Page 76 of Coincidentally Kismet

“Ohhh so you don’t know what he did then. Okay, umm,sooo...” Lo begins, stuttering out her words.

Bri releases her hand from my face and holds it up to stop Lo from talking.

“I know the real story. What happened and why he was so delayed in calling her.” She proceeds to recant the whole ordeal to Lo, hitting me a second time with the details.

Numb, happy, worried, nauseous—all the feelings are coursing through my veins. Could what Bri’s telling me be true? If I believe this, will it all come crashing down when Will comes home and tells me he didn’t mean any of it?

“I told you something probably came up. I knew it in my bones that he didn’t actually dump you.” Lo smugly crosses her arms and juts out her hip.

“Yeah, okay, Miss I’m-Going-to-Be-First-in-Line-to-Kick-His-Ass,” I say on an eye roll. “Bri, I appreciate you trying to cover for him, but I didn’t have any missed calls from you the day he left. He never called, even if he told you he did,” I explain. None of what she’s saying makes sense.

I’m certain I didn’t have any missed calls from her that day. I looked through my call log a dozen times, and there was only that one missed from a telemarketer.

“That can’t be right, honey. I saw him call, he was frantic. Check your phone again.” She’s adamant about this, but it doesn’t make any sense.

Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I open the call log and start scrolling through it just to appease her. In place of the telemarketing number is Bri’s name. I gasp.What the hell—ohhh.I programmed her number later the next day after she texted begging me to call her back.

Can this really be happening? Did he actually call me and I missed it? Are we not broken up? Acid burns my throat. My stomach churns, turning me pale and clammy. Every ounce ofmy being is in love with this man. It hurts to breathe without him. Believing he dumped me was less painful than knowing he wanted to say goodbye and couldn’t.

I feel cheated, robbed, like I worked hard and won the prize, but it was given to someone else on a technicality. How am I supposed to reconcile the fear and love—and my shame from so easily mistrusting him? How will he react when he finds out I didn’t have faith in us when it really mattered?

Shaking me from my thoughts, Lo asks, “You ready to get back out there before Elliott falls in love with a server?”

“Yeah, yup...let’s do it.” I plaster on a fake smile trying to sound peppy but convincing no one that my world wasn’t just rocked again for the second time in a matter of days.

Lo invites Bri to hang out with us, stating that maybe her beautiful face will cheer up Elliott and that this is the best night of her life since maybe we will get to have a besties double wedding after all. I remain confused and cautious. Aching for Will to love me and him actually doing it are two very different things. All the evidence is there, and I know now that Bri has been trying to contact me, so why do I feel like I’m waiting to wake up and find out it’s all a dream? Is being in love really just being on edge forever with fear of what could go wrong?

CHAPTER 34

WILL

“THICKFREAKNESS” - THE BLACK KEYS

Sand, sand, and well...more sand. It covers the painstakingly barren land we’re stationed on like finely ground flour. It coats everything, including my lungs; I can feel the muck of it in my eyes, up my nose, and in other equally undesirable places.

Aside from the heat and the danger, the sand is the worst part of this whole thing. It’s not just a matter of comfort either, it’s insidious, slowly working its way into your clothes, gear—hell, even into my brain. Not literally, but it’s all I can think about when I’m not solely focused on staying alive.

I stare off into the distance and imagine shapes, people, places being erected from the vast nothingness. I imagine counting the sand and how representative it is of the millions of people populating the earth. Those people that I’m here to protect, to honor, the ones who’ve sacrificed. Then there’s Cam—how did I get her, out of all the people, when I’m not even deserving.

We’ve spent the last week in and out of towns, hiding in abandoned buildings demolished by war, and in plain sightwhile we travel. Our caravan consists of three Humvees, a supply truck, and a couple of MRAPs, which are essentially indestructible Humvees. We brought the essentials needed to set up a forward-operating base, and while one team has worked to fortify our location with makeshift sandbag walls and fencing, my team has established basic communications.

Progress has been steady and mostly in uninhabited places. Too uninhabited. It’s eerily quiet, given that it’s the local terrorist stronghold; it’s not as if they don’t know we’re here. Their lack of engagement is unsettling at best, downright bone-chilling at worst.

I find myself wishing for some type of response, and yet I’m paralyzed by the thought of not making it home. I sense the same from the rest of the team. It’s the old adage: sitting ducks. We are waiting on a team to arrive for the mission that we will accompany them on, just hoping we don’t get attacked in the meantime.

Thatch should be here. He always made days like this go by a little bit quicker. He’d crack a joke or do something stupid that would cut the tension, bringing us back from the fear if only for a few minutes.

A thud from a foam ball hits my shoulder. I turn to face Ramos. “Shifts up, hit the hay, man,” he says, solemnly.

“Thanks. Head on a swivel...it’s too quiet. I don’t like it.” I gesture for him to keep his eyes peeled on the horizon, to watch for threats.

“Yeah.” One word and a nod. He doesn’t have to say anything else. He gets it.

Traipsing through the sand toward the bunk tent, my legs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. Lying on my cot is worse than keeping watch. My head hits the bedroll and all thoughts immediately turn to Cam. I wonder if Bri talked to her, if sheknows how I feel. Or does she think I just left? Is she moving on because I broke her once and for all?

Replaying that day we left, it’s obvious there were so many times I could’ve called—should’ve called. There was time while I was driving, waiting on Ruiz, when we first got to the strip. Why did I think I didn’t have time? What made me wait?

I didn’t have doubts about her then, and I still don’t have them now. Am I really that dense and in my own world that I let time go by, allowing her to possibly believe she wasn’t important? Even if Bri talked to her, what happened has got to sound like the lamest excuse someone has ever given for leaving without saying a goodbye.

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