“L-ladies, if you’ll excuse me, it looks like I have one very beautiful, and very pissed off Texan to deal with.”
The nurses all turn my way and are instantly on their feet after taking one look at my face. Tears falling rapidly, I allow him to see me break. I let them all see it, because I’m done hiding.
They file out with quick goodbyes as I stand there in shock and awe.
“You’re okay.” My voice cracks as I shake my head and fist my eyes, my body shuddering with relief.
Briggs repeatedly swallows before he speaks, as I take a step into the room. “H-how are you here?”
“I have always been with you. Even when you couldn’t see me.”
He nods. “I know that.”
“Jesus, the news made it seem so—” I can’t control my relief as I shake in front of him. “So, you’re okay?”
“Just a flesh wound.” He shrugs, his lips curling at the edges. “The fucking news,” Briggs mutters, shaking his head. “You know better than to listen to that bullshit. They moved me from ICU to the penthouse last night.”
I walk over, lifting his padding to inspect the damage. It’s a lot more than a flesh wound, but it’s already healing nicely.
“Thank God,” he whispers below me. “Finally, a hot nurse.”
“This isn’t funny,” I scorn, as tears fall from my chin to his chest.
He grips my restless hands in the warmth of his. “I agree; it’s been hard getting sponge baths from a woman who can grow a better beard than me.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand as I take the seat next to him. “You know you’re the prettiest when you’re pissed, right?”
“Yep,” he whispers, giving me a wink. “Wanna try it out?”
“What in the hell is wrong with you?”
He gives me a lopsided smile. “Xanax and painkillers, maybe a shot of hooch.”
“Jesus,” I rasp out. “I guess it’s a good thing you have your sense of humor.”
“It’s come in handy,” he whispers, as all the humor falls from his face.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Yeah, it has.”
I nod as tears I can’t stop drain me. I’ve been running so long on adrenaline, and I’m crashing fast.
“Katy,” he growls low, kissing my hand as reverently as he did the first time in the hospital. “Why are you in Germany?”
I look up at him, and our eyes lock. “I love you, Christopher Paul Briggs, with all the pieces left of me, and that’s why I’m in Germany.”
He regards me with caution before his eyes fill. He puffs out a breath, his voice cracking. “So, you’re going to torture me this way every time I piss you off? Because, you know, I can do much worse.”
“I came to ask—to beg—for you to give this hero stuff up now.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’m thinking I may suck a little at this, seeing as how this is my second time here in a year.”
“You’re serious?”
“I figured out a thing or two while I’ve been here myself.”
Relief floods me.
“Then do you mind pissing me off a little less, war hero?”
“Happy to oblige, but I think we both know I’m not the hero.”
I draw my brows. “What?”
“I know, Scottie.”
“Know what?” He sits up further on the bed, a wince flitting over his features. I move to object, and he shakes his head before cradling my face. Golden brown eyes implore mine as his thumbs whisper a caress over my chin and lips.
“How long was I out?”
“What do you mean?”
“How long was I out before you pulled me out of that Humvee?”
It dawns on me then, and I move to pull my face away because I don’t know how to tell him I failed him. He refuses my retreat, gripping me tighter while his fingers roam, soothe, intoxicate me.
“How long was I out, Katy?”
“Five minutes, maybe more.”
“Sergeant Scott, can you please recall the events of the day of September 26th?” I take a sip of water and clear my throat.
“We were en route to a humanitarian mission.”
“You were in the rear passenger seat?”
“Yes, sir, Sergeant Briggs was driving. Corporal Mullins was in the front passenger, and Specialist Jones was in the back with me.”
“You volunteered for this mission?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“Please proceed.”
“We were about an hour into the drive when the first Humvee exploded. Sergeant Briggs turned the wheel to try to avoid the collision, but it all happened too fast. We tapped the bumper and got the backlash.”
“Did you at any time lose consciousness?”
“No, sir, I was jarred pretty hard. When I realized what happened, I was the only one awake.” My voice cracks as I recall the sheer terror of realizing I might be the only one who survived it. I swallow hard.
“From his resting position, Sergeant Briggs went up and over. The explosion shifted the dash in and pinned Corporal Mullins.”
Mullins. I exhale slowly.
“Mullins was unconscious, and I was unable to gauge her condition because she was slumped over the dash.” My chin wobbles and I take another breath. Saying her name in past tense makes her loss real.
“Take your time,” he says, leaning forward.
“Jones was unresponsive to me, but I was able to check his vitals. His heart rate was faint.”
He nods for me to continue, as I do my best to convey my truth.
“It was after I checked Jones that I realized I was pinned by Sergeant Briggs’s seat. I managed to squeeze out.”
“And once you were outside of the vehicle?”
“I’m not sure what my train of thought was, I ran on instinct.”
“Which was?”
“To get them out.”
“How long did you wait?”
“I didn’t. I started with the closest to me.”
“Sergeant Briggs?”
“Yes, sir. I used the bulk of his weight to assist in the fall to get him to the ground and then dragged him about three meters away. I stripped him down to assess his injuries, checked his vitals, and made sure his airways were clear before I went for Mullins on the other side of the truck.” I take a sip of water, my teeth hitting the glass.
“How long did that take?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “A minute, maybe longer.” My fingers shake as I recall the panic I felt in that moment.
“Take your time,” he offers.
“Corporal Mullins was pinned beneath the dash, and the flames were starting to spread, so I knew I was out of time. She was wedged, and I couldn’t get her to budge, so I forced my hand through the gap and found her boot was caught. I was able to free her, but I broke my hand in the process. It took me a lot longer to get her away from the Humvee.” I’m visibly shaking at the memory as the older man furrows his brows, his concern clear.
“Do you want to recess? A break?”
“No, sir.” Because I know what’s coming, and I’m not even close to the hard part.
“Seconds after I got her at a safe distance—”
“Corporal Mullins,” he reminds me to be specific. And I will be because I’ll never want to relive it again.
“Yes, sir.”
“Please continue.”
“It wasn’t long after I dragged Corporal Mullins away that the Humvee caught fire. I couldn’t get to Jones in time.”
This time I let my emotions get the best of me as he addresses me head on.
“Staff Sergeant Scott, what you managed to accomplish under the circumstances is both heroic and commendable. I have zero doubts you did everything you could. You saved two soldiers that day.”
“No sir, I didn’t.”
“I wasn’t referring to Corporal Mullins,” he says pointedly.
“I couldn’t get to him,” I say with apology as I face Chris with the truth. “I was too weak, too slow, too late. I’m so sorry.”
“Shhhh,” he whispers softly. “My God, Scottie. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because anyone else would have done the same thing.”
“That’s not entirely true,” he argues.
“Any soldier would.”
“You’re damn right,” he says, proudly looking at me like I hung the moon.
“Stop it,” I say, wiping my nose. “How did you figure it out?” I ask, entranced with the look in his eyes.
“One of my guys posed the question right before we got to the market. It didn’t click until I was almost lights-out.”
My face crumbles as he presses a gentle kiss to my lips, and I hold them with my own. He pulls away, whispering kisses all over my face. “No wonder you were so pissed off at the ranch.” He kisses me again and again as I sink into his warmth. He pulls away, and our eyes lock.
It’s there between us, and always will be. We’re in our place, and we’re safe, together.
“All this time,” he says, as he strokes my face gently, “you gave me the credit for being your lifeline, your hero, when you’re mine. You’re the one who saved me. I owe you, Scottie.”
“Well I’m cashing in, because I’m yours, Briggs,” I say without hesitation. “The life I want is with you. I come with a shitload of baggage, and the most amazing—and mouthiest—seven-year-old in the state of Texas. So, I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
His eyes shimmer as all the breath leaves him. “You’re sure?”
“This is my confession. I went to war loving one man and came ba
ck in love with another. I can’t apologize for it anymore or make excuses, blame the circumstances. I fell in love with you. The guilt behind that is a different story. I may never forgive myself, but I want to eventually. I don’t want to spend another second of my life making plans without you. So, if I’m not too late, I’m in need of a cowboy.”
“Retired military?”
“Yes, fucking please.”
We share a tear-filled smile before he places a soft kiss to my lips and presses his forehead to mine.
“On one condition.”
“Okay,” I agree, as we clutch each other with relief.
“Tell me a joke, and make it a dirty one, Scottie.”
Epilogue
Katy
8 MONTHS LATER
None of it was easy. None of it. Not a minute of Briggs’s recovery. Not the trip home, where we had to separate once again for the sake of what remained of my family. Nor the day Gavin and I put our home up for sale or signed those divorce papers.
No part of the time after we left Germany, united in heart but torn apart by circumstance, was made easier by the dissolution of my marriage to a man who loved me so selflessly, that he let me go to be with another.
I’m still in therapy.
I still wake up with nightmares. Still at times a prisoner in my own mind.
I still fight the void that threatens to consume me when I feel helpless against my weaknesses.
But there’s one thing that I’m capable of without effort, and that’s my ability to love. And in love, there is so much healing.
Muscular arms circle my body as warm lips press against my neck, sending a chill up my spine and goosebumps across my flesh.
“Ready?”
“Think so,” I say, standing at the edge of the door, staring at the expansive sand.
I look over at him with clear apprehension. “Did you get—”
“Got it,” he says, cutting me off as he takes my hand in his.
“You didn’t even let me ask, Briggs.”
“We’re good. I promise. Tell me what you’re afraid of?”
“I don’t know,” I say timidly. “I’m just scared.”
“Well,” he says, looking at me and trying not to smile, “judging by the weight of that bag on your shoulder, we’re missing nothing.”
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