Page 39 of Mended Hearts

Dax is sitting at the table, nose deep in a book. He looks up just enough to say hi and then returns his focus back to his book.

“He has to study for that instructor job he’s about to start.”

“Ahh.” I nod with understanding.

Lynsie walks over and grabs Blu out of her swing.

“C’mere, pretty girl.” I hold my hands out with excitement. It hasn’t even been a month, but she’s grown so much. Her brown hair is filling in and twists at the ends to what looks like the forming of ringlets. I snuggle this precious baby, disliking that the closest thing I have to family moved three hours away.

AFTER DINNER, I head back to the house. I walk in, kick off my sandals, and stop in front of the office. The streetlight shines on the piece of paper I wrote Dustin’s name on, beckoning me to finish what I started. I throw caution to the wind and decide to go for it. I can’t just leave things the way we have when Inow have a way to communicate with him. Even if I don’t get a response, I can’t keep quiet.

Ten rough drafts and lots of second-guessing later, I’m done. I neatly fold the letter and pull out the few envelopes from the back of the drawer that I missed earlier. I don’t put my name on the envelope, just the address.

Then I write Brian. He never writes me back, but it feels bad not attempting communication. Plus, I need to tell him I’ve been here. With his, I don’t write this address on the envelope because I plan on being back home before I expect to receive a response. And I can’t chance someone noticing both men receiving mail from the same place.

Chapter Twenty-Five

DUSTIN

We’ve been here for a good two months, moving back and forth every ten days between the combat outpost and the forward operating base. When it comes to keeping my mind busy, I prefer our time at the outpost and our daily missions, no matter how minuscule some of them are. Those moments seem to keep the personal sharing to a minimum. Unlike now, as the guys sit around bullshitting one another. We arrived back at the operating base a few days ago and while I’m thankful for a shower and clean clothes, I could do without theKumbayasessions.

I sit in the back, cleaning my weapon as they watchField of Dreams.Or more like have it on as background noise. Hell, I’m paying more attention to it than they are, but truth be told, I could recite the whole movie in my sleep. A fact none of them need to know.

My mind begins to drift back to my childhood and my obsession with ball. It’s all I ever knew. It’s all I ever loved. Until she moved to town. And while she wasn’t in competition with my love for the game, she fell in line with it and easily became more important. The dynamics of my future shifted. Until shewas gone, and my future as a third baseman disappeared along with her.

“Roberts. Greyson. Pool. Williams. Daniels. Adams. Adams. Dustin Adams.”

I jump to my feet at the use of my first name. I haven’t gotten close enough to anyone for that information to be known. First Sergeant Mills stands holding a handful of envelopes. I take in his deep brown complexion with eyes to match. The only thing darker is his hair that has a shading of gray setting in.

“You’ve got mail, soldier,” he says, holding out the envelope. If it were anyone else, we’d have words. But Mills, he’s put me in my place more times than I’d like to admit, and I respect the hell out of him for doing so.

“Lieutenant,” I say and nod. I inspect the envelope, trying to get an idea of where it’s from. The return address is for Jasper, Georgia, but I know it’s not from my mom. I haven’t given her the address. I rarely ever do.

Dustin,

Wow! I don’t even know what to say. The multitude of crumpled papers at my feet is evidence of that. Maybe I should put them all together so you can witness the evolution of this letter. Actually, that’s a horrible idea as my words have been all over the place trying to string together something that makes sense. How is that even possible when nothing seems to make sense?

I don’t know if this is a bad idea, but the idea of not reaching out seemed worse. I don’thave many regrets in my life, but the ones I do have seem to all involve you. More so the way I’ve handled situations. Most recently, the one at Dax’s award ceremony. Truth be told, I keep playing the night in my head over and over, wishing I had handled it differently. Given the circumstances, there’d only be so much I could change, but maybe it’d be enough.

For the last thirteen years, all I’ve ever wanted was to see you again—to make sure you’re okay. Then I finally had that chance, and I blew it. Things never seem to go as we picture them to, do they?

Well, are you okay?

So many words I want to say. Words that just seem pointless, yet I keep finding myself wanting to say them all to you.

Stay safe, D

Love, E

I stare at the letter in my hand as if I’ve never seen words on paper before. As if I’m trying to brand every single one of them in my brain so I can play it on repeat. I want to scar her words onto my heart so I never forget them—in case I never receive them again. I stare and stare, trying to decipher this feeling. It’s foreign and somewhat obtrusive. My instinct is to fight it off. Tobe impenetrable. But something within is going to battle against that logic.

“Holy shit.” Someone snickers. All eyes are on me as I’ve seemed to become the entertainment. “Adams is smiling.”

“No, I’m not,” I say, straightening my mouth.

“You can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Daniels says, strutting toward me. “Who’s got you smiling?” His eyes drop to the letter in my hand, and I quickly fold and tuck it in the envelope.

“Your mom.” I sit back down to reassemble my gun. “You didn’t know we had a thing?”

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