Page 39 of Redemption
She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t announce her condolences or offer to tell her story. She just sits with me and lets my story linger in the silence.
I haven’t told my version of the invasion to anyone. At least, not in its entirety. No one else knew of the men I fought beside; their names, lost to history. But now that I was able to talk of what happened, to say their names again and what they did all those months ago, it feels as if a weight has been lifted. The heavy loss I had been harboring for months now suddenly feels lighter as I’m able to finally honor my brothers in a way they should be—to have their stories told, and to have them heard by a captivated audience who actually cares.
I’m reminded, once again, as I sit next to the woman I’ve always loved, just how amazing she is. As I turn to her to say as much, she smiles softly, tears in her eyes as she stops me with a pat to the hand she’s holding and a knowing nod.
This woman.
Without a doubt, it was Alessandra who helped me outlast the invasion.
The love I have for her and the promise I made to Baylor and myself to find her kept me alive.
The same love that, unfortunately, will have to remain within me for the rest of my life. Because tomorrow, we set outto reunite her with the rest of her group. And afterward? I don’t know where I’ll go, to be honest.
I survived to be with her.
But she’s living for them now.
A resigned sigh breaks through my lips at the thought. But I’ll save that problem for another day. Because tonight? She’s with me. And I don’t want to take the short amount of time I have with her to relive the past. I’d rather make the girl of my dreams smile. At least one last time.
I stand with a groan, placing my hands on my hips. “I think this calls for a good old-fashioned dose of chocolate. What do you think?”
Her eyes widen, lips stretching into an eager grin. Just as I’d hoped. “Wait... you have chocolate?”
“Of course. Who do you think I am?”
A mirroring smirk stretches upon my face, happy and content to learn not everything has changed since I left all those years ago and that her perpetual love for sugar is still rampant. I reach for my pack and pull out two of her favorites. The ones I make sure to stow away every time I find one when I’m out and about.
Not only because they’re delicious.
But because they remind me of her.
And I like to keep her with me.
Forever and always.
Part 3: Four Degrees of Separation
“Anything in life worth doing is worth overdoing. Moderation is for cowards.”
—Peter Berg, Director of the film Lone Survivor
Chapter Thirteen
Jax
Earlier...
Ooooh, fuck.
Holy shit.
What in the hell?
Stop... fucking... rocking...
It feels like I’m back on a deployment, stuck on a ship during a storm, the rise and fall of the waves against the hull pitching my body back and forth against my will. Nausea is a bitch to deal with at sea. Once it has you in its grip, you’re done until you set both your feet back on dry land, and even then it’s sketchy. Bile creeps up the back of my throat as my body is rocked forcefully to one side and then the other. If it doesn’t stop soon, I’m gonna fucking throw up.
My head lolls to the side, causing my cheek to rub against the rough, carpeted surface. Well, that certainly confirms this isn’t the berthing of a ship; there aren’t any carpeted floors there. Fuck... maybe I’m drunk? The sharp pounding in my head certainly seems to agree with the possibility.
